Rude Awakening

Gary Pinkerton reaches across the passenger side to shield Laura Tate from impact as his sporty sedan launches high into the air in an arc towards a large oak tree rooted at the bottom of a ravine. The guardrail does little to keep the car on the road as an oncoming distracted driver causes Gary to swerve and lose control.

Laura covers her face and screams out just as a thick branch, full of large wet leaves, pierce the windshield like a lance, and jams itself into her chest. There are tiny water droplets scattered all about the inside and Gary can only tell the difference between Laura’s blood by the warmth flowing down the right side of his face.

Gary can’t move. His steering wheel wedges him in place and cracks a few ribs. He can’t move and when the ringing in his ears quiet down, he realizes he can no longer hear Laura. When he shifts his eyes towards her, he can see her forehead is split open and her remaining features drenched in red.

He screams but can’t make a sound. His heart is pounding, and his head is throbbing. Then the world around him begins to buzz in short bursts. The noise becomes louder each second until he wishes he were dead too.

Then his watery eyes open, and he is sitting in his bed, alone, with his arm across the other side while hyperventilating. A nightmare. The third time this week. It takes him a few minutes to shake it off and get his bearings in his unlit bedroom. He reaches for the light on his nightstand and with a tap at the metal base, a warm yellow glow illuminates the small space. He makes his way to the bathroom and stands at the sink, hesitant to turn on the light and see his reflection. Instead, he turns the faucet, cups a handful of chilly tap water, and splashes it across his sweaty face.

~

Gary breathes a sigh of relief and takes a seat on the toilet to relieve himself. While ruffling his hair, he notices the shower curtain is closed. The two normally leave it open to remove any lingering humidity to prevent mold and mildew. He wipes and when he is satisfied, he flushes. The brief bathroom interlude is enough to calm his nerves, though the image of Laura’s mangled face, bloody with a mix of leave, broken glass, and twigs still linger.

The bathroom feels humid, even though it is midnight and neither of them showered late at night unless there was a late-night event somewhere. He examines the shower curtain with a side glance, and when he slides it open, he notices the bathtub is full of water. He squints and faintly sees that the tub isn’t empty from the light of the bedside lamp beyond the bathroom door. Gary flips on the bathroom light switch. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, and when he revisits the tub, it’s Laura, skin blueish pale, lips purple, mouth agape, and empty eyes staring straight at him.

Gary rubs his eyes, and she’s still there. His body sways as the room spins in front of him. He calls out her name, “Laura?” but his voice isn’t audible. Her feet are afloat as are her hands, while the rest of her remains submerged. He braces himself against the towel rack with one arm, while the other reaches into the water with hesitation to check her pulse. He knows what the answer will be, but some innate sense compels him to verify that she is indeed no longer alive.

Laughter begins to echo from the showerhead and as Gary pulls his hand away from Laura’s cold and wet wrist, more laughter surrounds him. He turns to look at Laura and her formerly agape mouth is now a wicked smile and music begins to accompany the laugh. Gary lets go of Laura’s wrist and as he does, he slips and is about to fall into the tub.

His fingers are digging into the leather armrests of his recliner and his other hand is on the volume button of the television remote. On the screen, the credits roll as a sitcom wraps up and transitions to a commercial for a local mattress retailer. Gary’s shirt is soaked with sweat and the smell of faint body odor wafts through Gary’s living room. He is gasping and trying to catch his breath. 

Gary rolls off the recliner and lands on the rug. His feet fail to get traction on the laminate wood flooring, and he hits the floor face first. His nose becomes numb, face begins to throb, and a lump starts to appear on his forehead.

“Laura!” He crawls to the kitchen table, past the strewn dirty clothes and empty soda bottles. He frantically pulls himself into a chair. With his phone in his hand, he swipes the lock screen and begins to dial her number. It rings a few times and there is no answer. He presses the red button and then the green one to try again. Nothing. He texts her, “Babe, are you okay?” but the message remains unread.

His hair was matted and stuck to the sweat that dried at various places along his face. He limps his way into the hallway and to his bedroom. He flips on the light switch and there she lay, curled on her side with the comforter over her head. He edges closer to her side and leans towards her obstructed head and listens to her rhythmic breathing through the fabric.

Gary, with his palm open, hovers his hand over her head and walks his finger lightly across the comforter. He pinches a corner and begins to pull it back to uncover her face, half-expecting to see another corpse glaring back at him. As the comforter is carefully peeled away, Laura lets out a brief moan and shifts her position in the bed with her face now buried in the pillow. Satisfied with signs of life, Gary gets into his side of the bed, props up his pillow, reaches into his nightstand drawer, and retrieves a book to read until the morning.

~

At 6am, Laura’s alarm rings and her arm makes its way through the binding of blankets until it reaches her nightstand and taps her phone screen. With the buzzing of the alarm off, she rotates herself until she is laying on her back and removes the layers of bedding from the upper half of her body. She wipes the crust from the corners of her eyes and sees Gary sitting with a book on his lap, forcing his eyes to stay open while simultaneously nodding into sleeping territory.

“Rough night?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Another nightmare?”

“Yep.”

Laura got out of bed and entered the bathroom. Gary got out of bed as well and limped into the kitchen. He fumbled his way through the cabinets, the fridge and finally arrived at the stove, where he took his collection of ingredients and began to cook up some bacon and eggs for breakfast.

Laura enters the kitchen after showering and getting dressed for work. “Smells good.”

“I whipped you up a plate, too.”

Laura takes a seat at the table and examines the spots on the fork and a few spotty areas on the plate. The corners of her mouth hide her forced smile. “This looks good, but I’m running late.” She peels off a sheet from the paper towel dispenser and scoops the food into it. “I’ll just take this to go.”

Gary nods and walks over to give her a hug.

Laura nudges him back and makes her way out the door. “By the way, I have a few missed calls and a text message from you. Anything important?”

“No, nothing at all. Probably a butt dial.”

The door closes behind her and Gary latches the deadbolt lock. He finishes his meal and when he enters his bathroom, he notices Laura’s items in a shoebox. Her makeup, hair products, and even her feminine hygiene things were neatly organized. A far cry from the disorganized clutter of their daily lives. He didn’t make too much of it since it looked like her typical travel arrangement.

Gary pulls off his t-shirt, tosses it on the floor, and heads to his closet. When he slides opens the door, Laura’s half has more space than usual and there are a lot of empty hangers. He goes to his cubby and yanks out a clean t-shirt and slides it over his head. He walks to his desk, retrieves his laptop and heads back into bed while picking his nose and wiping it off on the back of his pajamas.

With his computer placed on his lap, Gary clicks on the delete icon for all the job application rejection letters he’s received in the past few days. He clicks on new job postings and scrolls through those, reading the details, saving the ones he has a slim chance for and discarding the others. He checks his calendar, and it’s empty, except for the appointment with his mental health provider in a few days. His eyelids are heavy, and he can’t escape the allure of the pillow.

Gary places the laptop on Laura’s side of the bed, and cocoons himself in a layer of blankets, blocking the sunlight from the window from getting past his eyelids. An empty pizza box at the foot of the bed slides off and falls to the floor with a hallow thud as a few leftover crusts rattle against each other. He emerges from the chamber of blankets in a huff. “Gimmie a break.” He turns over to his nightstand and feels around for a piece of paper. He retrieves a post-it note with his handwriting and it reads: Wake Up.

“No. Not this again. Shit.” Gary plants his feet to the floor and uses his arms to force himself to sit upright at the edge of the bed. He slaps himself hard and when the sting fades away, he looks at the note again: Wiggles. That was the name of his childhood dog.

“Yes, finally awake.”

He examines his surroundings, and he’s no longer in his bedroom. He is at the kitchen table, alone, sitting in front of a plate that has a few fruit flies buzzing about whatever bits of food that are left rotting. He looks out the kitchen window and the skies are purple as the sun sets over the horizon. “How long have I been asleep?”

Gary grabs a haze covered glass from the counter. He fills it with ice and then water. He stirs the ice with his finger and then pours the glass over his head. The water slides down his body and each part that it moves over is now receptive to the air from the ceiling fan and heightens his senses.

His eyes are wide open, and he pats down his pockets, searching for his phone. Not there. Not on the kitchen table. He walks into the living room, and it is sitting on the armrest of the recliner, next to the remote.

He opens his messaging app and scrolls through the recent messages from Laura. He is reminded of their argument as each successive reply from her reveals eventually her whereabouts. “I’m going over to mom’s house for a few days. I need some space.”

Gary’s hand trembles and the phone falls to the ground. He runs his hands across his face. His facial hair is now a short and scruffy beard instead of clean shaven. He runs into his bathroom and looks into the mirror. His bloodshot eyes widen as he sees who he has become. He steps away from the sink until his back is against the wall. The shower curtain is pulled back, and the tub is empty. He looks around the sink and only his items are on the counter. When he re-enters his bedroom, the bed is empty, the closet is empty too. No signs of Laura.

He steps around the various piles of his clothing, food delivery containers, and other items. The smell is overwhelming him as he gags a tiny bit. He pinches his nose and opens the bedroom window. Gary presses his face against the screen to inhale some fresh air. 

He closes his eyes as the clean air enters his lungs and gives him a renewed burst of energy. He turns to the room and begins to kick the clothing into larger piles. He sets the trash to one side and retrieves the air freshener from the bathroom to spray the entire apartment.

Gary spends the next few hours vigorously cleaning without pause. The adrenaline coursing through his veins carries him well into the night until the clock strikes twelve midnight. It is at that moment that he finds himself in the bathroom trimming away the scruffy beard and reemerging as his old self. The version that was happy when Laura was there by his side.

He sheds tears of loneliness in the shower afterwards. They blend well with the shampoo and melt into the rest of the dirt filled water as it circles the drain and disappears.

When he gets dressed, he walks throughout the apartment as a sort of victory lap, silently self-congratulating himself. He enters the living room and takes a seat on the middle cushion of the sofa, the one directly in front of the tv. It was Laura’s spot. The cushion retains her shape and Gary feels a renewed sense of warmth flow through him as he exhales a long sigh.

~

Gary is awakened by the sound of a garbage truck mechanically slamming the trash bins until they’re empty. His eyes squint to survey the room. The morning sun hasn’t risen enough to light up his apartment. His head is resting against the armrest on the sofa, and he is still seated on the middle cushion. “Must have fallen asleep.”

Gary sits up and stretches his arms out and then taps his phone screen to check the time: 6:10am. He notices the reminder alert at the top that comes from the online therapy app. “Is that today?”

He enters the kitchen and opens the dishwasher to retrieve a spotless bowl and a spoon. When he’s finished with breakfast, he washes everything and places them in the dish rack to dry. He even places the coffee grounds in the compost pail.

His phone dings and it’s the fifteen minute reminder. Gary sets up at his desk and logs into the app from his laptop. A countdown timer appears, then a familiar voice.

“Hello Gary, how have you been since our last meeting?”

“I’m getting by. I think.”

“You look better.”

“Thanks. I’m working on it.”

“Have you had any more nightmares?”

Gary scrolls through his phone and stops at the news article he saved. The headline reads: Woman and Her Child Die During Delivery. Below the headline is a headshot photo of Laura taken from her now inactive social media account. A few paragraphs follow, but Gary’s eyes are fixated on the photo.

“Gary?”

“Oh, right? nightmares.”