THE SECRET SEA: EXPANDED EDITION

6

The next day passes quickly and quietly. I still can't paint anything but blue and I still don't have a job. I eat a microwave burrito as the summer sun dips then lie on the bed. I listen to John Coltrane, knowing the damn dream will be arriving soon.

I feel my body bounce and I'm awake, heaving a gasp. Eve is sitting on the end of my twin bed in her nightgown, which is far too transparent. "Eve?"

"Hey Tim, are you awake?" asks Eve, turning toward me. There's a faraway look in her eye.

"Obviously." I sit up and twist my body, moving beside her. I regret not having a lock on the door and wonder if something is going to shock me awake every single night. "What's going on? Where's Steven?"

"Sleeping, duh," says Eve, rolling her eyes.

"Right. Why are you here?"

Eve squints at my clock. "Whoa, it's later than I thought. Sorry."

"It's fine," I lie, trying not to look at her.

"Tim, I wanted to talk about our housewarming conversation."

I shake my head and rub my hair. "Hey, don't worry about it, I—"

"Never, ever think you will have another chance at being with me," interrupts Eve.

I'm in shock. "What?"

"I'm with Steven. I'm married. I can't have you trying to tempt me every day. Just...stop it. We're friends—good friends—but I won't let it get weird.

Too late. "Eve, I swear I'm not trying to...tempt you. Jesus!"

Eve turns to me and she brushes her hand across my cheek. She leans in and kisses me and I let it linger. Her lips are warm and soft. I'm lost. Finally, I pull back. "Eve!"

"What?" Eve suddenly looks like a different person. Her eyes look tired. Heavy. Her mouth is drawn and her posture is limp.

"Are you drunk?"

"I don't even know what I'm doing half the time. I can't take this much longer. I'm going to ask her if we can get started before—" says Eve, trailing off.

"Eve?"

Eve waves her hands in the air. "I just want it over and done. Tim, this has been torture. I'm worried my soul is getting stale."

I wake up sweating and gripping the sheets. The sun is blasting my cheek from the solitary window above the sink. "Dammit," I groan. The dream was different this time, but not any better.