Lucid

Every night the same dream, every morning the same feeling. There are people circling me. I can never see their faces only their hands and they're covered in the thick liquid that makes me sick to my stomach. Blood.

I gasp like I was drowning for so long and my lungs haven't tasted the sweetness of air in eons. My forehead is damp with small beads of sweat and my heart pounding so brutally it's all I can hear. It takes about a few seconds for my mind to come back to reality. It was only a bad dream, I assure myself, nothing more. I flop back down on my pillow and stare up and the noticeable cracks in my loft's ceiling. The twists and turns of their rough edges almost give me a sense of nostalgia, like they're from a distant memory. My body seems to greet this sight with a sense of excitement and courage, while my brain makes no reaction. Blank. "There's no point," I mutter hopelessly to myself, " you'll never remember." This daily reminder to myself always kills the sense of hope that arises in me. Like, if I'll remember anything before the hospital, before the countless surgeries, before the reconstruction of my face, just anything. No, nothing ever comes. I could play this endless game all day long, but that wouldn't pay the bills. Ugh. Living in the cramped loft above the Greasy Spoon on Wall Street in the middle of the Bronx wasn't all too bad. Sure my bed frame was partially assembled, the ceiling had a water drip in the corner where a bucket happily sat, the heater acted up nonstop, and the stove was rusting. I couldn't tell any of this to Martha, my boss and only friend I have. She found me sitting outside the steps of the hospital while she visited her ill mother. I was like a homeless, pathetic puppy without a home or a bone to chew. She was a woman with a horrid personality. Obnoxious, rude, loud, and forceful, but she showed what little kindness she had in that cold heart of hers to me that day and took me in. Her deal with me was that as long as I was a hardworking waitress in her diner, I could have meals and a place to sleep. At that point I was desperate and clueless about everything in the world, so I promptly agreed. And nothing's changed since then.

"Prudence! Prudence! Hurry up! We're opening up in ten minutes and you better get your ass down here in three!"

God, she can be such a nuisance, I thought as I opened the two drawer dresser to pull out a black shirt, worn jeans, and ugly yellow-colored apron. This was my everyday uniform. I only had a rust orange sweatshirt, three pairs of socks and underwear, one bra, and some faded white sneakers with a hole at the big toe of the left shoe in my "wardrobe." I hastily went to the crooked mirror that hung by the door and brushed my hair with a little hand comb. It got out some knots not all the many in this huge nest, but it did the job. I didn't enjoy this part of my morning. Seeing a strange face I could never see as an older more mature me compared to my appearance as a child. My pale brown hair was growing back unevenly, the swelling and bruising that almost felt they would never disappear over the past seven months finally are unnoticeable, and my skin color isn't as ghost-like anymore. Maybe I could be pretty if I grew out this ugly pixie hair, added some color to my cheeks, and tended to my overly chapped lips. Still, I don't believe that would help at all what people thought of me when they saw the big scar that ran from my hairline to the right side of my neck. The doctors said it wouldn't be as apparent over time, but I wonder how much time. Plus, the name Martha bestowed on me wasn't a big bonus to my identity. "PRUDENCE! I SWEAR DON'T MAKE ME GO UP THERE TO DRAG YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!" Fabulous morning Pru, real fabulous morning.

The morning started off, as usual, I slumped downstairs and planted a kiss on Martha's cheek. She annoyingly waved me off, but I knew she enjoyed the semi-love from the daughter she never had. I walked through the swinging doors, which have needed some oil to be drenched on the hinges for a long time, and said my good mornings to good old Lou. " Good morning Lou," I greeted with a warm smile. "Ah good mornin' Ms. Prudence," Lou said with a tip of his old fedora. "Lou, I've told you a countless number of times to call me Pru," I said as I walked back out of the kitchen to behind the counter where the serving hatch was. " I believe in respecting women by calling them Ms. or Mrs. ma'am, don't go nagging me about my ways," he chuckled as he started cleaning down the stoves for the morning wave. I rolled my eyes and started cleaning the insides of the many coffee mugs lined up one by one down the employee's counter workspace. I really liked Lou. Just a sweet old man in about his early sixties still kicking it. Martha was about in her late fifties and I could always tell she had a soft spot for Lou. She was too stuck up to admit her feelings and he was too shy to say anything, so they stayed good friends. It was six-thirty on the dot and Martha strutted to go flip the sign on the front door that read "Closed" to "Open". We both began opening the blinds from opposite sides of the diner and well mannerly went to our places. She confidently took her place behind the cashier's special stand she liked to call it. and I to my back corner where I ate breakfast before any customers came waltzing in. I sat with a patient outer appearance, but really on the inside I was jumping with eagerness wondering what Lou will whip up in his kitchen. You always surprised me, even if it was two of the same meal choices for me every other day, he still did an amazing presentation of the meal. Either a stack of three pancakes or two sunny side up eggs with a side of bacon, it still was always different. One day the eggs and bacon could be in the shape of a smile or the pancakes could have sweet bits of fruit cooked in the batter. I felt like a little kid on Christmas every day because of Lou. This time he brought out a stack of pancakes with chocolate chips. "Oh my, thank you so much Lou!" I exclaimed as he set the gorgeous plate in front of me. "Anything for my favorite little lady" he said with a big grin. I looked over and saw a glower on Martha's face. The old bat was jealous. This made my meal even ten times better. As I swallowed the last bite, the bell above the door rang, and our first customer came in. Oh dear god, not this again. I was having such a good morning.

The customer walked right up to the counter and sat in a stool. I sighed and walked over to the coffee maker with my back to the person. Before they could say anything I spoke.

" The usual I assume?"

"You know me best doll" said that familiar voice that sent butterflies throughout my body, but I wasn't going to show it.

"Quit the whole doll thing, it's getting old"

"Why I could never, that would be far rude of me...doll"

I could almost picture that perfect smug look on his face, but I didn't turn around.

"I rather be the heinous bitch that ignores you"

" Now you not even close to that hag over there"

I knew he was referring to Martha and I couldn't help but laugh slightly to myself. I believe Martha heard it too because then I heard her small brown heels walking over.

" Ah Mr. Mellit, such a pleasure to see you this morning."

I could strongly hear the sarcasm in Martha's voice and I'm sure he could too.

" Martha, always a pleasure to see your beautiful face." I could hear the genuine smile forming with his words, but really he was being just as sarcastic as her. Martha glowered at him and sashayed away to the kitchen. I sighed and finally turned around to greet my most anticipated and dreaded customer. There he was. Donny Mellit. His green eyes raised to mine and suddenly lightened up. He was a fireman at the station a few blocks from here. I have no clue why he came here. Our coffee really wasn't the best and the poppyseed muffin he ordered every morning was already stale from my baking the night before. As I refilled his cup with coffee, he inhaled the muffin. I don't know why. Its texture was like a rock and the sweetness was overbearing, yet he never showed a sign of disgust. Soon other regulars started to fill the diner and I had to turn my attention elsewhere. I could tell Donny wanted to talk to me. His gaze would wander over to me every few seconds and he kept messing with the collar of his blue buttoned-up uniform. I ignored all these signs as best I could and avoided the area of the counter where he sat. It was seven ten and he was going to be very late if he didn't hurry up and leave, but he never left the stool. I rolled my eyes and stomped over to the coffee pot and started brewing a to-go cup.

" You know you're going to be late and I don't think the captain will like that very much."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, your morning break ends at seven fifteen and it's seven

twel-"

"Ah, someone has been stalking me"

"Says you! No one likes the muffins here! You just come to gawk over me for no apparent reason!"

He went quiet. The whole diner went quiet.

Donny just sat there sipping his coffee all calm and collected with his curly black hair...strong jawline...huge muscles...Stop it Pru! Stop it! I wasn't letting this idiot make a fool out of me. I snapped the lid on the cup and shoved it towards him. He looked up and I quickly turned around to grab plates of food.

" So, I'll see you Friday night."

My walk towards the tables came to a complete stop. I felt like the wind had just been knocked out of me. My heart racing a thousand miles an hour and my throat suddenly went dry.

"Excuse me??"

"You heard me Pru, Friday night. I'll pick you up at seven sharp," he said and he swiftly put on his jacket and pulled a few bills out of his wallet.

"No, no I think you've got the wrong person. You see I-I can't Friday...I-I work all n-night so-so I can't. Donny are you listening to me?" I stuttered as scrambled to catch up to him. A pair of arms stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh she'll be there. I'll make sure of it myself."

Damn you Martha. He turned his head as he walked out the door and flashed his perfect, crooked smile.

The day went by fast and I was scowling at Martha all day. This affected her not one bit. She seemed to take joy in seeing me in misery. Customers came and went. Dishes were washed and dried. Countertops and tables were wiped down. Finally at nine-thirty I was able to go ballistic on Martha.

"MARTHA! WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

"What was what Prudence?" she snickered.

"THAT WITH DONNY! MARTHA HOW COULD YOU?"

"Now now Prudence I was doing you a favor. Donny is a very nice young man that likes you and I don't see how you can't turn an opportunity like this down."

I shook my head in disbelief. I was lost for words. I groaned and sulked up the stairs. Before I could reach the door to my room, Martha's voice stopped me from entering.

" Look Prudence I am trying to do you a favor. You need to start your life. You're only twenty-four years old and you won't be young forever. I know it's hard to move on, but you have no family or...memory from before the surgeries and hospital life. I just want to see you happy."

I didn't turn around. Martha's words stunned me.

"So quit whining about it and shove that shit face away. I don't want to see it before your date."

There's the Martha I knew.

That night before sleep fell upon me, I tried to force my mind to remember anything before the hospital. Blank.

Jeez, you're always goddamn blank, I thought. The first thing I could remember was waking up in a hospital bed with doctors and nurses surrounding me. They constantly told me how lucky I was to be alive and other sweet talk crap I hadn't wanted to listen to. They told me how they had to reconstruct my facial features a good amount since I took a solid amount of trauma to it. This whole time there was a loud ringing in my ears, until they asked a question that made my world go dark.

"What is your name miss?" And that was the thing, I didn't have a clue how to answer.

The next day flew by very fast. Donny didn't show up in the morning, which made me worried. Martha and Lou both assured me that I had nothing to sweat about. The whole day went by so fast because all I could think about was him. Even the whole time Martha and I went shopping for an outfit, Donny didn't leave my mind. When I got home, I laid out the dress and accessories Martha bought me. She must have paid a pretty penny for this because there's no way she ever went splurging on money like this. I walked over to the mirror and began to brush out my hair. Martha had insisted that she go down the street to her salon to fix this rat's nest. For once, I couldn't have agreed with her more. The subtle caramel highlights in my hair brought more color to my skin and the way the girl trimmed it defined my bone structure. I wonder if it would've had the same effect on my old face, I pondered as I admired myself for once.

Friday went by very slow. It seemed as if every movement and every word spoken were in slow motion. This made my nerves skyrocket. I attempted to keep myself extra busy with making sure every spot of the diner was brand spanking new. With this mindset, seven o clock seemed to creep up on me faster than I anticipated. I zipped up the mini blue sundress, put on some diamond stud Martha lent me, and some tiny black heels. Martha curled my hair earlier and it surprisingly hadn't fallen all day. I took one look in the mirror and let out an almost unseen smile. You finally know where you belong, I thought as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

I slowly walked downstairs and Martha greeted me with a smile. "You look beautiful Pru." I blushed, I think. Then she took me by the hand and sat me down on her stool behind the cash register. She pulled out a tiny hand mirror from the drawer and a tube of her favorite red lipstick. "You know I always dreamed of doing this with a little girl of my own," she sighed as she applied it on my lips. In the middle of our moment, a knock was at the door. It was only six forty-five, Donny wasn't here yet. "Don't smudge it! I'll be back," Martha fussed. I was in my own little world staring at myself in the mirror, when my daydreams were interrupted by Martha's shouting. I quickly rushed to the door.

"Officers is there a problem?"

"Are you Aimee Fellow?"

"No, I believe you have the wrong pers-"

"Ma'am you were in an accident about a year ago, you were dispatched from the war across seas-"

"Dispatch? I don't remember..."

The two men kept speaking, Martha kept yelling, and I was fading. It's like I was waking up from a long slumber. Bits and pieces came flowing back to me. My dream...I was at the war zone in the Middle East...I was on a mission with my team...I saved them by taking shots to the pelvis and legs....those were the people surrounding me in my nightmare..they were saving me...I was dispatched...why was I excited to go home? Paralyzation of this lucid feeling was suddenly disturbed by a small pair of eyes watching me from the detective's car. The memories of my childhood, my family, my friends, my life, were all flooding back, but I couldn't look away from those small deep brown eyes. A woman came out of the car and walked around to open the other door to the backseat where those eyes were. The small figure with dirty blonde hair bounced out of the car and took the hand of the woman. I gasped. This time it felt like all time stopped and gravity wanted to drag me down by full force. My whole world finally felt like there was purpose again. I was walking on air. The faded voices of Martha and the officers stopped abruptly and I could suddenly hear clearly.

"Prudence...who is that?"

"That's my son Martha."