A/N: I know I am late as no one probably even cares about this story anymore. But it really took me some effort to get this up, so please give it a go. This chapter can be viewed as a filler. Good stuff comes to those who wait. ;) Don't forget to leave a review. Thanks.
Chapter VIII A Thin Line Between Dream and Reality
A film of perspiration clung to her spine and gradually radiated out to fill her skin pores with heat that lingered on long after she had attained consciousness. The soaking nightgown enveloped her struggle to break away from the bad dream liked a spider web and pulled her into a deeper slumber. Despite her current incoherent state, the eerie clarity of the dream did not escape from her notice: A svelte figure turned her back against the illuminated pathway that would lead her home. Sobs threatened to swallow up her sanity whilst her shoulders heaved in synchronization with the flow of emotion. Stacey found her gaze glued to the womanly contour which was too familiar to go unnoticeable – at least her sad blue eyes said as much- they seemed to be pleading with her, yet at the same time chiding her for something unbeknownst to either of them. Much like their brief encounter days ago, Stacey could only stare as her own tongue was tied into a knot.
The haunting melancholy reflected in the penetrating gaze had brought a new round of nausea that triggered a scream off her throat. In the heat of the frantic outburst, Stacey grabbed the object nearby for support as though it was the only anchor in the angry sea. An audible "outch" followed by a murmur of curse could be heard from the background. Feeling a tug at her arm, which seemed desperate to free her from being the prisoner of her imagination, Stacey could not decide whether she was truly awake.
"Stacey? Stacey!" Ryan flicked on the light to get a better look of his girlfriend. God, she had held onto his arm like it was the end of the world, so rigidly that it did not only wake him but also highlighted his protective instincts.
He watched as her petrified face came to life under the soft glow of the light, and for an instant, it stirred something deep inside him as the unfolding sight bore a striking resemblance to the girl in the wreck of a car crash from another era. "It's just a bad dream," he cooed, whilst lifting a few strands of hair off her flushed cheeks. But still, there was no response. Panic rushed in then as Ryan felt the wheels in his mind turning and the last of his sleep leaving, he searched in vain for the right words to break the spell. "Come on, honey. Talk to me," he begged.
"Don't go. Stay with me. Sta-" she repeated it over and over like it was a mantra to keep herself from perishing.
Minutes, perhaps hours had passed since the last exchange of words. There was nothing but the faint roaring of air –conditioner that filled their eardrums.
With her empty orbs fixing upon the ceiling, Stacey spoke in a low voice almost undistinguishable from the quiet chant of machine.
"I want to go and have some fresh air."
"All right, I will have the windows opened," he hesitated, obviously caught by surprise.
It was as though the words that left her lips had now formed a layer of mist between them, clouded his mind and denied his access to what was happening at the other end of the air that surrounded.
"No, I am going for a drive," she said, corrected her misunderstood statement by shaking her head. "But it's like, midnight. Why don't you tell me what happened instead?" He attempted to reach her but his fingers recoiled to a fist upon her determined look.
"At least, let me drive-" he pled, sounding defeated even to his ears.
"I need to be alone for a while, that's all."
The words lingered in the room, mingled with a sense of despair long after she had made her departure which caused the door to come to a stud.
He might later reason with himself that there was nothing which he could have done since her mind was all made up. What he could not admit was, however, an entire different and far more selfish motive. It was but an act to protect his ego by not putting up for a fight. After all, what could it achieve by succumbing to the realization that his pleads, probably even his presence, meant nothing to her? He learnt long ago that love could not conquer all. This sobering fact didn't bring any comfort to his scattered heart though.
He banged his fist on the door. She retreated. He shouted. She sniffled. It was a routine that had been picked up since the eventful day when Julie Cooper came to visit. At first, it was as if they were back to the days when their relationship was yet to begin. Both were hesitated to open up themselves and always bore a sense of formality when they were in the same room. It wasn't until three months did this spying-and-teasing-each-other kind of game come to an end as Jack made his move by officially asking her out. Jack, however, noticed that the shadow of pretense had never been truly lifted throughout their time together. It was made more pronounced by the lack of emotional inputs when she recounted her childhood and high school days, which still held so much mystery to him even they were, for a lack of a better word, engaged. Just a mere mention of the last word brought a smile to his face. Engaged, how blissful it sounded.
There was nothing that could possibly prepare himself for the present situation though. Neither horoscope nor self-help books had the answer for Jack as he contemplated on how to reconnect with the woman he loved.
"I'm fine." she would mumble when he tried to get her to talk. It had something to do with Julie and their conversation, he gauged but never had the courage to testify due to the loose interpretation of "boundary" that guarded their respective private spaces.
Tonight turned out to be quite different as fate seemed to have its own will.
He found Marissa sitting on the bed with a bottle of Vodka in hand when he came back from grocery shopping. Strangely, he thought of a frozen statue in the cemetery as he studied her face, which seemed to be unmoved by the passing time.
"Can I sit with you?" he asked timidly, as though he was expecting a rejection. He let out a frustrating sigh when she made no inviting gesture.
"This is getting absurd. What's the point of getting married if we are not even talking?" Her eyes widened in alarm at his choice of words. Jack had obviously caught the somewhat reflective response.
He softened his tone before continued. "Is it what you fear? Tying the knot, I mean. I know your mum has suggested the otherwise but we can always wait. I, for one, am content in knowing that we'll reach that stage sooner or later. It doesn't have to be now if you're not ready."
"It's not that, Jack. I think…we needabreak." He felt a sudden panic. Surely, he had heard her wrong. It did not make sense at all. "What did you just say?" he swallowed hard but was surprised at how calm he sounded.
"We need a break." She dared not face him, the courage she mustered was clearly not as much as she thought. "You don't know what you're saying," said Jack, feeling himself begin to sweat. "I am sorry…"
In a desperate attempt to get out from the danger of surrendering, he pointed an accusing finger to her. "For Christ's sake, you are not even sober. How much have you drunk?"
"It's not the wine. And don't you ever use that tone with me." Jack straightened up from his position and headed towards the door. He planted a kiss on her forehead before making his exit.
"Sleep well. I am going to buy you some aspirins, baby."