Dreams Or How I Live My Life in Daydreams

Morning Jitters

Sleep eluded Autumn. She spent most of the night tossing and turning on her bed; the blankets bunched at her feet. She tried counting sheep. It didn't work.

She sat up, the mattress squeaking, and drew her knees to her chest. A cool breeze wafted in the room from her cracked window. Goosebumps peppered her skin.

What started as a humdrum day ended on a surprising note. She and Maddox kissed. They kissed!

Her skin suddenly hot, she bit her lip. Though awkward, the kiss wasn't so bad. She liked Maddox. A lot. When and how it happened, she didn't know. It caught her off guard. She didn't know what to do about her newfound feelings.

That wasn't her only worry.

What would she wear for their first date? She groaned inwardly. Why had she agreed to the date? What was she thinking?  No use grumbling about it now.

She climbed out of bed, making a beeline for the closet. She flicked on the light switch, wincing as the bulb flickered to life—-bright as a sunbeam.

Her vision clearing, she sifted through her clothing. She had two Easter dresses—-both she could no longer fit because of her curvy hips. She flicked the light switch off.

Her bedroom door flew open, the force shaking the walls.

As she stood gobsmacked, a team of stylists and designers barged into her room, talking over each other.

Autumn held up her hand, silencing the clamoring. "What's going on?"

"We're here to help you find a suitable outfit for your date," replied a man with an Einstein hairstyle and dressed in an extravagant designer suit—-the kind you would see at the Met Gala.

"B-But," Autumn stammered when a stylist with poofy hair dragged her by the hand over to her bed and began teasing her hair.

"Wait, a minute!" Autumn said, smacking his hand away. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

The man scoffed. "Giving you a makeover," he said.

"I don't need a makeover!" Autumn protested.

Grabbing her chin, he coaxed her to look into the oval-shaped hand mirror.  She half expected to see a mystical entity staring back at her.   "Your hair is as limp as a noodle," the stylist said.  "You need a makeover, stat!"

Autumn face-palmed. "Oh, my God."

Marching in lockstep, designers presented various outfits to Autumn from soft and simplistic to gaudy and Gothic. She didn't care for any of them.

The hairstylist spritzed her hair. "All done." He held up the mirror so that she could see the results. Her eyes bulged. She looked like Medusa.

She jumped to her feet and gestured towards the door. "Out!" she shouted. "Everyone out now!"

She closed her eyes and stopped her ears to drown out the stampeding footsteps. The door closed with a clink.

She opened her eyes. The room was silent. The first light of the sunrise broke through the windowpane. Autumn scratched her head. "That had to have been the most bizarre daydream I've had yet," she mumbled.

**********

He saw it again behind his closed eyelids. The scared faces, the shout to dial 911. The eardrum piercing screech of the ambulance siren.

He flicked an eyelid open. His clothes clung to his skin. His body drenched with sweat. The collie leaped on his bed, barking in his face. "Okay," he muttered. He gave the dog a gentle shove so he could sit up.

His face sticky, he wiped it with the back of his hand. What time is it?

The time on the nightstand read 9:35 a.m. A myriad of thoughts competed in his mind. How do I stop Dante? How can I protect Autumn? Should I come forward and tell the truth?  He rubbed his eyes.

The dog barked. "Alright," he said, shifting his legs, his feet planted on the silk rug. "I'm getting up!"

**********

Bounding down the steps, Autumn dashed into the kitchen dressed in a white fluffy off-shoulder blouse and black mid waist ankle pants. Stuffed in her drawer, she had never found an occasion to wear it until now.

"Good morning, Autumn," Abby said, flipping the pancakes in the skillet.

Autumn kissed her mother on the cheek. "Good morning, mom." Looking her daughter over, Abby nodded her approval.

"Hey, kiddo," Ashton said, preoccupied with something in his hand.

"What'chu doing, dad?" Autumn said.

He opened his palm, revealing a silver key attached to a discolored braided string. "I used to wear this around my neck as a kid," he said.

"We were latchkey kids," Abby interjected, smearing butter onto the pancakes. Ashton nodded, nostalgia twinkling in his eyes. "That's right, honey."

Autumn scrunched her brow. "Latchkey kid?" she said. "What does that mean?"

"In layman's terms, we had to take care of ourselves while our parents were at work," Ashton said. "We'd come home after school to an empty house and had to look out for ourselves."

Autumn opened the cabinet and grabbed four plates. "Sounds cool," she said. She set the plates on the table and sat down.

Transferring the steaming pancakes onto a cooling rack, Abby licked some butter that dribbled onto her finger off. "I thought you'd say something like that," she said.

Ace traipsed into the kitchen, in his superhero pajamas, his sketchpad tucked under his arm. He pulled out the chair. "Here," he said, handing the sketchpad to his sister while taking a seat. "I finished it this morning."

Autumn opened the sketchpad to the creased page. Her mouth fell open. "It's gorgeous," she said.

The boy smiled. "Thanks.  I'll get started on it as soon as I get the materials."

"Thanks, Ace," she said, nudging his shoulder.

Abby cracked two eggs into the sizzling skillet. Autumn rose from the chair. "I can finish that," she said.

Her mother flashed a grateful smile. "Okay, sweetie," she said. She took a seat at the table. "What time is your date?" she asked.

Ashton peered over his glasses. "What's this boy's name?" 

Autumn turned the eggs in the skillet, attempting to keep the yolk intact. "His name is Maddox. He's picking me up at eleven o'clock."

The yolk burst. Sighing, she slid the messy eggs onto the plate and set it on the table beside the pancakes, sausage links, and syrup.

His mouth salivating, Ace rubbed his hands together. "Let's dig in," he said.

**********

Setting his hairbrush down on the counter, Maddox stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn't look half bad. He tucked his red wine-colored designer silk shirt inside his slacks. Checking himself out once more, he fastened his watch and slipped his feet inside his loafers. He had one thing left to do.

He swiped his keys off his nightstand. Crossing the floor, he gripped the doorknob and exhaled to calm the butterflies in his stomach. "Here goes," he mumbled.