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Just a nightmare.
Off the bed, into the bathroom. What day is it? Fuck. I’m shaking. Phone is on the bed. Getting close to that day, though.
Deep breaths, man.
It’s all good.
Finley’s in the room right there. You can get in bed with her.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest and lean against the door. My heart is racing. Jesus. Deep breaths.
It’s so weird when this happens. Now my teeth are chattering.
Nothing’s wrong, dude. Just the same dream.
I drag air in through my nostrils…hold it. Blow it out my mouth.
Again.
Again.
I feel like a balloon that’s floating off—my head hollow; my body fuzzy, cold. My heart’s still racing. I shut my eyes. Take some deep breaths.
I don’t want to pass out. Please.
I breathe through my nose, half close my eyes as I lean into the tub, wrapping my hand around the shower faucet. When the shower’s warm, I sit in the tub and put my head against my knees. Inhale the steam and tell myself it’s different than air. I can breathe steam, no problem. When having my eyes shut gives me that weird floating feeling, I thread my fingers into my hair and pull hard enough to make my eyes sting.
How ironic that it levels me out—the thing he did.
I try to guide my racing mind to Finley. She’s in the bed. She’s naked. I can never leave her. What day is it? It’ll be June 21 soon…and then I leave the next week. I inhale and try to let my thoughts roll past without latching on. Like they taught me to at rehab. Mindfulness.
Hey, at least you’re clean.
It’s such an innocent thought—and it’s true. I don’t know why it makes my stomach heave. I lunge from tub to sink, trying to stay quiet as I dry heave. When I’m done, I wipe my face and brush my teeth and clean the faucet off with hands that shake.
You’ll never be better.
Finley doesn’t care. She said she’d never leave me.
You’re okay. My sweet Carnegie…
I just want to get in bed with her. I still feel kind of weird and half-real. If she’s not too hard asleep, she’ll probably scoot up against me. That’ll be good.
I look at the razor on the sink for a long, dazed moment before I step back into the bedroom. Back into bed, and it does feel good. The sheets are cold, the mattress soft. Finley is sort of awake. She lifts the blankets for me, and I wrap her soft, warm body up against my chest.
I do that little tremor thing—my body’s last hiccup. Then her hands are touching my bare shoulders. I can feel her waking up more.
“Did you shower?” It’s a whisper.
I nod.
“Are you all right?” Her hand runs down my tricep.
I nod. “Yeah.”
But she can see through me. Even in the dark and half asleep, she knows I’m not. She hugs me with one arm around my neck, kisses my cheek. She’s so soft.
That’s all I need: to be inside her. It’s the only place on earth I always feel good. She prods at my dick, then jerks me off. I eat her pussy. After she comes, she presses my cheek against the softness of her belly, and she whispers it like nothing: “I love you.”
