Page 5 of Good and Gone

“Did he tell you that?”

She sighed heavily. “He never talks. You know that.”

Did I know that? I don’t know.Tyler thinks we shouldn’t indulge her, but her nightmares have been more and more frequent, and I’m at my wit’s end. We all are.

We’ve tried everything. I’ve checked outside her window at all hours. I’ve asked the neighbor for footage from his security cameras to show her. There’s nothing there, nothing to see, but try telling Lily that. For her, these dreams are real, and nothing I say will change that. I don’t know what else to do. I refuse to medicate her, and we’ve exhausted all other options.

“I was so scared, Mommy!” she sobbed into my chest when I came bursting into her room in the middle of the night. “He just stood there, staring at me. He drew it on his marker board.”

“His marker board?” I said in disbelief.

“Yes! It’s just like the one Mrs. Davis has.”

“What did he draw exactly?” Lily’s pediatrician mentioned that starting kindergarten can be overwhelming; that this change could explain the sudden onset of nightmares.

She looked up at me and shook her head in frustration— like she didn’t want to tell me. “It was more with his mind. You know how sometimes you know what I’m thinking?”

“Sure.”

“It was like that.”

“What else, Lily?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“I told you. He’s going to hurt you because you're a bad mommy.”

I hugged my daughter tightly, trying to block out the fear that was creeping up my spine. “Did he draw—did he tell you anything else?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Lily shook her head. “Just that he was going to make me sorry I was ever born.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I tried to help her go back to sleep, and eventually all of my back rubbing and lullaby singing worked and she dozed off. But not me. Even after I went back to bed, I had a hard time getting what she’d said out of my mind. I ran through all of the worst-case scenarios.What if I couldn’t stop these nightmares? What if Lily never gets to live a normal life? What if we couldn’t fix this?What if the doctors are right? What if medication is our only option? What if I am a bad mother? What if this is all my fault?

What if? What if? What if?

I can’t say I found any answers in all of that tossing and turning and lost sleep. In fact, I’m staring at her now, her fingers stuck in her ears, wishing I could hit the rewind button. I would have taken a half a melatonin tablet and worried about everything else later.

“What'd you say?” she shouts, bringing me fully into the present moment, reminding me to make a better choice next time. “I can't hear you!”

I ignore her and search for my keys, instead of going to battle. Mason ignores the both of us, but in the end her shouting gets the better of me and I raise my voice.

“I said I’m doing the best I can, Lily!”

It’s never good for her to begin the day like this. I try again. “I said I’m tired. And I'm sorry. I'll wash your shoes tonight, okay?”

“I don't care about the shoes,” she huffs, stomping off to her room. “I just wish you'd listen.”

I can feel my body tensing up, building up to an explosion, and not the kind I was hoping for earlier.

“What?” I call out, my voice cracking.

“I don't like this!” Lily shouts from her room.

“What don't you like?”

She reappears, poking her head around the corner. “I don't like the way you treat us. You never listen.”

“I listen.” I take a deep breath in and let it out. “Remember what Dr. Scholtz said? Always and never are seldom correct.”

“No, you don't. And you're always working!”

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