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Right?
Candy climbs off me and I fight the urge to stop her, to keep her here, in this early morning bubble where everything is okay, when the day is full of possibilities.
I remind myself I’ll be back here in the evening. That I like my work. That everything’s fine. That Candy and Joel will join me after work and that this is now my life.
A damn good life. Joel said I deserve to be happy. Candy said I deserve to be loved. They’re here for me, with me, and I should stop acting as if this happiness will be snatched away from me at any moment.
***
Joel streaks through the kitchen just before we leave home, drinks the rest of my coffee and runs back out, mumbling something about being late for work.
The company he’s working for now is right around the corner, though, so I’m not too worried he’ll make a bad impression on his first day. I’d kiss him for good luck, but he’s gone already, and it’s time to drag my sorry ass into the shower and get ready for work, too.
Chronic insomnia caused by gory nightmares sucks donkey balls. I’ve learned to live with it over the years since Mom died, but the past few weeks have been brutal. Ever since Dad attacked me, the nightmares have grown worse, and I feel like shit warmed over.
Still. I’m alive. Living a good life. Remember this, Jet. Repeat after me.
Everything’s fine.
The day goes by fast. Christmas season starts early for bookstores, and we have way more customers than I’m used to. Plus, Donna is lost in fluffy pink clouds, daydreaming about her man, and I swear I saw a hint of lacy bra peeking through her blouse today.
Hey, I look. I’m a guy. And I doubt that the lace-and-love-struck-look combo is a coincidence. I hope it turns out fine for her. Despite her firing me a few weeks back, I like her, and hey, she took me back.
Go, Donna. Go get him, tiger. Or cougar, whatever.
I meant what I told Candy the other day. Who the hell cares about age? Age, gender, allergies or favorite book—what does it matter? Main thing is to find a person you click with, a person who will stick by you and take care of you.
A person to love you.
All these thoughts make me impatient to finish work and go home. Candy isn’t coming to the store today, there’s too much to do, and the lack of sleep is catching up with me. By the time Donna makes the rounds, checking the shop before locking up, I can barely keep my eyes open.
What’s even worse, images from the nightmare keep flashing in front of my eyes, fucking with my head. You know you’re seriously sleep-deprived when you’re dreaming with your eyes open—and not the good stuff, either.
Why couldn’t I dream of Candy and Joel, huh? Why the fuck does it have to be my psycho dad, chasing after me with a knife?
Jesus.
“Do you need a ride, Jethro?” Donna asks, peering out of the glass door. “Looks like there’s a storm coming.”
Oh shit. I stifle a yawn behind my hand and grab my jacket. “Nah, I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” I slip on my jacket. Some fresh air will wake me up, anyway.
“Suit yourself. Maybe I should have you sign that. If your boyfriend and girlfriend come looking to hurt me for letting you walk home in the storm, I’ll be in a world of trouble.”
I blink at her stupidly. “They wouldn’t…”
Would they? The thought of Candy and Joel coming to threaten Donna in case she ever lets me out alone again is so funny, I let out a bark of laughter.
Funny, and bittersweet and heartwarming.
“Glad I can entertain you,” Donna mutters darkly and buttons up her long coat. “Hey, take a couple of books with you.”
“What for?”
“To weigh you down, so the wind doesn’t blow you away.”
