Sleeping Awake

by Noelle, Gamali

  I shivered slightly as he made slow, little circles just below my hemline. Leaning over, I made sure that my push-up bra-enhanced breasts were front and centre. “Buy me that shot, and I’ll tell you everything that you want to know.”

  “Vodka?”

  I nodded. “Grey Goose. Vanilla.”

  “Sexy.”

  Coyly, I reached for his tie and pulled him so that he was between my thighs. I ran my hand along his jawbone and followed the path to his left ear. Biting it very slowly, I whispered, “You’re sexy.”

  I grabbed hold of his ass and squeezed tight.

  “Somebody thinks that I’m sexy as well,” I whispered. I ran my tongue against his earlobe and blew slightly. He groaned.

  “What should we do about it?” I asked.

  “Le-Let’s get you that drink then,” he replied, stumbling backwards to turn to the bartender. “A shot of vanilla Goose, please.”

  I downed the shot in one gulp. Slowly, I licked my fingers and held eye contact as my head bobbed up and down. I closed my eyes and purred. “Yum.”

  His hands shook as he put down his own glass. He didn’t say anything, but his rapidly-growing bulge gave me all the answers that I needed.

  “I’m from Málaga,” I said.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You asked me where I was from,” I said. “I’m from Málaga.”

  “Oh. Is that in Mexico or something?”

  I giggled, though his ignorance was anything but funny. “No silly.” I pulled on his tie, this time opening my legs a little so that he could once again fit snuggly between them. “Málaga is in Spain… In Andalucía.”

  “I see,” he murmured. “I’ve always wanted to go to Spain.”

  “And I’ve always wanted to be fucked by an American,” I replied.

  Whether it was from the shock of my bluntness or the fact that I shoved his fingers into my wetness, I got a very hard response.

  “I-I-I live across the street.”

  I could have laughed. He wasn’t the first person who I’d picked up in this bar who’d been a resident of either 215 or 217 Front Street. If things went my way for the rest of the summer, he probably wouldn’t be my last.

  “Let’s go.”

  When we got to his bedroom, I pushed him onto the bed.

  “Take everything off, except the tie,” I said.

  “You want me to leave my tie on?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I want to hold on to it as I ride you.”

  He needed no further explanation. I climbed on to the bed and grabbed hold of his tie.

  Putain. Puta. Whore. Call me whatever you want, and it wouldn’t have made me feel any less about myself. When a cock is inside of me, I am taken to another plain, where all that exists is the delicious pleasure and the volcanic release.

  “Oh!” Whatever-his-name-was groaned beneath me. Clearly, I hadn’t lost my touch.

  I was in strawberry fields as the sweetness fell from the marmalade skies. The only thing that was missing was the final explosion. I closed my eyes and concentrated; I needed this more than I needed life.

  “OH!” He groaned again and grabbed hold of my thighs.

  I opened my eyes, knowing very well that meant.

  My heart started racing, and I pulled sharply on his tie. It was all that I could do to stop myself from falling. The shudders and convulsions started again. I sat there, completely helpless and unable to stop myself, as the reality that I was not to reach my pinnacle caused yet another breakdown. Fucking Cymbalta.

  “What the hell?”

  I didn’t try to steady myself as he sat up. He threw me off him, and I curled up into a tight ball. Shivering, my agony at failing to climax consumed me.

  “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he reached over to touch me. His fingers felt cold against my skin. I howled and curled even further into myself.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Another jolt of electricity zapped at my brain. I wailed as the seizure-like convulsions shook my body and his bed.

  He was pacing back and forth, giving me panicked glances. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

  What the fuck indeed. I waited until the tremors had subsided before sitting up. Using the side table for support, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and waited for the dizziness to ebb before attempting to cross the room towards my pile of belongings.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  I didn’t answer. I bent down, making sure to breathe through my mouth, and grabbed my clothes. I pulled my dress on as I made my way through the hallway, crying all the way to the door. My head felt as if a hammer was banging against the side of it. It was becoming difficult to breathe. I didn’t bother to close the door behind me.

  “Hey!” a voice called from behind me. “Where are you going? You don’t look too well!”

  Through the blur, I pressed one of the buttons on the side of the elevator. The doors opened, and I stumbled in. The gray specs before my eyes were multiplying. All around me was silence. I saw him reach into the elevator, but I couldn’t hear his footsteps. It was as if I was in a vacuum. His mouth opened and closed, attempting to communicate. I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His arms reached towards me. I shoved him away.

  Everything went black.

  *~*

  Through the darkness, I could hear voices.

  “What the hell do you mean by you don’t know what happened?”

  Bryn?

  “I-I-I don’t know.”

  Shuffling and a yelp.

  “Listen to me! If anything is wrong with her, you will bear responsibility for it. Now tell me what happened!”

  “I-I-I don’t know, man. She hit on me in the bar, we came back here, we messed around and then she started crying and stuff.”

  “What?”

  I tried to open my eyes. The lights were too bright.

  “She just started crying, man. I don’t know why. She wouldn’t tell me what was wrong…”

  I opened my eyes again and blinked until they adjusted to the brightness. Bryn had… I didn’t even know his name… pinned against the wall.

  “…I followed her into the elevator and then she fainted.”

  “Bryn,” I called. I tried to sit up, but the room began to spin again. I leaned my head against the sofa and closed my eyes again.

  “Noira?” In an instant, Bryn had let What’s-his-face go and was beside me on the sofa. “Are you okay?”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I was awake or dreaming.

  “Tal rang me. Apparently you have me listed as your emergency contact. Are you okay?” He pulled me towards him and began examining my features.

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “I’m a bit dizzy, and my head hurts.”

  Bryn’s fingers tightened around me. He turned towards Tal. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Less pressure, Bryn,” I said. “And no, he didn’t hurt me.”

  The tick in Bryn’s jaw jumped. “Are you sure?”

  Up against the wall, Tal gave me the most imploring look. I understood his fear. I’d hate to be on Bryn’s bad side. The poor thing. All that he’d been seeking was a quickie and a good night’s sleep. Instead he had my crazy circus to entertain him for the night.

  “Bryn,” I said. “He didn’t hurt me. Let’s just leave him alone, please.”

  Bryn looked at Tal, who by then was paler than I had thought possible, and turned back to me. “Fine.”

  I stood to walk, but the dizziness dictated otherwise. I stumbled back onto the couch.

  “I’ll carry you,” Bryn said.

  I buried my head against his chest as he lifted me, too ashamed to look at Tal as we left his apartment. Neither Bryn nor I said anything as he carried me to his car. I knew Bryn well enough to know that he was saving the pending rapture for the privacy of his car. As soon as he turned onto Water Street, the yelling began.

  “What the bloody hell w
as that about?” he demanded.

  I winced. “I met him at the bar across the street, Bryn. I went to bed with him. It’s not a crime; you go to bars to get girls all of the time.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean that you get to do the same!” he slammed his hands against the steering wheel. The horn blared into the night, startling a group of drunks who were crossing the street.

  “Spare me the double standard, Bryn,” I said. “I wanted to be fucked. I went out searching for someone. End of story.”

  “Except that your someone ended up calling me away from my mother’s birthday party—the party that you were invited to, by the way and didn’t have the decency to RSVP to—because you were behaving like a lunatic and had passed out in his elevator!”

  Bryn was listed as the emergency contact in my phone. I leaned against the window and closed my eyes; my head felt as if it was about to explode.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Noira? I thought that you were supposed to have been cured. Why are you behaving so recklessly?”

  “Bryn,” I pleaded, the tears welling in my eyes. “Please stop. You are literally doing my head in.”

  “Since when do you speak like that?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  “I know that I’m not British, Bryn!” I snapped. “My fucking head hurts, that’s all.”

  “I’m taking you to the hospital,” he declared.

  “No!” I opened my eyes and sat up, ignoring the nausea that set in. “If you take me there, they’ll just take me back to Golden Ridge. If I go back to Golden Ridge, I’m going to kill myself.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Bryn said. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

  “I do mean it,” I replied. “You don’t know what life was like in there. I am not going back.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Noira!” Bryn slammed his fists against the dashboard this time. “Someone needs to look at you, you are clearly not well.”

  “Fine,” I said. I knew that his persistence would never lessen. “But I am not going to a hospital.”

  “Well I’m taking you to mother’s apartment, and I am calling Dr. Mintz to make a house visit.”

  “That’s quite alright,” I replied. “In case I pass out again, tell her that I’m experiencing symptoms of Cymbalta and Lamictal withdrawal.”

  “And yet you wonder why you would end up at fucking Golden Ridge again!” Bryn hissed.

  *~*

  In my dream, I was donned in a white dress, like the one that I had worn to my Confirmation. I walked along a beach of black sand. I could almost taste the salt of the ocean, which was set against a dark, purple sky. The stars couldn't survive against the bloody moon; they retreated behind the dark clouds.

  Something was pulling me towards the ocean.

  "Noira!"

  Laughter.

  Camelea and Cienna were playing. They looked like the Cienna and Camelea from the photograph in the archway. Goofy grins, oversized sunglasses, revelling in the folly of youth. They kept calling my name and beckoning me to join them as they danced by the shore.

  “Noira! Noira!”

  I struggled against the weight of the force that was pulling me towards the ocean. Whatever it was, it held me firmly in its grip and pushed me forward. I could still hear them calling as they skipped and laughed.

  “Noira! Noira!”

  It wouldn't let me turn back.

  "Don't worry, honey, we all have to fall... "

  Maman.

  She looked like the Maman that I knew when I was much younger, not the one that was fading into nothingness as she sat, like a guard dog, by my bedside. She had a gentle smile on her face. Her hair blew through the air, though it was hot and still. I wanted to stay in my dream with this Maman, the one that was happy and knew nothing of the future that awaited us on my journey to good mental health. This Maman knew only of sweet, gentle smiles.

  The force pushed me onwards.

  The scent of the ocean was more powerful now. It smelt of lavender as it shimmered against the dark.

  "Do you see what you have done?”

  Philippe.

  What was he doing in my dream? The bastard.

  He was dressed like a lawyer out of a history textbook, complete with the long black robes and a white wig. He had a piercing look on his face. His arms were crossed.

  "No." I shook my head.

  "This is all your fault!" he said.

  No!

  "Now we all have to pay for your sins!"

  No!

  "Look at what you have done!” Philippe shouted. His veins were as purple as the sky as they bulged at the surface.

  I wanted to stop walking, to march right over to him, and slap him in the face. How dare he try and lecture me after what he had done? How dare he judge me? No matter how much I struggled, I could not break free of whatever was holding me. I kept marching onwards towards the deep, purple ocean.

  I arrived at the shore. Suddenly, everyone came round me in a circle. Camelea and Cienna no longer called my name. They were older now; they looked like their current ages. Maman no longer smiled.

  I couldn't move. Words wouldn't leave my mouth. All I could feel was the heat of their glares.

  The clouds separated and Philippe's angry face towered above me.

  "Your Honour, I find her GUILTY!"

  No!

  Camelea and Cienna began to laugh. It was hyena-like. "GUILTY! "

  No!

  I felt as if the pounding in my head would never stop.

  “GUILTY!”

  Like quick sand, the earth began to give away. My lungs filled with the lavender liquid.

  I looked towards Maman; our eyes met. She looked right through me as if she didn’t see me begging her to save me before it was too late.

  **~*~*~**~*~*~**

  ¯ CHAPITRE QUATRE ¯

  ALL I REALLY WANT

  “Do you still have Earl Grey with a pain au chocolat and fresh fruit for your breakfast?” Bryn asked.

  I had woken up the next morning to find myself in one of guest bedrooms of his mother’s penthouse. After showering and putting on the dress that Bryn had laid out for me, I slowly made my way upstairs to the living area. Bryn was crossing to the terrace with a breakfast tray in hand when I appeared on the landing.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Great,” he replied, walking away. “We’re eating on the terrace, if you don’t mind. By all accounts, it’s suppose to be a lovely day.”

  I followed behind him at a distance. Though he was clearly still upset with me, he waited until I sat to begin pouring the tea.

  “Are you going to be mad at me for the entire day?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Such a shame,” I said, leaning backwards to allow the sunlight to shine on my face. I closed my eyes. If I concentrated enough, I felt as if I could smell the Caribbean Sea. “It would be a waste to spend such a lovely day in a tiff…”

  “Drink your tea,” he replied.

  I sat up, sighing. “Bryn…”

  “I rang your mother this morning and told her that I had snuck you out last night to attend my mother’s birthday party. I promised that you had your medicine and that you’d ring her after breakfast,” he said, cutting me off. I watched him as he attacked his croissant with a knife and wondered if he was perhaps fantasizing about knocking some sense into me.

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching for my tea. “Mmmm…” I murmured, “Fabulous. I swear, you’re the only person I know who can make a good cup of tea.”

  “Don’t lower yourself to base flattery, Noira,” Bryn remarked. “It’s very unbecoming.”

  “I wasn’t trying to suck up to you,” I replied. “I was simply making a comment. If you’re going to continue to treat me like this, I’ll just…”

  “Just what?” he asked, sitting up. “Leave? And go where? Certainly not the house that you ran away from last night…”

  I sat back down. I hated the way that he knew m
e so well.

  “I’m sorry that I was such a whore last night,” I said. “I’ll go to mass and ask for forgiveness this Sunday.”

  Bryn rolled his eyes. “Don’t annoy me, Noira. What you did was very foolish.”

  “It was just sex.”

  Bryn’s fingers tightened around his teacup. “I don’t care about your ruddy sex life, Noira! I am referring to the fact that you stopped taking your medication, without consent from your doctor, knowing very well that it was a dangerous and stupid thing to do! Your nervous system is a wreck, and you fainted!”

  “Oh,” I murmured, leaning further into my tea.

  “Oh!” he continued. “Dr. Mintz told me the side effects of Cymbalta and Lamictal withdrawal and by all accounts, you are going through severe withdrawal. She recommends that you resume taking the medication and slowly wean yourself off of it. Of course, you know best, so you’re not going to!”

  “I’ll be fine, Bryn,” I said. “It’s just going to be a very emotional rollercoaster for the next few weeks, with a bit of brain zaps, nausea and headaches in between… Possibly the occasional fainting spell.”

  Bryn put down his teacup. “Are you hearing yourself?”

  “Yes, Bryn, I am hearing myself,” I replied, sitting up and putting down my teacup. “I’m not going back on the Cymbalta. It didn’t do anything for the depression, it just made me unable to sleep, highly irritable and even more suicidal. I don’t even know what the hell the Lamictal was for, because I jumped from depressed to invincibility and in between like a ping-pong ball. And every time that I complained that it wasn’t working, they’d just up the dosage and tell me that I’d soon start to feel better. If I go back to Golden Ridge or to any psychiatrist, I’ll just be put on a different cocktail. I’ve been ‘unwell’ for the past eight years, and I have been on every imaginable dosage of every imaginable medication. The Lexapro caused insomnia and made me hallucinate, because of the lack of sleep. The Seroquel made me gain 25 pounds in one month and put me well on the path of Type 2 Diabetes. The Ambien didn’t make me sleep. The Ambien CR made me fall asleep for about two hours, but then I’d wake up again and find myself staring at the walls. The melatonin was the same. Abilify made me strung out and unable to concentrate, so I’d have to take a Lorazepam to counter its effect. The Lorazepam made me feel as if I was living in a vacuum; I was always drowsy, always sluggish and complete devoid of all senses. Hell, I even had a psychiatrist who had me on Benadryl, Ambien CR and melatonin at night, but I still could not sleep. I am not taking any more fucking medication!”