I Know He'll Be Here

The walls were gray. Not a dark, ominous gray. Not a cheerful gray. Just gray. I walk around the mostly empty area, the sun beating down on me. I feel good, I feel wanderlust. I've been here a hundred times. He's always here. I just have to be patient.

           As I continue to walk around the courtyard, those gray stone walls seemed comforting. A nice way to end my day. The grass was always a muted green and the air was always fresh, warm. There were two stone benches that faced each other in the middle. Beyond that, there was more grass and some trees against the building in the back.

I kicked off my sandals and laid down on my back in the grass. The greenery tickling and scratching my bare legs and arms. The clouds were beautiful. I could make out the shape of a house and see an airplane flying by.

           I close my eyes and soak up the sun.

           I feel someone lay down next to me. It's him. I turn on my side to face him and he turns his head to me. We smile at each other. We do not talk. We never talk. But we're always here.

           His skin is a warm beige, his eyes hazel, and his hair is short and nearly black. He was in his blue and white striped tank top and black cargo shorts. I was wearing my favorite burgundy off the shoulder sundress. We were always in the same clothes.

           In the distance I hear a familiar tone, the last thing I saw was his full lips dropping into a frown as I faded away.

I was startled awake by the alarm on my iPhone going off. “Hard to Love,” by Lee Brice playing. The song was supposed to wake me up peacefully, but every time I have that dream, I am always so calm that waking up is a fright.

           I used to question it. Why was I having this recurring dream? Where was it coming from? Who was he? They say you cannot dream of a person’s face unless you know them; that your brain can't create a face. Mine apparently can. I have never seen him before. He didn't go to school with me, I checked my final high school yearbook months ago. I've never seen him in a grocery store or at University. And most important to me, why can't we talk? I've tried to say “hi” before, but nothing came out. Oddly, enough like most dreams, or nightmares rather, when that happens you would freak out. It didn't freak me out though. The whole thing is just serene. Dreamy.

           The first time I had the dream I didn’t think anything of it. Just a dream. The second time I was thinking “huh, weird.” The third time it was starting to get a little creepy, but not because I felt so peaceful when I was there. I started to look forward to it. Over the last few months, I was always excited to go to sleep. I’m not sure if it’s the courtyard or him that makes it so serene, but I always wanted more. College was stressful and it was a beautiful escape.

           I rolled out of bed and shuffled to my bathroom to brush my teeth. As I place the toothpaste on my electric toothbrush I think about how exciting this summer is going to be. My best friend, Maria, has an Aunt Kathy who has a beach house in Miami. We’re going to stay there for the summer. Nothing but my best friend, clubs, alcohol, partying, the sand, the ocean, all of it. It’s going to be a blast.

           A while later I finished throwing the last of my essentials in my suitcase just as Maria was pulling up in an uber, “Sophia!” she yelled from the window of the car as she pulled up.

           “Hey! Come help me!”

           “Let’s goooooooo!” she exclaims as she helps me grab my bags. She immediately starts chatting excitedly about how amazing this summer is going to be, and I respond animatedly.

Upon arriving in Florida after a short “two movies long” flight we make it to the beach house. Maria claims the master suite and I take another bedroom with its own bathroom upstairs. Maria tells me she’s going to take a nap, so she’ll be ready to take on the night.

           It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and I just wasn’t tired surprisingly, I decided to take a walk around instead. She won’t mind, she’s been here tons of times.

           I decide to change out of my comfy leggings and hoodie and put on my sandals and a sundress before heading out.

           I walked down the strip, there were a few resorts that were close, so this area was pretty busy, but I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the hot, muggy air and took in my surroundings as I waltzed down the strip. I grabbed an iced coffee from a coffee cart I passed and as I was sipping the last of it I was coming up to a gray stone wall. It felt . . . familiar. No. It can’t be.

           I quickened my pace as I rounded the corner at the end, and there it was. A courtyard. No. The courtyard. It was all here. The gray walls, the muted green grass, the trees on the far end, the benches facing one another in the middle. The entire thing. This was my courtyard. From my dream.

           I tossed my empty cup into a trash bin on the curb and slowly stepped into the courtyard. No one was here. Which made the whole thing even more daunting. I’ve been here a hundred times in my head, but I have never seen this place in person. I’ve never even been to Florida until today. Now, I’m in a touristy area, full of bustling people, and not a single soul is in the courtyard. That I came up. In my head.

           Then it hit me. If this is real . . . then he’s real! I looked frantically around, but still, there was no one here. Maybe I need to lay in the grass. I carefully moved to the spot in the grass that I always lay, kicked off my sandals, and lay down.

           This is crazy. This can’t be real. I sat up. “I should go back to the beach house,” I say aloud, “but what if. . .” I drop my head to my knees and curl up in a ball. I have to stay Right? I mean my head somehow knew this very courtyard existed, how can he not be real. What if my dream was some kind of premonition?

           I lay back down and gaze at the sky. I just have to be patient. He’s always here.

“Where are you?” Maria says over the phone.

           “I’m, uh,” I say moving to sit up and check the time. Six o’clock. Shit. “I’m sorry I went for a walk and I, uh. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes; you can start getting ready!”

           I hang up the phone and look around. He’s still not here. He has to be here. I stand and shove my feet back into my sandals and take one last sad look around. Maybe I can come back tomorrow.

           I half jogged back to the beach house, when I got there, I was more than a little out of breath. “Maria!”

           Maria emerges from the master suite in a towel, her black hair wet and sticking to her neck.

           “It’s real.” I gasp. I was much more in shock than I realized now that I was out of that dreamy state.

           “What’s real?” she asked walking to the kitchen. “Margarita?”

           “Yes, please. But, the courtyard! That one from my dream!”

           “What are you talking about?” she says while measuring out ingredients and pouring them into the blender.

           “The courtyard with that guy, my dream?” I look at her wide-eyed manifesting her knowledge of the situation. She must have answers, she must.

           “That’s impossible. I told you already, you must have seen him in passing somewhere and I’m sure most courtyards look the same.” She turned on the blender and flipped her hair to the other side, a technique she has always done for volume when air drying.

           “No, you don’t understand,” I yell over the sound of ice crushing. “It’s the same one. Same. Exact. One. Everything is exactly the same.

           “Girl, chill out,” she says looking concerned. “I’m sure it’s just very similar.” She hands me a margarita, complete with the little umbrella. Maria is always so extra. “Now, go get your makeup and meet me in my bathroom to get ready!” I decided it was best to just drop it.

An hour later we were ready to hit the clubs and dance the night away. After ordering our first drinks and making our way to the dance floor, we already had two guys come up to us and ask us to dance, respectively. We danced and danced, but my mind just was not in it. I tried to enjoy myself, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the courtyard. I thought I was doing a good job, especially because two drinks in and Maria was drunk enough to not pay me much attention, but hours later I blew my cover.

           “Want to invite them back for a bonfire on the beach?” Maria yelled over the music, into my ear. We found one of those tall tables to stand at as the four of us took a break from the dance floor and had another drink.

           “I’m kinda tired,” I yelled back. “I think I just want to go home and go to sleep.”

           “You’re not tired,” she scolded. “You’re still thinking about that courtyard aren’t you?” She threw her arm over my shoulder and I wasn’t sure if it was just to yell at me more or for stability as she realized how intoxicated she was. It ended up being the former as she added, “Let it go, Sophia! We’re here to have fun! You go to bed if you want, but I’m telling them to come over.”

The next morning, I woke up with a fright to my head throbbing and the house quiet. I had the dream again.

I sobered up pretty quickly when we got home around midnight and retired to bed, but Maria, Dylan, and Finn stayed up much later to have that bonfire without me.

As I lay there, I contemplate how much it may piss Maria off if I leave again, and against my better judgment, I throw on leggings and a cropped t-shirt and walk out the door.

Stopping at the coffee cart on the way, I maneuvered my way through the crowds and made it to the courtyard, which was empty again. This time I decided to sit on one of the benches and enjoy my iced coffee and the sun beaming on my face.

After a long while, I moved to lay in the grass, wishing I brought a book or something. Around two in the afternoon, I got a call from Maria who sounded like she had just woken up.

“Sophia,” she said over the phone in a chastising tone. “Do not tell me you went back to that courtyard.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you,” I replied quietly.

We got into a small argument much to my dismay. I knew she would be upset, but I didn’t realize she would be this upset. She went on and on about how it was our second day here and we’re supposed to be having fun, and how I left her early last night and then left this morning. On and on she went. I started crying. Not because she was yelling at me. I started crying because she was right, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I felt so compelled to stay. To wait for him. He has to be here.

The next month went like this: I woke up early to go to the courtyard, getting smarter and bringing a book with me. Maria stayed out late without me and slept in late. We barely spoke. She was so mad at me. I understood why; we were supposed to have this amazing summer but I just couldn’t let go of this “calling” I had.

           We only spoke small awkward small talk when we passed one another in the house. She had people over most evenings, then they would all go out. I stayed in my room when I was home most of the time because I was so sad that Maria was that mad at me.

           Until one day, something happened.

           I started my day as I did every day. I woke up early, showered, got dressed, and headed out to the courtyard, stopping at the coffee cart on the way. When I got to the courtyard, there was someone there. Laying in the grass. My heart stopped.

           I stepped in slowly and quietly and basically tiptoed my way over. It was a man. He had beige skin. And . . . oh my god. No way.

           “Oh my god!” I gasped when I was close enough to see his face.

           He startled and jumped up, “oh my god!”

           “It’s you!” we said in unison.

           “But how?” I struggled for words and trailed off. I knew it, I knew, and yet, I was so afraid.”

           “I’ve been dreaming of this place, and you for months now. I’m on vacation and I just stumbled in here this morning . . . I had to wait . . . I had to . . .”

           “I know,” I interjected softly. “I’ve been coming here every day for a month waiting for you. I ruined my relationship with my best friend.” I told him the whole story. How pissed Maria was at me.

           He told me the dreams started a few months ago, he lives in New York, only a few hours away from me, he’s on vacation with his parents and left early to take a walk this morning.

           “I didn’t even ask your name,” I said. “I’m Sophia.”

           “I’m Ryan,” he replied with a smile, holding out his hand for me to take. That felt too formal, a handshake. So, I grabbed it and pulled him in for a hug. It felt right, natural.

           I gasped and pulled away.

           “What, what’s wrong?” He exclaimed.

           “I have to take you to Maria!”