Mila
The last thing I think about before I cross the hazy threshold into sleep is that Pax's arms are so strong and warm. And safe.
I'll never forget what it felt like when he dove into the lake after me and pulled me to safety. The stupid coat was weighing me down and I couldn't get it off. He probably saved my life. It's ironic that he is so reckless with his own life, but seems so protective of mine.
I snuggle more closely against him, against the strength of his chest. My face is pressed against his heart, and it beats loudly against my ear. It's that thrumming cadence that soothes me to sleep.
And then I dream.
I look down and find sunlight bathing me, glimmering over my skin.
I'm in the church again.
But this time is different.
Instead of the black dress that I wore to my parents' funeral, I'm wearing a white one. A simple cotton shift that is basically transparent. And my father is sitting in the front of the church, in place of the caskets. And instead of sunlight shining in, he is sitting in the shadows.
My pulse races because this is the first time either of my parents have appeared in a dream. It's so good to see my father's face. I rush down the aisle toward him, but my feet will only move one speed. It's so frustrating because I want to run and my feet just won't cooperate. But eventually I reach him.
I stand in front of him and simply stare. He's wearing his favorite faded green flannel shirt and broken in blue-jeans, the ones that he always used to work in the yard in.
He smiles.
"Hi, peanut."
"Hi, daddy," I eke out. I have a lump in my throat that I can't seem to swallow. "It's so good to see you."
He smiles the same smile that I have seen a million times over the years and holds his arms out. I fold into them and he smells just the same, like Old Spice and mints. I inhale and cry and hug him tight.
But after a few minutes, he pulls away.
I stare at him, at the large hands that have held me a thousand times, that have bathed my dog and pushed my bicycle and slapped my mother. I gulp and stare into his eyes.
"Daddy, why did you hit mom?"
He seems startled and holds his hands up, palms up to the sky.
"I don't know," he says quietly. "Because I'm not perfect. Your mother and I should've gotten some help with our marriage. We loved each other, but we were unhealthy together. I'm sorry you saw that."
"How can you love someone, but still hurt them?" I ask, and as I do, I feel the tears streaming down my face. Dad reaches over with a large hand and wipes them away.
"That's a travesty of life," he tells me softly. "Sometimes we hurt those that we love the most."
"But you should never hurt someone in that way," I tell him. "Having that kind of temper is being a coward."
Dad stares at me. "Maybe I was a coward, then. But I was still a good person who just happened to have a bad temper. I love you, peanut."
I feel rooted to the ground and then numb as realization floods over me. Somehow, for some reason, pieces click into place in my mind and I suddenly know what these stupid dreams have been trying to tell me all along...with the black and white caskets, the sunshine and shadows.
Life isn't black and white. People aren't all good or bad. I've concentrated so much on the meaning of life after my parents' passed that I forgot that fact, because deep down, even though I didn't acknowledge it to myself, my parents' volatile relationship was hard on me. And I guess I judged them.
Truly, though, life is just a mixture of good and bad, of varying shades of grays and whites and blacks. I think that I've always been afraid of getting into a relationship with someone because I was afraid I'd end up in the same kind of relationship as my parents' or that I'd make a mistake.
But life is all about mistakes.
I swallow hard and stare at my dad.
"I love you, daddy." He nods, his eyes full of kindness and love. "I miss you."
"I know," he answers. And even though he is sitting still, he begins to fade, until he is no longer here and I am alone.
But I'm not alone. I can feel Pax's presence, even though I can't see it. I turn and he isn't there.
And then I'm awake. I'm staring into his eyes.
"Are you okay?" he whispers. "You were dreaming."
His arms tighten around me.
"I just had the strangest dream," I whisper. "I dreamed about my dad for the first time since he died. I asked him why he hit my mom and he basically said that he was flawed. But he was still a good person. He and my mom should've gotten counseling, but they never did."
Pax stares at me, his golden eyes warm in the shadowy room.
"You're right," he finally says. "A person can be flawed, but still be a good person, or have a good heart, at least. Where is this coming from? Because I asked about your parents earlier?"
I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. I've had a weird recurring dream since they died and I think this has always been one of the things that my subconscious has been trying to tell me. I struggled after they died, I missed them so much, but I also resented them because of their relationship. They loved each other- to distraction, almost- but they weren't healthy together. They didn't communicate well."
Pax stares at me. "Did your dad ever hit you?"
I shake my head immediately. "No. I was spanked a few times when I was a kid, but actually hit? No. They were good parents. Their problem was that they always pushed each other's buttons until things escalated beyond their control."
Pax is already shaking his head.
"Nothing is ever out of your control," he argues. "Not in that situation. You were right, though. Your parents' should have gotten help. I'm sorry that they didn't."
I close my eyes and snuggle against him again.
"I think my dream was a message to me, somehow. That everything will be okay, and that I should trust my gut. My gut tells me that it's okay to be with you. You and I aren't my parents and our relationship won't be the same as theirs. No one is perfect and you have issues to deal with, but we'll get through it, Pax."
He startles, I can feel it. He's stiff against me now.
"You think your dream was a message from your father that it's okay to be with me?"
I shrug again. "I don't know. Maybe."
He shakes his head. "No way. It's not that I don't believe in that kind of thing, but there's no way your dad would give his blessing for you to get involved with me. No way in hell. You dreamed what you want to believe that he would say to you. You're just trying to make sense of things. We stirred up your memories tonight, so it's normal."
I refuse to let him sway me though.
"We'll have to agree to disagree. But for now, let's just go back to sleep."
And so we do. Pax tightens his hold on me and I fall asleep in his arms.
When I wake, he is still asleep next to me. His arms are still tightly wrapped around me. I don't think we've moved at all. I blink from the sunlight that is pouring through the windows. I am so comfortable that I don't want to get up and close the blinds. But if I don't, I'll never go back to sleep.
And I'm just not ready to start the day. I want to stay in bed with Pax a while longer.
I carefully extract myself from Pax's arms and crawl out of bed, padding to the windows. I find the strings that pull the shades closed and start to pull. As I do, I glance down at the lawn behind the house and I freeze.
An icy feeling spreads from the base of my spine all the way to my neck as horror ricochets through my ribcage.
There is someone lying on the lawn, out in the cold and wind. I peer closer, staring at the pale leg, spiky high heel and mousy brown hair.
Jill.
What the hell?
My hand drops from the blinds and I cover my mouth with it.
Jill isn't moving and her body is sprawled at an unnatural angle. Her face is turned away from me, toward the lake, but she is too still. The wind moves her hair across her face, but it is the only thing moving.
"Pax!" I shriek, running to shake him. "Wake up. Wake up! Jill is on your lawn."
He leans up groggily, trying to clear his head enough to realize what I'm saying. Realization finally crosses his face and he lunges from bed, and we both run to the back lawn.
Pax runs to Jill without hesitation, but I have to admit, I am hesitant. Dread seems to freeze me into place. I don't know exactly what's wrong with her, but I know it's nothing good.
Pax kneels and examines her, but he quickly looks up at me and the look on his face is grave.
I have to force myself to walk to him.
"Can you call the police?" he asks quietly. I look down and Jill's eyes are open. They are faded and unblinking and I know she is dead. I back away, my hands over my mouth, as complete and utter horror fills me up. I want to scream, but I don't.
There is vomit on her shirt and chin. At some point, it had run down her arm onto her hand. It is frozen there now, an orangey-rust color. I gag and turn away. Pax stands up and wraps his arms around me.
"Let's go call the police," he says gently. "Don't look again. You don't need to."
"We can't just leave her out here!" I tell him. "It's cold. How long do you think she's been here? Since last night? Do you think she was texting you from here?"
I stare at him wild-eyed and he grasps my elbow.
"Mila, she isn't feeling the cold now. We need to go call the police. And I have no idea if she was here when she was texting me."
I don't say what I know we are both thinking. If he'd only answered her, this might have been avoided. I don't look him in the eye because I don't want him to see my thoughts.
"Did she overdose?" I ask quietly as we walk woodenly into the house.
Pax shakes his head as we climb the stairs to the kitchen. "I don't know, but it sure looks like it."
He looks at me. "Can you make some coffee while I call?"
I nod and set to finding the coffee supplies. It somehow feels good to do this mundane thing, to let my hands operate automatically as I measure out the coffee and pour the water into the basket. The aroma fills my nose and I am standing there, with my hands gripping the cabinet, when Pax appears behind me.
"They're on their way. I forgot to put your clothes in the dryer last night, but I think I have a pair of sweats you can borrow."
I nod and follow him upstairs, where he finds the sweats and hands them to me.
"They're way too big, but there's a drawstring. Are you okay?"
He looks at me and I sit down on the bed, shakily.
"Pax, that could have been you. It could have been you."
I am limp and I don't know what else to say. That's the only thing I can think. It could've been him. If I hadn't come across him that night on the beach, it would've been. Seeing Jill like that just drove it home for me, like a stake through the heart.
Pax drops to the bed next to me and forces me to look at him.
"But it wasn't me. And I'm not doing that anymore, so it will never be me."
His gaze is determined and strong and I feel my lungs shake as I draw in a breath.
"I need you to promise."
"I promise." His words are firm. And I nod.
"Okay."
"Okay?" He raises his eyebrow.
I nod.
"Okay."
He leans over and kisses my forehead. I have the urge to collapse against his chest, but I don't. I pull the sweats on instead and we return to the living room to wait for the police. It doesn't take them long to arrive. Finding a body in our little town isn't something that happens every day.
Pax answers a million questions, and then they ask me a few, also. Was I with Pax last night? Had we seen Jill earlier in the night? And so on and so forth.
We answer all of their questions and then Pax tells one of them that he knows she has two kids, but he doesn't know her address or even who takes care of her kids when she is out. That part surprises me and it makes me insanely sad.
"I guess I didn't know a lot about her," Pax admits. He looks weary. Not sad really, but just very tired. He grips his coffee cup as the officers take notes and ask even more questions.
I feel frozen as I curl up on the couch and wait for it to be over. Through the window, I can see the EMT's rolling a gurney toward Jill's body and they load her up, zipping her into a black bag.
The finality of it slams into me.
Just like that, she's gone from sight. I feel so empty and sad, like in a second, everything about this woman was extinguished, without respect or fanfare. I didn't even know her, so I have no idea why it is affecting me so deeply.
Except that I know it could've been Pax.
And a part of me, deep down, is terrified now. Unsure.
I have no idea if I can handle this. What if the next body that I walk up to is Pax's? What if he underestimates his ability to stay clean? I'm just not sure if I'm strong enough to find out.
I feel Pax watching me, as if he can hear my troubling thoughts.
I look up to find his eyes uncertain and soft and he raises his eyebrows, as if to ask Are you alright?
I nod. Yes, I am.
And I smile a little to prove it.
But I don't know if I am alright at all.
So my smile was a lie.
I close my eyes.