conference room looked like one of my high school teachers, which made the dream a nightmare automatically, but the dream rolled on, finding new levels. When one of the board members stood up and questioned if I were fit. Or if I knew what I was doing.
When he stood up and said I could never be bonded, never be trusted with general fund money from the state, could never be in a position that involved any kind of fiduciary responsibility, even if that was only keeping to a budget.
Just like that I was headed back to Las Vegas and an apartment I couldn't afford. Just like that I was going to be living with my mother, a tiny apartment in Southern California full of creepy decorations like velvet paintings and those small naked children who seem to be made out of unfired clay. Just like that things that had never happened were happening – Sunny had lost money to my father and never told me and now she was. Telling me. And carrying a very large knife.
I woke shouting, sweating, my heart racing. The room was way too dark, I never sleep in total dark, but I could hear someone beside me, fumbling for a light and swearing, and I knew I wasn't alone.
"What happened?"
Rick's voice came out of the dark. It wasn't friendly. I felt a shiver that threatened to become uncontrollable. My skin was icy, sweat-slick from the dream.
"Nightmare," I said, and reached for the bedside light.
Rick groaned and pulled the covers up. He didn't reach for me. He didn't say anything.
"I've had them for a long time," I said, feeling a need to explain, because after all, I'd wakened him from a sound sleep. "This time it just added in the snow, the travel, the interview and the job stress."
"OK."
Apparently he didn't wake well.
"So go back to sleep."
I sat up in bed, one of the ultra soft blankets around me. He wasn't my boyfriend. I didn't get to expect anything from him. But lots of people stress traveling and probably there are more people are uncomfortable driving in the snow than those who aren't. Would it have killed him to say "It's OK" or "It was just a dream"?
"Sorry to have woke you," I said stiffly.
"Ahh, jeez," he said, and sat up. The glorious golden hair was rumpled; I could see that much by the moonlight coming through the curtains. He ran a hand through it and looked at me. I couldn't have been more than a dark shape – I was out of the beam of light. "Look, Princess, you've got a phobia. I get that. And you've got changes going on. I get that too. Happens to a lot of people. So suck it up, buttercup. Chances are everything is going to be fine, but you know what? I'm not your boyfriend. We're not in a relationship, and I don't deal with clingy well."
The moon moved, or set, or something. The moonlight went away and the room was dark except for the glow of a clock radio.
"I'm not clingy," I said. I have been. With every boyfriend, right up until Tony. Right up until now. "I was doing fine before you came along and I'll be fine after you're gone."
"Great. Have a good time. Have a great life. I don't remember saying I wanted anything past last night." His head turned toward me. "Neither did you. So I'll drive you to your car once the sun's up and everything's had a chance to thaw, otherwise you're just going to get stuck again. Wake me at ten."
"Right," I said and yanked the blanket closest to me around me and got up.
Rick sat up again. "I left you blankets and quilts in the living room on the futon." He sounded wide awake so what would be the problem with getting up now?
Other than it was still dark outside.
"This blanket is warm," I said, and left the bedroom, dragging my clothes with me.
I turned on the baseboard heat but left the fire alone. I don't understand fireplaces or flues or dampers and things don't burn well for me. I got dressed and made coffee, not bothering to keep quiet but the snores from the bedroom indicated Rick was unperturbed.
The sunrise sketched across the sky in colors that made it almost all
When he stood up and said I could never be bonded, never be trusted with general fund money from the state, could never be in a position that involved any kind of fiduciary responsibility, even if that was only keeping to a budget.
Just like that I was headed back to Las Vegas and an apartment I couldn't afford. Just like that I was going to be living with my mother, a tiny apartment in Southern California full of creepy decorations like velvet paintings and those small naked children who seem to be made out of unfired clay. Just like that things that had never happened were happening – Sunny had lost money to my father and never told me and now she was. Telling me. And carrying a very large knife.
I woke shouting, sweating, my heart racing. The room was way too dark, I never sleep in total dark, but I could hear someone beside me, fumbling for a light and swearing, and I knew I wasn't alone.
"What happened?"
Rick's voice came out of the dark. It wasn't friendly. I felt a shiver that threatened to become uncontrollable. My skin was icy, sweat-slick from the dream.
"Nightmare," I said, and reached for the bedside light.
Rick groaned and pulled the covers up. He didn't reach for me. He didn't say anything.
"I've had them for a long time," I said, feeling a need to explain, because after all, I'd wakened him from a sound sleep. "This time it just added in the snow, the travel, the interview and the job stress."
"OK."
Apparently he didn't wake well.
"So go back to sleep."
I sat up in bed, one of the ultra soft blankets around me. He wasn't my boyfriend. I didn't get to expect anything from him. But lots of people stress traveling and probably there are more people are uncomfortable driving in the snow than those who aren't. Would it have killed him to say "It's OK" or "It was just a dream"?
"Sorry to have woke you," I said stiffly.
"Ahh, jeez," he said, and sat up. The glorious golden hair was rumpled; I could see that much by the moonlight coming through the curtains. He ran a hand through it and looked at me. I couldn't have been more than a dark shape – I was out of the beam of light. "Look, Princess, you've got a phobia. I get that. And you've got changes going on. I get that too. Happens to a lot of people. So suck it up, buttercup. Chances are everything is going to be fine, but you know what? I'm not your boyfriend. We're not in a relationship, and I don't deal with clingy well."
The moon moved, or set, or something. The moonlight went away and the room was dark except for the glow of a clock radio.
"I'm not clingy," I said. I have been. With every boyfriend, right up until Tony. Right up until now. "I was doing fine before you came along and I'll be fine after you're gone."
"Great. Have a good time. Have a great life. I don't remember saying I wanted anything past last night." His head turned toward me. "Neither did you. So I'll drive you to your car once the sun's up and everything's had a chance to thaw, otherwise you're just going to get stuck again. Wake me at ten."
"Right," I said and yanked the blanket closest to me around me and got up.
Rick sat up again. "I left you blankets and quilts in the living room on the futon." He sounded wide awake so what would be the problem with getting up now?
Other than it was still dark outside.
"This blanket is warm," I said, and left the bedroom, dragging my clothes with me.
I turned on the baseboard heat but left the fire alone. I don't understand fireplaces or flues or dampers and things don't burn well for me. I got dressed and made coffee, not bothering to keep quiet but the snores from the bedroom indicated Rick was unperturbed.
The sunrise sketched across the sky in colors that made it almost all
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