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I’ve never had a problem with that before. But the books I edit, and have been editing for the last seven years, never made this kind of sense to me before. Not until I reconnected with Brennon and saw all that isn’t just make-believe. Not just wishful thinking. That it’s perfectly possible to meet a guy who makes you feel all those little tiny things you thought were just the stuff of fiction.
My phone chimes with a text, and I almost don’t pick it up right away. I’ve been leaping to check every time my phone makes a noise lately, hoping it’s a text or a call from Brennon, and I should stop that. It’s not healthy. And it’s damn distracting.
But then I read a whole paragraph of the book I’m working on, and I hardly see the actual words, let alone understand what they mean, because I’m so hyper-focused on who that text is from.
So, I give up and read it.
From: Brennon
Hey, beautiful. I can’t stop thinking about you. How about you come down to LA for a visit? Soon.
These are exactly the words I wanted to read. So much so that I have to read them a couple more times just to make super sure I’m not just imagining them. Brennon mentioned the other day how we should meet up again soon, but I didn’t take him too seriously.
I text back right away.
To: Brennon
That’d be great! You’ve been on my mind a lot too :)
Thirty seconds might go by before I have another text.
From: Brennon
Can you come right now?
I just stare at the words for a solid two minutes, willing my fingers not to type “Yes!” on their own.
To: Brennon
I wish I could.I text back instead.But I have a ton of work to finish and a really short deadline.
I wish it wasn’t true, but all the daydreaming for the past couple of days has put me way behind schedule on the book I’m working on. And knowing this writer and how she likes to go off on long tangents, I still have a lot of work to do. And I have two more novels to edit after this one.
From: Brennon
Pity :( Let me know when you can come.
To: Brennon
I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I figure out a date. Have to get back to work. I’ll text you later. :)
I dig back into the novel, suddenly finding all the focus I’ve been lacking.
By the time I surface again, it’s twilight outside, and my brain is jelly soft from the intense concentration. But I made up for a good chunk of the time I lost to daydreams. If I continue working at this speed, I can make it out to LA in as little as two weeks.
I forgot to eat in my work frenzy, and my fridge is empty. But instead of getting something delivered, I decide to head out to the supermarket. It’s time I started making better choices with my food, going for more veggies and fruits and less junk food. Plus, the fuzzy feeling in my brain is starting to turn into the beginning of a work-induced migraine. Maybe some fresh air and exercise will keep it from blooming. Sometimes it does.
It’s dark by the time I reach the supermarket, and my migraine is getting worse, not better. This time last year, I was still too afraid to go out by myself after it got dark. And the year before that, I was terrified to do it. Kevin, the stalker, could and would wait for me in the most unlikely places back then. And he always made sure I was all alone before he revealed himself.
All alone and in the dark.
For some stupid reason, those bad memories are surfacing like a geyser right now as I cross the empty and dark parking lot to get to the store. It’s been months since I’ve thought of Kevin every day like I used to, but right now, I see him in every shadow, behind every car, in every dark corner.
And it’s not any better inside the supermarket.
It’s deserted, yet every time I stop, I hear footsteps behind me. Footsteps that aren’t there. Because there’s no one there. Apart from the cashier, I’m the only person in the store. But my heart is racing anyway, my vision is blurry, and I’m so nauseous there’s nothing I want to buy because the thought of eating makes me want to puke.
My head is pounding worse than ever, and the more I tell myself it’s all just in my head, that I need to pull it together and stop this nonsense, the worse it gets.
