Soft, almost prickly on my fingertips; I swung my arm slightly, my fingers brushing across the fluff with every swoop. I reached down a little further and twisted my hand in the furriness, twining it through my fingers. Lix may be an old dog but he's got the soft fur of a pup. I continued stroking him and slowly his fur began to feel moist, and then matted. I opened my eyes but saw only a black sheet before them. In a panic I leapt from the bed to the floor. It was cold and bare, like cement and not the carpet I knew should be covering my bedroom floor. I reached out to where Lix lied and touched the rough scratchy material that was now his fur. A low menacing, but almost saddening growl rumbled from deep in his tummy, it was quiet but I felt the whole room quiver with its vibration.
Suddenly I no longer felt Lix's cold fur. I snapped my hand back in confusion and before I knew it his head hit hard in by stomach with teeth bared. The pain shot from my abdomen through my entire body, down my arms and legs as I squeezed my eyes shut to keep myself from screaming. I didn't want to wake you...
My eyes flew open and I saw the white light of the morning shining through our room. I was lying on the floor-- on the carpet-- beside my bed. Lix lied at my feet, his big golden head rested gently on his paws; no blood on his mouth, no wound on my stomach. Just a dream. But there was a different sort of twinge of pain almost throbbing in my lower abdomen, I slowly rose to my feet and ran to the bathroom as the pain rose to my chest, a hot and salty liquid flowed from under my tongue, filling my mouth and I felt the urge to burp but held it in. The saliva flowed faster than I could swallow it and just as I reached the toilet my stomach lurched and I watched as all the contents of last nights spaghetti poured into the blue of what was once clean toilet water. I stood for a moment, my arms shaking with the tight grasp I had on the seat, my palms sweating. I flushed and stood up straight and wiped my mouth dry with the back of my hand. My tongue still held the bitter taste of bile as I stripped naked and snatched my tooth brush from the sink. Steam filled the bathroom fast and I stepped in the hot refreshing wave of the shower. I closed the curtain and stood facing the faucet, my face directly in the spray of water.
Thoughts of my dreams filled my head as I scrubbed my apple scented shampoo into my scalp. Every night I'd had one dream or another, all fluctuating in event and meaning. They weren't all nightmares, but they all kept me from getting the sleep I longed for. Suds ran down my cheeks and over my neck as I rinsed my hair. I took my toothbrush and loaded it with the strongest toothpaste I owned, burning the vomit residue from my tongue and teeth. I gratefully rinsed my mouth clear and stood for a moment, letting the water run down my body, smoothly over my breasts and stomach, down my legs and flowing neatly off my feet, swirling into the drain.
Back in my room I tossed my towel across the bed and slumped into my soft pillow, still undressed; relaxed. My wet hair soaked through the pillow case and into the bedspread. I wished that you were home; I wanted nothing more in this moment than to cuddle up as close into your chest as I could and sleep for hours in your arms. But of course, today was Monday, your busy day and I probably wouldn't see you until tomorrow evening unless I woke up to see you tonight. I wiped my tears unsuccessfully on my already soaked pillow, it seemed I hardly saw you these days and I was beginning to get lost being alone so much. Just then I got a glimpse at the clock; eleven-thirty already. Sniffing away the rest of my tears, I tore myself from the comfort of the bed and forced myself into a new pair of flannel pajamas before making my way to the kitchen.
The cornflower blue walls welcomed me in the light if near-noon, the radio--left on last night, probably by me in my sleepless stupor-- hummed through the room, filling it with the sweet sound of your favorite CD. I dumped the remaining cold coffee from this morning’s pot into the sink and watched as the brown fluid spun down the drain, leaving the bitter sweet smell of your favorite caffeinated drink behind. I proceeded to rinse the filter of coffee grounds and refill it followed by fresh water at the back of the machine. I flicked it on and leaned back against the counter, admiring the salt and pepper shakers that I already knew so well. They were in the shape of dolphins, balancing in their tails. The salt shaker was a clear and light crystalline blue and the pepper shaker was a solid ceramic of the same blue shade, both holding tiny shining eyes of Swarovski crystal. They were a wedding gift to us from my good friend Melanie, bought in
I turned and leaned my elbows on the edge of the sink, rested my chin in my hands and gazed out the window to our backyard. It was my favorite part of our home with its lush grass and small white lattice fence. To the left short willows and cherry blossom trees surrounded the koi filled pond, only seven feet across the long way; a white bridge matching the fence stood across the shorter four foot section. The part of the yard that I liked to call my garden sat at the right; the only unattractive portion of our lawn, crawling with dried up vines and leaves of undistinguishable dead plants. I didn't have much of the green thumb my mother did and I frowned to myself at the eye sore that resided in our yard for it.
Mr. Coffee beeped, alerting me that my delicious pot of heaven was ready, even though it was probably the last thing I needed after puking so randomly. I pulled a mug from the cupboard and a spoon from the drawer and set them beside the coffee machine. I didn't feel as though I'd just thrown up, in fact I'd nearly forgotten it. The fridge blew refreshing cool air in my face as I dug for the half and half. I didn't like my coffee quite as sweet as yours but I'd bet that I always go lighter, I hated that we only ever had half and half and not pure cream.
The couch was very welcoming to my cold and tired body as I plopped myself into the soft micro fiber material. I curled up in my royal blue Snuggie and sipped slowly at my cup. It was a chilly day, cloudy and gray; as gloomy as the TV seemed to feel, with the most depressing reruns of almost every show. I settled with the first Lord of the Rings film on HBO for kicks. I'd read the books as a kid and I never much saw what was all the hype; then of course the movies came out and you can't go wrong when you've got Orlando Bloom on your side.
I must have fallen asleep fast because the scene suddenly changed from the hobbits dancing happily at the Shire to Frodo being rescued by Liv Tyler after being stabbed. I gasped inwardly as I suddenly felt a jolt of pain in my side. Looking down I saw my shirt and couch soaked with warm red blood. My own. I tore myself painfully from my lounging position and stumbled to my feet, collapsing against the coffee table in white hot pain. My eyes clouded with white and I could hardly make out the objects around me. I felt around and crawled with the strength only of sheer will to the bathroom. I pulled myself failingly to my feet and reached for the cabinet. I'd hardly gotten it open when my hand slipped on the counter and I fell to the floor, my head smacking the toilet seat. The throbbing in my head distracted me from the agonizing tenderness in my abdomen as I stumbled to my feet. I stood dizzily swaying and focused on my own image in the mirror. My face was colorless, paler than usual, and I had a massive purpling mark on my temple where I’d hit the toilet. I took a deep breath, realizing the absence of pain from my stomach; the absence of blood.
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