Strangers

by A. L. Parks

  Tears streamed down Abby's face and dripped on the dog’s head, waking him. He looked longingly into Abby's eyes. She lowered to kiss the dog, as he tried to lick the tears from her face. The roughness of his tongue sent tingles across her cheek, and she smiled. The love she felt for Trevor surfaced. But it was not the deep connection of lovers, but the love of remembrance and gratitude for happiness bestowed on her, but long absent.

  Bryce rose and moved in behind her on the couch, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her hair. Her hand caressed the side of the dog's face, as he resumed his nap on her leg. Closing her eyes, Abby felt the darkness move in around her, and she knew that soon this time and place would disappear into her mind. And she knew she must relay what her heart ached to say. “I love you, Bryce.

  ***

  A gentle sway rocked Abby, lulling her comfortably into serenity. The sound of water lapping against wood drew her out of the peaceful darkness that surrounded her. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a large bright moon overhead, providing light in the continuous darkness. She felt strong arms around her, as her head moved with the intake and exhale of the chest she rested against.

  Bryce.

  He was there, as he always was, providing comfort, safety, and calm during this unrealistic journey of Abby's mind. She turned her head to the side, and tried to look up into his face. His eyes lowered to hers, as the now familiar greeting warmed her.

  "Hey, baby."

  "Hey," she replied softly, and snuggled into his chest. "Where are we this time?" She eyed the thick black veil of night.

  "On the boat," Bryce informed her simply. She did not ask more, just allowed herself the simple pleasure of being in Bryce's arms for whatever time was left. Her heart expanded with each breath, filling with the affirmation of the love she had for this man

  – the stranger that had come into her life on a lonely, cold February day, and had since added light and warmth. It had happened so gradually, Abby had been unaware of what she was actually feeling. But she was sure; she loved him completely.

  "Do you love me, Bryce?" The question came suddenly and without warning. Bryce's chin was on the top of her head and his arms tightened around her. But he remained silent. The ringing in her ears was almost deafening, as her heart clenched and cramped. She stilled, wishing she could take back the question, wishing she could stop the quickening of his breathing that caused her head to rock in time with the swaying of the boat. She closed her eyes securely, not wanting to risk a glance into his eyes, and see pain, confusion – or anything other than love.

  Far off in the distance, a sound reverberated through the darkness. As the water lapped higher and higher up the sides of the boat, the melody came closer. Soon, Abby could hear a woman singing an unfamiliar, yet comforting song. But the words were indiscernible. Abby opened her eyes, peering over the edge of the boat in the direction of the dulcet tones.

  Aqua blue eyes peered at Abby from beneath a mass of wavy red hair. The woman’s smile was simple and sweet. She swam around the boat, and Abby caught a glimpse of sparkling gold and blue beneath the water's surface. A large fin moved effortlessly, propelling the mythical woman towards her destination. Her willowy white hands grasped the edge of the boat, as she pulled her body up in front of Bryce. Abby sat still, staring at the mermaid in disbelief, as Bryce moved his hand to caress the side of fabled woman's face.

  The beautiful mermaid spoke to Bryce, her voice so low that Abby wondered if there was actual sound. Bryce seemed to understand the stunning red-haired beauty, as his eyes filled with tears. He nodded his head in agreement with what she was telling him. Finally, the woman turned her head to kiss the inside of Bryce's hand as it lay against her cheek. Glancing at Abby, the woman smiled before diving beneath the surface of the water, disappearing into the dark depths beneath them.

  Abby turned her attention back to Bryce, who still had tears in his eyes. Moving to him, he pulled her into his chest. They did not speak. The darkness moved in around them, as Abby closed her eyes, wondering where she would wake up next.

  The constant beep pulled Abby from the darkness once again. Lying in a bed, she tried to focus on the room where only muted sunlight was coming in through a large window. A line attached to Abby's arm led to a machine next to her - the source of the beeping that woke her. A man stood in front of the window, his back to her, but Abby recognized him instantly.

  "Bryce," her quiet voice broke the silence in the room.

  Turning towards her, he gazed at her disbelieving he had actually heard her voice. He moved to her side and grasped her hand. "Hey, Baby," he whispered as he brought her hand to his lips.

  "Hey," she responded. "When do you think I will wake up, Bryce?" Abby asked, and glanced around the room.

  "You are awake, Baby," Bryce smiled back at her.

  "No, I mean - when will I wake up in my real life? Not this dream life?"

  "Why don't you think you're in your real life?" Bryce's eyes gleamed, but widened.

  "Because you don't call me 'baby' in my real life - only in my dreams," she explained, as sleep began to tap her on the shoulder, and beckon her back into the darkness.

  Bryce snickered, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "Well, what if I do now? Would that be okay with you?"

  "Yeah, that would be okay" Abby replied as her eyelids grew heavier and made it impossible to keep them open. "I would like that." Enveloped once more in the blackness of her psyche, she drifted back into a deep sleep.

  Her once heavy, foggy head seemed clearer and lighter as

  she peered around the room. The same hospital room, hooked up to the same beeping machine next to her, while sunlight flooded in through the same large window. And Bryce was there, sitting next to the bed, resting his forehead against his hand as it held tightly to hers. With her free hand, Abby reached across, her fingers moved lightly through his soft black hair.

  Slowly, his head rose, eyes began to clear and focus on her face. "Abby," her name came out like an answer to a prayer. Still holding her hand, he placed his lips to her forehead, and lingered for a moment. His gray eyes searched hers, as he attempted to ensure they were indeed her eyes that gazed back at him.

  Confused, Abby placed her hand on his cheek, "Are you okay?" she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as she regarded him.

  A small laugh escaped his lips. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm better than okay now." He brought her hand to his lips, "How do you feel?"

  Abby considered the question for a moment. Her mind tried to make sense of her surroundings, the recent events, and the darkness that lingered in the background of her memories, blocking something from her view. "Tired," she answered finally. "And sore. I'm not really sure what's going on - why I'm here? Or what happened to me?" She searched Bryce's eyes, hoping the answers where there.

  "What's the last thing you remember?" Bryce asked, as he gently brushed the hair from her eyes.

  "I remember the boat," she started, "and the cabin with the dog, and being on the beach." Bryce stared at her for what seemed an eternity, his eyes locked on hers, narrowed slightly.

  "Do you remember going to Rob and Becca's Christmas party?" his voice was soft, yet guarded.

  Visions of Bryce with Cindy flooded Abby's mind, as a lump formed in her throat. She looked down at her hands as her finger traced the outline of Bryce's thumb as it rested on her other hand. "You were there," she whispered, "and then I left. I went home. I wanted to talk to you about..." her voice trailed off. Bryce placed his hand under her chin and raised it so he could see into her eyes.

  "Do you remember anyone with you?" His voice was measured and tentative. Abby searched her mind, as the darkness dissipated. She remembered the sharp pains that traveled through her jaw with each punch, the air sucked from her lungs, the boots making contact with her ribs.

  "Tim," she whispered. "He was so angry. He told me that I had been using him. He kept kicking me, and punching me, and yelling at me." Bryce's face turned to stone, as his
eyes flamed and jaw clenched. Tears rimmed Abby's eyes, "I called you. You saved me."

  His hand moved to her face, caressed her cheek as his eyes softened. "I was so scared when I heard your voice on the phone. I didn't know what he had done to you, and you couldn't tell me how badly you were hurt. I was so afraid I wouldn't get to you in time." He stopped, closed his eyes against the memories before he returned her gaze. "It would kill me to lose you, Abby," Bryce admitted. "It was hard enough when I thought I had lost your friendship - but if you were gone forever? I couldn't survive that." Grasping her hands in his, he buried his lips into them.

  "I'm so sorry, Bryce," her voice lowered and she tried to control the sob threatening to break free. He raised his eyes to hers. "I treated you so horribly. You are my best friend - you mean everything to me. And I threw you out of my home, and wouldn't talk to you. I was just so sad. You started dating, and I know it’s so selfish. I just..." the words stopped, the explanation too hard to get out without losing all control, or crossing a line that could never be

  taken back.

  "Why didn't you talk to me about how you felt, Abby? Why did you just cut me off like that?" Bryce's voice was soft, but stern as he grappled with trying to understand.

  Taking a deep breath, Abby exhaled completely before she answered him. "I just couldn't bear the thought of you with another woman. I wanted you to be with me - to date me; for us to be more than just friends. I didn't know how to tell you about my feelings. I was so scared you didn’t feel the same, and it would ruin our friendship. And then you told me you were going to start dating, and I knew we would never be together – that you didn’t feel the same way as me."

  Bryce shook his head, "But I heard you; talking to your mom in the kitchen at Thanksgiving. You told her we were only friends, and that we would never be anything more."

  "I wanted her to leave me alone and stop asking me questions. I was so confused about my feelings and how to deal with them - and you. I had no idea if I should tell you how I felt, or try to move past it. When I saw you at the party, God - it hurt so bad - it felt like the pain was suffocating me. Being so close to you again, but feeling so far away. I left so I could talk to you privately. I wanted you to meet me for coffee. I was going to tell you how I felt."

  "Do you still feel that way? Do you still want more?"

  She peered back at her hands in Bryce's, closed her eyes, and simply nodded her assent, unable to speak. Tears broke free from where they had precariously lingered on her bottom lids, and streamed down her cheeks. Fear gripped tightly at her chest waiting for his reaction.

  Lifting her head again, his blazing eyes captured her gaze. His hands wiped the tears from her face. "Do you realize how

  happy you've just made me?" His voice was soft and low as he nuzzled into her ear. "I have you back. And now we can move on. It's what I’ve wanted for so long. You. Me. Together."

  A cry of relief escaped Abby's throat. She wrapped her arms around Bryce's neck and buried her face into the crook of his neck. His arms went around her, and pulled her tightly against him. They remained locked together, rebuilding their friendship, venturing into unchartered territory, and finding comfort in their new relationship.

  Bryce pulled away, as Abby lay back on the bed, her head resting on the pillow. Exhaustion came like a thick, heavy blanket and covered her, reminding her she was still healing. Her eyes drooped, as a yawn pushed itself out unwittingly.

  "Rest," Bryce whispered, before he placed a kiss on her forehead.

  "You'll stay?" came the whispered plea from Abby.

  "I'm not going anywhere, baby." Bryce answered.

  Chapter Eight

  The sun was shining, but it was cold, when Abby left the hospital two days later. A brisk wind kicked up around her, reminding her that Christmas was right around the corner. Bryce's Mercedes pulled up, and he jumped out and assisted her into the passenger seat.

  "What day is it?" Abby asked, looking out the window as they made their way through the streets towards her apartment on the Upper East Side.

  "Christmas Eve," Bryce remarked absentmindedly as he parked in an open spot around the corner from Abby’s apartment. He placed the strap of the overnight bag over his shoulder, and carried the two vases of flowers up the three flights of stairs and placed them onto Abby's kitchen counter. Abby stopped in the hallway, and remained outside the door, peering in. The last time she had been here, Tim forced his way in, beat her, and left her gasping for breath from a punctured lung.

  Her chest tightened against the increased and erratic beating of her heart. Her head was replaced with a large, dense boulder, teetering on top of her neck precariously, as a dull throb intensified. Firmly rooted to the spot, no amount of coaxing would convince her feet to move across the threshold. Bryce turned towards her, and noticed for the first time that all the blood had drained from her face.

  "Come on, Abby. It's okay," he reached for her hand, forcing her to look at him. "You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

  “I hate this,” she said. “I hate that he has made me afraid of being in my own home. What right did he have to take away my sense of security? For what? Because he thought I used him?”

  “He had no right to do that. And he will pay for it.” Gently he pulled her through the doorway, and placed his arm tightly around her waist, keeping her close.

  “Will he? They gave him ninety days in jail, Bryce. Ninety days. And – what – community service? What if he decides beating the fuck out me is worth another ninety days in jail, and comes back?” She stopped in the kitchen and looked into his eyes, her own burning hot with anger.

  “There is a restraining order against him; he cannot contact you or come near you. He was fired, so you will not have to see him at the office. He wanted to see you – to apologize, but we all refused to let him, so he left the hospital. The detectives told me he has moved to New Jersey.” Bryce placed his hand on the side of her face. “He will not get anywhere near you again.”

  “Did you see him? When he came to the hospital?”

  “No,” Bryce answered. His jaw clenched, and a deep line crossed his forehead. “After what he did to you? After all the nights I wondered if you were going to open your eyes again? I would have killed him if I had seen him.”

  His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Abby’s arms tightened around his waist, and she breathed in his scent, and relaxed into him. She was safe. She knew it. Bryce had saved her. He would always save her. But a flame was still burning in her chest, and she knew she never wanted another woman to have to go through the pain and fear that she had at the hands of Tim. And she was going to find a way to turn that anger into something useful.

  Her mind was slowing, and fatigue set in quickly. She was not completely healed, and her body was demanding that she take it easy.

  "Let's get you to bed," Bryce suggested, pulling her back from his chest. "You look tired."

  "I'm sick of being in bed," she pouted, "Can I stay out here on the couch for a little bit?" She pleaded, leaning her head back on his chest.

  "Only if you promise you will stay put, and try to relax," he acquiesced, as he helped her lie down, and pulled a blanket over her.

  "Promise," she smiled, snuggling into the pillow as he turned on the TV and handed her the remote.

  The remainder of the day and well into the night, Abby went through periods of sleeping, eating, and medicating. Way after the sun had set, and darkness invaded the apartment, Bryce lifted a sleeping Abby from the couch and placed her in the comfort of her bed.

  Pain shattered through her jaw sending her sprawling onto the floor. The crunching of her ribs followed each strike of the heavy boot, causing her to scream in agony.

  Light flooded the room. Abby found herself in the middle of the bed, drenched in sweat, tears falling into her lap. Bryce was at the door one minute, and across the room in an instant. He wrapped her in his
embrace, and rocked her gently. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe, Abby," his voice consoled her.

  "Tim!" she cried, "He was here!"

  "No, baby. It was just a dream - just a bad dream. He's not here. You're safe, I promise. I will never let him hurt you again." Bryce continued to rock her as she wept, clinging to him.

  “I hate this!” She said through her tears. “I hate him for doing this to me! I hate that he can still come after me through my nightmares!” “It will get better. I promise. It’s your first night back here. Give it a day or two, and things will get back to normal.”

  "Please don't go," her whispered cry begged him. "Please don't leave me."

  Bryce lifted her face, and wiped away her tears. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, softly, gently, and whispered against them, "Never." Lowering her back onto the bed, he turned off the light once more, before lying down next to her. She rested her head on his chest, grasped his arms tightly, and hoped his presence would keep the nightmares away. She already felt safer, as his gentle breathing calmed her as his fingers running through her hair lulled her back into a restful sleep.

  "I'm so happy you're in my life, Bryce," were the last words she spoke to him before drifting into a dream where she sat in the middle of a cold, dead field, gazing at the sun coming over the horizon. As the light brightened the landscape, Abby found herself surrounded by vibrant blooms opening, renewing their lives - along with her own.

  Her eyes opened slowly, and she peered at the clock on the bedside table, trying to bring it into focus. 10:30 a.m.

  She rolled over, reaching her hand across the bed for Bryce, but found it empty. She lay there, still, listening for any activity around her. Music was softly playing, and she concentrated on the melody. Slowly, she pulled back the comforter, knowing that quick movements usually did not work in her favor at this point in her recovery. She retrieved her robe from the chair in the corner, while she pushed her feet into the fuzzy slippers.