Dream of Me

I scrambled around my room, shoving everything I thought I might need for my Friday night date into my pockets.

Phone? Check.

Wallet? Check.

Spearmint Chapstick? ...Check. Might as well bring it, too—just in case.

The last things I grabbed were Nathaniel's gray-and-white jacket and his red yearbook, both of which he left in my room the night he snuck in through the window after the carnival.

Would he need his jacket in Indiana? Did it get cold very fast in the fall? I wasn't sure, but I knew I should give it back to him; I wouldn't be able to stand it if I kept it here in my room. Every time I saw it, I would think of its rightful owner and get instantly and incurably depressed.

Where are you and Nathaniel going tonight? Dad asked with a chipper smile as I came down the stairs.

What was he smiling about? He knew this was our last night together. He didn't have to rub it in my face. A movie. And then to this soda fountain ice cream place, I told him with a sigh. I anticipated what he would ask next, and relayed the answers I'd already prepared. If we go anywhere else, I'll text you. We're not meeting up with any of his other friends, because they already left for college last weekend. He has to get up super early in the morning, so I'll be home at ten at the very latest.

Dad wore a fake smile and nodded listlessly as he considered me from behind his thick glasses lenses. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have given me a stern reminder to watch my 'attitude,' as he calls it, but tonight he let it slide. Okay. Have fun, and be careful, he waved as I stepped through the door into the airy summer night.

Nathaniel was just getting out of his truck and met me halfway down the driveway. He waved at my Dad, who nodded and waved back at us understandingly. Nathaniel and I took our places inside the truck, and as we buckled ourselves in, I laid his yearbook and his jacket down on the back seat...beside an already-packed suitcase and a carry-on messenger bag.

Don't let it get to you, Johanna. You knew right from the start that this day would come.

Sure, I knew...but that didn't make it hurt any less.

I didn't often see movies in an actual theater, simply because they never had subtitles. Actors' lips in movies were harder to read, especially out of context or when the character speaking was out-of-frame. Nonetheless, I agreed to go when Nathaniel suggested it; it was an excuse to sit in a dark room right next to him for a few hours. He insisted on paying, and he even splurged on tickets for a 3D showing. I ate warm, oily popcorn by the handful, letting it dissolve on my tongue, and pretended to understand whatever was going on in the big-budget summer blockbuster.

We sat. We stared. We ate. We left. And we said nothing to each other the whole time.

The fifties throwback ice cream place across the street from the movie theater was just as dismal. My strawberry shortcake sundae certainly looked delicious, but eating it did nothing to help my mood. It tasted less sweet with every lick, less satisfying with every swallow. Nathaniel let his Coke float melt without eating most of the vanilla ice cream, stirring it agitatedly with a long iced tea spoon.

We sat. We stared. We ate. We left. And once again, there were no words.

…This was torture.

As he drove us home, I threw a glance back at his suitcase, and at the jacket and the yearbook underneath. I'd taken the liberty of tucking a picture of me in the back inside cover, since there were no pictures of me in the yearbook, obviously. It was an extra print Mom made of the shot of me holding the peonies last summer in Virginia.

I regretted never taking a picture with Nathaniel, otherwise I could have left him that one instead, but it was too late for that now. He was already pulling into my driveway.

He cranked the gear shift to park and took his foot of the break. Um... Well... Good night, Johanna... His eyes looked everywhere: the odometer, the garage door, the hedges, the concrete...anywhere but at me.

Nathaniel, you know me better than this. And I know you.

But I understood why he had to distance himself from me. Starting tomorrow, the distance would be literal and unavoidable. As much as I wanted to pretend we still had time left to spare, we didn't. This was all there was, and all there ever could be.

I freed myself of the seatbelt and got out of the truck. Good night, I signed, and slammed the passenger door, blocking his face from my view. I walked to the front door, my path illuminated by the dull yellowish headlights, without once looking back.

Good night, Nathaniel. Goodbye. Good luck. Have a nice time at college. Have fun learning about how to be a hotshot lawyer, making new friends, trying new things, and forgetting all about me.

When I reached my room, my digital clock read 10:03PM. We got back right on time, but it still felt way too early. There was nothing left to do tonight, so I took off my capris and my halter top, and I freed my hair from its high ponytail. I showered and changed into my lightweight strawberry print pajamas. Then, in an automated trance, I opened my laptop and signed into instant messenger.

And there was njweiss121. Waiting for me. "Johanna?" he sent as soon as he saw I was on.

"Yeah, Nathaniel?"

"Leave the window open for me."

I smiled a genuine smile for the first time that night. "It's open."

And he signed off.

I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been earlier in the summer for letting him climb onto my roof and jump through my window. Dad was weird about self-defense and home security, especially since he and I were deaf and Mom was physically handicapped. He was paranoid that we could be taken advantage of somehow, and it made him feel better knowing that he had a gun if he needed it. I guessed that was fine, as long as he knew how to use it without hurting anyone by accident—namely Nathaniel. It was a good thing the motion sensors Dad installed around the house's perimeter still weren't activated yet, or Nathaniel could have tripped the silent alarm.

I didn't have to worry about it for too long, though, because before I knew it, Nathaniel appeared on the other side of the glass and gently pushed the window open. I grabbed his hand and helped him climb through the window frame, practically pulling him in my eagerness to get him inside.

We both smiled at each other, guided only by the white light coming from my computer screen, finally admitting to ourselves what we really wanted this night to be like.

Again, I shushed him with my finger, but gently enough that he could still talk if he wanted to.

Wh-what do you think you're doing? asked his whispering, stammering lips, even though he already knew the answer.

Well, I reasoned, he still 'owed' me a favor from my birthday... I'd just waited until the last possible minute to...collect.

In an instant, our 'no more kissing' rule was broken, shattered, completely forgotten. His lips were on mine, his hands pressing into my back, bringing me closer to him. I wrapped myself up in him, breathed him in, and savored his taste, all the while wishing I could stay lost in him forever.

Together, still locked in a kiss, we fell onto my bed. He parted the kiss to lift his head and listen for signs of Mom or Dad in the hallway, but he heard none, and knelt back down to peck my cheek.

Tonight, we didn't need phones, computers, notebooks, or pens. We relied purely on touch: hands, faces, arms, chests…lips.

We were to the point now where I could read his whole body, not just his lips. His crinkled smile and his blinking eyelashes, for example, said, Haha, that tickles! when I dragged my nails under his shirt and across his ribs. You...you have such soft hands, said the gentle kiss he planted on my fingers when he brought them to his lips.

I knew what this must have looked like: the two of us breathing heavily, shamelessly kissing, rolling over onto each other on my bed… It was getting more and more 'serious' with each mushy kiss, with each touch of his hand, with each passing second. We were trying our best to make up for lost time, but despite that, we both knew our limitations.

...Well, he knew his limitations. I, on the other hand, was never very good at 'self-control.'

Come here. I want you closer to me, said his arms as they pulled me in. It was probably for the best that he held me close to him; that way, I could only reach so far with my thirsty hands.

11PM... Midnight... 1AM...

After a while, I found his weak spot: his head. The one on his shoulders, specifically. He practically melted in response to my touch as I massaged his temples, drawing tiny circles with my fingertips.

Wh-what are you doing? he repeated, seemingly unnerved by the sensation—but not enough to pull away.

I wondered if he had chronic headaches... That must be why he always pinched the bridge of his nose when he was upset or angry.

That feels so good, said his contented sigh as I gently tugged at handfuls of his perfect blond hair. He couldn't stop his brown eyes from closing, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. I'm going to end up falling asleep if you keep doing that, he confessed, leaning into it.

As I slowed my pace, I could literally feel him drifting away; his smiling lips relaxed, and his breathing deepened.

I lay still and watched as he slept. As much as I wanted to curl up next to him and fall asleep, too, I didn't dare.

2AM... 3AM... 4AM.

Reluctantly, I kissed Nathaniel's forehead to rouse him. What time did he say his dad was dropping him off at the airport? Five? Six? I was afraid to let him sleep any longer, even though it pained me to wake him from what looked like a perfect, euphoric, restful sleep.

He blinked his eyes open, and immediately smiled when he saw my face resting only inches from his on the pillow. But that moment was gone in a flash, and he frowned when he remembered himself. What time is it? How long did I sleep? He had to stifle a gasp when he glanced at my alarm clock.

I had no idea why Nathaniel was so disappointed in himself. Most people slept at least six hours. It's alright, I told him, dragging my fingertips across his stubbly jaw. You were tired. You needed it.

He took my hand in his, kissing it delicately. His eyes shifted from mine to something on the wall behind my head, and I knew he had to be staring down the dreaded window.

With one final kiss on my lips—a tender, plaintive, bittersweet kiss—he pushed himself off my bed and crossed the room to my window, opening it for the last time.

Goodbye, Jo, he signed clumsily.

I didn't get up from where I sat upright on the bed, because I knew if I did, it would take another hour for him to wrench himself free of my arms. Instead, I grabbed the pillow and held it.

Goodbye, Nathaniel, I returned, and thank you.

I wished my pillow could board that plane, touch down in Indiana, and go to law school in Nathaniel's place. That way Nathaniel could stay with me in my bed, letting me hold him and hug him and cry into him. But if Nathaniel was my pillow, I would have nothing to cry about.

I didn't allow myself to cry until I was sure he was gone. Then there was nothing stopping me from sobbing into my pillow, whom I now resented for not being smart enough to get into Indiana's pre-law program.

After I'd sobbed myself sore, I fell into a miserable, sticky-eyed sleep in which my dreams were so heavily saturated with Nathaniel—his smell, his touch, his presence—they felt heartbreakingly real.

Would he dream of me, the way I dreamt of him? Probably not, if he almost never slept at all.

Mom ripped me from my slumber so soon, it was hard for me to tell the difference between my dream and reality. My hands almost formed Nathaniel's name-sign, but I balled them into fists and pretended to be stretching instead.

The room around me was full of light once more, the window still conspicuously open—but Mom didn't notice. She was adamant that I wake up, for some reason. Get up! she was telling me.

What time is it? … Eight in the morning? Who gets up this early on a Saturday?

Guess what you're doing today? she signed rhythmically—way too giddily, in my opinion.

Uh… Something tells me my original plan (to stay in my pajamas all day, eat an entire pint of Cherry Garcia, and go back to sleep in a dairy-logged torpor) is about to fall through…

You're going over to the A-S-A-Ds' house for tutoring today! she finally said after I made it clear I wasn't in the mood for guessing games.

I wasn't much in the mood for tutoring, either. My mind was a thousand miles away, wondering what Nathaniel was doing at this moment, secretly wishing he would change his mind and come back.

Mom, do I have to? I whined groggily.

You told her you would, Mom asserted, referring to Dajan's mother. Mom sighed and sat down at the foot of my bed, sympathetically patting the bare leg that stuck out of my blanket cocoon. Kiddo, I know you're upset, but there's nothing you can do about it now. If you get up, put on a pretty smile, and accomplish something today, it'll help take your mind off it.

The 'it' I needed to take my mind off of, obviously, was Nathaniel.

Fine, I relented, throwing off the covers and sitting up. Maybe she was right. Maybe spending some time with an adorable little girl would make me feel better… I'll go. Just let me get ready first…

She smiled at me reassuringly and stood up. You'd better hurry, she said, clapping her hands in a 'chop-chop' motion. Dajan will be here to pick you up any minute!

Wait, what? Dajan was picking me up?

If anyone could take my mind off Nathaniel, it was Dajan—but I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing him this soon after Nathaniel's departure.

Just when I thought I could finally scrape my heart from the bottom of the frying pan, along comes Dajan to hurl it into the fire.