Silent Dreams

by Kieran Nimmo

  ***

  The three days Matt had known Sam, were some of the best in his life. He didn’t quite know why, but there was something about her that made her different. They had talked intently during the three days they had known one another. Matt felt as though he wasn’t required to hide his intellect or who the real Matt was - someone who was rarely seen and known by few.

  Every day it was the same routine: wake up, text Sam, get ready, go to school, come home from school, call Sam and then drift into a snooze until the next morning, where it would all begin again. They discussed everything and anything. He had found she attended a private Christian school on the outskirts of town, she swam for the national team and is obsessed with Jazz!

  The sun was setting over the hills, the light set fire to the autumn trees, flaming into a million different colours. The phone rang. He wasn’t expecting Sam - because she was at a party or something, so he let it ring-out and went back to enjoying the beauty of the sunset – which he did every evening. Immediately after the first ring ceased, there was another.

  Matt’s phone was three or four metres away from him, with a sigh he forced himself up, from his magnificent view of the orange haze that inhabited everything that made up the evening aura.

  He answered, to a weeping emotional Sam. “Matt?” This didn’t sound good. He could sense the horror in her voice and felt nauseas when he recognised her distress.

  “What’s wrong?” No answer. “Sam? Are you ok?” Panic shrouded him. “Sam?” His voice rose to a shout, aggression replaced desperation.

  “Can you meet me?” she squeaked, fighting back the tears and most probably with little success.

  “Where are you? What happened?” His innards liquefied.

  “In Glasgow, can you meet me?”

  “Of course I will, but where?”

  She hummed in thought. “Queens Street.” Queens Street is a large train station in Glasgow, what was going on? Matt thought for a moment. “Can you, please?” She imperiously interrupted his thoughts.

  “Sure, I’ll be a bit though.”

  Her voiced eased, “that’s great, thanks Matt,” breaking on the last syllable.

  Matt dressed, boarded the bus to the station and got the 5:15 train to Glasgow, Queens Street. The only thing that so much as murmured in his mind was the deep throbbing concern for Sam. He had continually tried to call her, but there was no answer. He had just assumed she couldn’t hear it, if he didn’t he was sure to breakdown.

  The train arrived exactly as promised at 5:33. Matt dashed from the carriage, pushing the commuters scrambling out of the city aside. After some serious slalom he made his way towards the arrivals exit. She wasn’t there. He ran around the building to the main lobby. There was no sign of her.

  His phone rang.

  He immediately answered, “Sam?”

  He was greeted with her voice crumbling under the unidentifiable weight “Where are you?”

  “In the main lobby, next to the huge board thingy, where the hell are you? – I’ve searched everywhere!”

  “In Starbucks silly.” She paused. “I think I can see you!” Her voice clearly filled with delight after the realisation. “Wait there, do not move!” Her annunciation deliberate and slowed.

  He waited, scrutinising every face that entered or left the coffee shop, just as he had practised thousands of times previously from his bedroom window, with the exception that he had a new target, a far more interesting target.

  The face he saw in the window three nights previously did not appear. She had to recognise him. Matt was still oblivious when she tore over and all-but knocked him off his feet – not for the first time! She ran as quickly as possible - in heals, she reminded him of a new born deer taking its first staggered paces into the world. She reached him, grabbed him around the core, locking him into an inescapable embrace. He wasn’t even given the opportunity to look at her face before it was jammed staunchly into his chest.

  She was wearing a thin-fitting red mini-dress that left far too little to the imagination, her hair was curled into perfect locks and her whole demeanour seemed rather formal. She had expended effort into her appearance and it was evident.

  The image of perfection dissolved. She erupted into tears, clearly having little care for how large of scene she created, nor did Matt. All the emotion she had held back on the phone was being released, only the wait had amplified it.

  Matt placed a comforting hand on the back of her head, which with each passing moment burrowed deeper into his chest, while the other caressed the small of her back. He hadn’t the slightest idea as to what to do. Should he say something or do something? Instinct took over. “What happened?” He gently prodded, attempting to hide his burning desire for the truth.

  Between the sniffles, she forced “I was…” the final, totally slurred and incomprehensible.

  “You where what?” He questioned fastidiously.

  “Mugged!” The moment the word came out of her mouth, aggression annexed Matt. Not that he could do anything, even if he knew who the perpetrator was. All he could do was continue to coddle her. She was refusing to unravel the cocoon she had created for herself in Matt and that was fine.

  The dust settled and the initial rage that consumed Matt had diminished, he noticed she was shuddering, violently. “You cold?” he asked.

  She never opened her mouth but obscurely nodded her head, attempting to hide her weaknesses. Matt pulled away, despite Sam’s vice-like grip. He swiftly took his hoodie off and forced it over Sam’s head, no matter how many times she said, but you’ll be cold now through her barrage of tears. The sleeves draped far over her hands and Matt slid the hood, which was far too large for her head, up. She looked cosier, which unintentionally sketched his lips into a heart-warming smirk.

  They stood close, Sam still crying. “Well I hope I’ve made a good first impression!” Matt joked, even though it was a serious realisation, it was the first time they had met – at least in person.

  From amongst the soft sobs came a definitive laugh followed by a subsequent pause. “Thank you Matt.”

  “For what?”

  “For rescuing me.” Which was followed by a brief giggle. Matt noticed her tears had subsided and the usual characteristics within her voice returned. She was becoming Sam once more.

  Matt couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy being her first choice hero but decided to play everything down. “It was nothing, now come on, let’s get home!” For the first time Sam’s face was in full view and Matt caught sight. Her perfectly hazel eyes were infested with a mass of blood red spider-like protrusions, mascara scratched down her perfectly defined cheek bones and her face carried the weight of a very stressful night. His curiosity burned him from the inside, the same way it did when he was guessing a Christmas present before unwrapping it. Not that he would dare ask her to relive the horrific moment, not yet, but soon.

  They boarded the train on platform one. Matt now had time to admire the Victorian architecture of the station. It was enormous, yet so intricate. The steel supports on the roof had been patterned complexly. With beauty, comes the beast. Filth and grime had colonised this building long ago. The white walls were stained a grimy grey.

  The train wasn’t a particular improvement. The carriage they had boarded was full, to the point where every space was occupied by standees or the lucky few who had managed to claim their seat. Matt and Sam were just two of the anonymous faces in the sea of standing anonymity. They were surrounded by an overpowering mass of bodies, the heat and odours resonating from them ensured that the journey was as uncomfortable as possible.

  As the train called at its first stop Sam stumbled, off-balance she flew into him. Her touch revitalised Matt. People exited and a solitary seat was made available. Matt gestured at Sam to sit down and was met with total refusal. “You sit!” she yelped. He saw the brooding in her eyes and decided conflict was the last thing she would want right now, so he sat.

  “Now you don�
�t have a seat!” Matt pointed out, in a ‘told you so’ way.

  “Wanna’ bet?” Delicately she lowered herself onto his lap. A pulse of electricity ripped through him. Her head flopped back onto his chest and she rested a sole hand on his thigh and the other free hanging over the edge. Every muscle in her body relaxed and Matt felt the distress leave her, partly. He eased a smile.

  Station after station blurred passed. Eventually the seat next to Matt became available. Sam slid from his lap onto the seat, her limp body flumping into the uncomfortable collection of plastic inadequately cushioned, acquiring the attention of a few other passengers. Her arm sat on the shared armrest between them.

  Once more the train gathered speed as it pulled from yet another dilapidated station. Neither of them felt like talking, Sam’s head was resting against the window as she stared out into the black nothingness of night. Matt was lost in a world of contemplation, futilely scrutinising the information Sam had given him about that evening.

  Without consciously being aware of it, Matt’s arm lurched and placed itself down onto the shared armrest. As soon as the contact was made, Sam’s head jerked towards him. For a brief second their eyes met and screamed THIS IS RIGHT to one another. Matt’s body tensed and his whole arm flexed towards his core fiercely. “Sorry.” He said through an uneasy smile.

  She flashed a half-hearted grin and returned to looking out the window, visually unaffected by the whole affair, sending Matt on a downer.