If only she could sleep. Even four hours straight would be heaven. Nina stared at her full coffee cup with no memory of having poured it. Her prolonged insomnia now endangered her safety and that of everyone around her. She shouldn’t drive anymore, yet who would do the shopping, if not her? Certainly not David. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered as David entered the kitchen.

“Hmmm?” He arched his brows, but his eyes only skated across her face, as he headed toward the coffeemaker. “You remembered I have a business dinner tonight, yes?” He filled his travel mug, but not a cup for home. He remained standing. “So, how did the new medication work?”

“It didn’t.”

“Well, give it a couple nights.” He straightened the suit coat draped precisely over his forearm and picked up his mug. “What’s this one called?”

“It’s Somnium, and I’ve already taken it five nights, David.”

“Oh,” he said, a frown not quite registering on his Botoxed forehead. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she offered.

His mouth twitched in a semblance of a smile. “I know it’s been a nightmare—poor choice of words. I know it’s been a rough four months, but you have to believe this new one will work, Nina.” He leaned down to kiss her. “I’ll call you later.”

Her hands gripped her cup to keep them from grabbing his designer tie and dunking it in her coffee. How sweet that would be. The smile he witnessed as she turned her face up to his had nothing to do with adoration, but his vanity would never allow that to cross his mind. Of course, she loved him. Of course, she worshipped his every breath. Didn’t everyone?

At the door, he turned. “If you are asleep when I come home, I’ll try not to wake you.”

Nina waved him off and took a sip of coffee. Why did she even bother? Despite an abundant intake of caffeine every morning, the fog no longer lifted. She spent her days on autopilot. Sometimes she stood in front of the mirror, searching for some tiny movement behind her eyes, a blip. She listened, head tilted, eyes closed, sure she could hear a nearly imperceptible whirr of hard drive. Was she really Nina? Or had David—Mr. Perfection—traded in his real wife for the Stepford version? After all, robots don’t need sleep.

“And thoughts like that will get you locked up in a psychiatric ward, Nina.” She left her cup sitting on the table and went in search of her shoes. More exercise and sunlight, her doctor insisted, would reset her circadian rhythm. He no longer had confidence in his prescriptions, medicinal or otherwise, she heard it in his voice, but she played along. What else could she do?

It was April, an altogether gorgeous time of year in the San Joaquin Valley. The sun was already warm on her face, with only a slight breeze, no match for her light cardigan. She sauntered along, down one block, over two, down three, passing roses the size of saucers in a myriad of hues. Passing cats, and cars, and other walkers—some with dogs, some with partners—she smiled, or nodded, or said hello, like any normal woman fresh from a full night’s sweet sleep. How easy it was to pretend.

***

I seem to be in a park, walking on a path, headed toward a bench. Who is that man? I know him, or I think I do.

He sees me and stands, smiling. “Nina,” he says and takes my hand, motions for me to sit.

I know his voice. His gaze is tender. When he smiles again, it’s slightly crooked, and crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines. I love this man.

“I’m so happy you’ve come back,” he says.

“John?” I say. “You’re John Cusack.”

His eyes well up, but he laughs. “Of course, I am.” He leans forward, and placing a hand behind my neck, pulls my mouth to his. His kiss is soft and sweet, gossamer, like cotton candy. “I love you,” he says, “and I’m worried about you. You are sleeping too much.”

“Am I?” My eyes are heavy. He’s fading. John slips away from me.

Nina lay in the dark, eyes open. Why John Cusack? She hadn’t seen any of his movies lately. He hadn’t been on her mind, certainly, yet he reminded her of … someone. But sleeping too much? Hardly. She closed her eyes. If only she could fall asleep again. Maybe he would return.

Three long, sleepless hours later, the alarm sounded. David woke and began his stretches. Never get out of bed without stretching first, he often told her. Often. And like everything else he said, he expected her to see the wisdom in it and follow his example. She never did. “I had a dream,” she told him.

He sat up and started his neck rotations. “Well, then, you slept.” Down and up to the left, hold, one-two-three. Down and up to the right. “At least for a while.” Chin to chest; face to ceiling—gently. Let the weight of your head do the work. “Obviously, the new medication is beginning to work.”

“I slept for an hour. At most.”

“Don’t be negative, Nina.” He stood to finish stretching.

She got up and went into the bathroom, partly because she had to pee, partly to piss him off. The master bath was supposed to be his privilege first in the morning. He would count the seconds she delayed him. She would make sure it was at least thirty seconds longer than it needed to be.

Nina took a morning walk, and added an afternoon one for good measure. While she stood on the patio grilling chicken that evening, she watched the sun set. As rose dimmed to periwinkle then darkened to indigo, her blood effervesced with anticipation. She would sleep tonight. She would dream. That assurance made it hard to sit through dinner and their evening routine.

“I think I’ll go to bed now,” she said and laid her book aside. It was barely nine. David switched off the television. Not a good sign.

“I’ll join you,” he said and winked.

She endured the delay by pretending to make love to John instead. David was none the wiser. Sometimes, she wondered if he ever had to search his memory for her name. If she went missing, would he have to consult a photo to describe her to the police? During dinner, a question had danced on her tongue, Why, exactly, did you marry me, David? Although to be honest, if he’d reversed the question, she couldn’t have answered it. Why, even the recollection of their wedding was lost to her now. Their life together seemed faded. A once favorite shirt, the life washed out of it.

As soon as I round the bend in the path, John comes into view and rises from the bench, smiling. How did he know to watch for me? Oh! I remember now; we arranged this meeting. We meet often at this time, in this place. How silly of me to forget.

“Nina, my love.” He wraps me in his arms, a fierce, yet gentle hug. My cheek presses into his collarbone.

“How much taller than David you—”

“Shhh,” John says. “Don’t think of him. You’re with me.” He pulls back and, with a finger under my chin, tilts my face up to his. “Concentrate on now. Hold on to it.” He kisses me. A brief, eternal kiss.

“I thought of you all day,” I say.

“I think of you always,” he says. “As often as I can, I watch while you sleep. I wait for the moment you wake and come to me. It’s never soon enough. You never stay with me long enough.”

I’m crushed to learn I’ve caused the sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry, John, please—”

“Why do you go back there, Nina?”

His eyes search my face. For a moment, I see myself through his eyes. I feel his longing. “Do you love him more than me?” It’s John who asks that question, and instantly I see through my eyes again. I’m looking at him and for just a second he looks like … like … Tony? He tears up. “No, John. Oh, no,” I say. “I love you.” My vision blurs. “John?” Is he still here? “John!”

“Stay with me,” he says, frantic, grasping my hands. “Don’t sleep!” he cries. “Why can’t you see you’re falling asleep again?”

***

“What did the doctor say?” asked David.

We had met at his favorite bistro for lunch. “He asked how the new medication was working.”

“Don’t be pissy, Nina. Of course, he asked that, and you told him it was. Did you tell him about the dreams?”

She hadn’t. “It’s normal to dream.”

“Well, it’s not normal to sleep half the day hoping to dream.” He threw his napkin onto his plate, a fed-up gesture. “I knew I should have gone to the appointment with you.”

“Please, don’t make a scene, David.” He calmed down immediately, as she knew he would. Heaven forbid, David Manrieght lose control in public.

“It has to be the medication that’s causing these bizarre dreams.” He took a sip of wine, drying the rim with a surreptitious wipe of his thumb as he set the glass down. But she noticed. She always noticed.

“I don’t think they’re bizarre. They seem so real.”

“Even so, Nina, dreams are not reality. They’re only your subconscious speaking. Instead of sleeping your life away, you should seek the services of a psychiatrist who could put you in touch with your subconscious more effectively. I happen to golf with an excellent one.” Another sip. Another wipe. “I’ll talk to him this afternoon.”

“There’s no need. I don’t care about the dreams anymore.”

“So you won’t be napping this afternoon?”

Nina didn’t respond. She only stared at the toad that had hopped onto David’s plate during his lecture. He didn’t seem to notice. She did not bring it to his attention.

On her afternoon walk, Nina saw another toad. Coincidence? She had taken to avoiding rose bushes, which made her route more complicated, but what else could she do? Their scent had turned to one of rotted meat. Anyone walking a pet was another necessary avoidance. If one took her by surprise, she dashed off to hide behind a hedge or car or porch chair until they were out of sight. Her safety demanded such measures. Some people seemed not to care how easily komodo dragons could snap their leashes and attack.

David had kept his word. Just as Nina finally dozed off for her nap, the receptionist for a Dr. Shawkees called to tell her she had an appointment for the following Tuesday—six days away. Angry because the chirpy woman had snatched away her dreamtime, Nina uttered a curt thank you and hung up. Because she could never get back to sleep once awakened, she got out of bed and dressed again. David had overstepped. A new plan was in order.

John waits, as always, on the bench. I try, as always, to sneak up on him, but he senses my approach long before he could hear my footfalls on the cement path. His face lights up, as always. He takes my hand and we walk. I often stay long enough now to make it to the bridge over the swan pond where we stand and talk.

“I’m thrilled with your progress,” says John. The breeze lifts a strand of my hair over my eyes, and he brushes it away with a touch so light for such a strong hand. “You’re coming back to me.”

“Why did I leave?”

His eyes are shadowed as he looks into mine, and though his mouth quirks into a smile, it too is melancholy. “That’s something you have to discover on your own, Nina.” His fingers entwine in my hair and his lips brush my forehead.

“Please, don’t let me leave.” I say. “Why can’t you keep me here?”

He wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him. “I try. I always try.”

The heartbreak in his words squeezes me as tightly as his arms, yet before I can respond, I feel the breeze swirl around me and know he is gone. I am gone.

Nina didn’t trust the psychiatrist. Except for the dangling Victorian earrings, he wore—which didn’t even match—he was David’s identical twin. The doctor asked her a few questions, but he already knew the answers. She was no fool. David had told him everything. She said what he wanted to hear, and left the first session with a new prescription. That was all that mattered.

She wasn’t surprised when David pulled up beside her just as she reached her car in the parking lot. No doubt, Dr. Shawkees had phoned him while she stood at the receptionist’s desk scheduling her next appointment, which she had no intention of keeping.

“Get in,” he said. “We’ll go to lunch.”

She ought to have questioned David about when he’d started driving a lime green convertible, instead she eyed the man in the passenger seat. “I don’t know him,” she said.

“Of course, you do, silly. He’s Fred Flintstone.”

She backed away, shaking her head. “I’ll drive my own car.”

David nodded. “Yabba dabba do!” he cried and gunned the engine. He drove over the car parked in front of him and out to the street.

Nina watched, her mouth agape, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to follow him. David had lost his mind.

By the time she got to the restaurant, David had already ordered for her. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m due in court in forty minutes, and I feared you were running late. I texted and then phoned to ask if you were finished with your session, but—”

“I left my phone at home.”

“Ah-ha …” He picked up her glass, poured a precise three ounces of chardonnay into it, and handed it to her. “So, how did it go?”

“Well … you know …” She took a sip.

He sighed. “No, I’m afraid I don’t, Nina. Please, elaborate. You did discuss your sleeping problems, right?”

“Dr. Learton faxed my medical history to the new doctor.” She buttered a roll. “There was no need to rehash that.”

“But you discussed the dreams?”

She motioned for David to wait until she chewed the bread. He would have given her the look if she’d talked with her mouth full. She swallowed and said, “Of course.”

“And …?”

“I made progress on the dreams. And he prescribed a different medication.”

David sat back, relaxed. “Good. I think that will help.”

She smiled. “I’m sure it will.”

When their food came, she couldn’t eat it. Someone had sprinkled soot over everything.

On Wednesday, Nina slept most of the day. Without walks. Without pills. She had mastered the technique. Six glorious hours talking with John … well, minus the time it took her to reach REM sleep, only minutes, now. They had crossed the bridge and walked in the rose garden.

Throughout dinner and then her and David’s evening routine, she watched the clock, counting down the minutes until she could go back to bed. Sleep necessitated two pills that night, of course, but David, expecting her to take one, was none the wiser that she had an extra capsule secreted in her palm.

“You’re looking fit,” he said as she set her water glass on the bedside table. “It must be all the walking you’re doing.”

“I suppose.” She hadn’t walked in over a week. It was far too dangerous. The neighbors spied from behind their closed blinds with their atomic weapons aimed at her. That morning, tired of waiting to catch her on the street, they had blasted away part of the kitchen. “I can’t make you coffee in the morning,” she told David. “The coffeemaker was atomized.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” he chirped. “I’ve decided to drink okra from now on.” He ruffled his feathers and tucked his head under his wing to sleep.

“That will poison you,” she said, but he was beyond hearing. So be it. He was of little concern to her anyway.

The next morning, David filled his travel mug with coffee, then poured another half cup and sat down at the table with Nina. “I wonder; do you feel up to a weekend away?”

“Where?”

“Remember the bed and breakfast we loved so much in Mill Valley?”

With her cup to her lips, she only murmured. She had no recollection of visiting the place. And, finally, she knew why.

“I’ll take tomorrow off,” he said. “We’ll drive up in the morning.” He reached across the table for her hand. “I think it will do us both good to get away for a few days.”

Tomorrow. Nina smiled. It was over.

After David left, Nina sorted clothes and started the laundry. As each load washed, she straightened the house, vacuumed, and dusted. She scrubbed the kitchen sink and counters. She cleaned the master bedroom and bath last. With all the clean clothes folded, she began to pack her things. When she finished, she closed her closet and opened David’s.

She packed David’s travel bag, zipped it closed, and set it on the floor of his closet. She carried his shaving kit and her cosmetic and toiletries cases into the bathroom and set them on the counter between the double sinks. She surveyed the bedroom. Nothing amiss.

Nina poured herself a glass of wine, brim full, and carried it out to the patio. She sat in the sun, sipping it slowly. For the first time in months, she could think. The mind was marvelous and terrifying, idly twisting reality like a lock of hair, while focused elsewhere. Now, she had awakened and recognized true love at last. She rose from her chair and entered the house, detouring through the kitchen to refill her glass, before returning to the bedroom.

She set her glass on the bedside table and went into the bathroom. Ten pill bottles lined up along one shelf of her medicine cabinet. Each time a prescription failed, Dr. Learton had switched her to another. She lined up the bottles on the counter—some half-full—and opened them. One by one, she poured them out. Blues and yellows and white, alongside the red ones Dr. Shawkees had prescribed..

Nina cupped her hand against her waist and scrapped the rainbow of pills into it. She carried them into the bedroom and sat on the bed. She washed them down with the wine, two or three at a time, and then, she lay down.

“Where is he?” I can see nothing but white. Cold and clammy white. It’s silent. Oh, God! I was wrong Something in the mist moves toward me, something dark. I whimper as it grows closer. “Please …” A hand breaks through, reaching toward me.

“Can you believe this fog today?” he asks.

©2011 Linda Cassidy Lewis