I’d started a new painting. Pete kept asking me to go out with him, but I couldn’t imagine anything less appealing than spending time with another guy when I only wanted one man. So I stretched a large canvass and gathered my oil paints.
Starting out, I experimented with a Georgia O’Keefe style—bold colors and oversized images examined in anatomical detail. My mind was in the desert, and as I painted the image transformed. I closed my eyes and revisited my nightmare. Fiery yellows and oranges flowed from the brush. It was a volcano, rising in an inverted V and wrapping all the emotions we’d shared in a sheath of red and purple. I didn’t know how long I worked, pouring all the feelings I’d had since the beginning of my journey with him into the lines and shades of the canvas. When I stopped, it was dark outside and my eyes were heavy.
Dropping the brush in a jar of turp, I left it for now. I’d look at it in the morning and decide if it was worth a damn. For now I needed to sleep. Paint was on my fingers and in the tips of my hair, even though I’d tied it up in a high ponytail.
I washed my hands in the sink and brushed my teeth. Not worrying about the bits in my hair, I pulled off my tunic top and leggings and tossed them on my hamper. Sliding between the sheets in only my panties, I was asleep the moment my head touched the pillow.
A burst of white melted into screams of missiles flying overhead. Another noise. Another explosion. Looking down, I wore a long, beige robe that billowed and flowed around my legs. My head was covered in a beige scarf.
It was different, yet the same. I was in this place, but I was in my own body. Instead of fleeing the destruction, I ran toward it. Something was pulling me further. I needed to keep going. Then I saw him lying there. Fear seized in my chest, but he moved. He was alive! He was alive and he needed me.
I ran faster towards him, hard as I could. A cramp stabbed my ribs, but I didn’t stop until I was at his side. I stretched out my hand and touched his cheek. His skin was so hot, I moved my hand down to his neck. He turned his head and looked up. Our eyes met...
With a gasp, I sat straight up in my bed. My chest rose and fell like a bellows as I tried to calm my breathing. My whole body shook, and light sweat covered my skin.
It was the first time I’d had the nightmare since Montana, but it had changed. Instead of looking through his eyes, I was there, seeing him with mine.
Was it prophetic? Was it a dream of the past? I reached for my dream journal and wrote down everything I could remember—the colors, the sounds, the feeling of desperation. I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to see it all again. A little tremor of fear moved through me, and I said a silent prayer.
Please be okay, my love.
* * *
Stuart
I was on fire. The burning in my legs was overwhelming. My skin was frying off my muscles, leaving me bleeding and exposed. Excruciating pain tore through me, and I couldn’t even scream. I was back in the paralyzed state, lying on the sand under the blazing-white sun.
Where was Derek? Had I lost him? Had the hands that dragged me away gone back for him or had they presumed he was dead? I had to get up from here. My heart beat too hard with all the adrenaline surging in my veins.
Again burning flayed my senses. Fuck! It hurt like hell! I couldn’t make it stop. I tried to pull away, but my body was useless. I was going to die here in torment, twisting in the fires of hell. Pain scattered my thoughts until something changed.
A cool hand touched my forehead. I groaned in response to the small taste of relief. It moved to my cheek and smoothed back the sweat dripping from my brow. A small thumb pulled at my bottom lip, and I opened my jaw in response. Cool water touched my tongue.
Cool water... The memory of a kiss...
It was so good, my bones revived. My eyes that had been squinted shut in agony relaxed, and I blinked away the stinging drops of sweat. Searching for the source of comfort, I strained my neck. I hadn’t been able to make my body respond since the explosion. It didn’t matter.
The cool hand touched my cheek again. It was such a loving touch, so full of comfort. Feather-light locks of hair tickled my cheek. She leaned down and the scent of jasmine flooded my senses.
Opening my eyes, I looked up to see...
Sunset.
The dream replayed in my mind like a movie on repeat as I walked through the concourse. I couldn’t shake it no matter what I tried to focus on.
Heading back usually hyped me up. It was the only time I felt truly happy.
Until now.
It was all fucked up.
For almost twenty years, I’d gone to airports like this one, handed over my ID and bag, and waited for the long flight to the other side of the globe. I didn’t overthink it. It was my plan. It was exactly what I wanted to do. I went after the action. I lived to be in the zone. It was what I was made for.
Until now.
God dammit.
Metal benches lined the interior of the ticketing area. I stopped and sat on one, placing my pack between my feet. Again the dream replayed in my head, again I felt my body’s visceral reaction to her touch. The intense longing when I saw her eyes that jolted me awake and left me reaching for her in the darkness.