I woke from a nightmare, finding myself wound up tight in the sheets. One of those bad dreams where your own cries wake you. Sean knocked at my door, asking if I was all right. I kicked the sheets, uncoiling my body, and told him I was fine.
"To see the world in a grain of sand," I said to myself. I knew what that meant now. William Blake was right.
I stretched my arms and legs spread eagle, then slapped my feet against the mattress. God, what freedom! I fluffed the pillow and smothered myself with it, then warmed my palms on the top of the quilt, rubbing them up and down, tracing the basket weave pattern. All the simple tactile messages I'd missed, I hoarded. The sun shining from the bay window and the welcoming wake-up call of the cold hardwood floor underfoot— each experience meant I was alive and moving.
It is true. I appreciate life more, after all my agony. " Joy and woe are woven fine / A clothing for the soul divine. "
While the pads of my feet were having their own little party on the floor, I heard the timid knock again and knew Sean wouldn't leave.
When I opened the door to go downstairs, I freaked— there stood Sean with a dopey grin in pink bunny slippers, purple chenille bathrobe and orange polka dot flannels.
"You look like hell," he told me.
"Me?! I guess I didn't take you seriously enough when you told me you wanted to run away and join the circus," I laughed. "All you need is a red nose and a unicycle."
He cleared his throat, raising his right eyebrow.
"I..." he began, bowing dramatically, "...wore this outlandish affair you bought for me in your honor."
"But I don't think I expected you to wear them all at the same time," I suppressed a laugh.
"Yes you did! Don't you remember?! Besides it's a celebration. You're home!"
"Yeah.. er, well.. ok... I guess," I stammered, then turned tail and started down the stairs. He did the brotherly love thing— he yanked my hair and pulled me back.
Next up, the other brotherly love thing—tackle him to the ground, but I pulled back when he pointed down at his feet and leaned back on his heels, backing off.
"Hey, stop. See? Ah-h, the slippers are soft and squishy. You're the one who told me that! You told me, 'These are the best; they're soft and squishy and sure to make your toes curl.' And look! I'm curling my toes right now in sheer contentment, but you can't see 'cause Mr. Bunny Wabbit's in the way."
I started back down the stairs. He followed behind me, saying, "Hop, hop, hop!"
"Back off, Sean! Shit, you're scaring me. You keep watching me like I'm some magician's white rabbit. I'm not going to friggin' disappear!"
"Well, excuse me for caring!"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I can't remember. I'll be better after I've had my coffee and used the bathroom," I said, throwing up my arms.
He had that damn pouty bottom lip quivering. Guilt. But he turned it off as soon at I turned away. I was glad I didn't take it back, especially after I heard him behind me in that lilting sing-song voice chanting, "Bunny hop, bunny hop, bunny hop, hop..."
Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I sang along with him. "The Bunny Hop" echoed down the hall all the way to the bathroom. At least he didn't hippity-hop in on my tail while I was taking a piss.
After I dried my hands, humming, I inspected my fingernails, then opened the door and found him pacing back and forth like a fuzzy, garish bodyguard.
YOU ARE READING
Failing Upward
ParanormalWhen John Watson, a young med student who supports himself as a florist-by-day and musician-by-night, finds he is heir to supernatural powers that others would kill to possess, John's life transforms into a mixture of comedy and terror as he goes fr...
