Wake Lloire
Waking Up Dreaming
Candy reached over to put her hand on Simon’s stomach. She did this every morning to reassure herself that she hadn’t imagined him. That the man lying next to her was very real. She had met Simon four years previously; he had been sitting on a bench watching the water of a fountain spill over into the pond below, unabashedly taken in by the simple flowing of liquid from one moment to another. She had been out walking the dogs, a teeny tiny Poodle named Chester, and a Great Dane named Othello. Though she knew they looked ridiculous, she reveled in the absurd spectacle of her charges next to one another. Candy liked attracting attention. Simon looked up as she walked by and smiled, acknowledged the quirky in her step, and returned to watching the fountain. She took a chance and asked if he minded if she sat down for a moment. He nodded toward the place next to him. Othello lay down behind the bench, and Chester begged to be put upon her lap. Simon offered her a scotch mint from a bag in his pocket like her grandfather used to do. He asked her how her day was. She answered honestly and asked about his. He admitted that he had just lost his job. She told him that she was looking for a roommate. They exchanged numbers. The next day he texted her to ask her out for tea. Not coffee. Tea. Simon’s grandmother had been a tea drinker. Tea calmed him, he told her. Candy enjoyed his calm. He was not stressed about losing his job for he had an interview that very afternoon. She didn’t ask what he did. She was interested in his core, not his occupation. He asked questions like a fine antique dealer, assessing her value like an expert. He saw into her, her past, her scuff marks, and appreciated her stories. She was immediately taken in. Simon moved in three days later. The perfect roommate. Paid the rent on time. Made communal meals. Helped her walk the dogs. Simon was present when he was around. He never looked at his phone when she was talking, which made her feel treasured, like she really had value. He loved to surprise her. Once, he had convinced a friend to empty a whole restaurant so that he could ask her if she would, maybe, share his bed. For a while they just slept together, merely closing their eyes at the end of the day to snuggle in each other’s arms. They didn’t kiss for a year. She had never experienced a relationship like this one. So this morning, when Candy reached over to put her hand on Simon’s stomach, and instead of finding him, she found a large sculpted piece of driftwood in the shape of a man; she looked around and found herself on a beach. She doubted her hold on reality, wondered if everything that had come before had been imagined. Candy couldn’t remember the name of the dogs she had walked, the street she lived on, or whether she had parents. Her memory of life was empty. All but for Simon. Who apparently did not exist. Then she heard a whistling from behind her, and there was a fire, and Simon holding a tea kettle over a fire made of large pieces of driftwood. When he looked up, her memories came rushing back, and surprised her. She realized that it wasn’t he who was a figment of her imagination, but she of his…and really, the realization was a relief. Candy snuggled back into the arms of the wooden man on the beach and dissolved into sand.
Wake Lloire is a parent, poet, writer and storyteller. They are an infuriating optimist and queer community builder. They often pretend they live in a novel that employs magical realism.
