Hiding In His Dreams

by Jason W. Chan

  * * * * *

  Luke woke up to something frying in the kitchen. Eggs.

  The door to the bedroom opened and in walked Alyssa with a plate of scrambled eggs and an English muffin. She was beautiful in her sweatpants and a t-shirt, and her hair tied loosely in a bun.

  “That smells great,” he said. “You didn’t have to get up early to make breakfast in bed for me.”

  “I didn’t get up early,” she said. “And I wanted to.”

  He ate some of the eggs. “It’s good.”

  “Can you imagine? This is what our kids would do for us on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day,” she said with a laugh, sitting down on the bed.

  “Kids?” He stopped chewing. He tried to swallow completely, but the food was stuck in his throat.

  “Well, we have been living together. I’m assuming this is where we’re heading.” She looked at him inquisitively.

  “We are, but we haven’t discussed kids yet.”

  “You don’t want kids?”

  He looked at her but did not reply right away. She looked worried. And he hated to be the source of her concern.

  “Alright,” he finally said. “Let’s say we did have kids. How are we going to have time to take care of them?”

  “I’ll take maternity leave, she answered without hesitation. “Or quit my jobs and stay home and take care of the kids,”. “I really don’t mind.”

  “Can’t we just try living together for a while? We don’t have to plan all that out just yet.” He leaned in to hug her, but she shoved him away.

  “I’m not planning it all out, but I at least want the possibility of being married and having kids.“ Then, she added, “I don’t want to live with someone who doesn’t want children.”

  Her words stung him like a slap in the face.

  He stared at her, wondering if this meant the end for them. She was breathing hard, her eyes distraught.

  She stood up. “I need to take a walk.”

  He started to get up, spilling the eggs all over the bed. “Alyssa, wait.”

  She stormed out of the room, and onto the balcony.

  He ran after her immediately. What have I done? He thought.

  He found her standing there, her arms crossed over her chest. The day was gray. He looked up. Dark sooty clouds were starting to swarm the sky.

  Luke approached her.

  She turned around, squinted at him, then turned her head away. The wind attacked her hair, blowing it in all directions.

  He came closer, enveloping himself around her protectively. To his surprise, she did not push him away, but allowed herself to be overtaken.

  He felt the warmth of her head against his chest. He discovered that she only reached up to his neck.

  A cold breeze wrapped itself around the couple, and he held her closer still.

  “Why don’t you want kids?” she asked, without turning around. “I would make a great mother.”

  “I know you would. It’s not that. It’s just that we’re moving a little fast.”

  “But you were the one who asked me to move in with you.”

  She has a point there, he thought.

  “But we don’t need to plan it all out right now,” he said.

  She tilted her head up, trying to look him in the eyes.

  “I’m 25. I’m getting old. I want to fall in love with the right man. Get married. Have kids. I’m not trying to plan it all out. I just want to know if there is a possibility that you might want kids too. Right now, I’m not so sure that you’re the right one for me.”

  Her statement caught him off guard. He felt her slipping out of his grip.

  “I am,” he said.

  “No, you’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “You‘re scared of something. Commitment? Moving forward? Kids? Who knows?” She struggled to be released from his embrace, but he held on tight.

  “I never said I didn‘t want kids.”

  “You didn’t have to. I saw how you interacted with that little girl back on the ferry, on our trip to Qualicum Beach.”

  He was silent for a while. The only sound was the traffic on the streets. There was a angry honk from an even angrier driver. Then, the traffic returned to a steady rumble.

  He thought about what she had said. She was right, of course. What was wrong with him? He was the one who asked her to move in with him. He really wanted to be married, not just to anyone, but to her. He could really see himself with her. He wanted to move forward. And he really wanted to move forward with her.

  “I was just stressed because of the tight deadline. This deal could make or break me. I can‘t screw up again.”

  It was her turn to be silent. She finally wiggled out of his hug, and turned around, her back facing him.

  He was the first to speak. “Do you know how I know I’m the right one?”

  No reply.

  “Because I’m here with you, wanting to be with you,” he said.

  She let out a sob.

  He spun her around, and kissed her.

  Then, stroking her hair, he said, “Can we give this a try?”

  “Mkay,” she said, trying to smile, her face flushed.

  Even on such a cold dreary day, his body was warm.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 5

  That evening, Alyssa set the table in preparation for her mother’s visit. She set the fine china on the table first, then laid the silverware carefully beside the plates.

  She frowned when she noticed a fork was out of place. She straightened it once, then kept fiddling with it.

  Luke, who was standing beside her, tried to help her with the utensils, but she grabbed his wrist, and shook her head.

  “I can handle it. You know,” she continued. “You’re so lucky your parents are dead. My father was OK, but my mother drives me crazy. She’s a professor of theology. That doesn‘t make it any better.”

  Luke debated whether to ask how.

  “You might be wondering how,” she said. “You’ll see when she comes tonight. You’re meeting her for the first time. Are you nervous?”

  Luke shook his head. “Nah, I’m sure she’s a nice lady.”

  She headed into the kitchen and he followed. The kitchen was filled with the rich aromas of soup and freshly-baked bread.

  She stirred the big pot of soup that was simmering on the stove.

  “How can I help? he asked.

  “Uuuhhh, you can hand me the salt and pepper.”

  He handed both shakers to her, and she sprinkled in a little of each. She stirred it, and scooped out a spoonful.

  “Taste, she ordered.

  Obediently, he opened his mouth. The minestrone was perfectly seasoned. “Yum,” he announced.

  “You would have said that no matter what I made,” she said with a smile. “Keep stirring it. I need to check on the bread.”

  As he stirred, he was reminded of how they cooked together on their vacation to Qualicum Beach. Cooking together made him feel closer to her, as though they were a married couple. He imagined they would be soon.

  At 7 pm, there was a knock at their apartment door. Alyssa opened it, and embraced the person standing in the doorway.

  “Mom!” she exclaimed.

  Luke examined the lady. She was a large, matronly woman in a dress covered with sunflowers. Her grey hair was worn in a tall bun, which added at least two inches to her height. She wore silver-rimmed glasses that made her look like an intellectual.

  When the embrace was over, Alyssa stepped back.

  “Luke,” she said. “This is my mother, Florence.”

  Luke offered a hand, and Florence shook it. Her grip was firm. Luke thought she was trying to crush juice from an orange.

  “So you’re Luke,” she said, staring at him through her glasses. Her voice was unusually deep for an old lady.

  Luke felt like he were being assessed and judged, like a contestant in a beauty pageant.

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s very nice to finally meet you, P
rofessor Hansen.”

  “Yeeeessssss,” she answered, dragging out the word. “Please, call me Florence. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  The three of them made their way to the dining table. Alyssa began serving minestrone soup into their bowls.

  “Don’t serve it like that,” her mother snapped. Florence grabbed the ladle from Alyssa, and began serving the remainder of the bowls.

  “You see,” she explained. “This way, the soup won’t drip along the edges of the bowls.”

  Luke gave Alyssa a questioning look, but she did not look at him. She sat down, and started to eat her soup.

  Luke was tempted to say something, but he decided to let it pass.

  Florence clasped her hands together, then frowned at her daughter. “You’re not going to eat without saying grace, are you?”

  “Mom, I haven’t done that in ages.”

  “I insist.”

  The professor closed her eyes, and bowed her head in prayer.

  Luke decided to humor her, and Alyssa followed suit.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, we offer you our thanks for the food we are about to receive. Please bless this dwelling, and please bless its inhabitants in holy matrimony and little bundles of joy.”

  “Mom!” Alyssa dropped her spoon, which clanged onto the table.

  Florence looked at Luke, then to Alyssa. “You kids are living together. When are you tying the knot?”

  “We haven’t even talked about that yet.”Alyssa looked at Luke apologetically.

  “Well maybe it’s about time you did,” Florence said. “It’s not proper for a Christian girl to live with a man without being married to him.”

  “You know I’m not practicing anymore, mom.”

  “But your father - God rest his soul - and I raised you to be a nice Christian girl.”

  There was an awkward silence, no sound except for the clinking of spoons against the bowls.

  Then, the mother spoke again. “At least tell me you’ve talked about the future. What about kids? I don’t know how much longer I can be around to hold a grandchild in my arms.”

  The couple avoided eye contact with her, and did not utter a word.

  Ignoring the snub, Florence continued to talk. “Alyssa, this soup is a little bland. Didn’t you taste it beforehand, like any good cook would?”

  Alyssa looked apologetic.

  Luke slammed his spoon onto the table. He turned to his potential mother-in-law. “Haven’t you said enough?”

  Florence gawked at him, shocked speechless.

  Luke said, “Alyssa is a great person to live with. She can cook and she takes care of me. And I take care of her. So stop with the criticisms.”

  The flustered lady stared at him for the longest time, and finally regained his composure. “How dare you. How dare you be so rude to me.”

  She looked at Alyssa, who shrugged.

  “You’re not going to say anything?” Florence asked. Her hair was beginning to look disheveled, her bun falling apart.

  When she received no answer, she got up. “Fine. I’m leaving. And don’t expect me to give my blessing to this sinful, unholy reunion.”

  Neither Luke nor Alyssa made an attempt to stop her. The lady slammed the door.

  “That’s that,” Alyssa said without emotion. She continued to eat her soup.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke said. “I know I was supposed to meet your mother today. I feel bad for screwing it up.”

  “Hey, it’s fine.” She put a hand to his arm. “You just did for me what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.”

  “Oh.” He looked at her, and she nodded, then gave his arm a squeeze.

  They had the rest of their dinner in peace.

  * * * * *

  When Luke woke up the next day, he knew he was sick. He was glad it was a Sunday.

  He had felt the general feeling of malaise the night before, just as he was falling asleep.

  Now, everything ached. He could barely keep his eyes open. He tried to look outside. There was no sunlight. It must have been a cloudy day.

  Next to him, Alyssa stirred, then turned over.

  “Morning,” she chirped.

  She peered into his face. “You don’t look so well.” She put a hand to his forehead.

  “Do your muscles hurt?”

  He nodded.

  “Did it come all of a sudden, without warning?”

  He nodded again.

  “Do you have a sore throat?”

  He nodded.

  “You must have the flu.”

  She got up and stretched. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll get you some cold towels and the rest of the necessities.”

  She came back a moment later with a cold towel, a thermometer and a cup of steaming liquid.

  She put the towel on his forehead. The cooling effect of the towel made him feel better.

  “Here. Drink this.”

  A citrus smell wandered over to him.

  “It’s lemon citrus. It’ll make you feel better.”

  He downed the boiling beverage as she placed the thermometer in his mouth. The piping-hot drink temporarily relieved his sore throat.

  Luke tried to get up, but she pushed him down gently. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need to look over the final contract. I have to hand it in to my client tomorrow,” he mumbled. It hurt his mouth even to talk.

  She leaned in until she was only an inch away from his face. Her bangs dangled in front. He could see every line on her face. He could see the sleep in it, not quite having vanished yet.

  It was a different experience seeing someone from that angle, from that close up, he discovered. People normally didn’t see others from that close up. It was reserved for family members, close friends, lovers. From up close, she looked different somehow. Even more familiar. He realized, then, just how dear she was to him.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, then let out a giggle, brushing her bangs out of her face.

  She plucked the thermometer from his mouth. “Yep, just what I thought. You’re burning up. You‘re not doing any work today, so just relax. You need some rest.”

  “But I’ll get fired if I don’t finish it.”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. And don’t even try to get up.” She continued to push him down. “I’ll bring the TV in to you.”

  She left the room and wheeled the television set in.

  When she turned it on, an image of the ocean popped up. Then, the screen flashed to a bunch of turtles crawling along the beach, with the waves in the background. It have must been the Discovery Channel.

  “I’ll leave you to sleep. I’m gonna make some breakfast.”

  She tried to leave, but he grabbed her hand. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch.

  “Wait, don’t go. Can you stay with me for a while?” He begged, eying her earnestly. He knew he looked helpless, maybe even pathetic just lying there on the bed.

  She looked at him, and nodded. “OK, just for a little while.”

  She climbed into bed with him, pulling the covers over the two of them. Holding her hand, he took one last look at her before he closed his eyes. He looked at her tired eyes. The way her brown hair just swooped perfectly around her pretty face. Her small mouth.

  Luke felt his head burn up even more, so he closed his eyes.

  From the television set, he could hear the sound of the waves. It reminded him of that trip to Qualicum Beach with Alyssa.

  The steady rhythm of the waves made him he feel something he almost never felt. Calm and relaxed. And for the first time, he was able to appreciate it. He wasn’t thinking about work or deadlines or promotions or money.

  The waves were not just noise to him anymore. It was, as Alyssa had said, nature’s music, lulling him to sleep.

  * * * * *

  When he regained consciousness, he felt disoriented. For a moment, he thought he was alone, and panicked. He didn’t want to be alone that day. He wa
s sick.

  He thought he saw circular shapes swirling around him, poking and laughing. The pain had spread to his entire body. Everything ached. He felt like he was dying.

  Then, he looked beside him, and saw Alyssa still there. She was sitting in bed, her back and head propped up by her pillow, leafing through a magazine.

  “You’re still here,” he murmured, surprised and relieved at the same time. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry, and still sore. His head pounded, as though there was a construction drill right next to his bed.

  Alyssa turned to him. “Of course, I am. Where else would I go?”

  He looked out the window at the greyness, but could not tell what time of day it was.

  He then recalled there was a digital clock on the nightstand. He looked at it. It was 3:30 pm.

  “I moistened your towel for you,” Alyssa said, putting the towel on his forehead.

  “Everything hurts,” he complained.

  Just when he thought he could not take it anymore, Alyssa took his hand.

  “It’s OK,” she said, stroking his sweat-soaked hair. “It’s OK.”

  A funny feeling buzzed inside him, but it was not the symptoms of the flu. He stared at her, as though he was seeing her for the first time.

  Seeing her truly.

  Seeing her clearly.

  Seeing her for the beauty of her essence.

  “I really like you,” he said. “Have I told you that?”

  She stared back at him.

  “Did I say like?” He realized his mistake. “I meant love. I really love you.”

  There. He had said it.

  “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he continued. “That I love them.”

  She let out a little giggle, and flipped the towel on his forehead to the other side.

  “Are you delirious?” She grinned. Then, she bent down, and kissed him on the cheek.

  “We all need a little love sometimes, especially when you‘re sick.” She laughed to herself. “But especially when you’re not sick.”

  It was the last thing he heard before he blacked out again.

  * * * * *

  When he came to, it was already 8 pm. His headache was gone, and so were most aches on his body.

  He felt his own forehead. It felt like he had cooled down. He shifted around in the cool sheets, and realized Alyssa was not there.