<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNow I can\u2019t even sleep! I mean, even when I try\u2026I-I\u2019m so terrified that the moment I start to drift off a chill runs down my spine and I\u2019m wide awake, shaking and crying. And then the tears\u2026I just keep crying until I\u2019m so damn dehydrated I\u2019m sick to my stomach. So even though I\u2019m fucking exhausted, that\u2026that d-damn knot in my belly makes it impossible to lie down and I just\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her hands flew up as she scanned the rest of the circle. The eyes staring back seemed empty or narrowed. Her tongue fell limp. She slouched forward and her chest fell into a heavy sigh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you\u2026\u201d a set of particularly suspicious set of scrutinizing eyes levied the hesitating query. The woman had the decency to pause, force a wry smile, and insert her subject\u2019s name, \u201cSarah. Are you saying\u2026\u201d but then all decency expired and off came the mask. With raised brow, pursed lips, and a glare that seemed to squeeze her eyes up from underneath, the interrogator rocked back in her seat. Sarah didn\u2019t have the energy to roll her eyes, she just had to grit her teeth, sit, and bare it. The woman asked, \u201cDoes your husband have a problem in real life or is it all just in your dreams?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
– – –<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Blood was rushing to the front of her face, setting her cheeks ablaze, and for some reason that\u2019s what she felt most. Not the throbbing as her brain bashed itself against the inside of her skull, trying to break free like a parasite trapped within a dying host. Not the stabs of pain as her neck muscles jabbed her jaw, squeezing up from below like toothpaste from a tube. Not even the feeling of the sides of her throat scraping together as Tom\u2019s thick callused hands clamped down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDrink it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She couldn\u2019t feel her fingers but they managed to hold the bottle. She could feel her arms. They felt as if they were moving through slushy water just below the surface of a frozen lake \u2013 the cold slowing her down as it filled her flesh with pins and needles. But up rose the bottle, like Tom was controlling it by the very magic of his words, words that helped to stabilize her as the nozzle neared her lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIn the mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thanks, Tom.<\/em> As if she might\u2019ve forgotten.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She got it to her lips. Somehow, despite the two large hands wrapped around her throat stretching her chin away from her collar bones, she got the spout into her mouth. Red wine slammed against the back of her throat. She tried to swallow but choked. Despite slowly suffocating, she had enough air left to paint her husband scarlet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He staggered away from her and she gasped for air but she didn\u2019t take her eyes of him. It wasn\u2019t just the wine making Tom\u2019s face red. No, his face was now more flushed than hers. But even as she saw his hands ball into fists, even as she reflexively continued to take big gasping gulps of air, she couldn\u2019t help but start to laugh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n That laughter was stopped short as Tom retook her neck like a hilt. This time not to choke \u2013 at least not yet. He kept one hand free. The hand on her neck was there to position her, holding her still, the other was there to inflict pain. She had, after all, made a mess, but before that hand came to exact discipline, she was determined to get out her quip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou know I hate red wine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the real world, Tom\u2019s fist slamming into her face would\u2019ve knocked her out cold, but this wasn\u2019t the real world. This was a dream. Instead, that punch yanked her wide awake. It brought her back to reality, where Tom would never hurt her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – – –<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMy husband would never <\/em>hurt me.\u201d Sarah was practically growling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The offender gulped, retreating with hands up and palms out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut the drinking.\u201d A softer member of the circle chimed in, \u201cThe drinking problem, that\u2019s not just in your dreams, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d Sarah admitted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The previous offender dove right back in, \u201cYou don\u2019t know?<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaya.\u201d The Therapist snapped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maya sighed through her teeth, flaring her nostrils as she cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms in anticipation for the next ridiculous utterance to spew forth from the lips of the lady leering at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah explained, \u201cHe had <\/em>a problem.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd you\u2019re worried he might\u2019ve relapsed?\u201d The Therapist asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist spoke slowly. She bore a faint smile, a smile that was only strong enough to assure Sarah that she wasn\u2019t frowning. This should\u2019ve comforted her \u2013 it worked for most of the others gathered in the circle \u2013 but it didn\u2019t. The smile didn\u2019t just say, \u201cI care.\u201d It also said, \u201cI know.\u201d And that\u2019s what bothered Sarah because Sarah was pretty damn sure the Therapist did not <\/em>know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist asked, \u201cHave you asked him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI could\u2026\u201d Sarah stalled with a shaky sigh, debating whether or not to reveal more. Her eyes darted over to Maya before returning to the Therapist. Sarah gave in with a shrug, \u201cI\u2019m scared. He\u2019s been gone \u2013 for a week now. He drives. He\u2019s a trucker-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe\u2019s drinking.\u201d Maya chirped.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMaya!\u201d The bit of fire that jumped in the Therapist\u2019s eyes was the first comforting thing Sarah had seen out of her, \u201cApologize!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Maya shook her head at herself in a surprisingly effective display of sincerity, \u201cthis is not the place\u2026\u201d she met Sarah\u2019s eyes, \u201cThat was fucked of me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know\u2026\u201d Sarah said with a tone that washed some of the shame off Maya\u2019s face, \u201cI know this is crazy, too. I mean\u2026\u201d Correcting her posture, Sarah grinned and winked at Maya as she splayed her fingers to gesture first to herself, exclaiming, \u201cHow am I <\/em>married to a<\/em> trucker<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were giggles and a little puff of air out the nostrils of both Maya and the Therapist as the tension \u2013 at least, some of it \u2013 dissolved. The rest of the circle remained suspect, squirming in their seats, but their expressions began to show signs of thawing nerves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe\u2019s a real trucker too.\u201d Sarah continued with a chuckle, \u201cNetted hat, wife beaters-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo pun intended.\u201d Maya inserted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah gave Maya a snort for that one then kept on, \u201c-sweats and gym shorts. Never saw him in a polo. Shit, the closest thing to a button up I think he\u2019s worn was a flannel \u2013 \u2018cept for when his mom died. That man went out and bought \u2013 not rented <\/em>\u2013 bought a suit that must\u2019ve cost as much as the funeral.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSounds like a good guy.\u201d The Therapist said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYea, but good guys only go so far. I told him he better rent for our wedding. Save the money for the honeymoon.\u201d Sarah laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019d he say?\u201d The Therapist asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This time, Sarah actually<\/em> laughed. Short and quick, but it was authentic, \u201cHah! He pleaded and pleaded until I said, \u2018You spend more than a $100 on our \u2013 on your \u2013 <\/em>wedding suit\u2026\u2019 then I got so flustered I was literally trembling and the words just burst out of me, \u2018over my dead body!\u2019. Then he goes off smiling at me so I just know a joke is about to fart out of his smartass and he says \u2013 get this,\u201d Sarah leaned forward, \u201c\u2018Cool, so I can get one for your funeral?\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a brief reprieve of labored laughter and Maya jumped on it, \u201cWas this before or after he stopped drinking?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFuck off.\u201d Sarah smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Quiet threatened to settle in for a moment and the Therapist seemed prepared to allow it but of course Maya quickly broke it. Though, she surprised everyone by honing back in, \u201cYou really should ask him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI know we always say, \u2018They have to want it themselves.\u2019\u201d A man spoke up, shifting from one cheek to the other in his chair. The poor piece of furniture\u2019s wobbly metal legs emitted a short squeal of discomfort, a sentiment the man shared, \u201cb-but some people need an outside reason. My husband didn\u2019t quit until he knew I wanted him to, maybe-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t quit for me.\u201d Sarah clarified, \u201cHe didn\u2019t even know I wanted him to! I mean, he quit for me, but for himself for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh Lord\u2026\u201d Maya rolled her eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist gave her a warning with a glare, but the glare did little more than \u201cNo!\u201d does to a toddler.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCan we drink at these?\u201d Maya cut across the circle with a smirk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou think you\u2019re funny.\u201d The Therapist retorted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maya shrugged, \u201cWhy do you think my<\/em> husband drinks?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kind, quiet woman from before saved Maya by resuming the interrogation, \u201cWhy\u2019d he quit?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n – – –<\/p>\n\n\n\n She woke up like a freediver breaking the surface of the sea. The sheets and blankets spilled off the bed like a crashing ocean wave as Sarah bound off the mattress. Her feet were underneath her before her eyes started to see. Her head spun and her knees buckled \u2013 at which time Tom would\u2019ve normally hurdled his side of the bed and dove to catch her. Instead she slammed to the floor. The minor concussion did not help the spinning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There was a clinking downstairs, a clinking she knew all too well. Three ice cubes splashed into three-shots worth of vodka. Soon there\u2019d be the quarter-second long trickle, the sound of what hardly qualified as a splash. When Tom was home, the OJ in the fridge lasted longer than the vodka in the freezer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The noise normally annoyed her \u2013 signifying how the rest of the day was going to go \u2013 but that morning it squashed a larger concern: That she\u2019d forgotten what morning it was and Tom\u2019d already left off for another long haul. Instead, Tom was home, just not where she needed him. She needed to see his face. She needed to feel his arms and his tight but gentle squeeze as they wrapped around her waist. She needed to remember that, in the real world, Tom was a dream, not a nightmare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hurried out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He heard her coming and spun to toast her approach. Setting his drink down, he stepped into her embrace. They squeezed their bare bodies together and lingered in silence for a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPeaches?\u201d He said, loosening his grip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMhn.\u201d She stiffened. Her smile died and her brow furled. She immediately let go to grab his forearms and re-administer the previous hold. Her body relaxed again. Then \u2013 and only then \u2013 did she ask, \u201cMhm?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPeaches\u2026I uh\u2026\u201d He fumbled for a bit before finding it, \u201cI got something to say.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her relaxation paused. This was the part when most partners would let go and take a step back to get a good look at the face of the one saying, \u201cI got Something to say.\u201d but somehow Sarah knew this wasn\u2019t that sort of Something. Even though Tom was obviously stressing over said something, this was a something that would be good. Difficult \u2013 maybe \u2013 but good. Her moment of anxiety passed like a breeze and her body relaxed once more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMhm?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI think I gotta stop drinking.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah let go and took a step back to take a good look at Tom\u2019s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Well, she tried to, but Tom wouldn\u2019t let her go. He let her lean back, though. He wanted to let her see his face but he didn\u2019t want to let her go. He needed her support. He felt like his legs might fall out from under him as the next couple words tumbled off his tongue. He looked away, cleared his throat with a nod, then met her gaze and got back to it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2019t remember things.\u201d He said, \u201cYou\u2019ll tell me all these stories about our late-night shenanigans and\u2026man, half the time I can\u2019t remember any of it. And\u2026\u201d he sighed. This wasn\u2019t a stalling-sigh. This was a real sigh. An expression of sadness. An expulsion of unused oxygen, offered as a sacrifice to the universe as if such might grant forgiveness for past transgressions. He continued, \u201cOn those long drives, I don\u2019t have much else to do but think about you, Peaches. I mean, I got things I can listen to, folks to call \u2013 you <\/em>to call \u2013 but you\u2019re at work all day and\u2026those drives used to be so nice when I could just sit and revel in all the shit we got up to while I was home. I could just dig through my memories and remember things I\u2019d forgot\u2026used to. Now it seems like everything I forgot never happened. Half my new memories I just steal from the stories you tell me \u2013 like it wasn\u2019t even really me there, but someone else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He paused. Now this <\/em>was a stalling pause. He was fishing for her opinion \u2013 more specifically: for her approval \u2013 hoping his silence would bait her thoughts like a fish. When after a moment it still hadn\u2019t produced results, Tom dropped his rod and gave in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou\u2019re being awfully quiet there, Peaches.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI love you.\u201d Sarah said, pressing her cheek into his chest and smiling up at him, \u201cAnd I wouldn\u2019t mind you remembering a little more, either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAlright then.\u201d Tom gave an abrupt nod. He let go of Sarah with one arm and grabbed his screwdriver, raising it for a toast, \u201cThat\u2019s it. I\u2019m quitting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah scoffed as he took a swig, \u201cThat\u2019s it, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tom shrugged hard and high, like a boy grinning at his mom with his hand in the cookie jar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe gotta finish the handle first!\u201d He winked then slammed the freezer door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – – –<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAfter he quit, the nightmares stopped.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAnd you never told him he hurt you?\u201d The Therapist asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t hurt me.\u201d Sarah said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The words weren\u2019t even really hers. It was reflexive. Almost mechanical. Even as the words came out of her mouth and entered her ears, she couldn\u2019t stop them. They came out again, but this time they hit her in the belly like a bag of bricks-<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n -knocked the air right out of her. Her head began to spin, her vision began to cloud, and the voices of those in the circle around her blurred into a hum drum garble of sounds as if her ears were under water.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was absent for the rest of the meeting. She sat like a ghost, not quite lost in her thoughts, but not quite thinking either. Just hurting. Almost like there was a splinter she refused to remove, waiting instead for her body to push the intruder out \u2013 but her body never did. It just kept hurting. Then, just before the scab healed over it, the wound got caught and the scab was ripped off. The universe was giving her another chance. After all this time, now was her chance to remove the splinter she should\u2019ve removed so long ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After all, Tom was coming home tonight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCall me if you need me.\u201d The Therapist said, \u201cAny time, I don\u2019t care.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n They were standing outside the community center. On the steps. Maya came up behind the Therapist. The Therapist whirled around as if about to knock Maya\u2019s smugness right off her face but \u2013 whether that had been the case or not \u2013 Maya\u2019s demeaner quelled the Therapist\u2019s suspicion. There was an unbridled warmth to Maya\u2019s sneer now. She strode forward and clasped Sarah on the shoulder, handing her a receipt with a phone number scrawled sloppily on the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBabe\u2026\u201d Maya stared hard and Sarah wondered for a moment if she was about to cry. A lump of her own began to bud in Sarah\u2019s throat, but luckily Maya continued before Sarah could set off the waterworks, \u201cIf it turns out you\u2019re wrong and he\u2019s still sober,\u201d then the cool mask Maya\u2019d worn in the meeting fell back across her face, \u201cthink he could DD for us? Next time my husband drags me to the bar?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist instantly regretted letting Maya pass by, but Sarah laughed nonetheless. She promised to call both women, Maya and the Therapist, made a bit of polite small talk with the kind woman and the nervous man, then hurried off to her car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She couldn\u2019t help but feel like she was getting into a hearse rather than a Honda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n – – –<\/p>\n\n\n\n She hadn\u2019t spoken with him since the nightmares had started back. They hadn\u2019t exchanged so much as a text. Not even a like on social media. It was odd. Not so much for Sarah, but for Tom? Very odd. Typically, Tom had ten or so unread messages waiting for Sarah when she woke up. Often a few voicemails and a slew of memes too, but now there was nothing. Not even a single individual post. No pictures of sunsets on the road. No political commentary on Twitter. Nothing. Sure, she had ghosted him, but she hadn\u2019t expected to get the same in return. She couldn\u2019t help but suspect his silence came from a sense of guilt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She waited in the kitchen, facing the front door. That\u2019s where she always waited. Right where he\u2019d fling open the door and see her beaming back at him. He would step just far enough inside that she could pounce on him \u2013 despite the risk of them tumbling out the doorway. She forced herself to wear the smile \u2013 or at least attempt it \u2013 even though he\u2019d know it was fake. Every time she washed the trail of tear marks from her face, another bead of salt water blazed a new trail down her cheeks, ruining her disguise. It felt like she stood there forever, but then suddenly the time had gone by in a blink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She heard his car pull up and parked quietly. The door opened and closed. His heavy footsteps thudded over to the house. There was his silhouette, striped by the blinds, looming beneath the porch lights. His voice was muffled but Sarah was listening so hard she could hear it clearly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSarah.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her mouth opened but there was nothing there for her to speak. She was suddenly freezing. She felt hypothermic and she knew the only thing that could save her was on the other side of that door, but she couldn\u2019t budge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSarah\u2026oh, Sarah\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She wanted to cry out to him, but her lungs were empty. So empty she felt the urge to look down to make sure they were still there. But she couldn\u2019t. She was paralyzed. She couldn\u2019t take her eyes off his shape, she couldn\u2019t even blink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He opened the door slowly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The moment she saw him, she fell to her knees. He did too. But he didn\u2019t see her. He was looking right past her. At nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTom!\u201d She was finally able to gasp. She crawled forward as if weighed down \u2013 as if coated in hardening concrete, \u201cTom!\u201d But he seemed so far away, like the floor was expanding and the kitchen walls were scooting back, widening the space between them. Every inch closer she crawled, a foot further away he became.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d He was crying, staring blindly beyond her, shuddering like the earth was quaking beneath him, \u201cI\u2019m so sorry\u2026for all those nights I can\u2019t remember\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBaby, it\u2019s okay!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She was on her belly, clawing herself forward. The kitchen tile decomposed into a gurgling mush. It was quicksand. She was being sucked backwards, backwards and down, down towards what she didn\u2019t know but it made her struggle all the harder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBaby!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI haven\u2019t touched a drop.\u201d He continued, \u201cI almost did. Tonight. I came close. But I didn\u2019t, baby. I didn\u2019t, Peaches. And I won\u2019t ever. Never again. I wish-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He crashed violently forward. His fists came slamming down on the tile with such force it was a wonder the flooring didn\u2019t shatter. With his knuckles still boring into the ground, he continued to speak. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI wish I\u2019d said as much in person.\u201d Tears fell ever so often. Each drop seemed to stabilize the quagmire between them more and more, \u201cI wish\u2026I wish I\u2019d said sorry, that\u2019s what I meant to say\u2026I could see the hurt in your eyes every time I couldn\u2019t remember. I knew it was there. I knew it was there and I never\u2026\u201d He reared up, rocking back to sit on his heels. He was looking forward again \u2013 looking past her, \u201cI changed\u2026but I never gave you an apology and now I can\u2019t. You\u2019re gone. Swept out from under me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n She froze. She stiffened up. She took a good long look at him. His eyes were wild but clear. His face pale, not flushed. His breath was clean, so clean she could taste it. Pine trees. And he was oddly clean cut. His hair was parted and greased down. There was no scruff on his chin. This was strange. Had he ever once shaved in the time that she\u2019d known him?<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sure, he had for his mother\u2019s funeral but<\/em>–<\/p>\n\n\n\n He was wearing a new suit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTom?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPeaches.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He murmured it. It wasn\u2019t to her. It was to the aether.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She lunged for him. Her eyes were so wide they might never close again. She shot forward. Her arms were spread, her face set to smash into his chest like a cannon ball, but she jettisoned right through. Like he was a ghost, but he wasn\u2019t the ghost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTom!\u201d She screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She tumbled out the kitchen doorway and she would\u2019ve rolled on down the porch steps had a gentle embrace not stopped her. It was the Therapist. And despite sparing her a couple scrapes and bruises, her presence only served to shake Sarah further. Her muscles tensed as the breakers in her brain twitched between fight and flight but then her eyes got caught on the Therapist\u2019s steady gaze. There was that smile \u2013 the smile Sarah had doubted. The smile that was neither condescending nor comforting, merely knowing. Knowing the awful truth it now drove home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist nodded to the front door, saying, \u201cGo to him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah turned from her and got back onto her knees. The kitchen was now shrinking \u2013 sort of. The walls were evaporating into blackness. The floor was rushing back to its original size, but in doing so it left a wake of absent darkness. Tom\u2019s prone form was being pulled towards her as the rest of time and space disappeared around them. There was a bit of fear on the fringes of her mind but it was countered by relief \u2013 she and Tom were moving nearer. While the world disappeared from underneath them, the lovers remained and came closer and closer together. As she crawled back through the doorway, nothing but darkness supported her. She was half submerged in the dusky murk but not a single shadow fell on her Tom. Soon she knelt before him once more. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat am I gonna do without you?\u201d He murmured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She reached a hand up to caress his face. She could feel him, though she knew he couldn\u2019t feel her. She wanted to speak but why? He couldn\u2019t hear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She saw the Therapist standing behind them, a blur in the background. Initially it infuriated her, but then again it wasn\u2019t the Therapist\u2019s fault. But then again, Who the fuck did she think she was?! <\/em>But then again, considering the situation, she was likely there for a reason.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah didn\u2019t turn away from his face, but she asked the Therapist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWill he be okay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEventually.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe\u2019ll move on, though, right?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMove on?\u201d the Therapist scoffed, \u201cI thought you knew this man?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Her tongue dried up as Tom began to stir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe\u2019ll live a full life,\u201d The Therapist said, \u201cbecause he won\u2019t forget you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sarah got up with him. He passed through the kitchen. His stride was long and slow. His shoulders were stooped and yet his chest upright. It looked like he\u2019d been propped up by a skewer, one stuck fast in his heart, and it wouldn\u2019t let him down, no matter how much he wished it would. His brow was furled. Wrinkles shot across his forehead like ripples, only to freeze in place as more began to appear. The clean shave was quickly lost. Stubble came and was outgrown in seconds. Dark hairs turned gray and curled out with others to form a beard. As the beard grew, the grayness spread up his sideburns to his scalp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The Therapist\u2019s voice was a distant echo, \u201cHe\u2019ll wear that suit every Sunday and he\u2019ll wait.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His muscles began to thin, the suit fit him a bit less. Except for around the belly, a little pudge pushed out where there had been nothing before. That helped keep his pants from sagging, though he had to add a new notch to his belt. He had made it to the stairs. The steps took him a while but he had plenty of time. Holding tight to the railing, he made his way up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe\u2019ll eat peaches upon peaches, and rack up quite the tab at the dentist, but the bars will have long since forgotten his name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As he neared the top of the stairs he hesitated: Sarah was waiting up there. She could see herself, her reflection, in his eyes. She\u2019d aged as well. Her locks were now silver. Her lips a tad thinner. The edges of her eyes were wrinkled, but she couldn\u2019t tell if it was crow\u2019s feet or if it was the broad smile pushing her cheeks up to make her squint. Her shoulders were a bit stooped, just like his. It was almost like looking into a mirror, but as he looked up at her, Sarah could\u2019ve sworn \u2013 for the first time since she\u2019d left \u2013 that he was looking right at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cPeaches?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMhm?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Tears were beginning to bud on the brims of her eyelids and as her smile grew ever broader, they threatened to spill the tears right down her cheeks. She held them in, but this didn\u2019t help. It only served to blur her view.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d Tom continued, \u201cI spent that nice honeymoon money on my suit, but I think\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He looked around, though he couldn\u2019t see much either. While Sarah\u2019s floodgates held, Tom\u2019s had long since spilled over. In the end, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and faced Sarah again with a lopsided grin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2026I think this place is all-inclusive?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMhm.\u201d It was half sigh, half chuckle, but all she could manage. Sarah flicked her tears away then stepped forward to tend to Tom\u2019s. She cupped his jaw and winked the last bit of tears out of her right eye with a smirk. Finally words came to her, \u201cYou know, I bet you can get away with a drink in this place.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNah, I don\u2019t want a drink.\u201d Tom smiled back, \u201cI don\u2019t even want water.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The smile was growing and Sarah knew where it was headed. She\u2019d seen that smile many times before \u2013 though not since she\u2019d left. It always started with Tom trying to stop it \u2013 Sarah could feel his jaw muscles clench \u2013 but the grin would always burst free in his eyes and spread across his face. She felt it slip through her fingertips, sending a wave of chills running down her arms to rack her body, knocking her off her guard for just long enough to postpone an eyeroll until after he got out whatever dumb quip had popped into his head:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI came here for peaches.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cNow I can\u2019t even sleep! I mean, even when I try\u2026I-I\u2019m so terrified that the moment I start to drift off a chill runs down my spine and I\u2019m wide awake, shaking and crying. And then the tears\u2026I just keep crying until I\u2019m so damn dehydrated I\u2019m sick to my stomach. So even … Continue reading “Dream Junkies: Peaches”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-169","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=169"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":181,"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/169\/revisions\/181"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/deadsquirrelpro.com\/sethpen\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=169"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}