After the Sun Sets (18+)

CHAPTER 5a - Reflection pt.2

Lora's heart started hammering. "Jonathan, you know you can't stay in the chair for longer than twenty minutes at a stretch. If you've been there for twenty-five, you're already pushing it."

She heard his growl before he turned to her. "Again with the negativity. You know, if I were to let your words get to me, I would still be in that coma. I would be stuck in that bed eating from a fucking tube for the rest of my life!" Jonathan was red and shaking with agitation.

"Jona," she started patiently, "please! Sitting causes pressure on your coccyx..."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a fucking child!" he roared, eyes bulging as he pushed the over-bed table with his palms. It shot across the room and slammed into the opposite wall with a loud bang.

A moment later, Mike shot into the room to see what happened. His eyes flitted from Jona to Lora to the table on the floor, to Karl and Vico looking like stunned statues on either side of Lora. His expression became severe and Lora knew he had pieced the puzzle together in seconds.

"What's going on, Jona?" he asked in his deep voice.

The air in the room was dense and when Jonathan let out a charming laugh and lifted a charming hand towards him, it made Lora's stomach turn.

"Mike! Finally, someone I can reason with," he sighed in mock relief. "These pansies are scared my ass will fall off if I stay on the armchair. I've been in bed for a week and after ten minutes they want me back up. Just tell them I can survive a couple of hours on the bloody chair. I survived a fucking car crash after all!"

Lora's chest felt crushed by the weight of her husband's profanity and ingratitude. She prayed internally for God to forgive him, to enlighten him. "You've been there for almost half an hour. Karl and Vico are right, you should go back up in bed," she tried once more.

"God damn it, woman! I already told you to stay out of this. You're not the one stuck in that damn bed!"

The door Mike had left open slammed behind them with a loud bang and Jona's thunderous voice stopped instantly, a strained silence settling in its place. They all turned towards the man in green scrubs and white coat as he made his way to the angry patient.

"Doctor..." Jona started, but Dr Shaw cut him off.

"I could hear you shouting all the way down the hall," he said, his voice low but stern. "I will not tolerate this kind of talk or behaviour in my ward."

"But Dr Shaw-"

"I am not done speaking! Everyone here wants to help you recover to the best of your abilities and regardless of what you believe, the staff know what they are doing. We do not give orders based on what you want but on medical knowledge, clinical research and experience. If you do not respect that then we cannot help you. We have a zero-tolerance policy in this ward. Raise your voice again and you are out. Is that clear?"

Lora watched the scene in front of her as though it were a theatrical play. Dr Shaw looked nothing like his usual self. He did not look young and carefree. He looked strained, mature, unmoveable. And the man in front of her looked nothing like her husband. Jona, though breathing hard and undoubtedly furious, looked like a retreating bull, the fire not quite extinguished from his eyes but the ambers tamed.

"Put him back in bed, Karl or the surgery will be nothing more than a waste of my time. If you ever want to stand on your feet again, Mr Scicluna, you better listen to your wife. She believes in what you are capable of more than anyone in this room."

As he turned to leave, Dr Shaw's eyes landed on Lora and their vibrant green throbbed. Whether it was with understanding or with accusation, Lora did not know. All she knew was that she wanted to thank him and hide from him at the same time.

#

Lora woke up gasping, drenched in sweat and breathing hard. She looked around in the dark and heaved a great sigh of relief as she realised she was in her bedroom, in her marital bed.

Heavenly Father forgive me for I have sinned, she prayed quickly making the sign of the cross over her racing heart.

"It's okay," she said out loud. "It's okay. It's just a dream. The Lord won't blame us for things we have no control over."

Lead us not into temptation, the Bible says, because God knows temptation is everywhere, even in the safety of our dreams. But she couldn't help that, so it wasn't her fault. She wasn't to blame. No.

She repeated the words in her head, over and over. She imagined Hannah's voice telling her the same thing, just as she had when she had her first dream of the same sinful nature. She was not even twelve years old when she went crying into her sister's room, asking her how she could ever confess something so shameful to the priest during confession hour. But Hannah took her hand and laughed gently.

"Sweet Lora, you don't have to tell anyone about that. Just pray for forgiveness in your heart. The Lord doesn't blame us for things we have no control over."

Lora's eyes went wide. "So, you've had dreams like this too?"

"Of course! It's the most natural thing! It just means you're growing up."

"But Hannah, you don't get it!" young Lora sobbed. "I d-dreamt about a b- b-boy. I didn't even know him. Not even in my dream and I let him... I wanted him to... He..."

"He what, Lora?" Hannah probed gently.

"He kissed me," she whispered, afraid that her mother would hear.

Hannah laughed again. "Sweety, I've had worse dreams than that! I've done worse things than that!"

Lora's face became stern in anger. Her sister was supposed to help her, to guide her. "That's not good, Hannah! This is not right. I'm going down to the chapel, maybe Father Louis is there."

But Hannah's playful demeanour changed and her almond eyes widened in panic. "You are not talking to Father Louis about this! Are you crazy? He's a man!"

"A man of the cloth!" Lora fired back indignantly.

"Listen to me, Lora!" Hannah said urgently to her little sister. "I know Father Louis is a good man but he is a man nonetheless. You don't talk to men about these things, okay? We are all human and we all make mistakes."

"What do you mean?" young Lora had challenged.

"You know exactly what I mean, Lora! I know you're not an idiot. It was only a dream. The boy in your dream didn't even have a face!"

She was right. He didn't have a face and neither did the boys, men, she dreamt about after that night. But tonight it was different.

Tonight, the man who lay on top of her, devouring her with his eyes, ravishing her with his mouth and kissing her passionately between the sheets that were now tangled around her legs, had a face. That man had a name and she screamed it her dream and gasped it as she woke up, the image of his green eyes and wicked smile making her heart race dangerously.