Page 21 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
This time it stayed shut.
I looked out.
The street was really dark tonight.
Oh, I needed to turn on the lights.
Fuck, the cops would think I was drunk.
I could make it home. I was just another few miles.
I mean, it was just another few more miles. I think.
I could get home. No problem.
With a start, I woke up, hot sweat running down my back. My eyes popped open, adjusting to the dark of my house. My dog, curled up at the end of my bed, groaned and licked his leg.
I trembled in the darkness and hoped that I wouldn’t dream about that night ever again.
Agitated, I turned over and started playing with my cell phone, scrolling through my contacts. Women I couldn’t even remember. Ones who’d grabbed my phone and put in their numbers.
I didn’t need that, not with my own personal hottie living with me.
And I started deleting numbers.
I didn’t navel-gaze. Ever.
Something about the doe-eyed girl in the next room, who organized my silverware drawer when she thought I wasn’t looking, made me think about my life.
What did I want?
I wanted to not be fucking contemplating shit this deep in the middle of the night, that’s for sure. The unanalyzed life was definitely worth living, but my brain wouldn’t let me. Like a mosquito, it kept me awake, wondering how I was gonna fix it.
Wishing I could redo it.
I heard a moan from her room.
I chuckled involuntarily. Maybe she was having a nightmare about me not picking up the living room. Maybe I’d start doing that, too.
I heard it again.
No.
Was it? She wasn’t. Was she? It sounded like—did she? Was she getting herself off?
God, that was hot.
My hand drifted over the top of my sweatpants.
But her voice changed. She wasn’t taking care of herself. She was scared.
Her terrified voice cried out, “No, No, No!”
She was having a nightmare.
In an instant, I got up out of bed, ran to her door, and opened it.
Jessica was thrashing about in her bed, head whipping to and fro. She reminded me of an animal, backed into a corner, lashing out.
