Connection: An Esteban Granero story

Part I: Dream On (Aerosmith)

He could feel the sea misting on his skin, and the briny salt smell filled his nostrils as he walked along the exposed rocks towards where she sat, a silent figure silhouetted against the orange glow of the setting sun. Every once in a while, she would look back at him, as if wondering what was taking him so long to close the distance between them.

“I’m trying.”

He struggled, but every leaden step he took brought him no closer to her, as if she was a cruel mirage of an oasis in the desert, forever unattainable.

Something warm bumped against him, jarring him out of his fretful dream. It was his girlfriend, Pilar getting up beside him.

“Are you getting up already?”

He groaned, raising his arms to shield his face as she yanked the curtains apart, flooding the room with the weak rays of the early sun.

“It’s your graduation today.” She reminded him. “I thought you would want to get ready early.”

He twisted to look blearily at the clock.

“But honey, it’s only 7 am. The ceremony’s not until 9:30.”

“I’m going to get the water ready for you.” She replied. “Don’t lounge around or you’ll run out of hot water!”

He sat up and sighed, kneading his eyes with the palm of his hand. He hadn’t slept well last night; he rarely sleeps well when he dreams because every time he does, he would see her, the mysterious woman. She follows him like a shadow through life, and like a shadow, grows along with him as time passes by. When he was a child, he dreamt that they were playmates, running together through fields of tall grass that didn’t exist except in his subconscious. It was strange though, because he never gave her a name, and although she was his constant companion, he never managed to reach her, always a step or two behind. Sometimes he wondered if she was just a projection of himself; an enduring reminder to never stop striving, to never give up in pursuit of his dreams. He immersed into the hot water and relaxed, allowing his idle thoughts to trickle away like the streams of water flowing down his torso and into the drain.

*****************************************************************************

[Every time I look in the mirror. All these lines on my face getting clearer]

Shannon leaned her head wearily against the surgically white walls of the waiting area outside the Emergency room at the Vancouver General Hospital. She had been sitting there, tense, while her husband paced back and forth, waiting for some news, any news of their daughter who was inside. When the police had called her after they found Lorelei and Stephen amidst the carnage of the accident...her heart clenched. No, her daughter will be okay; the doctor had just come out, promising that she will be fine. She had a couple of broken ribs and suffered a concussion but was otherwise relatively unharmed, having worn a helmet which protected her from further head injuries. Stephen on the other hand...she couldn’t even imagine what his parents were going through right now.

Her husband returned, holding a cup of coffee in front of her.

“How is Stephen?”

Her voice was hoarse; she hadn’t opened her mouth since she saw her daughter being brought in, and that was four hours ago.

“Drink this, you need the strength.”

John forced the cup into her hands, and she took a hesitant sip. It wasn’t scalding hot, but still managed to burn down her throat like gasoline. She stared at him expectantly.

[The past is gone. It went by, like dusk to dawn.]

“He’s not so good.” He admitted, sighing. “I can’t imagine what Courtney and David are going through right now. They should’ve known better than to go out with only one helmet, especially on a black, rainy day like this.”