Dreams come true

Chapter 4

If I close my eyes, I can still feel her body shuddering vividly clinging to mine. I can remember every one of her freckles. Not only those that gracefully cover her cheeks and nose, but also those that bathe her shoulders and part of her neck; I also remember the loose freckles that swim solitary on her breasts.

I remember her throat in front of my eyes as her chin rose to the sky. I remember the curve of her back, the perfect arch that she formed in search of more intense contact with my body. I remember her sweet laugh, her delicate nibbles, her endless gaze.

And, as vividly as I remember it, it was only a dream; the best dream I ever had, but a dream after all.

But the mark that her rage left on my forehead was not dreamed, nor was the delicate touch of her hand on mine, nor her infinite gaze that found mine in reality as well. Her laughter was not a dream. Much more open and clear than in the dream. Less sensual, but more jovial and lively.

Nor was a dream her voice through that small door of the clinic finding me again as if by magic. It was not a dream, although maybe it was my imagination, the way she was devouring me with her eyes. And, God, it wasn't a dream the touch of her hands on my back; running through every millimeter of it, walking gently over my shoulders, fascinating me with her scent... The pain... that wasn't dreamed either, no doubt. In fact, today it hurts even more than when she used the amazing strength that such a small body can pull out to, apparently, destroy what was left of my shoulder.

It was not a dream when she asked me to accompany her to the orphanage, nor was it when she took out her cell phone with bunny ears and full of sunflowers and we exchanged our numbers.

I was perfectly awake when I sent a message to her setting a date that same afternoon for the next day, and she certainly didn't give me time to fall asleep in the ten seconds it took her to reply.

I'm awake here and now as I watch the woman from my dream run toward me, tripping over everyone in her path and apologizing even to the wastebaskets. And I will stay awake so as not to miss a single detail of the surprising woman that fate has placed in my life.

"Sorry! I'm late! There was an old man in the clinic who never seemed to stop talking! And how do you ask to shut up someone who might be speaking his last words?"

I burst out laughing out loud. There was something about her that broke all the molds, but always left better ones.

"It's okay," I said finally finding calm and finding a mixture of pout and smile on her lips. "We still have plenty of time."

We walked a few more minutes that she passed in suspicious silence until we reached the orphanage and, when I was about to ring the bell, she tugged on my shirt, blocking my attempt.

"Something wrong? Have you changed your mind? If so, it's fine, I..."

"You think they will like me?"

"What?"

"The kids. Will they like me?"

"Why shouldn't they like you?"

"What if they think I'm a boring old woman?"

"I would be surprised."

"But what if that is what happens?"

"Well, I don't think that would be a big problem either."

"It would be!"

"Come on, they will laugh with you, don't worry."

"Cause I am fun or cause I am comical?"

"Uh... both?"

"I'm comical?!"

"Er... no? I dunno! Let me ring! We're late!"

"True! Why haven't you rang already?!"

My jaw dropped, but it snapped back into place as I debated whether to let out the laugh that was hiding in my throat or whether it was a bad time for that. Finally, a slight laugh came out without permission and I quickly rang the doorbell to cover it.

"I heard that, you know?" Anna whispered next to me as the door began to open.

"Being comical is a good thing," I whispered back and, without much thought about the familiarity I was treating her with, I took her hand to enter where, for almost eight years, had been my home.