The One After [SHAWN MENDES]

Chapter 67

"These are such good seats," Briya said excitedly as we got to our section on the floor of the Scotiabank Arena.

In my dream, his concert had been at the Roger's Centre, which was probably because that's where it had been the last time he toured. Tidbits of info like that had found their way into my coma-dream, and they probably accounted for a lot of details that were otherwise unexplainable.

We'd also had backstage passes in my dream, but this time he hadn't extended the offer. I'd received a package from a courier several days ago with three premium tickets and a short typed note that sounded nothing like Shawn, but that was all. It crossed my mind that the woman he was seeing was probably going to be at the show and he wanted to focus on her. I needed to appreciate that I was at his concert and that I had amazing seats instead of comparing the situation to one that never happened. Besides, I was meeting him for coffee later this week, and that was better than a few minutes backstage where he'd be pulled in a million different directions.

Or so I told myself.

I had not, however, shared with my besties that I was seeing him again soon. For now I was keeping it under wraps because I didn't need the stress of their probing questions.

"I need a drink," Fallon announced. "Maybe I'll even buy a shirt since this is the first time I'm at a concert where I've actually met the artist."

"I'm def getting one," Briya said. "I looked at them online and there are some really pretty options!"

We ventured out to the main concourse since the show wouldn't start for another half an hour. I got a big Diet Coke and they got some overpriced frozen drinks. Then we got in line for merchandise, surrounded by Shawn's excited followers. Several teenaged girls in front of us were gushing about how they were so happy he was single. This was probably why the mystery shower chick hadn't made it onto any gossip sites. He knew he was more marketable if he was unattached, which was a pretty sad commentary about his fan base.

When we got back to our seats, we were just in time for Dermot Kennedy, who put on a great show. I tried to remember what Tate McRae had been like in my dream and those concerts were now foggy in my brain.

Between acts, the crowd grew electric with anticipation and I could feel an excited energy emanating from the thousands of fans. When Shawn appeared on stage, the screaming was so loud that I was certain I might have minor hearing loss afterwards.

His performance was incredible, which I anticipated from the clips I'd watched. It was a million times better live, of course, and I found myself caught up in the fervor. I loved how confident he was on stage and how he made a point to connect with his audience. You could tell he loved to sing for people, and I knew he'd found his calling as a musical artist.

I enjoyed the entire show, though I did have one dark moment. As Shawn sang When You're Gone, the lyrics struck me even harder than they had when I listened at home. Each line was relatable to my situation with him- I'd lost the only person that mattered, and my time with him, even if it wasn't real, was the happiest I'd ever been. I knew it was completely irrational to be heartbroken over a dream, but I couldn't help it. It was a good thing my friends were so caught up in the show that they didn't notice me wiping tears off my cheeks.

After the concert we went our separate ways since we all had work the next day, though we made plans to have brunch soon. Once home, I got ready for bed and crawled under the covers as Inky nestled between my feet. I thought about texting Shawn that he'd been phenomenal, but the show left me painfully aware that it was impossible and unhealthy to recreate anything from the coma-dream and that I needed to move on.

After an hour of being unable to sleep because my ears were ringing loudly from the concert and I had a headache, I took out my journal.

Things to do or focus on:
(AKA Lucy's plan for self-improvement)

1. Schedule a therapy appointment

2. Stop listening to Shawn's music, checking social media for new photos or videos, and thinking about him

3. Research how to stop thinking about someone, because that's gonna be hard

4. Start plans for Vegas trip

5. Have coffee with Shawn and let that be closure on this chapter of my life

6. Try eating a little healthier

7. Sign up for a dating app

8. Find a hobby to occupy my time- Knitting? Crochet?

9. Start exercising. How bad can it be?

10. Look into adult education classes

When I was done with my list, I read over each item. Some things were completely doable. I could try going for a run, and I had the number for the therapist Doctor Morris suggested. She specialized in the after-effects of trauma, which I was definitely suffering from. The strange thing was that it wasn't the trauma of being attacked that was the problem; it was the trauma of losing everything in the dream.

"Stop thinking that you lost something!" I said loudly, causing Inky to jump. "It never existed, so you didn't lose it!"

This was the root of my problem. I knew that none of it happened, but it was hard to convince my heart of that. This was why I needed to distance myself from Shawn. As long as he was in the picture, I wasn't going to let go.

I wasn't sure why we'd been talking so much. Did he pity me? He was one of the nicest people on earth, and I could see him wanting to make me feel better after everything that happened. It didn't seem like him to be disingenuous, but how well did I actually know him?

Or was it truly that crazy thing where he now felt a responsibility for me? He said we had a connection, but with time it would undoubtedly dissipate. The sooner that happened, the better. I was never going to move on as long as he texted and called me.

I looked at the time on my phone and saw that it was almost two in the morning. Tomorrow was going to be absolutely miserable if I didn't sleep, so I got up and went to my bathroom. I still had a few pain pills left, so I broke one in half and took it with a glass of water. When I got back in bed, I waited for it to kick in.

I sat up with a start, dripping with sweat and shaking. It was only an hour after I'd taken the pill, but clearly I'd fallen deeply asleep and had a nightmare. I tried to remember what had scared me so badly, but none of it remained in my consciousness. I was left with the feeling of terrible loss, but I had no idea what was missing. This happened to me for years after my mother died, and I hoped those night terrors weren't returning. Maybe it was the medication I'd taken, or perhaps my brain was overstimulated from the concert. I told myself that I'd be fine if I fell back asleep, but there was a lingering fear that I'd experience the dark dream again.

When I woke up to my alarm at seven, I felt groggy and listless. I considered taking a sick day, but after almost a month of leave for my coma and recovery, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I made a coffee and began my routine, reminding myself that I was making a fresh start and letting go of Shawn.