A few night ago, I had a dream that I had written a kid’s book. In the dream, I was reading the book aloud to a group of kids. I read what felt like half the story before the dream ended. I have had an idea for a book for children for a few years, but it is not well constructed yet. However, the book in this particular dream was. This is my attempt to reproduce it.
Felix was an orange cat who, like most cats, loved to take naps in the sun. He lived in a very big house with a lot of important people who were always calling each other names like “ma’am” and “sir.” Most of the people in the big house were there to help his human, whose name was Marie. Felix loved living with Marie, and especially loved the big house they lived in. It had the best spots to take naps in the sunshine. But ever since Marie had come to the big house (where no one called her Marie, but called her instead “Madam President”) Felix had discovered a problem.
Marie was sad a lot.
Sometimes Marie would be sad when she came back to the part of the house where Felix stayed. She would open the door and the people who were there to help her with things like dinner and chores would say things like “welcome home Madame President” or “your dinner is set out for you ma’am.” And instead of being happy about hot dinner and not having to wash the dishes afterwards, Marie would just sit down at the table and look so sad. And tired. Marie was also tired a lot.
But there was one thing that Felix could do that he knew would always make Marie happy. While she was eating, or reading, or watching the people trapped inside the box on the wall, Felix would rub against her leg. This was all it took. Marie would smile at him, reached down to pet him, and then pick him up and put him in her lap. Even if she was eating dinner. He liked sitting in her lap while she was eating. All the food smelled so good to Felix. And if he was in her lap, then Marie was happy. If Marie was happy, then he was happy.
Felix did not want Marie to be sad at all, though. He was determined to find a way to keep Marie from being sad in the first place.
He watched her carefully, listening to all her conversations with care, and paying attention to how she looked and smelled when she was doing certain things. If Felix could figure out what Marie was doing that was making her sad, then he could figure out how to make that part of their life go away.
After a few days, Felix thought he knew what the problem was. It was the papers that Marie was always reading.
When she was away, Felix would do his best to get rid of the papers. He chewed them up. He pushed them onto the floor. He crumpled them into wads. He scattered them around the room. After a few days of this, Marie shut the door to the room where she kept the papers.
But it hadn’t worked. Marie was still sad sometimes.
So Felix watched her more closely, and listened more intensely to her conversations. After a few days, he decided it was the small rectangle with light inside that was making Marie sad.
Whenever Marie talked into it, Felix would try to swat it out of her hand. Whenever she was staring at it, Felix would try to swat it out of her and. And whenever Marie was was tapping her fingers against it furiously, he would try to swat it out of her hand. After a few days of this, Marie would simply stand up if she had to use the rectangle with light inside. She would talk into while she paced the room. She would take it into the room with the papers and shut the door. Sometimes, though, she would put it down and let Felix sit in her lap. She would scratch him behind the ears and he would purr to let her know that she made him very happy.
But it hadn’t worked. Marie was still sad sometimes.
So Felix watched her even more closely, and listened even more intently to her conversations. He had to discover what was making Marie so sad! After a few days, he thought he knew the answer.
Every morning, after she ate breakfast, Marie would leave the part of the house where he stayed. Sometimes she would not come home for a long time. Other times, she was only gone for a short while. Most of the time, when Marie came back, she looked sad. Felix thought if he could keep her from leaving his part of the house, then she would be happy. And if she was happy, then he would be happy too.
So Felix started standing in front of the door in the mornings. He would lay in her way so she couldn’t open the door. If she shooed him away, he would run out the door after her, which always forced her to come back to where he stayed, and put him inside. But even though he tried as hard as he could, Felix could not keep Marie from leaving the part of the house where he stayed.
And Felix was sad.
Then one night, Marie came home and instead of going straight to the table to eat her dinner, she came to find him first. She picked him up and cuddled him close to her chest, squeezing him in a big hug. “Felix,” she said to him. “This is the hardest job I’ve ever had to do. It’s an big important job, and it’s so hard that sometimes, I just get too tired, and too sad. But I’m so glad that I get to come home to you every day. You make me so happy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Felix purred, rubbing his head against her chin. He had no idea what a job was, and so he knew that there was probably not a way for him to keep Marie from having to do the job. But Felix decided it didn’t matter. Marie was sad sometimes, but Felix knew how to make her happy again. Maybe, he wasn’t supposed to keep her from feeling sad. Maybe, he decided, it was better that he try his best to make her happy instead.
I re-read your letter today. I keep it in a drawer in case of emergency. Sometimes when I miss you, it helps to pull out that letter and see your handwriting. I imagine the way your hand moved across the page, and recall the feel of it in mine when we prayed together. The paper had none of the warmth that was in your fingers, but it has all the warmth that is in your heart. Spilling out for me in that short note. All your humor and passion and anger and sorrow—the things that kept us returning to each other when the world felt cold. That’s why I keep it. To remember how it felt to be with you.
I miss you. I miss your laughter. I miss talking about nothing and about everything. I miss how my reverence ignited next to yours. I miss feeling seen. Feeling heard. There are other people now who have stepped into that role, but it’s not the same. These people deeply love me, and as much as I love them in return, it’s not like it was with you. I don’t know how it’s possible for a piece of my spirit to be inside another person, but that’s what it feels like. You have a piece of me inside of you. I recognized it. I touched it. I longed to reunite with it.
I have this whole separate space now, apart from you. And though there are similarities between our lives, they move in different spheres, only crossing when we make the time for them to overlap. What was once easy has become hard, especially when one of us is not feeling like our best self. I know I haven’t been lately. The rough patches were easier when I was with you, because you were right next to me. And now even though I know I could call you, there is a great canyon between us. You in your sphere. Me in mine. We do not overlap now unless we carve out the place where we will meet.
Sometimes I wonder where you go, what you do, who you talk to now that you don’t talk to me as often. Did you find someone to fill that space, or are you filling it with digital and liquid demons? I’ve done that. I am doing that. I think I know what you would say about it. I know what I would say to you if I found out you were spending your time the way I’ve been spending mine.
It feels like I’ll never stop missing you. I know it’s only been a little while since you went away and that I need time to heal from your departure. I also know that next month, next year, next decade, I’ll be better. While that gives me some hope, it makes me a little sad too. It means that there will be a time when I won’t miss you as much, when I won’t wish I could see you, hear your laugh, feel your hand in mine. I’ll remember you fondly like I remember being a kid at Christmas, especially if there was snow. I’ll remember you like my long-departed grandparents, who lived in that big white farmhouse that I loved. When this hurt ends and I come to the end of this road, you won’t be standing there, and that will feel like progress. But that’s not what I want at all.
That’s why I re-read your letter today. To keep you close to my heart. To cherish you. Because I love you.
They spent the day doing mundane things together. They went grocery shopping. They took a walk around the neighborhood. Mark bought them sandwiches for lunch, from a food truck that had set up near the park. They worked on a puzzle in the afternoon. They sat on the porch in the early evening and drank IPAs. Brian did not come up, and neither did the question of when she was going home.
In the early evening, Mark set the steaks he had bought that morning on the counter and went outside to start the charcoal. Anna sat on his couch, scrolling through the options on Netflix when her phone lit up with a notification. It was a text from Brian. Anna set the phone on the coffee table, heart beating too fast, breath coming in shallow gasps. She left the phone on the table and went outside.
Mark looked up from the grill as she came onto the back porch. The screen door banged shut behind her and Mark’s expression grew concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She stepped off the porch and went toward Mark slowly. He was no longer focused on the steaks. He wiped sweat from his forehead, eyes on her as she neared. A flame shot up from the grill but he didn’t react.
“Brian,” she said. She couldn’t say anymore. Fear closed her mouth.
“What did he say?” Mark asked. He dropped his eyes to the grill, flipping each steak as he waited for an answer.
“I didn’t read it,” she whispered.
He looked up from the grill. “You want me to read it?”
She nodded, turned slowly, dragged herself back into the house. She took the phone from the coffee table. There were four texts from him now. She carried the phone back outside. Mark was flipping the steaks again.
“Grab me a plate?” he asked.
She handed him her phone before ducking back into the kitchen, pulling a plate from the cabinet and returning to the grill. He was scrolling on the phone with one thumb. His face was set in anger, stony, like a volcano. She stood awkwardly next to the grill, waiting for him to finish. The fire glowed a glorious amber, and she imagined there was a fire inside Mark to match.
When he looked up from the screen, he seemed less angry, and incredibly unsure. “You wanna know what he said?” he asked.
“A lot of stuff about killing himself, and how I’ll regret leaving?” she guessed.
Mark nodded faintly, took the plate from her hands, pulled the meat from the grill. He placed the lid over the coals, shut the vents. “A few other things too,” Mark answered.
“What other things?” Anna asked softly. Brian had a deep well of awful accusations and threats. She was familiar with every one.
Mark was holding the steaks out in front of him. The meat smelled amazing. Her stomach growled. “I don’t even want to repeat it to you. It’s not fair for him to call you those things, or to threaten you like that.”
“He threatened me?” Anna asked, though she was not surprised. Last time the thread had nearly snapped he had said he’d make her pay for the pain she caused.
“Anna…” Mark began, but she interrupted him.
“It’s okay,” she said, though it really was not. She could feel her spirit withering. “He’s said things like that before.”
Mark began to move, and Anna followed him into the house. She opened the fridge, finding the broccoli salad Mark had also purchased that morning. She also grabbed two more beers. She took two forks and two knives from the drawer and joined Mark at the table. He popped open the beers as she took her seat.
They ate in silence for a time, both of them stewing. Finally, Mark couldn’t keep his anger contained. “I don’t think you should go back to the apartment alone. You’re not safe there.”
She had already come to this conclusion too, but she wasn’t sure where she was going to go. “I know. If I stay, I’ll need to have the locks changed.”
“Even then,” Mark said, looking at her meaningfully. “Anna, he could kill you.” His face was a mask of rage and fear. His gaze seemed to burn her with its intensity.
She sliced another piece of steak, savoring the juiciness of the meat as she chewed. “I know,” she answered. “And this time, I actually believe it.”
Brian did not text her anything else that night, but Meredith did. Did you go home last night?
They were watching a movie, although she wasn’t really watching. Mark made popcorn, and he had eaten most of it. She was on her third beer and feeling rather tired. I went to Mark’s place. She hit send. Still there she typed in a second message.
Good choice Meredith answered. You need me to get some things from the apartment for you? I don’t mind.
Anna looked over at Mark, whose eyes were glued to the screen, thinking of Meredith’s assessment of him. Was he really in love with her? Wouldn’t Meredith do exactly as he had done today if she’d gone to her place instead?
I don’t need anything yet she typed. But I might take you up on that offer in a few days. She set the phone down on the coffee table, reached for the popcorn. It was buttered heavily and salted almost to the point where she didn’t want to eat it. The movie played and her mind wandered, wondering where Brian was. She had the creeping thought that it was a good thing he didn’t know where Mark lived.
The movie’s credits were rolling, and Mark stretched. He took their empty bottles to the kitchen. She heard the glass clinking against the other bottles in the bin. He returned to her, but he stood in the doorway instead of entering the room. He looked expectant. He leaned against the doorframe, his whole body stiff with the things he wanted to say. He smiled at her weakly. “Mind if I go on to bed?”
“It’s fine,” she answered. “I’ll be alright on my own.”
His skepticism was plain in his eyes. His smile changed, almost a smirk. “Okay,” he said.
She listened to his retreating feet with worry. She was a liar. She knew as soon as she tried to sleep, she would not be able to. Not if she was alone. She picked another movie, letting it play as she lay on the couch, quietly crying.
She sat in the car, feeling sick. She wondered if anyone else had gotten food poisoning at the restaurant. She opened the car door, nearly slid from the seat to the pavement. She couldn’t get up from the ground. Her legs were like spaghetti. She had the feeling this had happened before. She was reliving something awful.
She managed to crawl around the front of the car, and pull herself up onto the hood. There was a bright light behind her. She wondered if it was an angel coming to collect her, or to announce a miracle, or to help her into the house. A figure moved towards her and she squinted into the brightness. It was not an angel. It was Brian.
“Good thing I followed you,” he said. It wasn’t his voice. He was the man from the bar—the one who had drugged her. This wasn’t food poisoning. She tried to call for help, but everything was slow.
“Let me help you,” he said, but now he was Brian again. He put one hand over her mouth and another around her neck.
Anna woke with her heart racing. The movie she had chosen was no longer playing. Her eyes were raw. She sat up slowly, gasping for air. She put a hand to her neck, expecting to feel his hot fingerprints.
She checked the time. 1:13 am. She wondered if Mark was asleep. She could hear something playing from the other side of the house. She rose from the couch, crept down the hallway to his bedroom. The door was ajar. She could see the blue light of the television casting its shine on the walls. She pushed open the door, her heart still beating wildly. She peered inside.
He was awake. He was watching an episode of The New Girl, laying propped against a pile of pillows, covers thrown off because of the heat. The ceiling fan spun with a soft whirring white noise. His gaze went to her, almost magnetically, as she pushed the door further open, stepping into the room fully. He’d taken off his shirt, and she was suddenly aware of how thin her tank top was. He sat up, looking somewhat embarrassed, but he didn’t make a move to cover himself. She came to the edge of the bed, standing there awkwardly as he stared at her. She had not noticed before that he was only wearing his underwear.
“Can I…can I sleep in here?” she asked weakly, her voice cracking.
Mark turned back the covers for her and she slid between the sheets. He took a pillow from the stack he was leaning against, tucking it under her head as she laid on her side. She faced him, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. Mark muted the television and waited for her to say what was on her mind. She didn’t know where to begin. She cried harder and he put an arm around her, pulled her closer to him until her cheek was against his bare chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”
“What about when I leave here? I’m not safe with him, and I’m not safe on my own either.” She choked on the words.
“What do you mean?” Mark asked.
Her face was wet with her tears and his sweat. She wiped her eyes again. “I can’t go home. What if he comes back for me? And I’m not safe on my own either. There’s always another one out there’s who is just as bad.”
“That guy from last night,” Mark reasoned. She sniffed in response. “How many other times were you out with Meredith and nothing happened?”
Anna didn’t answer. He was right and he was wrong. She didn’t have the words to explain.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be scared, Anna,” Mark continued. She snuggled closer to him, letting her tears leak slowly. “I’m just saying that right now, you’re safe.” He paused, gave her a little squeeze. “Okay?”
She nodded, then cried until she was empty. She slept.
Mark was still sleeping when she woke again. It was early morning, the sky just starting to gray with dawn. She had rolled away from him in the night, but he still lay on his side, curled inward as if he still clutched her. He’s in love with you. She watched him sleep, thinking about what Meredith would say when she told her about this weekend.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of juice. She took a scalding hot shower. She made a plan for the day and hoped that Mark would help her.
“I need to go home,” she said over breakfast, as she buttered a piece of toast he had made for her. Mark stopped chewing, looking at her as if he disagreed. His eyes were dark with worry. “To pack my things,” she clarified. “I’ll get a unit for the furniture until I find another place. And I’ll pack a suitcase for a few weeks, until I can find a new apartment.”
Mark nodded. “You think we can get a truck and storage unit today?” he asked skeptically.
We. He assumed he was part of the plan. She didn’t have to ask for him help. “There’s always the option to rent a pickup from Home Depot,” she said as she shrugged.
Mark drove her to the apartment. He turned off the car, but she couldn’t get out. It was like she had frozen to the seat. The space between the car and door was a canyon waiting to swallow her.
“You want me to go in first?” he asked.
She nodded, her eyes widening with fear. She handed him her keys and watched as he slowly moved towards the door. He unlocked the apartment, then ducked inside. After a few minutes, he came back to the stoop, and beckoned her. She slid from the car, moving towards him, feeling like death was waiting inside.
But inside, she did not find death. She found the leftover chaos of a hasty move-out. Brian had taken most of his belongings. There were no clothes, no movies or games, no toiletries. He had taken the television, the living room furniture and the bed. He took the towels and the bed linens and the washer and dryer. He had left her bookcases, all the books, the dining set and the living room rug. Thankfully, he had also left her computer and her tablet. He had taken about half of the items in the kitchen, including the good knives and the small appliances. He had taken most of the dishes too but had left the cookware. He had emptied the fridge and the pantry.
On the counter sat a stack of her grandmother’s china plates, pristine and beautiful. But one of the plates had been thrown against the wall. She could see the mark where it had struck. The shards of it covered the stovetop and had rained down at the oven’s feet. She felt tears pricking her eyes. She wondered if he had intended to smash them all. She imagined him standing here, in a blind rage, throwing that one plate before he came to his senses.
Mark began to sweep up the shards of the plate without comment. She leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen, numb, watching him work. This is how it should have been, she decided. This is what love looked like—self-less, patient, kind. How had she not seen it before? She had been too busy trying to fix Brian that she forgot to think about if he had earned the effort it took from her.
Mark deposited the shattered pieces into the garbage can. She was still watching him. He caught her gaze. “What?” he asked. He looked almost confused by her expression of affection.
“Thank you,” she replied. The words were sweet and wonderful. She hoped he could feel the depth of her gratitude.
They packed up the rest of the apartment. They found a truck, but not a storage unit. They rearranged Mark’s garage, and moved her things into it temporarily. Mark tidied his second bedroom, enough for her to lay out an air mattress and use her suitcase as a dresser. She put her shampoo, her soap and her razor in his shower. She put her deodorant and her hairdryer in the bathroom cabinet.
You don’t need to get my things for me, she told Meredith at the end of the day. Mark and I moved everything out today.
Where are you staying? Meredith asked.
With Mark.
Meredith sent a winking emoji. Anna smiled but didn’t reply.
“What are you smiling for?” Mark asked, a smile of his own creeping across his features. He was standing in the threshold between the living room and dining room. He had a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in his hands. He hunkered down next to her on the couch.
Anna took a handful of the popcorn, daring herself to tell the truth. “Meredith is gonna try to set us up, I think,” she said, stuffing the kernels into her mouth.
Mark laughed and shoveled a handful of popcorn into his own mouth. He chewed, looking thoughtful. “I’m worth more than some rebound fling, don’t you think?”
He’s in love with you. Anna leaned her head on his shoulder. “You are,” she answered smoothly.
He turned on a movie and she reveled in the fact that the thread had finally snapped. She was finally safe.
The Quick and the Dead 