About Last Night
Someone walks into the room behind me, and I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. I can feel his eyes on my body, smell his intentions. His footsteps echo around me, each one he takes increasing the pressure I feel on my chest, slowly stealing my breath.
He steps up behind me, and my body locks up with fear. I’m terrified of what’s coming—of what he’ll do, of someone seeing, of the way it will make me feel.
His hands land on my waist, his body pressing into mine, and another small piece of me shrivels and dies. Then, I hear it, a smooth voice singing softly.
Steven.
“Please,” I plead, trying to free myself of his hold. “He’s coming. He’s going to see.”
He doesn’t release me, though. His hold tightens instead. I struggle to break free, but I can barely move. Steven’s voice gets louder as he draws closer, and my panic grows as I thrash around trying to get away.
The pain in my chest from the rapid beating of my heart wakes me, and my eyes try to focus on my surroundings as I suck in deep gulps of air. The feeling of panic sticks to me like glue as I kick the blanket off and sit up on the couch, attempting to shake it. Elvis jumps up, sitting next to me as he nuzzles under my arm. I instantly feel more at ease as I smile at him, petting then kissing the top of his adorable head.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been terrorized in my dreams by Paul. I suppose they’re more like nightmares. There was a time when I was plagued by them several times a week. Now, they only pop-up when I’m overly stressed or upset.
Finding out my sister was raped her freshman year of college, knowing she was hurting for so long and I wasn’t there for her, is likely what brought the dream on. Last night, when she told me what that fucker did to her, it felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I ever wanted was to protect her from those types of things, but I couldn’t, and I failed her again last night.
I should’ve told Julianna I understood, that I know what it’s like to be too afraid to speak up. The survival instinct that caused her to ignore what happened by fleeing is also something I’m familiar with. It’s the reason I live my life the way I do. Instead of telling her any of that, I freaked out and made her feel like I was making it about me. I followed that act up with getting shit faced at the bar and oversharing with baby Winston.
I needed my friend, someone to talk to, but she sent Steven in her place, resulting in me making an even bigger fool out of myself in front of him. It was completely inappropriate of me to ask if I could stay here with him last night, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with my demons.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Steven’s voice catches me by surprise and I yelp, my heart-rate picking up again as I turn to glare at him.
“Jesus, don’t sneak up on me like that!” My head screams out in protest to my harsh tone, and I reach up to rub my throbbing temples. He smirks, pointing to the glass of water and aspirin he already left on the coffee table for me, then crosses his arms as he leans against the framed entryway to the kitchen. I sneer at him, but hurriedly pick up the pills and pop them in my mouth before washing them down. “What is it you think I want to talk about as soon as I open my damn eyes?”
“How about the dream that had you crying out in your sleep?”
My body stiffens as I place the water back on the coffee table. Crying out? My nightmares about Paul are a little different each time. Sometimes it’s like he’s chasing me, and other times, he already has me cornered and I’m begging him to stop. Sometimes they’re memories, and others he’s invading my present, like the one that woke me just now. One thing always remains the same, though. The fear. That overwhelming anxiety someone will see us, that someone will see me for who I really am. When he was a part of my life, I lived every day with that constant worry weighing on me. All the lying and hiding I had to do took such a toll on me. It still does.
Unsure how else to respond, I narrow my eyes and flip him the bird, hoping he can’t see the heat rising on my cheeks.
“Okay then. How about last night? Do you want to talk about what had you so upset?”
“Nope.” He sighs as I stand, pick the blanket up off the floor, and fold it neatly as an excuse to keep my gaze away from him. “Look, I appreciate you picking me up and letting me crash here, but you’ve completed your boy scout duties. I’m fine now.”
“You don’t have to carry everything alone all the time, you know. You have people who care about you and are willing to help with the weight of it. And for future reference, I’m one of them.” My chest tightens and my eyes gloss over with tears as they slide back to him. He gives me a warm smile, then gestures toward the kitchen with his head. “Come on, there’s a fresh pot of coffee and the cinnamon rolls will be ready soon.”
He pushes himself off the wall, then turns to walk into the kitchen, and I groan. “You’re the oddest person I’ve ever met,” I call after him.
It’s quiet as we eat breakfast, but I don’t mind. Having Lori here feels a little more natural than it probably should. I’ve tried to keep my eyes off her, but the sunlight streaming in from the patio doors is hitting her like a spotlight, giving her a glow. She looks beautiful. You’d never know she was wasted the night before or cried herself to sleep.
She has no clue I heard her last night, no idea how hard it was for me to stay away. I wanted nothing more than to hold her, but we were already in dangerous territory simply by her being here. Just our friendship sometimes seems a little risky.
“I’ve always thought I was a cliché.” I stop mid-bite and look across the table at Lori who’s still staring down at her plate, poking at the cinnamon roll with her fork. She’s barely made a sound since she came into the kitchen, so I hadn’t been expecting her to initiate conversation. Before I can even finish chewing my food enough to speak, she goes on to answer my unspoken question. “You know, I thought maybe my issues with men stemmed back to my daddy issues—that my need for Daddy’s affections had driven my poor decision making. But Julianna has always been his favorite. She shits diamonds and farts rainbows as far as our father is concerned, and it didn’t change anything for her.”
I have no clue what she’s talking about. I’m only guessing it has something to do with what happened last night. “Well, I personally like to blame all my issues on my parents.”
Her eyes flicker over to me as her lips curl into a crooked smile. She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. “Oh yeah? The boy scout has issues? Do tell. This should be interesting.”
Shaking my head, I put my fork down, then scratch my beard before mimicking her posture. “Everyone has issues, Lori.”
“So…what?” she huffs. “Mommy and Daddy loved you too much? They made you believe you could have it all, and it was a real bitch once you figured out fairytales aren’t real?”
My jaw ticks as I slowly nod my head. I could be an asshole right now, make her feel bad by telling her my parents died when I was only a boy. It annoys me that Lori has such a warped impression of my life, but now is not the time. “Something like that.”
Her eyes fall to the table as her shoulders sag. She sighs and rubs her temples. When her hands drop into her lap, she meets my eyes again. “I’m sorry. That was bitchy. I shouldn’t take my shit out on you.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise before I have a chance to school my features. Sorry isn’t something I’ve ever heard Lori say. As badly as I want to tease her about that, I want to keep her this open more.
“My offer still stands if you want to talk about it.”
She shakes her head, averting her eyes to the coffee cup in front of her. She picks it up to take another sip before meeting my eyes again. “I can’t really…I mean, it has to do with my sister. It’s not my place to talk about her business.”
“I understand and respect that, but you don’t have to tell me anything about her. We can still talk about what’s going on with you right now. Are you just worried about her or is there more to it?”
“Actually, she seems to be doing pretty well. I feel confident she’s going to be all right.”
“So, your over consumption and restless night of sleep?”
She shrugs, blowing out a puff of air as she rubs her hands up and down her arms. “Guilt mostly. I know what she’s been through isn’t about me or because of me…but I’m her big sister. I should’ve seen something wasn’t right. I should’ve been there for her.”
“Come on. You have to know how unreasonable that is.”
She nods. “I know it seems that way. From the outside looking in, it must look like I’m taking my sister’s issues and making them about me.” Her eyes lift to meet mine, and they’re filled with the vulnerability she normally tries to keep hidden. “But I can’t help feeling a level of responsibility. If I’d only been open with her, it might have served as a warning. I never thought she’d suffer the same painful experiences I have, but then I hadn’t really been thinking of her. Fear has a way of making you selfish. Even now, after she confided in me, I still couldn’t bring myself to tell her my story. The crazy thing is, I want to share it with her. I want her to know I understand. It’s just…I’ve never said any of that stuff out loud before, and I didn’t know where to even begin.”
“You could practice with me, if you want,” I say.
Her eyes widen as her face goes pale. “What?”
“It doesn’t have to be me, but I’m here. Maybe if you get everything you want to say out now, it would help you find the right words for Julianna.”
To my surprise, she doesn’t automatically turn me down. Instead, her features draw in as she studies my face, silently considering my proposition. As she opens her mouth to speak, I stop breathing, worried I’ll spook her and she’ll change her mind.
“I…well, when I was younger, there was this guy. More of a man really,” she begins. I nod very slowly, careful not to seem too eager, all while my heart beats wildly in my chest. “He was someone I cared for, someone I trusted. Or at least I thought I could—”
The ringing of my doorbell interrupts her, and I nearly scream out in frustration. As I come to my feet, it rings again, and I look down at Lori.
“Did you ask someone to come pick you up?” Lori shakes her head, and it hits me. “Shit, what day is it?”
“Sunday. The twentieth.”
“Shit, shit, shit!” I curse as I rush to clear the kitchen table.
Once all the dishes are in the sink, I begin to make my way to the door. Lori gets up as I pass and follows behind me. “What the hell is going on? Who’s at the door?”
I look over my shoulder and give her an apologetic smile. “Most likely my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother?” she hisses.
As I reach the door, I turn to face her and give her a quick explanation. “My grandmother gets her check on the fifteenth of every month, and I take her out to do her shopping the following Sunday. Which would be today, but I totally forgot because—”
“Of me,” she says.
Shrugging, I nod, then hurry to open the door.