“I had that dream again.” Whistling of the wind, darkened clouds flying past, losing control... Martella kept her head down, watching her fingers move the delicate silver ring on her middle finger, the embedded blue stone reflecting the small amount of light it could.
“Which dream is that?” The tapping on Ivette’s iPad was muffled in the quiet room.
But she knew which dream. It was the only recurring dream Martella had, and the only one she talked about with Ivette. “Falling.”
Ivette didn’t look up. “Why are you falling?”
It isn’t me who’s falling at first. It’s a man. I’m the man... “I’m reaching, once I realize I’m not alone. Someone else is falling too, falling toward me.”
The tapping never stopped, and Ivette’s head didn’t lift. “Who is this girl?”
“Someone- important.” Why am I important to him? Maybe if it was Jordan she was falling toward, she’d be comfortable telling her “advisor” about the man. Instead, it was a grittier looking fellow with a five o’ clock shadow and a ripped shirt. His stare was so intense it took her breath away.
“Important? Your mother, perhaps?”
“I don’t know my mother.”
“A mother figure, then?” The tapping stopped, and Ivette looked up from the iPad to watch Martella as a silence filled the room. “Someone you consider close to you?”
Why is that so important? “I don’t- I don’t know.”
Ivette leaned forward in her chair as she let out a sigh, pulling the thin spectacles from her face. “The boy- Jordan, why is he falling?”
Martella looked at her quizzically. “Jordan-?”
“You mentioned it before.”
A fierce and unsettling feeling of déjà vu washed over her and she gripped her hands together.
“Dear, we can’t move forward unless you give me all the information.”
Maybe it was Jordan. It was difficult to fully remember now, and Ivette often said dreams were altered realities. “Yeah. It was Jordan.” She kept her head down as she swallowed hard. Lying wasn’t her forte in any sense, but it seemed Ivette didn’t want to push it.
“Go on.” Ivette returned to tapping away on her iPad, the small thuds a welcoming sound.
"I don’t know why he was falling. But- the sharp whistling drowned all other sounds, and the man- Jordan, reached for me, his ears and cheeks burning from the cold winds that stung our skin. He was saying something, over and over, carefully saying the word, but I can’t hear him." But Jordan- he isn’t like this. Jordan will smirk at me, he has this- lustful gaze when he notices me, and is one of the most relaxed people I know. But in the dream, he’s careful, and intense. It’s not like him at all.
“Do you feel your relationship with Jordan may be... dwindling?” Ivette watched her, blue light from her iPad glowing on her cheeks as the thin-rimmed spectacles on her face cast a shadow that gave her angry eyebrows.
“Dwindling?” Martella considered the thought as she leaned back in her seat, feeling as though the cushions would swallow her whole. “I don’t think so. He’s as…” Well, he’s just as Jordan is as he ever was. I don’t want to say ‘uncaring’, but... it doesn’t seem far off. “Him as he ever was.” Her shoulders pulled upward toward her ears. “Our relationship is about the same.”
“How do you feel about him? Do you love him?”
A twitch in Martella’s neck made her head turn uncomfortably. “Of course!” Despite the sort of laugh she let out, the feeling of lying returned. That’s right. He’s supposed to take me out after this.
“Tell him so. You’ve said you two have been in a relationship for a long while now, perhaps it’s time you let him know how you feel. How you truly feel about him.” Ivette’s brows raised, corners of her mouth turning upward.
How I truly feel? It wasn’t love, for certain. She didn’t know how she felt about him now. “Sure. We’re going out tonight. There’s a big party.”
“Perfect opportunity, then! Let me know how it goes next week, hm?” Ivette’s smile widened, and Martella understood it was her cue to go. Their hour was up.
“Sure.” She stood, pulling her jacket up with her as the phone from within it buzzed. Jordan would be texting her. Giving Ivette a quick smile in farewell, she didn’t bother giving the woman a vocal goodbye. Something about her put Martella’s nerves on edge.