The Journalist: A Sexy Contemporary Romance

by Tia Lewis

  The clouds above had gotten darker, then they brighten up, and then they got darker again. I didn't understand how the clouds could change so much. Why was it finding it so hard to decide if it wanted to be a dark cloud or a bright beautiful one?

  I looked away from the clouds to the green carpeting of grasses. Maybe that would calm me considerably. It didn't. The carpeting had gone from a bright green to a very bright red. Like it had been wet with red paint or worse still, blood. I let out a loud scream. I hadn't seen this thing before. When I looked down at it, admiring it, it had been a bright green. One that reminded me of how truly beautiful Mother Nature was. I looked away immediately. My three-year-old companion from the last dream, and in fact all the others, was back again.

  This time she was not alone. Her plaited ponytail on both sides of her face had given way to long soft curls that just framed her face perfectly. Blonde was a good look on her. The girl was not alone this time. There was someone, someone I had seen before, but couldn't recognize in this dream, was playing with her. The little girl seemed so at peace and happy this time. She was laughing from within her heart and without reservations. Her companion was just as happy.

  Together they walked the length of what was now transforming right in front of my eyes into a garden. It was odd but if felt like I could feel the cool breeze from the garden hit my face as it hit the girls. I drew in a very long breath and held it in trying to see if this was real or not. I didn't know what to make of this. Was this a dream or my reality?

  Or had I died and gone to heaven? I closed my eyes and let the fragrance from the garden fill me up. Even that feeling couldn't be fake now, could it? I could smell a wide range of flowers—Sweet Autumn Clematis, Garden Phlox, Roses, Lilies—I breathed in and held onto the fragrance of the Sweet Autumn Clematis—the sweet smell of the Garden Phlox—the faint whiff of the rose scent from the rose flowers, all the while watching their beauty as they were being bathed by the rays of the sun. I looked up. Where in the world were the sun rays coming from? There were several other fragrances filling my nostrils, but I didn't have the time or patience to be bothered to separate one from another. All that matters was the fact that I was here and I really wanted to know why in the world I was here and what I was to learn from this episode of 'Dreams.'

  The girl was still ahead laughing and playing with her friend. All of a sudden, the cloud got dark, really dark and I looked around trying to find the little girl, but she was nowhere in sight. I looked again but still nothing. Then I heard a loud laugh from ahead, and I ran up toward where I heard the laugh from. The girls were there, but the minute I got there, a pair of hands appeared from nowhere and snatched my little girl's friend. At that moment, the little me started to wail loudly. My heart broke as I watched her cry.

  She had just lost her friend to a pair of hands that I didn't see around. Just as I tried to reach for her to comfort her, the scene changed.

  It happened like the other time—like the other dream. The girl was grown now.

  Teenage me. I didn't know how this kept happening and despite the fact that I was not in the dream, I wondered to myself. But was this still a dream? Could one wonder in a dream? Could one talk to oneself in the dream?

  As with the previous dream, the girl and her family were seated and having fun.

  The mother was playing with her hair, and the father was teasing her. Just when I was starting to get used to the sereneness to this particular aspect of the dream, the cloud changed again. There was a flash in the sky, then covered by yet another flash.

  Another pair of hands appeared from behind the woman who was the girl's mother again and snatched her out of the picture. I stared in disbelief at the empty spot where she had just been grabbed from. Why did this keep happening? Why was this coming to me? Was it a repressed memory, I thought.

  The girl had turned to her father again, and she was about to start arguing with him, the cloud went dark. This time I was prepared for what was to come and I dreaded it. Who was the pair of hands going to grab this time? The girl or her father? As the girl continued to blame her father, a pair of hands appeared from nowhere and grabbed the father. The girl screamed as she watched the hands take her father away.

  She collapsed to the floor and started to cry and wail. Then a voice from nowhere cried out with a rant.

  I jumped out of my sleep and dream covered in sweat. The words that were last said in the dream continued to haunt my mind. Life has taken all you hold dear, the voice had said. I wiped off the sweat from my forehead, and as I was about to turn toward the door, I came face to face with Patrice.

  "The dream again?" she asked with a sympathetic gaze, and I nodded.

  "What did you see this time?" She asked again, and I explained every single scene in the dream to her. "Don't you think these dreams are trying to tell you something?"

  "Patrice, I don't have the strength to deal with your paranoia today."

  "I'm not paranoid, Alexa. Listen to what you just narrated to me. Even in the dream, you've been given a bit of a hint into what might be happening. You lost your childhood friend to life."

  "We all lose our childhood friends, Patrice. It might not have happened to you, but it's a perfectly normal thing. People outgrow each other. People move to other areas and leave their old friends behind. People leave their friends all the time. Do you know how many friends I've been separated from since childhood?"

  "Your mom?"

  "Patrice…"

  "Your mom was also taken from you. What do you say when things go down south for you? Shit happened, or life happened. And the last part about your father is what scares me the most. It scares the shit out of me. You should seriously look into that."

  "I'm not a psychic Patrice. All of these things are just a manifestation of my inner thoughts. How in the world would I not even have stupid dreams about hands and life and my family when you and Dylan won't let me hear the end of it? The only reason I had these dreams today is because the thoughts have crossed my mind a lot this evening. I only dreamt of what I was thinking of."

  "Why are you so damned stubborn? Why can't you just swallow your pride and go back home to your father? He'd be so pleased to see you come back to him—to see you come back home."

  "Patrice, I'm not going to have this conversation with you."

  "What if something happened to him? Or something will eventually? Aren't you scared of that possibility? If anything happens to him, you'd blame yourself for not reaching out when you were supposed to. You'd blame yourself till the end of time. Take my word for it."

  "If anything happens to my father, Patrice it's none of your business. And nothing would happen to him. 'Life' would help me hold onto him until I'm ready to go back."

  "I understand you not being able to go home then. I could excuse it as you being a petulant teenager. But now, I have no idea what to pin it to. Just for the record, for all its worth, there is absolutely no point to the grudge you have against him. It's just a waste of time and your emotions.

  18

  Dylan

  The thing about life was that when shit decides to get complicated, it didn't decide to do it on a low scale. Well, at least that much was true of my life. I had no idea why it was so, but that was how it was. Fucked up life. We all set out wanting to do easy shit, and life somehow managed to get complications in the way, and before you knew it, you were gone.

  I was at work now, trying to finish some tasks up and I began to wonder how this had become me. It used to be because I couldn't afford to get distracted because my job was at stake, but now it was beyond that. It was like I had decided to just stick to this new life and new lifestyle without looking back.

  It was Friday night, and I was still at work trying to sort shit out. Not the kind of the way I used to spend my weekends. My weekends before now used to be one of merriments and excitement. Ones filled with fun, dates, women, and booze. But when some guys at work had invited me to do the exact same thing I always used to
do, I turned them down. Not because I had deadlines and what not, but solely because I had been disgusted by the idea. It didn't sit well with me for some reason, and that was what I still didn't understand to this moment. When did I become the boring guy who didn't want women and booze?

  Chris had looked at me like something was seriously wrong with me. He had actually asked if I was coming down with the flu or fever or something. Nathan, the other womanizing asshole at the office, had come right toward my cubicle to ask when I started becoming responsible. Together they teased me and this new lifestyle.

  The thing was, I wouldn't call it a new lifestyle. That phrase carried quite a lot of weight with it. The weight that didn't sit too well with me and that didn't explain my situation. It was one thing to sit down one day and decide to turn a new leaf because you knew for sure that the life you were living was wrong. It was another thing entirely to just not feel up to that life anymore. What happened, in this case, was that it might turn out into just a temporary hiatus. It almost never lasted forever.

  "So when did you join the convent?" Chris had asked when every other person had gone out.

  "Just go with your people, Chris."

  "My people? Those people used to be your followers. So you can understand our shock when you pass up on the opportunity for free booze and women?"

  "I just don't feel up to it."

  "That's the problem. You never not 'feel up to it.' Remember that time you had a really terrible headache, and we thought you wouldn't come hang, but you said your headache could only be displaced by a hangover? That's the kind of man you were."

  "Can't a man just decide to have some peace and quiet?" I had asked.

  "Does this have something to do with your story?"

  "Why would it?"

  "I was just wondering. You just seem a lot more laid back since you started this thing. Is she such a terrible subject?"

  "On the contrary. She happens to be a really great subject. Easy to talk to, easy to interview, doesn't have all that air of drama about her? She's an amazing person."

  "Dude. Do you realize what you just did? You just described your subject like the sun shines out of her ass. I don't understand this. Did you guys have sex or something?"

  I didn't control my reaction immediately, and it would've been obvious to even a four-year-old that I was shaken by that accusation.

  "Oh my God! You guys did have sex. Get out of here."

  "It's not like that, Chris."

  "So they all say. You guys dating now or something."

  "Seriously man."

  "What?"

  "We're not dating. We just get together every once in a while and do stuff together. That's all."

  "Whatever you say, my man. Just so you know, you've gotten sappy because of the girl. I can bet you can't do any other woman because she is more important." Chris said and headed out the door shaking his head and laughing.

  I didn't know what he made of me. He and the others. Like I was some sort of—okay maybe I was some sort of asshole. But I was changed now. And I was sure that this thing about me not being able to bang other women was not true. It couldn't be because I loved my women. And the fact that I had a non-relationship with one didn't stop another.

  Like my thoughts had decided to help my sad ass out, my phone started to ring. Opal. I tried to rack my head to remember which one she was. Then it hit me. The programmer I met the other day. I answered the call immediately.

  "Well, hello stranger," she said into the phone.

  "Hey, Opal. How've you been?"

  "Just great. You?"

  "I've been better, but I can't complain."

  "Good to know," She said. "Here I thought something must've happened to you."

  "Why's that?"

  "Well because you were supposed to call me the other night and we'd hang out, but I never did get that call. I was really looking forward to you calling."

  I tried to think back at what could've possibly happened. Meeting her was a blur now, if I was honest. Was Chris right about this thing? Was I catching feelings for Alexa? It couldn't be. Focus, Dylan. Oh, that was the day Alexa, and I had gotten together. There was no way in the world I could have called Opal.

  "Oh right. I'm really sorry. The interview went on forever. By the time I was done, I was too spent to even call you. I would have snored all through the drinks, and that would ruin my reputation."

  That was not exactly a lie. It was just a part of the truth. The other part, which she didn't have to know was that I had been too tired banging another chick and that it had taken the whole night and the morning after. That would have been too much information for her, and now that I think of what Chris said, I think it would ruin my chances. Maybe I should try to score tonight. Opal wouldn't be a totally bad lay.

  "That tiring huh? I didn't know it usually took you guys so long to wrap up interviews."

  "It's special. It lasted the whole night, and the truth is I'm still not done with that story."

  "Quite a shame. And here I thought we could hang out. I'm kind of in San Francisco."

  "Kind of?"

  "Well, I am."

  "Who said I was working at the moment? I could come right down to meet you wherever. Maybe take the party to my place later?" I asked. I was not always so direct, but in Opal's case, what she really wanted was quite glaring.

  "That sounds like a plan, Dylan. I'm on my way to Rhapsody's now. We could meet up there in like an hour?"

  "Awesome. Gives me enough time to finish up here, and change into something more comfortable."

  "Oh and Dylan? Bring your A-game," She said and ended the call. I shook my head. This would be one hell of a lay.

  Just as I ended the call with Opal, I got a text from Alexa. “I'm scared”, it reads.

  “Of?” I texted back.

  Alexa: “I know we aren't BFFS or whatever and that you're not my boyfriend, but I feel comfortable sending this to you. You have a way of calming me. Patrice is taking things a little too seriously, and I need calm.”

  Me: “We are friends. Friends share. I don't have to be your boyfriend to be able to help you through hard times.”

  Alexa: “I've been having these dreams for a while. I had one today, and it's really really scary. Check your email in like three minutes.”

  Me: “Okay cool. We'll get through this.”

  Five minutes later, I get an email prompt on my phone.

  I saw the little girl, and I knew this was it again. I could feel a sense of déjà vu as a strong wind blew, and the air got even colder. I knew this thing; I knew this place. I knew this feeling. I had seen this before. Countless times, too. Only some things varied. This time, instead of the bright, lovely sun overhead, there was something else. A round object that looked like the sun but was not quite as bright. Like the previous dream, perfectly trimmed dried grasses that looked like beautifully done fibers of carpeting laid on the floor. Again like before, there was not a single entity in sight.

  The clouds above had gotten darker, then they brighten up, and then they got darker again. I didn't understand how the clouds could change so much. Why was it finding it so hard to decide if it wanted to be a dark cloud or a bright beautiful one?

  I looked away from the clouds to the green carpeting of grasses. Maybe that would calm me considerably. It didn't. The carpeting had gone from a bright green to a very bright red. Like it had been wet with red paint or worse still, blood. I let out a loud scream. I hadn't seen this thing before. When I looked down at it, admiring it, it had been a bright green. One that reminded me of how truly beautiful Mother Nature was. I looked away immediately. My three-year-old companion from the last dream, and in fact all the others, was back again.

  This time she was not alone. Her plaited ponytail on both sides of her face had given way to long soft curls that just framed her face perfectly. Blonde was a good look on her. The girl was not alone this time. There was someone, someone I had seen before, but couldn't recognize in this dream, w
as playing with her. The little girl seemed so at peace and happy this time. She was laughing from within her heart and without reservations. Her companion was just as happy.

  Together they walked the length of what was now transforming right in front of my eyes into a garden. It was odd but if felt like I could feel the cool breeze from the garden hit my face as it hit the girls. I drew in a very long breath and held it in trying to see if this was real or not. I didn't know what to make of this. Was this a dream or my reality?

  Or had I died and gone to heaven? I closed my eyes and let the fragrance from the garden fill me up. Even that feeling couldn't be fake now, could it? I could smell a wide range of flowers—Sweet Autumn Clematis, Garden Phlox, Roses, Lilies—I breathed in and held onto the fragrance of the Sweet Autumn Clematis—the sweet smell of the Garden Phlox—the faint whiff of the rose scent from the rose flowers, all the while watching their beauty as they were being bathed by the rays of the sun. I looked up. Where in the world were the sun rays coming from? There were several other fragrances filling my nostrils, but I didn't have the time or patience to be bothered to separate one from another. All that matters was the fact that I was here and I really wanted to know why in the world I was here and what I was to learn from this episode of 'Dreams.'

  The girl was still ahead laughing and playing with her friend. All of a sudden, the cloud got dark, really dark and I looked around trying to find the little girl, but she was nowhere in sight. I looked again but still nothing. Then I heard a loud laugh from ahead, and I ran up toward where I heard the laugh from. The girls were there, but the minute I got there, a pair of hands appeared from nowhere and snatched my little girl's friend. At that moment, the little me started to wail loudly. My heart broke as I watched her cry.

  She had just lost her friend to a pair of hands that I didn't see around. Just as I tried to reach for her to comfort her, the scene changed.

  It happened like the other time—like the other dream. The girl was grown now.