Between the fangs and claws, there is no way my nightmare is human. If I hadn’t only just started reading again, I’d say I need to lay off the fantasy.
A fantasy is exactly what he is, though. I freeze with my toothbrush in mymouth as I think about his body.
Genius Sleepy Ada had made sure he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
He had broad shoulders and a barrel chest, his black jacket perfectly highlighting pecs that I’d love to smush my face into. His sleeves were pushed up, showing off thickly veined forearms that flexed when he clenched a fist. He’s got thighs that tell me he could easily throw me over his shoulder if I gave him too much trouble, and black jeans and combat boots rounded out my little goth heart’s wet dream. Thank god I’m brushing my teeth, because otherwise the amount I’m salivating would be problematic.
He started in my nightmares, but I think he’ll quickly become the star of my filthiest dreams. Considering just how filthy it was, I’m pretty proud of myself. It’s one thing to read something in a book and think it’s hot, but this dream? That wasallme.
Where’s that good little Utah girl now? We don’t know her.
I wink at myself in the mirror, because maybe Sleepy Ada is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Computer, good morning!” I call out, hoping the edits I made to the Christmas wake-up routine saved last night. Please let this have worked.PleaseSleepy Ada, tell me sexy dreams are the only thing you conjured up last night.
“Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to,” it replies, quoting Miracle on 34th Street. Like I am somehow going to see something, I crack an eye, waiting for the reveal.
“It’s December 8th. The weather today will be intermittent snow showers with a high of 35. There is one local alert. Would you like to hear it?”
“No.”
Look at me go. If there’s an alert, normally I listen to it. But today I don’t want anything interfering with my unnaturally good mood. For a few tense seconds, I stand frozen, oneeye cracked, clothed in nothing but a bathrobe, hoping that I am just a tiny bit less unstable than I thought yesterday.
Instead of blaring holiday music, it starts playing holiday lofi. No crazy green lights, no jarring music first thing, but upon experiencing a much more chill version of the scenario, again I think maybe Sleepy Ada was on to something with her holiday wake-up.
Maybe I’m going about this all wrong.
Sure, I can’t go home for Christmas, and thatsucks. But itisthe most wonderful time of the year, a time for magic and miracles. And even if I don’t believe in any of that stuff anymore, maybe if I did… just a bit… it could help me do hard things…
Since it’s Monday, I have several video calls with clients, so I actually put on makeup. It’s not that I need them to see me looking pretty or anything—a few of them never wear makeup—but there’s something about having to stare at myself on camera that makes me really self-conscious. I’m still growing out of feeling like I need to look perfect all the time. So today, when I have to look at myself for hours, calls for a little lipstick.
Once I have my coffee and review my schedule for the day, I throw on a fuzzy red sweater and some leggings. It might not be an ugly Christmas sweater, but even wearing red feels festive, and it makes me walk a little lighter. Overnight, a half inch of snow has covered the yard and my trees so that out of all of my windows is a sparkling winter wonderland. It reflects the light into my house, making everything brighter, which I hate to acknowledge, helps my mood.
Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.
I’ve stacked the deck in my favor because I put my check-in with Fae last. We started as friends before I became her assistant, and so even though we’ve had some adjustments to make, we still spend a fair bit of our check-ins just yapping instead of being strictly businesslike with my other clients. That’ll get me through lunch, after which the real work will begin.
Finding a therapist.
I can do this. Especially because if Sleepy Ada knows what I need to turn my life around, surely I can too, with a little help.
Throughout the morning, I feel energized and calm, and it reminds me how long it’s been since I felt this way. I’m still jittery about the therapist thing later, but even that makes me feel hopeful. Jittery is good, it involves an element of positive expectation, so I’m glad to feel that instead of dread at the prospect. The morning flies by, being in my element really helps. I might not do theatre stuff anymore, but I love being able to help people organize their lives in this way.
You learn quickly, especially in college theatre, that different brains work differently. My costume design teacher, for example, wassotalented when it came to drawing and inserting subtle symbolism in costumes. She’d dress someone just so and tell you about their past, their current circumstances, and how you should feel about them. What she couldn’t do was keep track of her schedule or budget. At first, I was really annoyed by her. Why couldn’t she keep it together? She can recall millions of facts about Alphonse Mucha but not that she’s meant to teach a class, just like she always does, every Tuesday at three?
Until eventually, I grew to appreciate her. She couldn’t remember that she had to teach Tuesday at three because Tuesday at two forty-five she was struck by an idea that turned into winning our production awards.Iam not about to design any amazing costumes, or write the books that make me want to squeal and kick my feet like Fae, but what I can do is give my clients the space they need to do so. Plus, it helps that my clients are all really, really appreciative.
Around noon, I hop on my call with Fae and wander into the kitchen. We’ve got this tradition where we do our one-on-ones over lunch. And while it might be silly, it at least ensures I eat lunch on the days that we have meetings.
Opening my fridge, I can immediately see that it’s past time I got groceries. When I first had trouble leaving after my incident, Tom offered to get groceries for me. Since then, I’ve kept letting him do my grocery shopping because I obviously don’t want to go out.
I’m still staring blankly into the emptiness, hoping something will magically appear, when Fae joins the meeting.
“Hey girl, why are you looking at that fridge like it’s gonna grow food?”
I turn around and smile, leaning over the laptop screen. “Apparently, it’s time for groceries.”
Fae visibly sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Same, but I just can’t bring myself to go. It seems like such a waste of time,” she grumbles.
