The Tales of a Future Hockey Wife

Chapter 34: Weird Dream

~Eleanor~

I am alone in a room with no door. I have a feeling that I should be scared, but I am not. I am the opposite of scared actually, I feel a sense of peace washing through me as soon as I realize where I am. It looks like our bedroom in our apartment in Windsor. Our bed is facing the wall on my right, exactly the way it is in our actual room. Even if it's the only furniture present in the room, it feels like it's enough. I see a shadow move around the room, but funnily, I am drawn to it instead of being afraid of it. I step closer to the spot where I last saw the shadow. I end up sitting on the bed against the headboard while hugging our navy-blue pillow. I know what I am doing even if I seem clueless.

I wait, and I wait, until the shadow appears again. It walks towards me from where I was before. I don't move even if I feel my heart accelerate. As it gets nearer, the shadow transforms into a woman. A beautiful woman with long light-brown hair wearing a white long dress sports a wonderful bright smile on her face as she walks to me. She stops in front of me, smiles again, and places her hand on my cheek, rubbing the skin with her thumb. Our eyes stay locked together for a really long time, until I see someone else walk to us from the corner of my eye. It's a man this time. I can't see his face because he is walking backwards. What a strange way to walk. Why would someone walk backwards? When the back of his knees hit the side of the bed, he sits down on the edge of the bed. I think his arms are crossed on his chest because I can't see his hands.

I take another glance at the woman, but she looks different. Her hair is now tied in a high ponytail. Her dress transformed into white dress pants and what looks like a white blouse. I can't see clearly since she took many steps back. She is now facing the man who seems to be wearing the same clothes she is. For the first time since arriving in this room, I take a look at myself. I am wearing a baby-blue hospital gown, white socks that go up to my knees, and a wool vest over the gown. Am I in the hospital? If I am, why am I in my own bed? Why am I in my bedroom? All of these questions seem important but the only one I can focus on is: what is this man holding? I know he isn't just crossing his arms; the woman looks mesmerized by what is in the man's arms. I ask them to show me. I want to see, I tell them, my voice breaking over the last word.

"You're too weak, love. You'll see him later. You have your whole life to see him." He is right. I have my entire life, but I want to see him right now. I don't want to wait, I am not weak. I walked over here by myself. Love, the man called me love. There is only one man who ever called me that.

"Dad? Is it you?" The man turns around to show me his face. It is my father, I would recognize that beard anywhere. He started growing one when I started dating Ben. He said it was his way to participate in the playoff madness. He winks at me before focusing on what he is holding.

"Sleep pretty girl. You'll see him when you wake up." I listen. I close my eyes and fall asleep instantly.

***

I am somewhere else completely when I open my eyes again. I am still in my bed from our Windsor apartment, but it is located in my childhood bedroom. The walls are pink, white lights are hanging around the window. There is a changing table at the end of my bed and a rocking chair on my right. This was my baby room. My mother showed me pictures when I was about fifteen. Someone knocks on my door. I tell them to come in. The woman from earlier walks in holding a little bundle of blankets in her arms. She doesn't say a word, she just walks to me, sits down on the bed, and hands me the blankets. I take them, but they are heavier than I thought they would be. How heavy can blankets be? I want to ask the woman, but she disappeared. I take another look at the blankets. I think I felt them move. A very small hand comes out of the blankets, scaring me a little, but when I see the face coming out too, I gasp. It's his face, his hair, his eyes, his smile, but in a baby of about three months. It's clear as day. I recognize Ben's curly brown hair, his pale green eyes, his smile that makes me melt every time. It's him, of course it's him. It had to be him. I know what do to now. I don't have options, I have only one.

I sit up straight, waking up instantly. I look around, not recognizing where I am at first. The walls are a soft grey, lighter than the one I painted the walls at home. It's only seven am, but I have to get up since my flight is at eleven. I hear Olive's voice from what I think is the kitchen.

"No, Alex. She's going back today. She'll tell him then, it's none of our business anyway." They seem to be arguing about me. I get up from the couch, their voices becoming clearer as I near the kitchen. I place myself in the doorway. No one can see me, but I can see them clearly.

"He's my friend, I can't leave him in the dark like that!" I hear Olive sigh before Alexander continues. "What is she doing here anyway? Why won't you tell me?" Olive looks over his shoulder and sees me in the doorway. She hits her boyfriend before walking towards me, but I don't give her the chance to reach me. I am back into the living room before she even has a chance to exit the kitchen. I start packing the little clothing I brought back into my backpack, picking up my laptop from the floor.

"What are you doing Ella? Don't listen to him. He's leaving in a minute anyway."

I chuckle. "Thank you, Olive for the free haircut and for the free place to crash but I have to go. I have to stop by the drug store before heading to the airport." No matter how hard I insisted, she refused to let me pay for the wonderful haircut she gave me yesterday. "Not for friends in need," she said.

"Did you make up your mind?" She knows not to push me into staying longer. I nod with a smile that she reciprocates. "I'm glad," she adds.

***

On the plane back home, I try and watch Gossip Girl again. This time, I don't feel the urge to throw the computer away, so I guess it's a sign that my trip had the intended effects on me.

I can't wait to arrive back to the apartment. I know I will have some explaining to do, but I am ready. I practiced my speech in the airplane, every word was carefully chosen. I repeat them one last time on the bus leading me towards my place.

I am half excited and half nervous when I unlock the door to our shared apartment, but my heart falls when I see that nothing has been moved since I left yesterday morning. The bed is still made, my phone is on the counter exactly as I left it, no dirty dishes in the sink.

No one came here last night.