girl.
Berg hated that—herself and the dream—in equal measure.
She pulled the pink, ruffled covers up over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were glued to the door she knew would open at any moment.
Her senses immediately heightened with the rush of adrenaline and her breathing was fast and shallow. She smelled her own dread mingled with the apple scent of the fabric softener that the housekeeper always used on the linen.
She strained her ears for the muffled sounds of the soft footfalls that signaled his inevitable approach.
The door opened a crack at first, just as she had known it would. He slunk into her room silently, just as she had known he would. He climbed into her bed, just as she had known he would.
But knowing wasn’t accepting or desensitizing, and she started crying.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Alicia . . .”
As he bent to kiss her, his rank beer breath washed across her face and made her want to vomit. In between foul, wet kisses his face was illuminated by a shaft of light from the streetlights that pierced through the crack in the curtains.
Berg sat bolt upright in bed. It was the same dream she always had, yet . . . not. This one was slightly—horrifically—altered.
She looked around, squinting to make out the bedroom in the predawn light, and recognized nothing. As the frantic part of her brain heard the logic coming through, she realized the unfamiliar bed was actually Jay’s and warmth flooded down her body along with the barrage of memories.
At some stage during the evening’s activities, they made it to the bed. She didn’t remember when. The entire night was melded into a single stream of intense sensation and emotion that neither one had wanted to end.
It had felt so good to open up to him, to exchange small murmurs of love, to make plans in between the passion. For a few hours, she had felt real . . . normal.
Loved.
It had been unbelievable, bizarre even, but so, so good.
She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through Jay’s ancient venetian blinds. It still looked very early. If she had to guess, it had only been a couple of hours of sleep before . . .
Her heart pounded so hard she realized her body was rocking from the force of it.
Never before had the dream strayed from its set formula. Over twenty years, nearly every single night, the dream had always been the same. The same bedroom, the same events, the same sounds and smells, the same reactions. Except this time, as her father’s face had caught the light, it hadn’t been his face anymore.
This time, the face had been Jay’s.
“I love you so much, Alicia.”
Berg felt ill.
She looked down at him, sleeping peacefully, his arms thrown wide across the firm bed, a cotton sheet draped across his hips and one leg. She studied his smooth, sleeping face and watched it morph into the leer of the dream. She turned away and dry retched quietly before bringing her stomach back under control.
The face that had prompted her to declare feelings she didn’t want to admit to last night now filled her with revulsion and disgust.
The dream words melded with the murmurings of love Jay had whispered throughout the night and echoed in her addled head as she hurriedly slipped out of bed and searched for her clothes on the floor near the front door.
She flung on what she could, noticing that the suit and shirt were torn beyond repair, and she tried not to sob out loud with the terrible realization.
I can’t do this.
She had wanted to, and she had had high hopes after she and Jay connected last night on a level far superior to good sex, but she couldn’t do it. She was incapable of sustaining that kind of emotion. It scared the fuck out of her, and not just because love felt could also be love lost. It was because one flicker of normal and her past intruded, reminding her of her deep, profound defects.
Last night had been a test, and she failed.
Despite Vi’s assurances,
Berg hated that—herself and the dream—in equal measure.
She pulled the pink, ruffled covers up over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were glued to the door she knew would open at any moment.
Her senses immediately heightened with the rush of adrenaline and her breathing was fast and shallow. She smelled her own dread mingled with the apple scent of the fabric softener that the housekeeper always used on the linen.
She strained her ears for the muffled sounds of the soft footfalls that signaled his inevitable approach.
The door opened a crack at first, just as she had known it would. He slunk into her room silently, just as she had known he would. He climbed into her bed, just as she had known he would.
But knowing wasn’t accepting or desensitizing, and she started crying.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much, Alicia . . .”
As he bent to kiss her, his rank beer breath washed across her face and made her want to vomit. In between foul, wet kisses his face was illuminated by a shaft of light from the streetlights that pierced through the crack in the curtains.
Berg sat bolt upright in bed. It was the same dream she always had, yet . . . not. This one was slightly—horrifically—altered.
She looked around, squinting to make out the bedroom in the predawn light, and recognized nothing. As the frantic part of her brain heard the logic coming through, she realized the unfamiliar bed was actually Jay’s and warmth flooded down her body along with the barrage of memories.
At some stage during the evening’s activities, they made it to the bed. She didn’t remember when. The entire night was melded into a single stream of intense sensation and emotion that neither one had wanted to end.
It had felt so good to open up to him, to exchange small murmurs of love, to make plans in between the passion. For a few hours, she had felt real . . . normal.
Loved.
It had been unbelievable, bizarre even, but so, so good.
She waited as her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming through Jay’s ancient venetian blinds. It still looked very early. If she had to guess, it had only been a couple of hours of sleep before . . .
Her heart pounded so hard she realized her body was rocking from the force of it.
Never before had the dream strayed from its set formula. Over twenty years, nearly every single night, the dream had always been the same. The same bedroom, the same events, the same sounds and smells, the same reactions. Except this time, as her father’s face had caught the light, it hadn’t been his face anymore.
This time, the face had been Jay’s.
“I love you so much, Alicia.”
Berg felt ill.
She looked down at him, sleeping peacefully, his arms thrown wide across the firm bed, a cotton sheet draped across his hips and one leg. She studied his smooth, sleeping face and watched it morph into the leer of the dream. She turned away and dry retched quietly before bringing her stomach back under control.
The face that had prompted her to declare feelings she didn’t want to admit to last night now filled her with revulsion and disgust.
The dream words melded with the murmurings of love Jay had whispered throughout the night and echoed in her addled head as she hurriedly slipped out of bed and searched for her clothes on the floor near the front door.
She flung on what she could, noticing that the suit and shirt were torn beyond repair, and she tried not to sob out loud with the terrible realization.
I can’t do this.
She had wanted to, and she had had high hopes after she and Jay connected last night on a level far superior to good sex, but she couldn’t do it. She was incapable of sustaining that kind of emotion. It scared the fuck out of her, and not just because love felt could also be love lost. It was because one flicker of normal and her past intruded, reminding her of her deep, profound defects.
Last night had been a test, and she failed.
Despite Vi’s assurances,
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