I ignore her, keeping my eyes on Dr. Benefield.
“You sure?” she asks, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not impressing anyone here by playing it tough. Although, maybe the pain will keep you out of trouble.”
I try to return the smile, but it comes up flat. “I’m done chasing dreams.”
She gives my hand a small squeeze. “No pain, then?”
“Not that kind.” I shake my head.
A flash of sympathy crosses her face, and she removes the bag.
“Okay,” she says, pointing to the call button. “If you change your mind, just—”
“I won’t,” I say, cutting her off. After a year of living in a dream, it’s time to know what is real.
She nods, studying me for a moment before she leaves. I curl up in bed, turning away from my mom, this feeling of loss so overwhelmingly familiar. Because what comes to mind isn’t the big-deal days, where we went to the Winter Festival or celebrated Halloween night. It’s all the small, inconsequential moments I took for granted. Feeding the ducks popcorn together, or watching her make one of her bouquets, or going on walks with her and Georgia. Things I thought we’d do a hundred times more.
All gone.
* * *
The next afternoon, I finally find the strength to get out of bed. To face the world. My mom wheels me down the hall to the courtyard, where the warm sun is making the water around the fountain shimmer.
“I’m going to go grab a snack real quick,” she says, nodding to the outdoor café, perched just on the other side of the courtyard. “You want anything?”
I shake my head and give her a small smile. “I won’t make a break for it. Don’t worry.”
She gives my shoulder a squeeze and heads down the path, disappearing from view.
I look around at the cherry trees. The honeysuckle. The yellow and pink flowers, their petals intermixing along the path.
She was never real, but everything I see reminds me of her.
How’s that for screwed?
I see Sam making his way toward me, his hands shoved in his pockets as he unknowingly crushes the petals underneath his feet.
“You okay?” he asks as he comes closer.
I nod and pull my eyes away from the smooshed petals. “Yeah. You?”
He nods and sits down next to me on the bench, both of us falling into silence. Sam finally breaks it. “Kim wants to come by later, if you’re up for company.”
“Will you be coming with her?” I ask, nudging him. “Like with her?”
Sam shifts uncomfortably, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You know, man, it hasn’t been as long out here as it was in your coma world,” he says, giving me a small smile. “We’re going to feel things out. Maybe see how we feel when she gets back home for fall break. So leave it for now.”
“That’s not a no,” I say with a grin.
Sam chuckles. “You’re right. That’s not a no.” He pauses and sizes me up. “What about you? What’s next?”
I take a deep breath, looking up at the cherry trees, the sunlight trickling through the branches. “I have no idea,” I say, watching the petals slowly fall, my eyes meeting my mom’s as she walks back from the café, coffee in one hand, biscotti in the other.
I let the wave of grief wash over me, trying not to let it take me under.
I was able to move on once, and it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. But this feels a million times worse. I understand now what Sam meant that day on the field.
I would never let her go.
I still love her. I’ll never be able to stop. So what the hell do I do with that?
* * *
That night, when my eyes open, I know I’m dreaming again. Georgia’s tiny face is nuzzling mine, covering my cheeks with kisses.
I smile sadly and reach out to pet her. This may be a dream, but that doesn’t make it feel any less real. And I don’t care, because it’s exactly where I want to be.
I’d rather live forever in this dream than live out there without Marley.
I look past Georgia, my eyes registering the rest of the room.
Yellow.
Everywhere.
The bedding, the lampshades, even the ceiling fixtures. The walls are covered in the same yellow Doris Day roses that are in the courtyard.
Then I see her.
Marley.
She stands at the edge of the bed, wearing a long yellow dress, her brown hair hanging over one shoulder. I stare at her, her face clear for the first time since the first dream, as if now that I’ve stopped looking for her everywhere, my brain can finally let her in. I can see her freckles, the traces of green in her eyes, the deep pink of her down-turned lips. And it’s like I forgot just how beautiful she is. How could I forget that?