Nightmare
Last night, I dreamed about my mother.
"Illya! Come and meet Peter."
She called me out of my room where I was studying, to meet a man in a uniform. I'd never seen him before. He was broad-shouldered and brutish, with short cropped hair and a sneering smile.
"Illyusha," he said. I've always hated the diminutive form of my name, ever since then.
I stared at him and didn't say anything, sizing him up in an instant. I knew I hated him the moment we met, but my mother never seemed to know what kind of men they were until they'd given us both a black eye or a bloody lip.
I woke up in the middle of the memory, gasping for air but glad to realize that I am now a grown man, and my mother's boyfriends are only horrible memories.
"Illya? Are you all right?"
Gaby came in. She was sleeping on the sofa in the main room of the suite. I'd tried to give her the bed, but she wouldn't let me, insisting that we switch off every night since there was only one.
"Of course," I said quickly. "I'm fine."
"Oh," she said, going over to the dresser and pouring a glass of water. "I heard you yelling in your sleep." She brought the glass over and pressed it into my hand.
"It was nothing," I lied. "I don't even remember the dream. I'm—very sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."
I knew that she would leave. Everyone leaves. I am the man people leave, because I am too much, too big, too messy, and my memories are too loud. They all leave in the end.
But my little girl didn't leave. She didn't leave, and she didn't ask me anything else about the nightmare. Instead, she sat down on the side of the bed in her striped pajamas, and she took the hand that wasn't holding the water in both of hers, holding it tightly.
"I want to hug you," she said. "Can I?"
I stared at her. It was such an absurd question. No one wants to hug the Red Peril. But she sat and looked at me with her serious eyes and waited for an answer.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," she answered, "I don't know what else to do."
It was an honest answer. I like honest answers, and I like my girl. So I put the water glass on the night table next to the bed, took a deep breath, and squared my shoulders like a man preparing for battle. "Very well, if you must."
She didn't laugh at me. Instead, she leaned over and wrapped her small, strong arms around as much of me as she could reach, and she held on tightly. I could hear her measured breathing next to my ear and feel her heartbeat against mine.
I can't remember the last time someone comforted me when I had a nightmare.
After a few moments, when my breathing was steady again, she let go and said nothing, hopping off the bed to go back to the other room. This time, I was the one who kept hold of her hand and wouldn't let go.
She looked back at me, and I smiled. "Thank you, Gaby." She only nodded, but the smile at the corner of her lips was all the answer I needed.
