Never Wake

by Gabrielle Goldsby

  Troy’s hands stopped, and Emma tried to stay awake long enough to explain. “I’m not scared anymore. This doesn’t scare me.”

  The hands were back, and lips, soft and sweet, pressed against hers.

  “No more pain, Emma.” Troy’s sadness tugged at Emma’s heart. “No more fear. There’s no one here who would ever hurt you.”

  And then the hands coaxed her into a deep sleep.

  *

  Emma awakened on the left instead of the center of the bed. Her first thought was to reach for her cane. And then she remembered that it was on the floor near the couch, which was followed by thoughts of why it had been discarded there.

  She opened her eyes and looked around the familiar room. The air held the subtle scent of coconut and lovemaking. She stretched her hands above her head. Despite what she’d told Troy, she was surprised at how little her body protested. She smiled and curled into a ball. The absence of pain was no doubt thanks to Troy’s magic hands. She felt safe, relaxed, and somehow satiated when she hadn’t realized she was hungry. Then she realized that she was alone, and the feeling of safety receded.

  The sadness and regret in Troy’s voice last night came flooding back to her.

  She had assumed that Troy was sad because she was afraid her lovemaking had been too rough, but maybe it was something else. Of course she regretted it, you fool. She called out her dead lover’s name in her sleep, for God’s sake. Emma turned on her side and curled into herself. You pushed and pushed until she slept with you, and now you’re upset because she didn’t stick around for more. What the hell did you expect, Emma? You had sex. You should be glad she was willing to put your ass out of its misery. You could have ended up with a Christian soccer mom who insisted on reading the Bible to find an explanation for what was happening to your gay ass.

  Emma stop, just stop. You’ve drawn enough blood. She allowed herself to taste the pain and then she got angry. No, she got rip-roaring bitchy, like any woman would whose lover had just gone to visit another woman, regardless of the fact that the other woman was dead. The first thing she wanted to do was wash the smell of their lovemaking off of her body. Then maybe she could think.

  Lovemaking? It wasn’t lovemaking, it was sex.

  “Yeah, it was sex, and I loved it,” Emma muttered and dragged herself out of bed and limped into the bathroom. She turned the shower nozzle as far toward the H as it would go and stepped inside.

  She wasn’t gentle with herself in the shower. She made sure not to linger over spots left sensitive by last night’s activities. It hadn’t been rough at all times. Troy’s mouth had been excruciating and wonderful at the same time—so much so, that it had left her sobbing during her release.

  Stop it, damn it. It isn’t worth it. She’s probably at her lover’s grave confessing that she cheated with you. Damn, why did you let this happen? She told you she didn’t want you, Emma. She told you.

  Emma rinsed the shampoo from her eyes and remembered how it had smelled in Troy’s hair while she was braiding it. Even her own shampoo had memories of Troy, and it hurt that the woman had been able to weave herself into her life without her noticing. Emma turned off the shower and dried her skin. Two small red spots between her legs marked where Troy’s hipbones had been.

  She would not cry and she would not wait around like a puppy for Troy to come back. She needed to find out what Troy wasn’t telling her. What tied her to Patricia so thoroughly that she would leave Emma to go to her?

  She threw on jeans and a t-shirt and went in search of her cane and her library card.

  Twenty minutes and several old wallets later she found her library card stuck in a backpack that she couldn’t ever remember purchasing, let alone carrying. She hooked her cane on the edge of her desk, sat down, and turned on her computer, fastidiously refusing to look at the window seat across from her. She pulled up the Multnomah County Library website. She hit the research link and typed in her library card number for access. She was prepared for several hours of research, but she found the first article on Patricia as soon as she entered the keywords “Patricia” and “Troy Nanson” into the search engine.

  She scanned the article, although she realized that she had already read about Patricia’s death. WOMAN DRWONS IN THE OREGON RIVER said the headline. It had been the lead story on Yahoo news the day it happened. She remembered feeling bad for the woman’s family, but not much beyond that.

  Emma’s anger and jealousy intensified as she looked at the black-and-white photo of Patricia Harvey. She was beautiful, just as Troy had said. There was something about her, even in the flat, two-dimensional black-and-white picture. Her hair was billowing around her head, and the photographer had caught her mid-laugh. She looked as though she had just said something sexy. I bet she always looked that way. Emma could tell that her lips were as familiar with sexy words as hers were with inane conversation.

  Emma wondered if Troy had taken the picture. Perhaps they had just finished making love. This is not helping. Emma reached for her wireless mouse and was about to click out of the article when her eye caught the last paragraph.

  The passenger, Troy Nanson, was released from the hospital with only minor injuries.

  “Oh, my God.” Emma reread the sentence and then began typing quickly, dread settling high in her chest like a bad meal. Troy had told her that Patricia died in a car accident, but she hadn’t told her that she was in the car at the time.

  She found two more articles. The first was about a proposed bill to raise the several million dollars needed to reinforce the Morrison Bridge. The second was the coroner’s inquest into the death of Patricia Harvey.

  Emma read the latter twice, trying to understand what she was reading. In so many words, the coroner had found that Patricia had been high at the time of her death and her body showed signs of long-term prescription drug abuse. Although there had been evidence of alcohol in her system, she was not legally intoxicated. However, the alcohol, coupled with the drugs already in her system, could have been the cause of Ms. Harvey’s inability to avoid the accident. The article went on to mention that all legal actions against the city of Portland were dropped by Patricia’s family. It didn’t mention Troy at all.

  She pulled up Patricia’s picture again. The jealousy was gone, leaving nothing but pity in its place. She wondered if Troy had known about the drugs. Regardless, taking any kind of drug and getting into a car on a rainy night was suicide, and she had very nearly taken Troy with her. White-hot anger spliced through her.

  Why in the hell would she love you so much? Because she’s loyal, because she keeps her promises, and because she probably refuses to believe.

  “Hey, you’re awake.”

  Emma jumped and spun her chair around, knocking her cane to the floor. She had been so deep in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard the door open.

  “You scared me.” She was having a hard time meeting Troy’s eyes. “How’d you get back in without me buzzing you up?”

  As usual, Troy carried her bag strapped across her torso, her bike resting on her right shoulder. She was wearing green, fitted cargo pants, a black cropped top, and black shoes that had Velcro straps instead of laces. The outfit looked new, but Emma couldn’t be sure. Troy sat the bag down and dropped the bike on the floor. She bent down, picked up Emma’s cane, and hooked it back on the desk. She stayed in that position, her eyes going over Emma’s body so thoroughly that Emma wished that she had taken more time with her appearance.

  “I didn’t want to have to wake you if you were still sleeping, so I took your keys off the hook in the kitchen. Was that all right?”

  Emma nodded; she was left mute at suddenly having Troy in front of her.

  “How are you feeling?” Troy asked, her words sounding measured to Emma.

  Emma’s heart quelled at her somber tone. “I’m fine. Better than fine. Please don’t be sad about this. It makes me feel like you regret what we did.”

  Troy pulled the computer chair forward
so that Emma had to open her legs so that Troy could kneel between them. Troy’s bare midriff was hot against Emma’s thin t-shirt. Troy wrapped both arms around Emma’s lower waist and pulled her into an embrace that should have been awkward but wasn’t.

  “I don’t regret what we did. Why would you even think something like that?” Troy’s lips claimed hers and she was dropped right back into the fantasy of last night. Troy didn’t try to hide her desire. The sadness was there, but the passion was for her and her alone.

  Emma allowed her body to fall in to Troy’s. She ended the kiss first and Troy wrapped her tight in her arms. They listened to the sound of their own breathing for a few moments.

  “Wanna try the bed this time?” Emma felt a laugh bubble up in her throat as she made the suggestion. Troy’s body grew rigid.

  Emma eased back. Troy held her, but it was as if she had forgotten her arms were around her waist. The smile was still on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her eyes were cold. “What were you doing?”

  “What?” Emma tried to look behind her as Troy released her and stood up. She followed Troy’s gaze and immediately wished she hadn’t. The screen saver, thanks to a blinking banner, hadn’t popped up. Patricia grinned out at them from the screen as if to say, “Who you pitying now, bitch?”

  “You looked her up? Why?”

  “I just needed to know what happened to her.”

  “I told you what happened to her.”

  Troy leaned around Emma, grabbed the mouse, and clicked out of the article. Emma caught the scent of coconut oil and new fabric.

  “Can we talk about what the article said?”

  Troy moved away from her as if she didn’t want to risk touching her. “Why would I want to talk about it, Emma? I lived it. I don’t need to talk about it with you.”

  “I know you lived it—now. You didn’t tell me you were in the car. You led me to believe that she was alone when she died.”

  “She did die alone. I wasn’t there to help her. I got out of the car somehow, but she didn’t.”

  “You don’t remember how you got out?”

  “No.” Troy bit her bottom lip. “The dream last night—I have that one a lot. I think we were in the car and water was coming in and I could see her hair. I think…I think she must have already been dead. But I can’t be sure.”

  “You can’t feel guilty because you survived? You don’t even know how you managed to get out. How could you have saved her, too?”

  “I shouldn’t have just left her down there.”

  “You don’t know that you did. For all you know, you could have been thrown from the car.”

  “I watched them pull her car out of the river. The passenger door was closed. I had to have crawled out the window. I don’t remember doing it, but I had to have left her behind.” Troy was looking at her as if she couldn’t stand the sight of her. “Why would you bring this up now? What’s wrong with you?”

  Emma swallowed down the hurt, pushed it away to be licked and mended later. “It was stupid. I was jealous. I guess I wanted to know what I was up against.”

  “Up against? Up against? She’s fucking dead. What competition could she be to you?” Troy was yelling now, and Emma wanted nothing more than to back down, apologize, and make the whole thing go away. She wanted to, but she didn’t.

  “You where screaming for her last night.” Emma was unable to keep the hurt out of her voice now.

  Troy threw up her hands in frustration. “I told you, I was having that nightmare.”

  “When you made love to me, you were so sad. I could feel it. I could feel how much you hurt.”

  Troy went quiet. “Don’t try to tell me how I felt. Stay the hell out of my head and out of my past.”

  “I’d like to discuss something I read in the article.”

  “What the fuck for?” Troy bit off each word and Emma toyed with the idea of dropping the subject, but for some reason, Troy’s anger strengthened her resolve.

  “Because you need to know.”

  “I need to know what? That the woman I thought I would spend the rest of my life with drowned when I was right there to help her? I was there, remember? I was the one who had to bury her. That’s all I need to know.”

  “Then you knew she had been abusing prescription drugs?”

  Troy’s face was emotionless. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read. We don’t all abuse drugs.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t start playing the race card with me. I don’t deserve that.” Emma could feel the shame, and she took the opening that it afforded her by making the last point she might ever get.

  “You didn’t do drugs. Patricia did.” Troy’s face gave nothing away, but Emma sensed what her words did to her, and she felt like a clumsy bully. Why was she doing this? It was as if she couldn’t stop until she had finished breaking Troy’s heart. “She abused prescription drugs. She was on them when she drove you off that bridge. Even if she was conscious when the car hit the water, the drugs could have made it hard for her to save herself. I just want…”

  “How about asking me what I want? How about asking me what happened, not reading it in some damn paper? Did it ever occur to you that I already knew about the painkillers? The doctor prescribed them a few months before. She hurt her back when she tripped off a curb wearing some fucking high-heel shoes.”

  Emma shook her head. She had already come so far she might as well finish. “The coroner said…”

  “I know what the coroner said. I read that article. I read all of them, Emma.”

  “It takes more than a few months of usage to cause damage that would be classified as long-term drug abuse.” Emma reached out, but Troy stepped out of her reach. Emma was prepared for the feelings of sadness, betrayal, and anger, but what she wasn’t prepared for was the resignation. Troy may not have admitted any of this to herself, but she had to have suspected.

  “And you’ve based your expert opinion on what?” Troy pointed toward the computer. “Some damn article that you read on that thing?”

  Angry tears were pouring down Troy’s face now, and Emma’s heart twisted at the utter hurt, betrayal, and pain in her eyes. “I understand why you don’t want to hear what I have to say,” she said, “and I’m not trying to hurt you or hurt the picture you have of Patricia, but you blame yourself. I can feel that. Your guilt is making it hard for you to move on. I just wanted you to face the truth.”

  “You want to talk about facing truths? All right, let’s do that. The truth is this has nothing to do with Patricia. This is about you and your insecurities. You are nothing but a scared little girl, Emma. You’re so damn scared to trust this ability of yours that you’ve locked yourself up for two years. And I bet you don’t even know why you do. Well, I know why, and I haven’t even looked you up on the computer. It’s because you’re afraid. You’re afraid you won’t know if someone else might come along and try to hurt you.”

  Emma was shaking her head in denial, but Troy was pushing on. Her words were clipped and low. “Welcome to the real world, Emma. The rest of us don’t have that option, either. Do you really think I would have let her drive across that bridge in the rain if I had had any inkling that she wouldn’t make it?” A tear dropped from Troy’s lashes, and Emma felt answering tears well up in her own eyes.

  She didn’t think Troy cried often, and it hurt that she was the cause of it. Saying “I’m sorry” was too trite, and it wouldn’t cut it.

  “I woke up alone.”

  “You’ve been waking up alone for a long time.”

  Emma accepted the verbal punch in the chest as her due, but she still had to gather herself before she went on. “You go to her grave all the time.”

  Emma made herself meet Troy’s eyes; what she saw there made her shiver. Saying “I’m sorry” wouldn’t be near good enough. “I can tell by how sad you are when you get back. I thought you got up this morning and had regrets.”

&nbs
p; Troy’s only answer was to turn and pick up her bag. She dumped its contents onto the floor. A large tub of plain yogurt thumped to the floor, followed by two cartons of strawberries, a box of tea bags, and four huge bran muffins. “You didn’t eat much of your dinner last night. I wanted to make sure you ate.” Her voice sounded as dull and heavy as the tub of yogurt hitting the hardwood floor. Troy dropped her bag on the floor and picked up her bike.

  “And for the record, my sadness wasn’t because I was wishing you were Patricia. I didn’t want anyone but you last night. I wanted you so badly that I lost all control. Something I was never allowed to do with Patricia. It was always her driving things, her dictating when and how we made love, and I realized last night that she never really gave herself to me. Not like you did. And yes, goddammit, it hurt to know that the woman I had given my heart to may not have been capable of giving me hers in return.”

  The door had closed behind Troy before Emma had even thought of a response. She heard the stairwell door open, and then slam shut, indicating that Troy had declined to wait for the elevator and had taken the stairs down instead.

  Emma ran to the window. She gripped the sill and squinted against the sunlight. What if she rode off in the other direction? She ran to the front door and wrenched it open. The stairwell door was heavy, but she braced herself and pulled hard.

  “Troy!” she called. She was answered by the sound of the door at the bottom slamming. Emma ran into the stairwell, her feet pattering on the stairs as she negotiated the stairs in record time.

  “Damn, damn,” she cursed her knee, but she reached the first floor moments after she had heard the door slam. She yanked it open and glared out into the sunlight.

  “Troy?” Her voice echoed on the empty Portland streets. “Troy, please come back!” There was no answer, of course. Troy could get far away on muscle alone. Add anger to the mix, and well, Emma was sure she would be out of earshot by now.

  She stood holding the door waiting and hoping Troy would come back. Emma walked back into the stairwell. Her knee was aching now, and she didn’t look forward to the three flights up. And not too far back in her mind, she couldn’t help but think that Troy hadn’t said she would be back this time. She said she was going for a ride. She said she wouldn’t lie to you. So trust that she won’t.