Dream On(15)

All the air rushes out of me and I deflate like a balloon. Tipping forward, I dig my fingers through my hair and attempt to ignore the stone settling over my chest. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. It couldn’t have been him.”

“What’s the name of that Cleveland Clinic neurologist you were seeing?”

“Dr. Holloway.”

“Why don’t we call Dr. Holloway and schedule an appointment for sometime in the next few weeks? I’ll take off work and drive you, for moral support.”

My eyes burn when I look up at her. “Am I going crazy, Brie?”

She winces, and her shoulders lift in a half shrug before she smooths her expression. “No, sweetie. You’ve just been through something none of us can possibly understand. Your brain isn’t operating exactly the same as it used to, but that doesn’t mean it’s broken. Or that you’re crazy. Which, come on now, isn’t a very helpful term. You’re experiencing some neurological struggles, that’s all. We’ll find a solution, I promise.”

Toppling sideways, I rest my head on her shoulder. “What would I do without you?”

Wrapping her arms around me, she gives me a squeeze. “You’re the most resilient person I know. You’d do just fine.”

A doorbell cuts through the heavy silence. “I’ll get it,” says Brie. She pads through the dining room and disappears around the corner.

“Hey, Brie. Is the garbage disposal still not working?” Marcus’s deep voice hums through the house.

“Now’s not a great time, Marcus,” Brie says.

“It’s okay, he can come in.” I attempt to inject some pep into my voice, but it comes out as miserable as I feel.

What am I going to do? Can I really continue living on my own and working at the firm if I’ve already succumbed to Grand Devin Delusions? Mom was right… I never should have moved out or tried to reenter the workforce. Clearly, I’m not ready.

Heavy footsteps approach, and Marcus appears in the living room behind Brie. He pulls a double take when he spots me. “Are you okay?”

I give him a weak smile. “Fine.”

He nods hesitantly, but ambles closer. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good. Is there something I can do? Anything I can get you?”

“Unless you happen to have the world’s strongest drink in your back pocket, no. Thank you though.”

“Okay. I might be your landlord, but we are neighbors, you know. I’m here if you need anything.”

Brie pats him on the shoulder. “You’re a peach, Marcus.”

The ghost of a smile flits across his lips as a flush creeps up his neck. Turning to follow Brie into the kitchen, his gaze skims over the coffee table… and lingers on my sketchbook. Eyebrows furrowing, he thrusts his chin toward the drawing on the open page. “Hey, how do you know Szymanski?”

Wait, did he just say Szymanski? My eyes go wide and I stop breathing for several heartbeats. “How do you know him?”

“We play in the same softball league.”

Brie jogs over to the coffee table from across the room. “You play softball with him… this guy here?” She jams her finger at the sketch.

“Yeah, that’s Devin Szymanski, right? He works with his brother at Blooms & Baubles, the flower shop on Providence and West Twenty-Eighth.”

“Flower shop?” I say at the same time Brie squeaks, “You’re sure that’s really him?”

“Um, is it supposed to be someone else? Because damn, that could practically be a photograph.” Bending over, Marcus flips through a few pages. “Why do you have all these drawings, anyway? Did you do them?”

Nodding vaguely, I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste pennies. Swiveling slowly, I face Brie. I imagine my expression matches her own openmouthed shock.

“Cass. You were right. You do know him, you must. So Devin is… real?” she breathes.

“He’s real.”

“Devin is real.” She sinks onto the couch next to me.

“He’s real. He’s real,” Xerxes squawks.

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” asks Marcus.

I snort. “You’re not going to believe this.”

In one smooth move, Marcus pulls the coffee table away from the couch and sits on it so he’s facing us. Resting his elbows on his knees, he steeples his fingers. “Try me.”





Marcus’s mouth hangs open like screen door in a stiff breeze. “I don’t believe it.”

Brie shifts beside me so she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch. “I didn’t until approximately five minutes ago. So, understandable.”

I scoot forward until I’m perched on the very edge of the cushion. “I know it sounds nuts, totally impossible. But I’m telling the truth.”

Pushing to his feet, Marcus strides over to the fireplace. “So you were in a coma for a week, and when you woke up, you suddenly had all these memories of… Devin Szymanski?”

“Memories of him as her boyfriend, yes,” Brie says.

I shoot her a thanks, Brie, look.

“But you say you’ve never actually met him before?” Marcus’s eyebrows knit.

“Right,” I say.