Page 20 of Parallel
Our bizarre conversation comes to an abrupt end when he suddenly remembers the MRI, the haze in his eyes clearing. We walk down a long hall, and then he uses his badge to open the doors to another area. I’m 5’7”, but next to him, I feel diminutive. His head bows just to speak to me. “So, you dreamed we met and whatelse?”
I realize he’s humoring me.Of coursehe is—it’s not as if he thinks any of it is true. EvenIdon’t think it’s true, so why would he? “It’s a lot of just…normal stuff. Hanging out…datingstuff.”
“That’s it?” he teases. “I must have been pretty boring, if that’s all you’ve got.” It’s a playful side of him, one I’ve seen in dreams but not in real life until now. He’s trying to take my mind off theMRI.
“We went to Paris for our honey—” I trail off.God.I cannot believe I just said that outloud.
He stops. “You’re telling me you dreamed about ourhoneymoon?”
I should be too upset by what this MRI might uncover to be capable of humiliation right now, but I’m not. I feel the heat in my face and there is no way to stop it. “Nocomment.”
He raises a brow, holding the elevator door open and following me in. “Oh, you’re not getting off that easily. If we had a honeymoon in Paris, I need to hear all about it. What did wedo?”
I roll my eyes, trying hard not to smile. “It was December and cold as hell, and we were there on ourhoneymoon. What do you think wedid?”
He laughs. “Wow. Any other glamorous trips where we never left thehotel?”
I glance up at him as we arrive at our floor. “Not really. Well, I guess we went to the lake, if thatcounts.”
The elevator door opens, but he doesn’t move. “Whatlake?”
I pause, puzzled by the sudden change in him. There is no longer anything playful about his tone. “I have no idea. It’s kind of like the lake where I’m getting married. There’s a dock and a big, white house with a deck, and I’m on this boat I can’t sail, while you watch mego.”
The elevator doors have shut again, and he sags against the wall. His skin looks slightly green under the fluorescentlights.
“Where are you getting married?” heasks.
I hear dread in his voice. For some reason it makes me dread answering him. “Lake Hester? It’soutside—”
“Annapolis,” he whispers. He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes. “My parents have a place there. Their weekend house. I think you’re describingit.”
He can’t even look at me. I try to put myself in his shoes—some random patient reciting facts from his life, describing the interior of his flat and his parents’ vacation home. I’d have picked up the emergency phone long before now if I werehim.
“I’m not stalking you,” I say quietly. “I understand why you’d be freaked out, but I swear to God I’ve never even looked up yourname.”
“I don’t think you’re stalkingme.”
“Thenwhy—”
“I’ve had that dream too,” he says. “Aboutyou.”
I blink. I’ve heard him but his words just…don’t make sense. This ismyproblem, my messed-up brain. If this is his idea of a joke I don’t find it amusing. “What?”
He swallows. “I thought…when I saw you here that my mind was playing tricks on me. But I’ve had that precise dream. You’re standing up on the Sunfish, and then I swim out to getyou.”
I feel lightheaded again and lean against the wall of the elevator, the same way he did just a moment before.How can we share the same memory of something we both know never happened?I remember seeing him on the dock, I remember the way he dove into the water and emerged moments later, seal-sleek, grinning. There have been other things in the past, other times my brain somehow misfired. But I’ve never had someone else’s brain misfire alongsidemine.
He steps closer, his hands on my arms. “Are youokay?”
I nod. My voice is muted, hoarse. “I just need this to makesense.”
“Me too,” he says, pressing the button to open the elevator’s door. “And I’m not sure a brain scan is going to accomplishthat.”
* * *
Throughout the exam,I keep my body still, but my mind won’t stop racing. What was that look he gave me when he left? The part of me that wants to romanticize all this might call itlonging. And God knows I didn’t want him to leave, but what I reallyneedis not to feel anything for him at all. I’m hard-pressed to imagine we will ever solve this, but I don’t need it solved, I just need it to stop. I can’t keep having these dreamsanymore.
When I return to my room, the nurse says she’ll get my paperwork together so I can leave. “I’d like to see Dr. Reilly before Igo.”