An Unextraordinary Lemon-less Life

Chapter 4

"I'm sorry," I stared at her. We both looked down at her hands on me and she released them quickly.

We sat there in silence for a few seconds before she spoke up.

"Happens to me too," she whispered, looking into the distance.

"Why did you stay?" I realized that came out harsher than I expected.

"I guess I just fell asleep. Sorry," she said as she got up to leave.

"No, you don't have to go," I told her, gently grabbing her arm. Why did I keep telling her that?

She smiled her sad smile and sat back down. She propped herself up against the headboard and wrapped her knees into her chest.

"You were dreaming about your dad. You kept calling out for him," she informed me.

"I always do." There was a bitterness in my voice.

"You seem upset by that."

"It's just, I don't know why I dream about my dad. I never even knew him. I knew my mom, and I...," I trailed off. I didn't know if I wanted to get into this with her.

"You what?"

"I don't know. I never dream about her. If there is anyone worth dreaming about, it's her, and I don't know, I just never dream about her," I heard my voice crack. I think she did too, because she grabbed my hand.

"I don't think that means what you think it does. It doesn't mean that she didn't matter as much as your dad. It means that she mattered more. I think you calling out for your dad and him not responding is normal for you. Something that you are used to. Like your brain is comfortable with that memory," she says, avoiding my eyes. I watched her as she spoke, so soft, yet so confident. I was intrigued. She let go of my hand and I felt a ping in my heart. I chose to ignore it.

"What are your dreams about?" I ask her. I didn't really care, but I hated talking about myself.

"My brother. It's more like a memory though. Of when we were little. We used to have this cottage on Lake Erie that we'd go to every summer. He fell through his inner tube one year, back when he didn't know how to swim. I was sitting on the dock and pulled him up to safety. Only in my dream, every time I try to grab him, my hand goes right through him. Like a ghost. I always wake up before it happens, but I know he dies."

I pictured young Tuesday. Her long red curls tied into two braids. Her screams as she tries to save her brother. I cringed at the thought.

"Why were you crying earlier?" I asked her.

She took a deep breath before she responded. "I cry when I'm alone for too long. I don't know why. I guess it's because I'm left alone with my thoughts, and no matter what, I always end up thinking about him."

I put my hand on top of hers and for the first time tonight, she looked me in the eyes. I immediately felt the connection that we shared. I'd never felt it before, but that's only because I'd never let myself. The feeling was consuming.

She reached down and touched my hand on hers. She removed it and curled up close to me. Her head on my chest, and her hand on my bare stomach.

"Is this okay?" I could hear the worry in her voice. She was as scared as I was.

"I think so."

And we fell asleep like that, I think. I'm not sure though because when I woke up in the morning, she was gone.

---

Work was awkward today. Tuesday seemed to avoid me at all costs. I guess that made sense. I wasn't exactly sure what had happened last night. I think it was the first time either of us had told anyone about our nightmares. It made me more comfortable to know that I wasn't the only one with nightmares. Comfortable, but strange.