As one problem worked itself out, another always seemed to take its place. The nightmares began to take a bazaar turn. One night he woke her out of a sound sleep by pushing at her. His breathing was shallow and fast. Shoving at her one more time he spoke loud and clear:
“No!”
She reached up and turned on the lamp. “Alex, are you alright?”
He opened his eyes and stared at her blankly.
“Alex?” She leaned over him. “You spoke.”
He frowned and opened his mouth in an attempt to speak, but when nothing came out, his expression became skeptical. He signed “dream” and pointed at her.
“No, I wasn’t dreaming,” she said with a sigh. “You were. You were trying to push me off the bed. What did you say no about?”
His frown deepened into a scowl and then he rolled over, turning his back to her. She reached up and shut off the light, crawling back under the covers. Maybe he knew he could talk but didn’t want to talk to her. But why would he do that when he was the one who came up with the communication idea? He was probably half asleep. Every since he came home from the hospital he slept fitfully and was hard to wake. Was something bothering him or was this new sleep pattern now the normal for him? She’d talk to him when he was fully awake. He’d listen then.
In the morning he was up and dressed before she woke. As she entered the kitchen, it was obvious he had made coffee and eaten a bowl of dry cereal. Later he came through the patio door with an empty coffee mug and set it in the sink. Leaning down, he kissed her goodbye. His lips were warm and tasted of sweetened coffee. There would be no discussion this morning.
After he left, she headed for the computer. It would be nice to see what he had written this morning. Clicking on the desktop icon labeled ‘Carmen’ she started reading.
“Carmen, This morning I watched the sun come up from the patio. It was so quiet and peaceful – unlike my night. I had a dream, but I don’t remember what it was about. I know you thought I spoke, but I tried to speak this morning and I couldn’t. Isn’t it possible that you were also dreaming, and you were the one who spoke? The doctor says I can talk, but I think he is trying to avoid a law suit. I think the tube must have injured my larynx. I’m exploring the idea of seeing a specialist in Houston I heard about. Maybe she can find something he missed. Why don’t you meet me today and we’ll go to lunch together with the kids. We haven’t done that in a long time. Alex” Maybe he was right. Maybe it was physical instead of psychological, but he was the one who spoke last night. She was the one who was awake. It was tempting to let her writing session go, since she would see him at noon, but she had agreed to write instead of speaking. With a resigned sigh, she opened the ‘Alex’ icon and deleted yesterday’s message before starting another.
“Alex, I’m sorry I missed the sunrise. It would have been especially nice watching it with you. I slept well enough, but your dream awakened me. I woke up because you were pushing on me, and then you said ‘no’. Sometimes I hear you groan in your sleep too. If you think the specialist might be able to help you, I think it would be a good idea to go. Isn’t there someone closer, though? For a moment her fingers paused over the keys. He was the one who wanted her to communicate this way. If he didn’t like what she wrote, he didn’t have to respond. Maybe she would regret it later, but it was something she had wanted to know for a long time. He seemed up to discussing it now. Taking the risk, she began to type.
Do you feel like talking to me about your father? Why didn’t you want me to know about him? Were you afraid I was too much of a prude to acknowledge him? Carmen He might wish he had never asked her to write her thoughts down. So far it didn’t seem worth the time. Issues such as this were not resolved, but at least they were in the open instead of stewing about them and guessing what each other was thinking.
The next morning she was at the computer as soon as he left. Opening his morning comment, she read.
Carmen, I’m sorry he involved you in this. My father is dead. There is more to being a father than planting the seed. No, your morals have nothing to do with my reluctance to introduce him. HIS morals do. I think he went back to Houston. I haven’t seen him since I left the hospital. I wouldn’t feel comfortable if he was alone with you. I don’t know if there is a specialist closer. I read about the specialist in Houston. I’ll check before I leave you and the kids alone to make a trip. Alex Interesting information. It would have been much more interesting if she had been able to see his face when she got that information. That was the problem with communicating this way. There were no interpersonal skills involved. For a moment she considered his response before typing. He might be upset, but surely he would see her point.
Alex, I realize that we communicate more information this way, but it seems so impersonal. I like to look into your eyes when we converse. Can we set aside some time in the evenings and do this face-to-face?
Carmen That night she woke to hear him moaning. She rolled over and felt his forehead. He wasn’t feverish, but he was tossing in his sleep. After a minute he lay still. Assuming the dream was over, she lay down again. A moment later he sat upright in bed.
“Carmen!”
Infected by the terror in his voice, she sat up and flipped on the light.
“What’s the matter Alex?” she asked anxiously.
He stared at her, still visibly shaken.
She touched his lips, not knowing whether he was awake enough to know he had spoken aloud. He grabbed her hand and kissed it.
“You called my name,” she said.
He shook his head and signed “dream.”
She sighed heavily and withdrew her hand.
“Yes, it was a dream, but I wasn’t dreaming. You were.”
He dropped to the bed and rolled away from her again.
“Alex, listen to me. You can talk. I don’t know why you only talk in your sleep, but I’m not making it up.”
When he didn’t give any indication that he heard, she threw the covers back. “Fine. Lay there and ignore me. It’s not like I have any feelings.” She snatched her pillow off the bed and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. Let him sleep by himself. When he woke up hearing someone talking, he’d know it wasn’t her. Curling up on the window seat, she gazed out at the moonlit scene on the valley below. The surface of the pond was as smooth as glass, reflecting a small fluffy cloud as it floated across the inky sky. The leaves of the big oak tree were like silver filigree and the white cross beneath it looked iridescent. The old house with its dark blank windows was eerie.
The memory came to her uninvited and with such clarity that she flinched. Alex, staring at his bloody hands after the man ran out the door. It wasn’t horror on his face, nor fear. It was disbelief. And then, his face as she held his hand; he was trying to convey something. Whatever it was, he had not mentioned it since he awakened. At the time she had thought he was trying to express his love. She stared at the old house. Did he know Lori was behind the attack? Her stomach twisted into a knot and her throat constricted. Did the man stab the wrong person?
She took a deep breath. It was a ridiculous thought and she was letting her imagination run wild. But then, a lot of women didn’t suspect their husbands of . . . or was that only on TV? She shook her head to clear the ugly thought.
So absorbed was she with inner thoughts that the movement didn’t immediately catch her attention. She sat up, peering out the window. Something big and dark was moving across the field. She caught her breath. The bear! No one had ever called back about removing it and she had forgotten. It had given them no trouble, though. Yet there it was, big as life, walking across the field toward the tree line. Where had it been? She thought about telling Alex, but he was in no mood to hear about ghosts in the dark. Besides, he’d be upset that she didn’t follow up on the call. She’d check the barn in the morning and make sure it hadn’t been into anything.
She lay back down and sighed. The poor bear. She was only trying to take care of her cubs. It was somehow reassuring knowing that she and her cubs were out there somewhere. Still, the rest of the animals had to be considered. But the bear hadn’t killed the bull until it became entangled in the brush. In the wild, predators killed the weak so that there would be more for the strong. It was when man interfered that things got out of balance. She smiled, remembering how she and Alex had argued that subject. Strange how her perspective had changed now that survival was no longer an everyday struggle.
Somewhere in her musings, she fell asleep.