Page 78 of Love You Madly

I glance around my tiny, cluttered apartment, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me. The thin walls and constant noise have made it impossible to really get any rest. Nights filled with loud music and early mornings with Sara’s cries have left me drained.

More often than not, she and I have fallen asleep in the older rocker recliner that Mom gave me watchingStrawberry ShortcakeandTinkerbellDVDs on my computer monitor because I haven’t been able to buy a TV yet.

Me:

I hope so. I guess I’m kind of glad you got your phone back.

Owen:

I’m glad I got it back too, Callie. So glad.

I smile, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. Owen and I text for a little while longer, but for the first time in a while, I feel like things might be looking up. Sure, I still have a lot to figure out, but for tonight, I’ll let myself feel good about this tiny victory.

thirty-four

JUST A DREAM - NELLY

OWEN - JULY 10, 2013

Ilie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the conversation with Callie replaying in my mind. Reconnecting with her has been a comfort in a sea of uncertainty. Her news about moving into a new place brings a smile to my face. She deserves a break after everything she’s been through. I just hope this is the beginning of something better for her. Maybe I shouldn’t be so emotionally invested in her but there’s a force there I cannot deny for much longer.

I close my eyes, trying to shake the feeling that’s gnawing at me. Exhaustion from the day seeps into my bones and when I drift off to sleep, thoughts of Callie mix with memories from my past until they all blur together, pulling me under.

Trees loom overhead, their branches forming a canopy as I stand among the towering timbers. The cool air smells of the pine trees that surround me. A wave of déjà vu washes over me, but everything feels much morevivid somehow.

As I walk deeper into the trees, the path becomes clearer, lined with small, delicate flowers that seem to glow in the dim light. I follow the path, my heart pounding with anticipation and fear of the unknown. The sound of a flowing stream reaches my ears, and I feel drawn to it.

I enter a clearing where a small, crystal-clear stream cuts through the farmland. I find my Dream Girl standing near the water’s edge, her dark hair cascading down her back. Her skin glows in the evening sun, making her look like an angel. She turns slowly, and her green eyes lock onto mine as the now familiar hints of purple shimmer in the dim light.

She holds a small red box in her hands. It is intricately decorated with symbols I can’t quite make out. She looks at me with sadness and determination, like she’s frustrated that I haven’t figured out what she’s trying to tell me.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice echoing in the stillness.

She still doesn’t speak, but her eyes convey a depth of emotion that takes my breath away. She steps forward, holding out the box to me. I reach out, my hands trembling, and take it from her. The moment our hands touch, a warmth spreads through me, and the symbols on the box begin to glow faintly.

I open it and find a single, worn paragraph inside. My pulse quickens as I carefully pull it out. The photo is of a family standing in front of a house that feels familiar although I’m certain I’ve never seen it before. The man in the picture looks like an older version of me–almost identical to how my dad looks now. Beside him is an older version of what I can only assume must be her. Both people in the picture are smiling, happiness radiating off of them.

My head is spinning when I look back at her, “Is this us?”

It could be. I feel a surge of emotions–hope, confusion, longing–hit me hard. Somehow, I know the choices I make will shape what comes next for me.

Before I can ask anything else, the dream starts to fade. The timbers and the stream dissolve into a blur of earthy colors, leaving me with only the image of the photograph as everything else slips away.

On Thursday morning, I jolt upright in bed, my heart racing. I try to center myself in the moment and grapple with the fact that it was just a dream. I try to recall as many of the little details about the photo as possible, but aside from the woman’s hair and eye color, the details escape me. The dream felt more vivid, more real, like a force I can’t explain. But somehow, I can never fully picture her face when I am awake. So why did it feel so real?

I scroll back through my conversation with Callie last night and am reminded of a few pictures that should still be in my old phone. With Callie back in my life, the need to end things with Karissa feels more urgent. Regardless of what happens next, I know my feelings for Callie are stronger than they should be for someone in a relationship, and I cannot keep avoiding the inevitable.

I drag myself out of bed to get ready for work, attempting to shake off the lingering thoughts of everything that is going on in my life. I decide I’ll reach out to Karissa at some point today so we can finally have the conversation I’ve been trying to avoid because I don’t want to hurt her feelings.

As I settle into my usual routine at work, my phone pings. Instantly, I find myself hoping it’s a message from Callie. But when I see it isn’t, a wave of disappointment washes over me. Instead, it’s Karissa saying that she needs to talk to me about something and I agree to meet her in the cafeteria for lunch.

When I reach the cafeteria, I find Karissa dressed in her usual pink scrubs–a requirement for the OB department where she works. She sits at our usual table with a bright smile thattells me we may not be on the same page like I had hoped when she texted me with “We need to talk,” vibes earlier.

The hospital cafeteria buzzes with the usual chatter and a part of me hopes it will mask the uneasy conversation I may be on the verge of having with her.

“Hey, babe,” she greets me with a kiss on the cheek as I sit down. The term of endearment catches me off guard–she’s never called me that before.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to shake off lingering thoughts from last night’s dream and Callie. My mind scrambles to keep up, and I can’t help but feel my chest tightening and I pray I can keep my panic at bay. For a moment, I was convinced she was going to end things. But now, I’m not so sure.

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