Invisible Future

by Lindsey Anderle

  Lane’s brows furrowed, and he reached over to grab my hand, steadying me. “All right. Let’s get you home.”

  I nodded weakly and stood up with Lane’s help. Nausea was building in my stomach, but I swallowed it back down, refusing to look weak again in front of him.

  At the apartment, Lane waited in the living room while I got my tank top and pajama shorts on. I went back out to him and slumped next to him on the couch.

  “I’m a horrible date,” I whined into his shoulder.

  Lane chuckled, rubbing my arm. “You were great. I wouldn’t have figured two glasses of wine would do you in though.”

  I shook my head against him. “Stupid Whitney. She said it was okay to drink even though I took my medicine earlier.”

  Lane pushed me away from him. “You mixed them? Should we go to the hospital?”

  I clumsily patted his cheek. “You’re so cute. I think I just need sleep.” I tried to lay down against him again.

  “Okay, Sleeping Beauty, I think you’ll like your own bed better than me.” He got us up and walked us to my room.

  “Hmmm, nope. I want to sleep with you.” I giggled as he laid me down and covered me up.

  “How about I stay with you until Whitney is home?”

  I tried to answer him, but the darkness was already pulling me under.

  I looked around in my dream. I was in the middle of the street, cars racing by me. Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared. It’s like I knew what would happen. I saw one car coming my way and started to step in front of it when I heard screaming behind me.

  I turned around and saw Lane running toward me, yelling at me to stop. I smiled and lifted my hand in a wave right before the car reached me.

  The next time I looked around, I was lying down. My mom was leaning over me. “Oh good, you’re awake.”

  “I am?” I asked. Everything had a fuzzy edge to it.

  “Why are you asking me?” She turned to me, her face morphing into a terrifying mask of anger. “If you can’t tell, then I’ll help you!”

  She grabbed me with fingers stretched out like talons and started shaking me roughly. “Wake up, Abigail! Wake up, Abigail!” Laughter followed that outburst while my head snapped back and forth.

  I sat up, screaming, arms flailing to beat her back.

  “Abby, stop! It’s just a nightmare!” Lane’s arms wrapped around me as my gasps turned into loud cries.

  “Oh God, it felt so real Lane,” I cried, choking on my tears. I held on tightly to him, using him to anchor me.

  Slowly, the tears abated, and my breathing calmed down. Lane’s hands were rubbing my back, soothing me further. He laid me down and brought the covers back up. Wiping my face off, he said, “No need to be afraid. I’m here with you.”

  I smiled and held his hand as I drifted off to sleep again, with no dreams to trouble me for the rest of the night.

  Chapter Seven

  I woke up feeling refreshed, the horrible dream already receding to the back of my mind. Lane was no longer here, but I saw a note on my side table in his handwriting.

  Abigail,

  I hope your bad dreams stayed away. I left after I heard Whitney come in and when I was sure you had settled down for the night. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.

  Lane

  I got up to dress and get breakfast started. While drinking a cup of coffee, I contemplated my previous night and the crazy dream I’d had.

  Damn you, Whitney, I thought, shaking my head. I was never going to listen to her advice again. I was getting off the crazy train and not drinking while taking my meds again.

  In my dream I had let myself be run over. At least, that’s how it had seemed. But why would I do that? I thought. I knew I didn’t have any control over my dreams, but I also knew I wasn’t suicidal.

  And then the part with my mom. I shuddered. I can’t believe my brain had turned her into some sort of monster. It had scared me half to death.

  Sitting at the table with my plate, I thought about it all. Obviously, I had been messed up enough to go crazy in the dream world. Maybe I was too stressed out, like the doctor had said. I wished I could take more time off work, but I had just missed two days to do my testing and meet the doctor.

  I decided to look over all of the evidence Lane, Whitney, and I had gathered a few weeks ago.

  After cleaning my plate, I took my papers from their drawer and sat back to look them over. First, I read the note again:

  If you’re reading this, you’ve been in a coma for almost five years now. We’re trying a new technique. We don’t know where this message will end up in your dream, but we hope we’re getting through. Please wake up! We miss you.

  Okay, still weird. Five years ago would make me twenty years old. My mind still rebelled against the thought of me being in a coma. I could feel things, I ate, I breathed, I even dreamed! How do you dream within a dream?

  I rubbed my head; the foolishness of the situation was getting out of hand. I smoothed my hair back, going to the notes we made.

  Lane could see the note. Nobody else could. Which, as Lane had pointed out, did not support Dr. Woods’ suggestion of me stressing myself out.

  My migraines started five years ago. Which went along with the coma theory.

  The hallucinations. Okay, those could go either way. I was stressed and hearing things, or this was more attempts to get me out of the coma.

  I can’t get hold of my mom. I wasn’t sure where to place that one.

  Looking at my stress versus coma list I had made, the coma side was winning.

  “What the hell is happening to me?” I whispered, hanging my head in my hands. Could this really be happening? Was the note true?

  My head was really starting to hurt. It’s like I was trying to figure out how quantum physics and blackholes worked. That’s what I felt like while trying to come to terms with this being the truth.

  Whitney came into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” She leaned over my shoulder, reading my newly made list. She picked it up. “Abigail, what is this?”

  I shrugged, sighing. “I’m trying to come to terms that this note could be true.”

  Whitney sat down next to me, putting the papers back down. “Hey, don’t go there. Do you think I’m made up too? Or Lane?”

  I looked up at her and saw the hurt on her face. “Of course not!” I cried out, grabbing her hand to hold. “But what else am I supposed to think? I’m sinking here, Whitney! I’m sinking, and I can’t find the surface and I don’t know if I can pull myself out!”

  Whitney sat there, a stunned look on her face. “God, Abigail, I’m sorry. I just want to help you, and I don’t know how. I’m not – I mean, I can’t be just a figment of your imagination, you know? I have dreams, hopes, things I want, guys I like! Is your brain really that elaborate?”

  I giggled, sniffing back my tears. “I don’t know what the right answer here is Whitney.”

  “And think of Lane. Okay, I could probably give you that one. If I could make up a guy like that, then I would in a heartbeat,” she said, laughing.

  I joined in, laughing and wiping away my tears. “Okay, so what you’re saying is that you’re real and I’ve made up Lane?”

  Whitney snorted. “Sure, we can go with that.”

  I looked at my list. “Am I crazy to even consider this? When we first talked about it, I was convinced there was no way it was possible. But now…” I trailed off. “But now, with everything that’s been happening…”

  I huffed out a breath. “It’s spiraling out of control. I’m constantly hit with new things. I just want it to stop.”

  Whitney knelt in front of me and pulled me to her for a hug. I leaned into it, needing the comfort.

  “It’ll be okay, Abigail. I am here for you no matter what you need.” She shifted back so she could wipe my eyes. “Now, go get ready for work. You can’t be getting fired from your pretend job.”

  I laughed again, grateful that Whitney could show me the humor in
the situation.

  Later at work, I sat at my desk reading. It was taking everything in me to concentrate. My mind kept wandering.

  I was back at square one. Why was this happening to me? I didn’t deserve this. I was having an amazing life before this happened. I loved my job, I loved my best friend, and I loved—

  I sat up suddenly, dropping my pen. I loved Lane. Oh, wow. I flushed at the sudden rush of emotions flooding through me. I dropped my head into my hands.

  I’m such an idiot, I thought. Why did I have to wait so long to realize this! He’s been telling me he loves me for days and I don’t even give him a hint that I might feel the same!

  I looked up at the ceiling, hoping for some sort of sign that I wasn’t as dumb as I felt. Was there even a length of time where it got to be too long to reciprocate such feelings?

  I looked around the office to make sure nobody else was noticing the miniature breakdown I was having. Fortunately, everybody was absorbed in their work. Like I should have been.

  Glancing back at my desk, I tried to concentrate on my manuscript. I had a new one, which I was grateful for. I didn’t think I could have handled finding any new notes that were mysteriously left for me.

  After a few minutes, I realized that I was reading the same paragraph repeatedly. My cheeks were starting to ache with the pull of the grin that kept popping up. I loved Lane. I was in love!

  What an incredible feeling. It was like I could float away, and my problems were tiny insignificant things that didn’t need my attention. I kept imagining Lane’s face as I told him, changing the scenario often.

  I would tell him tonight. At dinner. No, wait, it should be a private thing. At the apartment. No, what if Whitney was there? She would make a huge deal about it and embarrass me.

  Laying my head down on my desk, I sighed. Why was this so hard for me? I mean, Lane just popped out and said it! At a bar, of all places! I should be able to do the same. Just be casual about it.

  Except this wasn’t casual. It was the deepest of feelings I could possibly have for a man. I was giving him my heart, and with that, the potential to break it.

  I’m overthinking this, I thought. I got my phone out.

  Me: Whitney, I need guy help! Please don’t make fun of me!

  Whitney: Never! What’s up?

  Me: I may or may not have just realized I’m in love with Lane

  Whitney: OMG! Really? That’s so awesome! What’s the problem?

  I tried to think of how to phrase my question, then decided to just be blunt.

  Me: How do I tell him? I’ve never done this before!

  I could just imagine Whitney rolling her eyes at me.

  Whitney: Abigail, sweetie, just tell him! I bet he can’t wait to hear it! Maybe you’ll get lucky!

  My cheeks flushed, and I looked around quickly, even though I knew nobody could see our texts.

  Me: Okay, thanks, BYE!

  Whitney sent back a winking smiley face, making me smile in response. As much as it scared me, she was right. Just do it.

  “After work,” I said to myself. “I’ll do it tonight.”

  “Do what tonight?”

  I looked up to see Julie hovering over my desk, apparently eager for new gossip. She really needed to get a boyfriend who could keep her distracted from everyone else’s business.

  Struggling to keep my eyes from rolling, I turned in my chair to face her. “Oh, nothing huge. Just, um, planning dinner for my roommate and me.”

  Julie’s face fell when she heard nothing juicy. “Oh, that’s…fun,” she said. “So, are you taking your lunch break soon?”

  I didn’t want to face another possible breakdown with her again, so I shook my head. “No, I’m not. I’ve got catching up to do since I missed a couple days,” I said, gesturing at my desk.

  Julie nodded. “Okay. I’ll just see you later then.” She waved and walked off, grabbing her purse on the way out.

  I felt bad about lying, but man, Julie didn’t know when to stop when it came to guys. It was just easier to fib than get strapped down to that type of conversation. Plus, I thought as I looked glumly at my work, I really do have a lot of catching up to do.

  The rest of the day I spent chained to my desk. I didn’t even leave for lunch, instead grabbing a few snacks and a Diet Coke from the vending machines to munch on. I had gotten into a groove, that zone where I got so focused that nothing could have distracted me.

  The next time I looked up, it was nearly five o’clock and time to leave. I packed up my bag, tidying up the papers that I had taken notes on and scattered around my desk.

  “I’m so glad tomorrow is a short day,” I said to myself, once again grateful for the company policy of leaving early on Fridays.

  I drove home and saw Whitney on the living room couch. She jumped up and intercepted me before I could go into the room.

  “Abigail! You’re here!”

  I looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. “Of course, I’m here, Whitney. I do live here after all.”

  I tried to walk around her, but Whitney side-stepped in front of me again, stopping me.

  “Oh, I know, I just meant, um, you’re here now,” she stammered.

  “Well,” I said, trying to walk again, “it is after five. Work is done, so I had nothing better to do than come home. Okay, Whitney, what are you doing?” She kept blocking my every step.

  Whitney stepped forward, grabbing my hands. “Okay, don’t panic, but Lane’s here.”

  “Why would I—”

  She interrupted me. “No, I know, but he found your notes. Your theory notes. I get the feeling he’s not too happy with the direction you’re leaning.”

  Understanding dawned on me. “Oh. Oh. Is it that bad?” I whispered, wringing my hands together.

  “It’s hard to tell. He’s got a look on his face though,” she said.

  I straightened my shoulders. “Okay, this should not be that big of a deal. I’m going to go see what he says.”

  I took a few tentative steps, then turned to look at Whitney. All she had to offer me was a thumbs-up and encouraging smile.

  I scowled at her before turning and marching into the living room. Lane was sitting in the recliner. That was already a bad sign. He always sat on the couch, so he could be near me and hold me.

  “Hey, Lane,” I said, going to sit down on the couch.

  “Hey, Abigail,” he said.

  Full name. Was he really that upset?

  “What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you over tonight.”

  Lane ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I had fast learned meant he wasn’t happy.

  “I was going to surprise you tonight. Come hang out with you here. I, uh, found your papers on the kitchen table.”

  Crap. I had totally forgotten about them after my talk with Whitney this morning.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “Is there something wrong?”

  Lane blew out a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m trying to be understanding and supportive. But, Abby, how could you even think like this?”

  I opened and closed my mouth a few times, unable to form an answer. How did I explain my feelings to someone who had no clue what I was going through? Even though Whitney was supportive of me, I also knew she was only trying to placate me in hopes I would get a grip on myself.

  I shrugged, still trying to come up with the right words. “I don’t know. I don’t, okay! But what else am I supposed to think anymore? I’m not crazy, Lane. I can’t be. Besides, these episodes are all pointing to the same thing.”

  “What, they’re all giving you the same message that you’re in a coma? That you’ve made all this up?” He spread his hands wide as if to encompass the whole world.

  “So, you’re telling me this is all in your head. That you couldn’t just go out right now, buy an airplane ticket and travel across the world? Does your coma world even exist that far? Or does everything turn blank at the city limit sign?”

  I blinked back tears. I
had never seen Lane like this. He had never spoken harshly to me, even when I was trying to break up with him.

  “How should I know?” I cried, wiping my face of the rebellious tears that I couldn’t contain. “What does it even matter, it doesn’t even affect you!”

  Lane stood up suddenly. “What? Doesn’t affect me, are you serious? This most certainly does affect me, Abigail! I’m your boyfriend! I am not a figment of your imagination!”

  I stood up, too. “That’s not what I mean Lane! I meant that I’m the one living with it! I’m the one who’s seeing things and hearing things and passing out and who knows what it’ll be next time!”

  Lane sneered at me. “Oh, you’re the one living with it? Well, let me tell you, I’m living with it, too. I’m dealing with you breaking down all the time or crying everywhere. I’m living with it, too!” he yelled at me.

  I took a couple steps back. I couldn’t believe this was the same sweet guy who had swept me off my feet. Tears were streaming down my face.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself. “You deal with me? Is that all I am to you now, a damn charity case?” My breaths were coming short and fast now. I knew I needed to calm down before I started hyperventilating. Nothing was coming out right.

  “Of course, you’re not a charity case to me, Abigail, but look around you! This is the real world! I am real!” He stepped in front of me, grabbing my hands to place on his face, framing it. “I am real.”

  I stepped away from him, too hurt by his comments to take in the wounded expression on his face. I didn’t care if I hurt him, he had done his part in this.

  “I will not be pitied by anyone,” I said. “Especially not by you!”

  “Abby, listen to me.”

  “No!” I screamed. “You don’t get to talk to me like that and expect to get away with it! I deserve better!”

  I felt hands on my shoulders and turned to see Whitney, her eyes narrowed.

  “Lane, I think you should go. Now,” she said.

  He looked back and forth between the two of us, but I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. My heart was breaking, but I didn’t want him to see that.