Page 15 of True Sight (Nat. 20, #4)
“Thank you for bringing over extras, that was very thoughtful of you. I see you brought popcorn, probably smart seeing as how we’re watching a movie and I don’t have any.
Let me get you a bowl, the microwave is over there.
” He points in the direction of the appliance and helps to stash the drinks I brought in the fridge.
With the popcorn popped and drinks in hand, we move to the sofa.
He takes his seat on one end of it and I decide it’ll be best to sit on the opposite side.
Once I set the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table in front of us, Annie, who apparently is never one to be left behind, hops up and curls herself into a ball between us.
“So, what are we watching?” I ask, looking at him from where I’m sitting, offering him a smile.
“Have you ever seen The Goonies ?” He pauses to look at me, leaving the TV remote floating in front of him.
“Can’t say I have, no.”
“Then that’s what we’re watching. It was our favorite movie growing up.”
“ Our ?” I question and try to keep my voice neutral. Maybe he has someone already and has managed to keep that bit about himself private.
“Yeah, my three best friends and I. We would watch it all the time growing up together and fight over who would be which character. The one thing we’d always agree on was that, if we ever found a lost treasure, we’d split it evenly.
” He smirks and chuckles to himself. By the way he speaks, I can tell his friends are important to him.
“Do they live here in Charleston, your friends?” I ask in an attempt to get to know him more. During our meetings he’s always so closed off, minus the time he’d mentioned Annie and his nightmares but even then he acted as if it was physically hurting him to do so.
“Yep. We’ve all lived here forever, minus Hank. He just got back the summer before last from an extended stint in the Army.”
“The Army, well that’s mighty impressive.”
“My friends are impressive. All three of them.” The way his voice trails off makes him seem like he is lost in thought. Or maybe that he doesn’t seem himself as impressive, when he is.
“Surely they think you’re impressive too,” I offer, tipping my head at him.
“Surely they think I’m an insufferable grump they can’t wait to move on from,” he grumbles to himself but not quiet enough for me to miss what he said.
“Found the movie,” he barks before clicking play.
I stare at him for a few moments, wanting to tell him that I think he’s impressive but I don’t think he’ll want to hear it anyway.
Instead, I resituate myself, get comfortable, and start to watch the movie.
When Annie jumps down, he leans over and moves the bowl of popcorn to be between us so we can both reach it.
I go to take a few pieces at the same time he does and our fingers brush together under a few popcorn kernels.
His eyes fall to the bowl, staring at where our hands are before looking at me with wide eyes.
Frozen in shock that he doesn’t rip his hand away like he did earlier, I just stare back, leaving my hand where it is.
“Sorry.” He clears his throat and pulls his hand away more slowly than when I first came over. “It’s all you.”
I take a few pieces and eat them as quietly as possible for fear that any loud noise will knock over the precarious tower of awkwardness that’s being built between us.
He ripped his hand away before as if touching me was like touching a hot burner, but this time it is as if he doesn’t mind as much.
I glance over in his direction out of the corner of my eye and realize he has pressed himself further into the opposite side of the couch and has his arm closest to me draped over his lap.
His other arm is propping his head up as he keeps his eyes glued to the TV screen. I guess the popcorn is all mine now.
A little over an hour later, the group of kids on the screen are diving into a pool of water with a pirate ship behind them.
I can’t believe I’ve never seen this movie before.
The humor is sublime, the costuming is incredible, and the storyline is every kid’s dream.
It’s no wonder Conrad and his friends loved it growing up.
He and I haven’t said anything to one another after the popcorn hand touching incident.
Instead, we just let the sounds of the movie fill the space between us.
“Stop,” he mumbles softly, “stop, please stop.”
I glance over at him to ask why he’s asking me to stop only to notice he’s fallen asleep.
Looking at his face, I can tell something is wrong.
His brows are furrowed and his jaw is tight.
The hand that’s in his lap is clenched and his head is making small back and forth movements.
I know he’s sleeping because his eyes are closed but from his pained expression, I can tell his brain is very much awake.
“Stop, please,” he begs again, louder this time.
“Con–Conrad?” I try, touching him gently on the knee. He seems to be having a dream of some sort. I had a nightmare, okay? I’ve been having them for months now . His words ring out in my head and I realize that that must be what’s happening now—another nightmare.
“Help her, help—” His fist clenches tighter in his lap and his head moves as if he’s trying to look away from something that isn’t there. I’m not sure if I should wake him or not but by the way his body is flinching and the scared tone of his voice, I can’t just sit here and let him suffer.
“Conrad, mate, wake up. You’re having a bad dream, you’re safe, it’s okay.” I move to kneel in front of him and put my hand over his, trying to pull him from the chaos in his mind as gently as I can.
When our hands meet, he gasps loudly and starts to hyperventilate as if he can’t breathe. His bewildered eyes look around the room before focusing on where I am in front of him. He uses his free hand to wipe the bead of sweat that accumulated around his brow away.
“What the hell happened?” he snaps.
“You were having a dream–a–a nightmare, I think,” I explain. He pulls his hand from mine and stands, causing me to fall back on my bum so he doesn’t knee me in the face as he does.
“You have to go,” he demands without a room for argument.
“What?” I push myself from the floor and look at him as he paces around the couch, still trying to catch his breath. Grand sounds of violins and cellos play out from the movie that’s still running.
“You–you have to leave. Now.” He stomps towards his front door and waits for me to join him.
“Conrad, I don’t have to go. I can stay, we can talk, if you want. About the nightmare or about something else.”
“I don’t want to talk, I want you to get out. I want you to leave, please. ” The begging urge of his voice when he says ‘please’ tells me everything I need to know.
He’s embarrassed.
Me being here when he had a nightmare embarrassed him.
I nod my head curtly and slip on my shoes without another argument. Holding Annie back with one hand, he opens the door with another and I step out. Before he can close the door, I stick my foot into the threshold, blocking him from closing it all the way.
“I know we might not be friends, but I want you to know you can talk to me. Whatever demons you’re facing won’t go away on their own. I know that first hand.”
His eyes cast down to the floor and I can hear Annie crying on the other side of his front door so I remove my foot and start down the hall. Before I’m too far gone, I swear I can hear him whisper two words before the click of the lock concludes our movie night.
“ I’m sorry. ”