Disequilibrium

Part 2: Sophomore Year - Scene 3

When I get back home from Casper's house, I dream about him.

It's a rare occasion I dream about someone. It's a rare occasion I dream at all. But I'm dreaming about him anyway, in a way I'm sure most boys my age dream about other girls. We're in his room with the same grey sheets and the same posters on the wall and the same movie playing. Except this time, I'm on the bed with him.

Everything seems perfect, to be honest. The way he's holding me is perfect. The way he touches me is perfect. I could've died right in my sleep from the happiness, but then he pulls away and says the most stupid thing.

"What are you doing?"

I'm not sure what it means, or how I'm supposed to interpret it, but I still get mad anyway. I jump from the bed and start screaming and cursing and crying and wailing, but all he does is stare at me with blank eyes and a blank soul, asking, "What are you doing?"

I want him to shut up. I want to shut him up. But I can't move from my place beside the bed, and the distance between us only seems to get larger and larger. I want him to be near me again, to touch me again, but he's still motionless.

I'm saying ten things at once, still crying like a fool. Don't do this to me. Not you. Please, don't do this. Don't. I can't let you. You can't. Please, don't.

"What are you doing?"

I shut my eyes. I don't know. I don't know.

"What are you doing?"

I open my eyes. Casper looks terrified, so I shut them again. What is he afraid of? Is he afraid of me? Why should he be? I'm doing everything to be with him. I'm doing everything for him. What am I doing?

"Holden, baby. Come here."

That's not his voice. I open my eyes again, and this time I'm standing in a field of tall dying grass. The sky is purple and red and green and blue, which doesn't make much sense, but I don't pay attention to it. There's a woman standing before me. She has the same dark hair and eyes, smiling softly as she holds out a hand.

"Mom?" I ask. My voice sounds little.

"Come, baby. I'm here."

"Are you really?"

She doesn't answer, but I hug her anyway. She smells like lemons.

Mom starts rubbing my back in slow circles. Her head is resting on my head while my ear is against her chest, listening to the soft thrum of her heart. I suck in her scent over and over like I can't get enough, nearly bursting into tears again as she hums a mellow tune.

Then she says, "What are you doing?"

"Don't."

"What are you doing, Holden?"

"I don't know. Shut up."

"What are you—"

"Don't! Stop! Shut up!"

And then she disappears. So do the grass and the weird sky and the smell of lemons. I'm left alone in a dark void, and I can't see what in front of me or behind me. I'm alone. So I scream, but I can't even make a damn sound.

My eyes pop open, and I'm drowning in my own sweat. The first thing I do is peel off the blankets, then my shirt, then my pants, until I'm quivering like a scared dog in my underwear. There are sobs in the air. It takes a moment to realise they're mine.

After a while of crying in my soaked pillow, I get up from bed and head straight to the kitchen. I can hear Dad snoring in his room. The clock hanging on the wall tells me it's three in the morning, but that doesn't stop me from grabbing a beer from the fridge. The pack of cigarettes from earlier on is sitting beside the stove. I grab those too.