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“Liz! Get back here! Liz!”
At the last second, I whirl around and Roger is there in front of me. He grabs my shoulders. “Are you fucking crazy? What is wrong with you? No kids! What are you doing? You’re killing us! Dating Marc? Ha! You’re killing me!”
“Stop!” I scream at him. What is he doing? What is he talking about?
“You’re a cold-hearted bitch, Liz! Selfish, too. They deserve this and they want this more than we do. Why are you dating Marc? What the fuck is wrong with you? Liz, stop!” I’ve started hitting him at some point, and I don’t stop because he’s a bastard and I’m livid! “Liz! Liz! Liz! Elizabeth! Elizabeth! ELIZABETH!”
My eyes flash open and someone is holding my shoulders down, hovering over me. My chest is heaving, I’m struggling against the hold, but once I focus and see that it’s Marc, I still. Tears spill over as the dream rushes at me and overwhelms me.
Marc falls to the side and pulls me into his arms. “It was only a dream. You’re okay now.” He rubs my back, but I still feel shaken. “You can pack a mean punch, even in your sleep.”
“I was hitting you?”
“Yeah. Hope it wasn’t me in your dream, too.” Marc wipes away my tears, and I just shake my head. “Don’t want to talk about it?”
“No.”
He kisses me softly and holds me tightly, not saying a word more about it. Sleep doesn’t come so easily after that. I doze off here and there, tossing and turning, but I’m awake and exhausted when my alarm goes off.
Sylvia was probably right in ways she doesn’t even know about when she said I should see a therapist. God, I forgot how much Roger and I argued. Last night’s bizarre dream made me think of our last year together. It was not good. It was rough. How could I have forgotten that?
“Stay,” Marc orders when I try to pull out of his arms. “I’ll get them up and ready. Try to get some more sleep. No arguing, so don’t even think about it.” He kisses me, hard and firm, before getting out of the bed and leaving me to wake the girls. Hopefully, I didn’t keep him up with my restlessness. If one of us needs to be well-rested, it’s the professional athlete.
I hear groans and then giggles. He must’ve said something funny.
“What are you smiling for?” Marc appears in the doorway.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
He runs into the room and leaps onto the bed with a squeal. “Oh my goodness!” I laugh as he pulls me into his arms and rolls us around in a frenzy. “Elizabeth is glad I’m here. She likes me! She really, really likes me!” He starts kissing all over my face, and all I can do is laugh.
“What are y’all doing?” Our heads whip over to the doorway at the sound of Stephanie’s voice.
“Your Aunt Lizzy likes me.”
She looks confused, so I add, “Marco is crazy and likes to act crazy. Are you and your sister dressed?” She nods. “Maybe Marco will fix you breakfast.”
“Done,” he says, smacking a kiss on my cheek. “You need to get ready now, too.” He rolls off me and goes over to Stephanie, taking her hand and I hear him discussing the details of breakfast. I sigh happily and get out of bed to get ready.
There’s a darkness on the edge of my mind. It’s waiting for the right moment to pounce and attack, but I don’t want to let it. Not when I feel like I can breathe in fresh air, genuinely smile, and when I’m letting my defenses fall with Marc. Life already did a few numbers on me when Roger died; I don’t want to keep revisiting that, though I know it’s coming with the anniversary of his death next week.
It’s like for the past six years I was locked away in a stuffy old house full of selective memories of the past. I could walk around the house, think about the good times, and I could stand at a window to watch the colorful world outside keep moving along, but I couldn’t walk outside because the door wouldn’t open.
And now, I’m outside.
There’s clean fresh air to fill my lungs until they’re so full they want to burst. There’s soft green grass underneath my feet. There’s the laughter and giggles of the twins and I can appreciate the sight of them being kids. There’s the strong arms of Scott and Sylvia around me as they welcome me back like I was never missing. But best of all, there’s a tall blond-haired, blue-eyed goofball of a hockey player who challenges me, irks me, makes my insides feel all gooey and sweet, and as I told him before, he frees me.
Goodness, I forgot how addicting this feeling was. If Marc has been feeling this way from the start, like he says, it’s no wonder he refused to give up. Who would want to let go of this giddy, heady feeling of wanting someone and needing to be around them? It simply feels too good. It’s not even the feeling itself. It’s him. It’s because it’s him that even when I didn’t want a relationship, a friend or anything that was offered, I craved him.
Sometimes, I still think I’m out of my mind.
Lately, I’m okay with that because Sylvia accomplished her goal: I’m happy.
Wearing the shirt Marc bought me, I enter the box. I fake a smile as I walk past some of the wives and girlfriends I’m unfamiliar with as I move to the front where Meredith, Sylvia, and Theresa are sitting.
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“Oh, she’s showing team spirit!” Sylvia exclaims when she sees me.
