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Dad’s huge hand shot out and grabbed Evan by the shoulder. He squeezed hard, hard enough to pull a cry of pain out of Evan’s mouth.
“Shut up!” Dad snarled. “You’re both coming with me!”
“No!” Evan repeated.
But there was nothing Evan could do. Dad reached down and snatched me up by the wrist, yanking me to my feet as tears poured down my face. Together, Dad dragged us from the bedroom, both of us screaming, the only thought on my mind was confusion and hurt. Why was dad treating us this way?
I awoke to the chipper chime of my phone alarm. Without thinking, I shot my hand out and turned it off. A glance down at the white undershirt I had on revealed that I’d sweated through it. It was the typical physiological reaction to the dreams, as if my entire fight-or-flight response were channeled into my sweat glands.
I hated it, hated the dreams about Dad. They were always the same – Dad coming for Evan, and I had the opportunity to do something - but I was too young and scared to stand up to him. I was only ten, I shouldn’t blame myself, but I did. I would eventually stand up to our father, but all the times I hadn’t were etched in my brain forever.
It was hard to believe Evan didn’t turn out more like me. After all, he’s the one that lived through the years of abuse. He was the one who suffered the most. But somehow, he was warm, happy-go-lucky and not withdrawn and hard like me. Made me wonder how we turned out so differently.
I needed to push it all out of my head. I checked the time on my phone, seeing that it was a little after seven-thirty. I hurried to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and jumped into the shower to get my day started. The hot water against my body always helped in washing away the traces of the nightmares when they happened.
When I was done in the bathroom, I threw on a pair of jeans, a black Henley, and a hooded sweatshirt, along with some black boots. The day outside was gray and dreary, a reminder that even though the weather had been warmer than usual, it was still winter. Summers could be hot and clear, but whenever I thought of home the memory was always skies of deep, slate gray and the wind lolling the tops of the trees. For some reason, I always thought of winter.
My place was a cabin outside of town, the property isolated and surrounded by deep green evergreen trees, their height looming up into the sky. Typically, it was my place of perfect solitude, where I went to recharge.
That morning, however, I knew I needed to get out of the house. I grabbed my keys and a book and headed out, deciding to swing by Blueprint for a cup of coffee. I remembered Dream mentioning that she would be working on Monday, and that she had plans to go to Blueprint to grab her morning coffee where Clarissa worked.
I drove my truck into town, a bit of rain sprinkling onto the windshield. Ten minutes later I pulled into the lot in front of Blueprint. Clarissa’s Bug was there, but I couldn’t see any sign of Dream through the tall glass windows of the shop.
I stepped into the coffee shop, the place bustling with the morning rush. The din of customers mixed with the hissing of the espresso machines and the growling of coffee grinders. Still a bit on edge from my dream, the sounds took a few moments to get used to.
I scanned the tables, not spotting Dream among the people seated. But I did see Clarissa. She was behind the counter with the rest of the Blueprint crew, handing out coffees and taking orders. Part of me didn’t want to bother her in the middle of her rush, but when she saw that I was there her face lit up and she waved me over.
“Hey!” she said, placing her hands on the counter. “What’s up? There’s a little bit of a line but I can sneak you an espresso if that’s what you’re here for.” She winked, tilting her head toward the big espresso machine behind her.
“Sure – I’ll take a double Americano.”
“Coming right up!” she turned to the machine and began loading the espresso. “Hey – you haven’t seen Dream, have you?”
My stomach tensed. “No. I’d actually come in hoping to bump into her.”
“We were supposed to do breakfast before she started work. She said she’d get in around eight but it’s almost eight-thirty and she’s still not here.”
Clarissa placed a to-go cup of espresso in front of me, the crema on the top perfect. I slipped out my wallet, taking a five from inside and putting it in the tip jar.
“Have you tried to call her? Text her?”
She shook her head. “Been too busy. You might want to, though. I’m a little on edge when it comes to her on account of the whole Adam thing. And thanks, by the way.” She smiled, glancing over at the tip jar.
“Sure. I might try to get in touch with her. Knowing Adam’s running around town…”
Clarissa shivered, as if grossed out. “If you do, tell me what you find out, OK?”
“Will do.”
I took my coffee and book and found a small table by the window. The sky above roiled with the promise of a winter storm. I slipped my phone out of my pocket, wondering if I should get in touch or give her space.
Things were complicated with Dream, and I had no doubt they’d only become more so.
But Clarissa was worried about her, and so was I. I tapped out a quick message for her.
Hey Dream, just spoke to Clarissa. She asked me to check on you since you two had breakfast this morning and she hadn’t heard from you.
I sipped my Americano and waited for a response. Only a few minutes had passed, but I was getting anxious. Decided to see if any of the guys might be with her, perhaps they had kept her from meeting Clarissa.
Hey guys, just wondering if any of you have seen Dream this morning?
Evan responded first, Sad to say I haven’t. Should I check on her?
You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I texted back. I sipped my coffee again and was pondering heading over to her place when my phone buzzed again. This time, it was Clarissa.
Hey there! Please tell Clarissa I’m just running late and that I’m sorry.
Relief washed over me in an instant. Knowing that Adam was in town set my nerves on edge, and if I’d had my way, Dream would never be out of my sight… but she was a grown woman and had made herself very clear - she could handle herself. So I had to respect her wishes.
As hard as that might be to do.
