The Girl in My Dreams (20 page)

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes as usual.

I opened them back up and everything was the same as it was that night. I saw Martin and Kara dancing in the distance, Belle’s friends all talking and laughing, and the same chaperones chasing horny kids who were just trying to be teenagers. It was all here—like we never even left.

“This is amazing,” I said.

Belle was in her dress once again, and I looked down and saw my tux. I understood why this night was so special and great to her, all things considered. As I looked at her and grabbed her to dance, I felt the same way.

“Who taught you to dance so well?” she asked.

“When you’re with a pretty girl you just automatically know,” I said, twirling her around.

I didn’t feel the sense of trepidation that I felt at the real dance. There, I knew that I could be judged, so I didn’t take any chances or dance like nobody was watching. I played it safe, and I thought the memory of that night wasn’t as good as it could’ve been because of that. I could change that right now, though. I could make this night one to remember.

The good thing about doing this in a dream was that I didn’t get all sweaty or tired. I could control the music, which for us meant only slow songs, and I could take risks knowing that nobody around us was even real. I could make them watch us, or they could all look away and never glance at us once. These were the ingredients for the recipe of this perfect memory.

I held Belle close as her head rested against my heart and her arms circled my waist. It was more like we were hugging than anything, but that was perfect enough for me. I was able to be a lot closer physically with her than I was the first time around.

“I can hear your heart beat,” she said as we swayed from side to side.

“Even in here?” I asked.

“Especially in here. It’s crystal-clear to me. It’s comforting,” she said.

As I looked up, I noticed that nobody else, not even the DJ, was in the gym with us.

“Where did everybody go?” I asked.

“I made them disappear,” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because it’s always been you and me. Why should this be any different?” she asked.

“It shouldn’t. This is perfect,” I said, and I kissed her forehead gently.

“Our night is almost over, you know,” she said.

“I figured as much. It always seems to end just when things are coming together,” I replied.

“Thank you,” she said randomly.

“For what?” I asked.

“For just being you. You mean, and have always meant, the world to me,” she said, with her head back and looking at me.

“If only you knew,” I replied.

“Trust me, I do,” she said with a small smile.

I kissed her one last time for the night, before both she and the gym faded away and I was left lying in my bed looking up at the ceiling. It was something that I was never going to get used to, but I suppose it was necessary. I couldn’t stay in my dreams forever. I may have wished that I could, and sometimes I even prayed that I would, but I never would.

I got up and did my normal morning routine as my mom slept. I tiptoed around to not wake her up on her day off. I got dressed, put some bread in the toaster, and opened the front door to get the paper. From the porch, I saw Paul walking out to his truck. He waved at me, and I waved back at him. As he drove away, a rabbit ran across the dewy grass.

I tossed the paper on the table for my mom and buttered my toast. The scraping sound of my knife on the bread resonated through my mind as it tried to wake up and calibrate itself from the night. I heard my mom get up, the floorboards creaking under her, and I grabbed some microwaveable pancakes and nuked them for a little too long.

“Good morning,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and started some coffee.

“Morning,” I said, pulling the comics out of the paper.

When was it time for bed, again?

•••

“Do you want to go?” Martin asked, the next weekend, as we sat in his car.

“No, I don’t think I’m ready,” I said, looking down.

“Are you ever going to?” he asked.

“Maybe someday. I don’t know why everybody wants me to so badly,” I replied.

“I think they just think it’s healthy, you know? To get the kind of closure that you can’t get otherwise,” he said.

“But I see her every night,” I replied.

“Yeah, in a dream, Theo. But not in person. I’m just saying, it might help. I won’t bring it up again, though,” he said.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I replied.

“Let’s just get our supplies and work on the project,” Martin said before we got out of the car.

We’d gotten partnered up for a math project together. It was a bit ridiculous, but our teacher wanted us to create a visual aid on how we would teach our current subject matter. I think it was just a way for him to see where we were going wrong and how he could better teach us. For Martin and me, though, it was an easy project to work on.

Bright lights shined above the glossy white tiles of the superstore. We went to the school supplies section in search of some white poster board, markers, and construction paper. I hadn’t used construction paper since I was a kid, but Martin thought it would add a bit of pop to our project. As long as I got a good grade, I couldn’t care less.

“Think this will work?” I asked as I picked up a thick piece of poster board.

“Yeah, it should. Any ideas for paper colors?” he asked.

“I’ll let you pick. Probably just basic colors?” I said.

I grabbed a few black markers as Martin picked out the paper, a colorful pack of it, and we walked to the registers. We each grabbed a cold soda and some candy bars before getting to our turn in the line and paying. We split the cost, though our parents were actually fronting it, and went back to my house to get started. It wasn’t due until Wednesday, so we knew we had plenty of time, even though we hadn’t figured out what we were going to cover so far.

The weather had begun to warm up, and the once-white patches of snow were now muddy piles of grass. My graduating class was planning a trip to Chicago for us in about a month and a half, just before graduation. It was mandatory to go, which we felt was a little stupid, but it was already paid for and we would get to go to Navy Pier, so that was cool.

“What are you two doing tonight?” Martin asked as he cut out some construction paper.

“I’m not sure. It’s always a surprise with her,” I said.

“Am I still the only person who knows?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Man, that’s a big responsibility,” he replied.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I was just so excited at the idea of this being real,” I said.

“I’m glad you did, and that you trusted me with it. Not too happy about you finding out about my dreams, but hey, it’s okay,” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, what’s the deal with you and that candy stuff?” I asked.

“You know I’ve always had a sweet tooth,” he said.

“But to have a kingdom of it to yourself?” I asked, laughing.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it! It’s fun being king. Especially when the people can’t fight back, on account they’re made of candy,” he said.

“What ever happened to you and Kara?” I asked.

“She and I didn’t work out exactly,” he said.

“I thought you liked her,” I said.

“I mean, she’s nice, but she kind of scared me,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“But you’re a king!” I said, smiling.

“Yeah, well, I’m not powerful enough to slow her down,” he said.

“What about prom? Any idea who you’re taking then?” I asked.

“It’s too early to be thinking about that kind of stuff. I’ll probably ask somebody a few weeks ahead of time,” he said.

“That’s a good idea,” I said.

“Who are you taking? Anyone?”

“Eh, I don’t think it’s the best idea. Besides, it’s just a stupid dance. Plenty of people skip theirs,” I said.

“Yeah, but it
is
once in a lifetime, you know. You could always go with a group. Maybe we could find one,” he said.

“Maybe. I guess I’ll just have to see when it gets closer,” I said.

I knew I wasn’t going to go, but I didn’t want to get into it with him—especially when we were working on a project together. I knew he thought I should move on and do things like this, but I didn’t think it was that easy. Belle and I might not be dating, technically at least, but I still felt like we were. We were still in love, and the idea of taking some random girl to the prom didn’t sit well with me.

My mom, who’d been at a beginner’s yoga class, came home with a steaming hot pizza in her hands.

“I got some dinner, boys,” she said, setting it on the counter.

“Is that what I think it is?” Martin asked, sniffing the air.

“It smells like—,” I said.

“Pepperoni stuffed-crust pizza,” he said as my mom opened the box.

“I knew you guys were working hard on your project, so I thought I’d treat you. Besides, it’s the weekend! You guys deserve it,” she said.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Quinn,” Martin said.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said.

“You’re very welcome. Now eat up and take a break from that project. Don’t work yourselves into a hole,” she said.

•••

I bit into a crisp baguette as Belle and I sat outside of a Parisian café.

“It’s amazing,” I said.

“All dream food is,” she replied, smiling.

“It’s like, the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life,” I said.

“Just wait until you get dessert,” she said.

I didn’t know what kept bringing us back to Paris, but I had to admit that the city was magical. She loved it and said that she often spent a lot of time here, exploring.

“I’m glad I came here in this world instead of the real one,” she said as the sweet spring air gently blew upon her cheeks.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“There’s no crime, no poverty, no sickness—nothing. It’s basically a utopia where everybody is happy and nobody can get sick or hurt,” she said.

“So there’s no hospital?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“How do people make money here?” I asked.

“Things don’t operate like that here,” she said. “People just . . . live.”

It had been months since she died and the girl that I knew was changed, but in a good way. She told me of adventures she took on her own, and she even went to the top of Mount Everest, which she said was breathtaking. I didn’t ask to go, but I could tell she was waiting for me to. Maybe she was even hoping I would.

“There’s one thing I don’t think I’ve ever asked you or found out about,” I said.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Where do you go to live? Do you need sleep? Is there a dream, dream world?” I asked, laughing.

“I live in my house, of course. And no, you don’t
need
to sleep, although you can. There aren’t any dreams in here, though. If so, the loop would go on forever!” she replied.

“What about my house? Is it, you know, there?” I asked.

“Yeah. I look at it through my bedroom window,” she said.

“Do I look back?” I asked.

“You’re not there. You’re not dead, remember. It’s a pretty empty area, but it’s home, and I can’t imagine leaving it. The great thing is that I get to pop in and out whenever I want,” she said.

“Why don’t we go?” I asked.

“Now? The food is almost here,” she said.

“We don’t need to eat. I can imagine us full. I have an idea,” I said.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said, grabbing my hand and teleporting us there.

I’d dreamed the area dark, and the street lamps came on and the fireflies buzzed around, lighting the way. I took her hand, holding it firmly, as I guided her toward our spot in front of the swing set. I thought of a blanket, two of them, actually, and they appeared. Dream world sure was convenient.

“I think I know what’s going on,” she said.

“Seem like a good idea?” I asked.

“Always,” she said.

As we lay on the ground and looked up at the stars, I brought them closer, so that I could see them twinkle in her eyes. She looked up in amazement as they glimmered and planets seemed to whiz by in the distance. I looked at her as she looked at them and I fell in love even more. Her mouth was a little open in awe and the night sky was reflected in her pupils.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said.

“I never want this to end,” I said.

“It’s nice,” she said, looking at me and smiling.

“Promise me it won’t?” I asked.

“But you’ll eventually wake up,” she said, hesitating.

“I don’t mean that, Belle. I mean all of this. Being here with you, and experiencing life in the grandest way. Promise me we’ll always have this,” I said.

“But what about your life?” she asked.

“My life is here—with you, lying on this blanket,” I said.

“I just worry is all,” she said.

“Worry? About what?” I asked, confused.

“I don’t want you to give things up for me. There’s so much out there for you to experience, and you shouldn’t toss it into the wind to be lost forever,” she said.

“Those things are just things that society tells you that you should have. Why even worry about it?” I asked.

“Because I worry about you,” she said, sitting up.

She looked a bit distressed as she crossed her legs and looked at me. I hadn’t seen her upset in a long time, especially since she came here, and I hated thinking that I’d made her sad. That was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

“Why do you worry about me?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer.

“We’ve known each other for a long time, right?” she asked.

“Longer than I’ve ever known anybody else,” I said.

“And you know that I care about you, right?” she asked.

“More than anything,” I replied.

“Then you need to know that I won’t be hurt, mad, or anything else if you take other opportunities. I want you to. It doesn’t mean that I won’t still be here, but you need to take them. Promise me you will,” she said.

“Like what other kinds of opportunities?” I asked.

“Anything. School, relationships, marriage—anything. Just take them and don’t worry about me,” she said.