there were times she couldn't find solace in her dreams.
times when she'd tiptoe through her childhood home, shuffling her tiny feet across the bare, dusty hardwood floors. there would never been anyone there -- no mom, no grandma, no older brother. the sunlight would penetrate the soft ivory curtains and lead her down the hall. she'd pass the master bedroom, the bathroom with the noisy fan, and the kitchen.
the light would also lead her to the stairway, which led to the basement. the basement was always off limits to her after dark. its furniture was ominous and foul-smelling. the basement housed darkness; it was the unknown.
and sometimes while floating through her dreams, she's see images of her father in the basement. sometimes, he'd be sitting, catatonic, staring at her. sometimes, he'd be standing, knees bent, as though he was intending to move towards her.
he never spoke in these dreams, only stared at her through aged, cloudy eyes. his hair salt & pepper hair was matted and clung to his head like a latex swim cap.
he never spoke. after not seeing his baby girl for 10 years, what could he say? he could only imitate actions. he could only express his love in movement.
_________________________________________________
she awakened, startled, beads of sweat forming on her brow.
"where are we?" she asked her boyfriend.
"about 20 miles outside of savannah," he replied. "you've been asleep for about two hours."
he knew to listen for the irregular
puh-puhhhhh in her breathing pattern, which always accompanied dreams about her father. somehow, he'd always be alert just at the right time to wrap her in his arms and comfort her. he buoyed her with tranquility when her waters became troubled.
"i was dreaming about --,"
"i know", he interjected.
she leaned on his right shoulder as he continued navigating down the highway. careful not to disturb her, he slid his right knee under his car steering wheel and fiddled with the volume knob on his radio, his long, tentacle-like fingers settling on something soothing.
she sat up and spoke.
"i want us to be around for our kids. i want us to be a healthy, vibrant couple. can you promise we'll be around to see them grow up?"
"sure", he replied, succinctly.
"quality time is important for me, too. don't you agree?"
"no."
"no?"
"well, i practically raised myself", he said. " my mother and father were commercial truck drivers and my brother hustled, so i spent lots of time alone. i learned to cook full meals, wash dishes, do yard work, and fend off trespassers all before the age of 8.
it's using the bathroom by myself that still gives me trouble."
she slapped him playfully on the arm as they shared a smile.
she then dozed back to sleep.
her father sat patiently, waiting on her footsteps, looking to express his love.
