Shadow

When you close your eyes at night, what do you see? Colors? Glimpses of light?

As you drift off to sleep, letting go, traveling to other realms, what do you remember? Do you feel yourself sinking into your bed, muscular and well-developed phantom arms clasping you in an embrace, dragging you down?

Do you feel yourself free-falling backwards, tumbling, landing on asphalt on your feet, crouched and panting?

I follow you because I love you. I know what you feel because I am like you. There aren’t many of us but we are making more. We are lonely.

I lay pressed against the ceiling, floating. My eyes peer through the darkness to see you. I am aware of how I look because I’m inside of you, sleeping. I took you to our favorite place but tonight, I needed to watch you sleep. You don’t move. You sleep on your back. You breathe heavily.

I am embarrassed by the light I emit, trying to make myself someone you can’t notice. Maybe one day.

In my waking life, I write. To write, I meditate. Often. Still not as often as I would like. Wouldn’t you like to be nothing? Existing this way has been a lifelong adventure filled with trial and error, mainly, error.

Being a writer, I tend to get caught up in fantasy a great deal. It is sometimes difficult to tell fantasy from dream from the supernatural. I know there exists spaces that no one talks about. I know that my friends are there.

We walk together at night through Bangkok as we sleep.

We hold hands and watch TV in the strange yellow room I actually hate a great deal.

When we are in my home, in my dream space, another realm where we can interact and touch each other because I care for you and well, I like you, I really do… and mainly, we walk around like lovers, act like friends, and never speak about it in our waking lives.

I tried to with the different men I fell in love with.

“Did you dream about a fruit stand yesterday? It was dark, drizzling, in a crowded city bazaar?”

“What? No.”

My mailman looked confused, shaking his head as he handed me the day’s mail - mainly junk and bill collectors.

“Thanks, sorry - just wondered! Have a great one!”

I sink into my chair and wonder how I can know who I am actually in love with in my waking life. I never see the face clearly enough, unless it’s one of my friends that hide within the men I desire.

Outside of bodies, we don’t look like much. I just happen to know I was born on Earth. So I have a human form. My friends might have their human identities - I wouldn’t know. I recognize them when we pass each other in our different hangouts and when we astral travel.

We tend to crush on the same people.

They say, “we see them the way you do, we love you so - we want a baby.”

So, try as they might, they can’t make heads or tails of dating and love and well - I’m a writer. I’m basically a shut-in and have often meant to network more than I have. It can be lonely.

I live on a small stipend and some savings. I temp in offices intermittently and try to sell my writing. I live in an inexpensive but junky apartment with roommates who barely speak as much as I do. I think my friends visit them too often. We don’t feel the need to speak, only listen. We try to listen to find our friend again.

Sometimes, it’s hard to see.

Michael is someone I met while visiting a coffee shop in a different part of town than what I usually frequent. He was handsome in a kind of rugged way, though he was clean shaven.

It wasn’t often that I went out for a cup of coffee but I needed a reprieve from solitude. He wore a sport jacket with jeans and what looked to be work boots. I was toward the back of the line when he reached his arm back to get some change he had forgotten. The cashier smiled as he awkwardly reached backward turning his head. He was pretty wide. Not fat. Just built. My my.

He smiled, grabbed the change, smiled, reaching his hand upward - “I got it.” He laughed, shaking his hand, and jogged out the front door to his car. I decided to go again tomorrow to see if this was routine. I decided to work at the coffee shop for the first part of my day. Drafting is easier than editing and rewrites make me cry. I hated the notion of working around others because they are always around - my friends. They aren’t ghosts or demons, but they are little bundles of sentient energy that give me funny ideas or joke with me when they’re bored. They also hurl a lot of insults.

Like a baby that needs attention, my friends needed loads of care and reassurance.

I work many hours. It was hard to leave the home, but brief sprints of working mixed with the arduous labor of being a writer trying to find something fit to publish, well, it worked out somehow. Hard to explain how I managed, but I did. I’d like to think it had something to do with our travels in our respective dream worlds.

The power of the subconscious is unknown and thought of in tangible terms. Yet, you can’t hold a dream, only witness it. Maybe you’ll remember pieces - but really, it’s all in your brain and how the mind operates.

I saw Michael again the first week of using the coffee shop as an office. This time he wore a dark blue sport jacket instead of a black one. It seemed as though his hair grew a bit, it seemed longer. I sat at the table facing the door by a window where I could people-watch and take a break when my brain needed to rest.

I peered over my screen, my laptop offering a shield from his eyes. My glasses always partially obscured my eyes, so you could never be sure of where I was looking. Black eyes with black glasses folks.

This time, he decided to sit a few tables away from me, chatting on his phone. He was a big guy who kept fidgeting in his seat. He looked around for a moment, again, not noticing me, and opted to sit on the bench right next to me.

It was a good choice. You could move the tables forward, the whole wall was lined with the bench so it offered back support, and well, large window. It offered a gorgeous work space.

Once Michael settled in, he looked around once more and finally, finally noticed me. In fact, he spoke first. One point for me.

“Good Morning, how are you? I’m Michael. What’s your name? What do you do? I’m in construction.”

“Good Morning Michael in Construction. I’m Emily the Writer. Pleased to meet you.” I extended my hand despite the distance of two tables between us.

Michael got up, stood in front of my table and asked, “Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Not at all.”

I smiled, my eyes shielded by my glasses and shadow of my hair. He extended his arm across his body, and jerked his hand toward mine, I clasped hold and shook it softly.

“Well, are you working on anything now?”

I looked down and smiled, “always.”

“Feel like chatting? I could use some company. Need a break?” He smiled, looking in my direction.

“Sure. What would you like to talk about? Read anything good lately? How long have you been coming here?”

“Emily?”

“Mm-Hmm…”

“I don’t read much but when I do I enjoy Sci-Fi or Mysteries. I come here almost every day, it’s on its way to the office. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“No. First few days of coming here steadily. I usually work from home but need a change in scenery. Good coffee and nice company.”

Emily flashed a broad closed mouth smile that seemed more devious than friendly.

“Michael, I could use some lunch, would you like to go somewhere else for a bit? Maybe come back to my place, if you’d like to?”

Michael looked at his watch, 1:30 PM, on a Saturday. They’ll call me if they need anything he thought.

“Sure, let’s go. Do you have a car?”

“No, I have a bike. Want to jump on back?” Emily giggled a little as she shrunk a bit and shook.

“Funny.” Michael stood up as Emily shut her laptop down and placed it in her backpack.

She wore leggings with a large t-shirt and cardigan with sandals. She felt like Jesus sometimes with the long black hair what looked to be a bathrobe, and Birkenstocks.

She wiggled out of the booth and he slid between the two tables walking toward the front with Emily.

She noticed that he didn’t try to do anything semi-romantic which was nice but also - weird. He seemed so much more open and confident. I wonder if this is a date?

She grabbed hold of the lock on her bike and put it away in her back pack. She walked her bike near to wear Michael was standing. “See, I really have a bike. I wasn’t kidding.”

Michael looked down and smiled “I didn’t doubt you had a bike and not a car, you give off the whole mother nature vibe thing. Here let me put that in the trunk for you.”

Emily stood waiting in front of the passenger side door of a large SUV white with gold trim. She didn’t know much about cars but this one seemed hard to get into.

Michael came around to Emily, opened the door and held her hand as she stepped up a foot or so. At 5′4 it wasn’t too horrible but kind of harder than expected.

“Don’t worry, I would hold tight to make sure you were sitting safely.”

Michael asked if she felt comfortable. Emily answered in the affirmative and he strode around to the driver side and easily slid in the seat.

“How tall are you?” Emily asked.

“I’m 6′4 or so. My boots add some height.”

“Wow. You seem tall.”

Emily, embarrassed realized she didn’t say more than a few sentences to this very handsome man before she went into his car. She sounded and acted like an airhead.

“So where do you think you’d like to go? What are you in the mood to eat?”

“Do you like Lebanese food?”

“Never had any besides hummus and well… tell me where.”

They decided on a little café that was close to Emily’s home. In a series of awkward and warm exchanges on the drive there, Emily confessed she was a little embarrassed to have been so forward about the invitation.

Michael understood.

They opted for a shared plate for an appetizer, a sampler type of deal where you get a little bit of every popular appetizer: grape leaves, hummus, falafel, baba ganouj and tabouleh. It was served with olive oil and grilled pita cut into triangles.

Emily held up one “Looks kind of like a tortilla chip.”

Michael cutting a piece of a grape leaf and inspecting it, nodded his head and smiled. “Honey, what is this? Is this spinach?”

“It’s literally a leaf from a grape vine” Emily smiled as she chewed away.

“Really? It’s kind of chewy.”

“Maybe they cooked them too long or left them in water or something. If you want to, maybe next time I can make you some if you come over for dinner. You’ll taste the difference.”

“Sure. What else do they have here? I’m actually more hungry now than when we came in.”

“What protein do you like? I like the idea of a Grilled fish with grilled vegetables and maybe some lamb kabobs. Do you like cous-cous?”

“That sounds good. Let me look at that menu. Does this come with rice or anything?”

“Sure, I get you.”

Emily looks around and spots the waiter, a short man, balding, early fifties but in good share. Black hair, black pants, white shirt with a blue and white apron tied around his waist.

Michael turns his head toward the direction of Emily’s gaze.

“Hey buddy, come over here!”

Michael called out and Emily followed up with a fond smile, “Please?”

Michael looked at Emily and reached his hand across the table, “Do you want to stay here for dessert? I know a nice place where they have an interesting pairing of chocolate cheesecake and desert wine.”

“Let’s see how we do here first.”

Emily decided to ask Michael what sparked his interest and shared how nice it was to get out of the house to meet someone as pleasant as him. Michael listened and shared that it was just an impulse.

“Well, you were sitting right next to me and we were the only one’s there. I also needed to chat with someone, I’m glad we met. I’m actually surprised you wanted to go on a date…”

Emily thought to herself, yes, a date!

Michael continued how women were a lot more reticent to go out with a stranger. It helped that he was good looking with money, fit, and polite. But even with those advantages, dating was harder since the pandemic. People just weren’t as social even after all of the precautions were taken.

Emily, surprised at his candor decided she was going to visit him in her favorite spaces and see how he did. Maybe he could travel with her and her friends would just find someone else to follow.

Maybe they would just stay with them and be happier because it’s more exciting as a couple.

All Michael saw was her nodding and smiling and pushing food around on her plate with her fork.

“So when was the last time you were with someone?”

“Umm, it’s been a while. How about you? That’s pretty blunt. Why what do you have in mind stud?” Emily winked with a smile.

Michael shook his head and laughed. “Well, if we’re going back to your place I guess we’d figure it out.”

Emily wanted to get to know him first.

“Let’s get dessert first and see how it goes. Maybe next time. I don’t know.”

Michael, unfazed, put his hand on top of hers and leaned forward to kiss her mouth gently. “Honey, I get you.”

“Umm. Thank you. I think I get a read on you too. You’re very kind and very interested in seeing my apartment.”

“Ha-ha.” Michael teased. “Yes, and I’d like to get to know you better. Then maybe you could see mine. It’s in a better part of town besides.”

“I’ll let that one go. Maybe in time.”

The waiter came out with their main courses, clearing away their hearty appetizer, refilling their water glasses and asking if they were interested in the wine menu.

He even suggested Arrack - an anise flavored spirit that’s typically homemade.

They accepted his suggestions, trying a little of everything. They opted for a bottle of Malbec and Arrack.

Pleased, the waiter came with a bottle of wine for the table and a few extra glasses, like an orange juice glass, filled with a clear liquid.

“If you want another just ask. No problem. New glass.” He smiled and raised one of the glasses up over his head.

Michael looking at the waiter, interested in when he would finish, noted the glasses being placed on the table.

Emily, excited took the water carafe to show Michael how it was done. The waiter nodded and walked off.

“Ok, so this is the kind of drink you have to water down. I’m going to try different ratios and we’ll figure out which flavor you like better.”

Michael blushed. Happy that Emily knew things that he didn’t. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh come on!” Emily gushed as she poured water over the clear liquid, starting to turn milky white, to about half full. She stopped and looked up.

“Take a sip.”

“Ooh. Nuh-uh.” Michael scrunching up his face to the bitter taste.

“Let’s try this” Emily placed a few ice cubes until the glass was three quarters full.

“Not any different.” The look on his face was a mix of confusion, disappointment, and disgust. “What are you doing to me here honey?”

“Trust me, I’ll add more water”

“I don’t see what on Earth adding more water will do? This is so bitter with this licorice taste I don’t like.”

Emily, unfazed, filled the glass with more water to it’s top. She put a straw in the glass for him, hoping it would be easier to drink.

Quietly Michael sipped a few times through the straw, then picked up the glass for a full gulp.

“MMM… little better. Weird though.”

“Great! You’re a good sport!”

After Emily personalized her Arrak, she raised her glass to offer cheers. “To good food, good health, and good love!”

Michael, smiling, replied, almost sheepishly, “Cheers and thank you.”

He wanted to nuzzle his nose against hers and kiss her over the plates of lamb and fish and uneaten hummus and pita.

“I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.”

As they ate and drank wine and laughed and reminisced about their lives, they realized that they didn’t have much in common but still enjoyed each other’s company.

Emily, a transplant from NYC moved to North Carolina in the hopes of a quieter atmosphere and more authentic connections. She appreciated the distance between things.

Michael has lived in Raleigh his whole life and opened a construction business right after college with his father. They do pretty well bringing in several million a year, being one of the wealthier people in these parts.

Emily felt lucky but also, intimidated.

She thought to herself - uh, guys, is that you?