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“I guess.”
“All right . . . uh . . . I guess the answer is, I have No. Fucking. Clue. Oh, and just let me know when it’s my turn to ask a few questions. Because I’d like to know how the hell you. Got into. My dream. Hello.”
Janie blushes. “Some of your dreams are kind of great.”
“Oh, really.” Cabel leans forward and catches her chin. Catches her by surprise. He pulls her toward him and traces her cheekbone with his thumb. And then, he puts his lips on hers.
Janie falls into the kiss. She closes her eyes and slips her hand to his shoulder. They explore the kiss for a moment, sweetly. Cabel digs his fingers into her hair and he pulls her closer. But before it grows any stronger, Janie pulls away. She feels like her limbs are rubber.
“Shit,” she sputters. “You . . . you . . . ”
He smiles lazily, his lips still wet. “Yes?”
“You kiss better than I imagined. Even in—”
He blinks. “No,” he says. “No, no, no. Don’t even tell me you’ve been there.”
She bites her lip. “Well, maybe if you stopped sleeping during study hall, I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Good God!” he says. “Is nothing sacred? Sheesh.” He turns away, embarrassed. “Maybe you should start from the beginning.”
Janie sighs and leans back against the couch. It was like reliving the dreams. Again.
“The short version? I get sucked into people’s dreams. I can’t help it. I can’t stop it. It’s driving me crazy.”
He gives her a long look. “Okay, um, how? That’s just bizarre.”
“I don’t know.”
“Is this a recent thing?”
“No. The first one I remember, I was eight.”
“So, in that dream, my dream, where I’m standing behind you, watching myself . . . in . . . ” He holds his head. “Okay, so that’s how you see the dreams, right? Like I saw mine. While I was dreaming it. Ughh.” He rubs his temples.
“That was weird, huh,” Janie says softly. “I know this is all really weird. I’m sorry.”
There’s a knock at the door. Janie jumps up, relieved. She grabs the twenty and goes to answer it.
She sets the pizza and a two-liter of Pepsi on the coffee table and goes to the kitchen for a beer, glasses, napkins, and paper plates. She pours the Pepsi for
Cabel and clips open the beer. She takes a sip as Cabel grabs some pizza.
“Now. Tell me what else you’ve seen in my dreams, before I get really paranoid.”
“Okay,” she says, suddenly feeling a bit shy. She takes another sip and begins. “We’re behind that shed or barn of some sort. Is that your backyard?”
He nods, chewing.
“Up until yesterday, I’ve seen you as the monster-man-thing”—she cringes, not sure what to name it—“that monster in the house—the kitchen. With the chair. That one was purely coincidental—I didn’t even know it was you, dreaming it. Not until later. It was sort of a drive-by thing.”
He closes his eyes, cringes, and sets his pizza down on the plate.
“That was you,” he says slowly. “I knew I’d seen your car before. I thought you were . . . someone else.” He pauses, lost in thought. “The yard—oh, God—your so-called superstition. Damn. So—” He sits up, hands paused in midair, eyes closed. Thinking. Processing.
And then he turns and stares at her. “You could have totally crashed.”
“I didn’t think anybody saw me.”
“The headlights—your headlights. That’s what woke me up. They were shining in my window. . . . Jesus Christ, Janie.”
“Your bedroom window must have been open. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have happened. I think. I had no idea it was your house.”
He sits back, shaking his head slightly as he puts the pieces together. “Okay,” he says. “Get to the good part before I completely lose my appetite.”
“Behind the shed. You walk up to me. Touch my face. Kiss me. I kiss you back.”
He’s silent.
“That’s it,” she says.
He regards her carefully. “That’s it?”
“Yes. I swear. I mean, it was a good kiss, though.”
He nods, lost in thought. “Damn bell always rings then, doesn’t it.”
She smiles. “Yeah.” She pauses, wondering if she should mention the part where he asks her to help him, but he’s on to the next thing.
“So when I found you on the desk in the library a few weeks ago, and it took you a while to sit up . . . what was that? You weren’t asleep, were you.”
“No.”
“That was a bad one?”
“Yeah. Real bad.”
He puts his head in his hands and takes off his glasses. He rubs his eyes. “Jesus,” he says. “I remember that one.” He keeps his head down, and Janie waits. “So that’s why you said . . . when I asked you if you had a bad dream,” he murmurs.
“I . . . I wanted to know if you knew I was there, watching. Even when people talk to me in their dreams, no one seems to remember that part. No one ever mentions it, anyway.”
“I don’t recall ever seeing you there, or talking to you . . . except when I’m actually dreaming about you,” he muses. “Janie,” he says abruptly. “What if I don’t want you to see it?”
Janie grabs a slice of pizza. “I’m working hard, trying to bust my way out of them—the dreams. I don’t want to be a voyeur—seriously, I can’t help it. It’s almost impossible. So far, anyway. But I’m making a little progress. Slowly.” She pauses. “If you don’t want me to see, I guess, don’t sleep in the same room as me.”
He looks up at her with a sly smile. “But I’m known for sleeping in school. It’s my shtick.”
“You can change your schedule. Or I can change mine. I’ll do whatever you want.” She looks at the uneaten pizza and sets her plate down. She is miserable.
“Whatever I want,” he says.
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid you haven’t been privy to that dream yet.”
She looks at him. He’s looking at her, and she grows warm. “Maybe I’d rather experience that firsthand,” she says lightly.
“Mmmm.” He takes a sip of his soda. “But before this goes offtrack . . . What the hell is wrong with you?”
She’s silent. Not looking at him.
“And,” he says, “Jesus. It just occurred to me why you freaked when I pretended I wasn’t me. You must be a freaking mess, Hannagan.” He tugs her arm, and she falls back on the couch toward him. He kisses the top of her head. “I can’t begin to tell you how bad I felt about that.”
“It’s cool,” she says. “Sorry about the flagrant foul,” she adds.
“S’all right. I was wearing a cup.” He twirls a strand of her hair with his finger. “So, when do you sleep, like, normally?”
