Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 49

I laughed. "Yeah, 'cause then you'd have it too."

            "That's not the only reason I'm glad." He lifted his gaze again, looking right at me. "What were you dreaming about the other night when Dad woke you up?"

            I covered my face with my hands. "God, that was awful. Did I scream really loud? In my dream I was screaming and it felt so...real."

            "Loud enough to wake my dad up from downstairs."

            I squeezed my eyes shut. "In the dream, it wasn't them...I mean, I know it wasn't my parents, but it didn't sound like them either. We were in the car and they kept saying, 'Don't you want to come with us, Karen, we're a family, we should do this together.' And I didn't want to. I wanted out of that car so bad I couldn't even think about my mom or my dad or what was about to happen to them. I jumped out." For some reason I felt guilty for having this subconscious reaction and a tiny part of me worried what Jordan would think.

            Jordan took a deep breath and I felt him slide a little closer. "I used to have nightmares like that too. I saw the explosion in so many different ways, things you couldn't even imagine. Stuff I would be too scared to ever say out loud. Dad used to have to wake me up like he did with you. But I always made up something, told him I dreamt that I went to school naked or got locked out of the house in the winter."

            "How do I make it stop?" I asked him, desperate to keep a nightmare sequel from happening.

            "You tell me about it," he said frankly. "Every time. Give me all the worst details and then your mind won't have this horrible stuff buried that's only allowed to come out when you're unconscious."

            That was when I remembered what he said the other night, about not having anything to offer anyone, except me. He gets it. He gets me.

            And then my hand was under his blanket, fumbling around for his. The gesture was completely friendly, but the electric shock that surged through my weak and barely functioning body was anything but friendly.

            "Jordan?"

            "Huh?" His eyes had drifted shut again, and he tried and failed to pull them open.

            "I'm sorry you're sick."

            A smile spread across his sleepy face and he squeezed my hand. "I'm not."

February 17

Jordan,

I have a crush on you. And I really don't know what to do about it.

—Karen

Stacey,

You are a great mom. Olivia is lucky to have you.

—Karen       

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