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Collin wakes with a jolt. He’s aware of the nightmare but the images are already fading as he tries to catch his breath. It’s the same nightmare he’s had every night for as long as he can remember. How long has it been since he’d gotten back from California? A few days? A week? A month? A year maybe? Time felt different since the return of his trip, but he knew that nightmare well enough now. Something with fire, that’s all he can recall. The terror and the heat feel so real. 

He turns to look at the other side of the bed, knowing he will once again be alone. Lisa still hasn’t come home. Her side of the bed remains untouched, just as it has since he walked back into the house from his last trip. He thinks the disappointment will eventually dissipate, but the pain is just as fresh as it was the first morning he awoke alone. Heaving a sigh, Collin decides to start his day. 

From downstairs, he can hear the radio playing. He gets out of bed trying to retrace his steps from the night before. He’s almost positive he turned the radio off before coming to bed, but he must have forgotten again. “Better than yesterday,” he says to himself. Yesterday, Collin heard Lisa crying in the upstairs bathroom when he was downstairs in the office. It was the clearest he had heard her in ages. He knew his mind was beginning to falter on him. It wasn’t really Lisa he was hearing, just more tricks his head was playing on him.  

After a hot shower, he walks to the dresser to get his clothes out. Strange, not only was the shower water boiling hot for the first time, but his wallet is also next to the 27-inch TV Lisa bought him for their fifteenth anniversary in ‘93, so he could fall asleep to the news while she read a romance novel, instead of on top of the clock radio on the nightstand. He never put his wallet or his keys on the dresser because Lisa hated clutter on the dresser. He flips through his wallet to find nothing is missing and places it back on the nightstand where it belonged. Maybe Lisa came home while he was in the shower. “Yeah,” he says aloud, “and maybe I’ll be the next Nobel Prize winner.” 

His thoughts are still with Lisa as he makes coffee and eggs. He can see her so clearly in the kitchen wearing her pink robe over his favorite University of Colorado t-shirt, her hair piled on top of her head still messy from sleep, dancing to the radio while she made them breakfast. She was always so stunning in the morning. Her natural beauty in the morning light shining through the window took his breath away every time. She never knew how beautiful she was regardless of how many times he told her. Her smile slayed him. What he wouldn’t give to see it again. 

There wasn’t a corner of this house that didn’t hold a memory of his Lisa and he was surrounded by the misery of the memories. The foyer coat closet that she accidentally locked herself in their first night in the place. They were so young then. So excited for their first big purchase, dreaming of filling every room with all the children they planned to have. A four-bedroom, three-bathroom house for a newly wed couple of just twenty-two. That was back in 1978, when both of their hearts were full, and their dreams were big. Children were never going to be part of the future for them, they had tried for fifteen years before Lisa left. 

He finished his breakfast, washed his dishes and headed to his office. With no children to occupy the rooms, Collin and Lisa both agreed that he needed his own space to work with no other distractions. He was a writer, after all, and writers sometimes have a short attention span when the stories are no longer able to write themselves. Being a writer had its perks as well as its downfalls. He had six Best Sellers under his belt and was able to write from home or anywhere he wanted to, really, so he had more time to spend with Lisa when he wasn’t on the road for signings. He had just sold the movie rights to his first Best Seller right before Lisa left him. He had come back from California to an empty house and a bank account full of money. No letter, no message on the answering machine, no Lisa. 

Lisa had her own space in the house, too, and no, it wasn’t the kitchen. Lisa loved to paint. She could set up her easel, put a blank canvas out and create for days without even realizing she hadn’t eaten or slept. When the bug bit her, she was under a trance. Of course, she never thought her work was any good, but she had sold a few of her paintings over the years that hung in galleries in Denver, Boulder, and Aspen. Her studio was in Littleton where she taught classes to beginners when she wasn’t teaching at the elementary school. She was an amazing art teacher; all of her students loved her, and their parents loved the artwork their children brought home. When Collin had finally accepted that Lisa was gone, he had closed the door to her studio and had avoided the door. The memories of her standing in front of one of her masterpieces, a paintbrush between her teeth, paint in her hair and on her face, the oversized paint smock over her clothes, were too painful even now. 

Collin stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway to his home office. He had been robbed! His Intel 486DX2-50 hard drive, 17-inch monitor, and Hewlitt-Packard Deskjet 550C color printer were gone along with all the framed pictures of him and Lisa from the desk and the walls were bare. All of the portraits Lisa had painted for him no longer hung there. He searched through the desk and filing cabinet. Both were completely empty. His manuscripts were all missing, not that he’d had a single call from his publisher or agent since he returned from California, but those were his life’s work!  

Here was the proof that someone had been in the house. Collin had tried to tell himself that it was just him slipping into insanity when he thought he had turned off the radio or closed the closet door. Sometimes, the coffee maker would feel warm when he went to make his morning pot and the water in the shower was always cold even though the hot water heater was fully functional. Not only had he installed it himself, but he checked the unit daily. Even if this was Lisa, which he was still not fully convinced that it was, she would never take his manuscripts, whether or not she was angry with him just like he would never destroy any of her paintings. Each piece, each book, was like the children they could never have. 

Realizing the phone was also missing from the desk, Collin headed for the kitchen where the closest extension hung on the wall next to the refrigerator. He picked up the handset and punched in the numbers to the police emergency line and placed the handset against his ear. “We’re sorry,” the operator screamed at him, “your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check the number and try your call again.” He tried twice more with the same results. He slammed the receiver back on the base, knocking it completely off the wall. 

Luckily, the keys to his Ford Probe GT were hanging by the front door where he had left them and he started towards the front room. He would drive to the police station and file a report in person, if that’s what he had to do, and while he was there, he would lodge a complaint about their line not accepting calls. Really, how can their emergency line be blocked?! He glanced at the picture window as he walked by and paused. The rain was really coming down, pulling the orange and red leaves from the aspen in the front yard and filling the flower bed … and his Probe was not parked in the driveway where it had been every morning. He paid cash for that car with the royalties from the movie rights, so he knew it hadn’t been repossessed.  

Just as he turned from the window, he heard keys in the door and froze. There she was, his Lisa, just as beautiful as she had been when he last saw her. She was wearing her favorite green sweater with the argyle pattern, Guess Jeans, and Doc Marten combat boots. Her hair was the same gold and hung just below her shoulders. Her honey brown eyes filled with tears as she smiled at him. 

“I have missed you so much, Collin,” Lisa said shakily. Collin was frozen. His body had forgotten how to move. His voice caught on the lump in his throat as he tried to swallow. He felt her fingertips on his cheek, her breath hot on his lips. He could smell her Sunflower perfume fresh on her wrist. “I hoped you would wait for me, but you left so long ago. I never thought I would see you again. Oh, Collin, I never stopped loving you. Every day has been torture without you.” 

Lisa leaned forward and gently pulled Collin’s face to her for a long-awaited kiss. Finally, all of his pain and anger escaped him. “I left?! Since I LEFT YOU?!” he yelled, pushing Lisa way. “I came back from California, and you weren’t here! You left me, Lisa! You couldn’t even be bothered enough to tell me why you were leaving me, let alone that you didn’t want me anymore. I’ve been here hoping, praying you would come back. Now, here you are, and I should be happy, but I’m so angry! I wish you would have just stayed wherever you were!” 

Collin continued to stare into Lisa’s eyes. Eyes so familiar. So full of love for him, so full of pain and joy. 

“Honey,” she whispered, caressing his face “you were in an accident in California. You never came back. The train derailed. You refused to fly because of your fear of airplanes and the damn train derailed. A fire started from the crash and engulfed three of the derailed cars. You were trapped inside. You died, Collin. October 22, 1993. The day you were supposed to arrive back home in Boulder.” 

Oh, God, the nightmare! The one he had been having since thought he had gotten back from California. He had been trapped in a roomette, surrounded by fire. He had been reliving his death every night. That’s why it felt so real. He burst into tears and embraced Lisa, holding on to her as if she were a lifeline. Lisa giggled and squeezed him back.  

They stood in the foyer, crying and holding onto each other for what seemed like an eternity. He never wanted to let her go again. He opened his eyes and saw the interior of the house changing. The pictures were being replaced by new pictures of a young family, a husband, wife and little boy. The wife had eyes as piercing blue as his, the little boy had his curly hair. The furniture he loved so much was gone. In its place were furnishings he had never seen before. A TV was mounted on the wall, nearly the size of the picture window. 

“Uh, Lisa,” Collin questioned, “what’s happening here? Do you know who those people are?” 

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Lisa said stepping back. “I had a surprise planned for you when you returned, but I didn’t get the chance to celebrate with you. We have a daughter. I found out I was pregnant the day you were in the train crash. She is beautiful, Collin. She has your eyes, and she is a writer, like you, but she has my smile and my sense of style. Katie, that’s her name. Her husband, Joe, is a wonderful man. He is so good to Katie and a great father to their son, Collin. They named him after you.” 

“I missed out on so much, Lisa,” Collin sighed, shaking his head. “I have a daughter and a grandson that I have never seen. You lived an entire life without me. What happened to you, Lisa? How did you die?” 

“I died in our bed on July 14, 2023, of breast cancer,” Lisa explained. “I left the house to Katie and Joe in my will. I didn’t change a thing in the house while I was still there, except for my studio, I made that into Katie’s room. That room always had the best sunlight, as I’m sure you know. I didn’t want to change anything else because it made me feel closer to you, somehow, but I told Katie and Joe to make it their own and fill it with their memories. It’s not our home anymore, it’s theirs, and I think that’s exactly what they’re doing now.” 

Collin ran down the hall to Lisa’s studio and threw the door open. Where the easel used to stand was now a child’s bed with dinosaurs on the sheets and pillowcases. The walls that were once pale yellow were a soft blue and a few of Lisa’s portraits from his office hung on the wall with “COLLIN” spelled out between them. There was a toybox in the corner with trucks and dinosaurs pouring out of it onto the floor. This was now his grandson’s room. 

“I would like to see them,” Collin said to Lisa, “just once. You had her for thirty years. You saw her grow into the woman and mother she is today. To hear her voice would be like walking to Heaven.” 

“Maybe,” Lisa said, hopefully, “maybe you can now that you know what happened to you. Now that you have accepted your death. Maybe now that we’re together, we can finally see them together. Come with me.” 

Lisa reached for Collin’s hand and led him down the hall back to the front door. They looked out on to a beautiful summer day. Flowers were blooming in the flowerbed, Lisa’s red and yellow tulips, where just moments ago, colorful autumn leaves had lay. Along the street were cars that looked like something out of science fiction movies sitting parked. Collin was in awe. 

Lisa stepped out first, still holding Collin’s hand and smiled back at him. Her smile still slayed him, still melted his heart, even in death. He joined her on the porch and looked back at their home. The porch swing had been replaced by two large rocking chairs and a tiny plastic rocking chair. There were toys and a tricycle cluttering the sitting area. Collin beamed with pride. His family was here. 

Movement in the picture window caught his eye. There, big as life, was the beautiful young mother with his blue eyes and Lisa’s smile. She was laughing and playing with the little boy who had Collin’s curly hair. It was magic, the sight making him feel as though he were watching his family through a TV or a projector on a movie screen. If he could get this close, maybe he could get just a little closer. He couldn’t resist the temptation. He grabbed the handle to get a closer look, to hear their laughter. 

“No,” Lisa warned. “If you go back in, you can’t move on. You’ll be chained to this house as a spirit for all eternity. It’s our time now, honey. It’s our time to finally be together forever. Don’t you want to come with me?” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Collin said, smiling at Lisa. “Okay.” 

Lisa smiled her best smile and turned around to walk down the steps. With each step, Lisa began to change. Her golden hair faded to a used Brillo grey and thinned. He could see her scalp, no, not her scalp, she was bald. The skin on her head became dull and pale. The back of her neck wrinkled as her shoulders slumped, revealing a hump he never knew was there. She had become a walking skeleton. This is what the cancer had done to her. It hurt him to know she had gone through that all alone because he had died.  

He supposed this was his cross to bear as Lisa had seen his charred and melted remains after the train crash. He could envision her waking in a cold sweat, screaming, heart beating out of her chest from the nightmares of seeing the man she loved in his final state. He hated himself for not taking the flight that could have so easily led him down the path of fatherhood. His fear had always been his undoing. 

Collin followed behind, one hand in Lisa’s and one hand on the doorknob. As Lisa stepped off the porch, Collin whispered, “I love you” and let go of her hand.  

-Auryn Brandis

October 24, 2023