Between Sleep And Wake

Family Dinner

After a while her body began to accommodate the copious caffeine intake; she was desensitized and found herself mentally exhausted. At work she could not focus as she typed. At home she spoke little to Emma. And today she did not engage in much conversation with her parents during dinner.

They had cooked chicken and potatoes; the poultry smell wasn't nearly enough to stimulate her hunger. She ate but did not want to, slowly taking small bites of her portion as the evening went by.

She didn't even realize she was nodding off until her mother's voice jolted her awake.

"Aren't you happy?" her mother asked.

Wendy frowned. "Happy? About what?"

"Your brother's engagement," her father answered.

What? Her brother was engaged? For how long? Was that what her parents were discussing tonight? Truthfully, she hadn't been listening to her parents' words, only their voices. There was a dog barking, loudly, outside that wedged into the quiet; although it was repetitive enough that it hardly kept her from almost falling asleep at the table. However, it was still getting more of her attention than either her father or mother were. 

"Why did he not inform me of it?" she asked.

"He said he attempted to ring you on numerous occasions but you were not responsive," her mother replied.

Right. She had received several calls over the course of the last week or so. Yet she hadn't cared enough to answer. Now she felt awful. Her detachment was interfering greatly with her relationships. And she knew she had to rectify it; she couldn't let her mind's thoughts dictate her entire life the way it was. It wasn't fair to her family or to Emma or to her friends that she hadn't spoken to at all lately. Not to anyone.

"I should apologize to him," she said. "I didn't know it was him."

"That would undoubtedly please him," her father told her.

"I do wonder when we'll hear the announcement of your engagement," her mother said.

"I'm afraid it won't be for a terribly long time." She stared down at her food, unable to witness the inevitable look of disappointment on her mother's unblemished, delicate face.

"I suspected as much. You had a much stronger desire for marriage and motherhood as a child. I cannot help wondering what has changed to bring on such jadedness in you, Wendy."

"I grew up. Adults don't always have the same ambitions as children," Wendy said, keeping her voice composed. She didn't want to get defensive, since it would only instigate an argument.

"Yes, but you should have married before your brother," her mother said.

"That's not an obligation." She took a sliver of the yellow potatoes, chewing ever so slowly. It tasted like metallic to her. The burden of having almost no desire to eat proper foods. Everything had the same taste when it shouldn't. She let it sit in her mouth, wondering if she should discreetly spit it into her napkin.

"It would make me exceptionally happy, Wendy. You've been miserable these last several years. Don't you wish to know what it would be like to hold your own child in your arms?"

"I once did." A long time ago. "Please . . . can we discuss something else?"

"Gladly," her father said. He'd been awfully quiet about the topic and he seemed more than keen not to talk about it further. "We can discuss that god awful dog the neighbour's have got. Can't have a proper dinner without hearing it. He's a beast!"

"Truly," her mother chimed in. "Unlike our Nana."

Wendy couldn't help it. She smiled. A smile that hadn't touched her face in weeks. She had loved Nana so dearly as a child, even while her father seemed embarrassed by hiring a nurse dog on account of he was unable to afford a human caregiver. But Wendy knew he had loved her too.

The rest of the discussion remained light; her mother did not further inquire about Wendy's disinterest in being a wife. Thankfully.

_____________

The cool draft swam through her room in the middle of the night. Wendy had stayed at her parents' late and, for once, fell asleep moments after she got home. But it sadly didn't last long. She could hear the faint whistle of the wayward wind as it blew, making her shiver beneath her covers. She turned to face the window and, unsurprisingly, it was wide open.

She was becoming too consumed by this. Maybe Emma was right. At some point in the middle of the night she rose from her sleep to block out the outside air. She had to vehemently convince herself that was the explanation, not the ludicrous possibility she'd concocted in her head.

For a few moments she wondered if she should get out of bed. She didn't want to but the cold wouldn't desist until she did. Pushing away her covers, she stood and strolled to the window, pressing her hands against the bottom of it to force it downward. The glass continued to making rickety sounds though the chill had begun to cease.

She closed her eyes, breathing out and in, trying to weed away her own misgivings. After a few seconds had passed she opened her eyes again, turning to return to bed.

Inches away from her was a young man. While it was dark his features were detectable with him standing in such close proximity. He had the same slightly upturned nose, the same perfect blonde hair, same smooth complexion. And when he smiled, the same sly grin. The one he'd used to charm her the first time they'd met.

He used to be around the same height as her; he was taller now, which made him more intimidating.

"Hello, Wendy," he whispered.

She didn't know what to do. He was here now and she knew he wasn't a figment of her imagination. She could feel his breath. He was real. He was real. He had been in the market. He had been opening her window. He'd been watching her for weeks.

Her heart was hammering so roughly it hurt her chest. Her entire face was getting hot and tingling with immense trepidation. She was absolutely, hopelessly incapacitated. And there was nothing she could do to escape it. She could tell by merely looking at him he was physically stronger than she was. Fighting against him was useless, especially with his added ability to fly with no hesitation or struggle. He could simply lift her high in the air and kill her if he wished.

So she opened her mouth.

And she screamed.