Chương 17: Dream a Little Dream

"How're you doing, bean?" The soft, steady beeping of medical machinery filled the small space of the hospital room. Its garish sterile white had been thankfully dimmed after the sun set, leaving everything shadowed and much more easy on the eyes. Now the only sources of light were the amber glow of a bedside lamp and a thin sliver of light seeping in beneath the door. Olivia looked down at the impossibly tiny form bundled against her chest and smiled.

"I'm doing good. Tired, but still holding up for now." She glanced up to see Jason watching over her—well, them now. The bags under his eyes indicated just how late the night had been, even for him. But the sheer warmth in his expression made it clear that he didn't care one bit.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" She spoke softly, nodding to indicate George's pink and wrinkled form.

"Look. Look what we made." Jason chuckled.

"Ah, yes.

'We.' I'm glad that you're acknowledging all of my hard work in this."

"Hey, you did a lot of important stuff. Like getting things down from the tall cabinets. And taking naps with me."

"Like I said. Hard work." Olivia giggled. She looked toward the side table nearby and the water bottle sitting atop it. Leaning over, she reached out to grab it with her free hand. At least, she tried to. She'd barely begun to move when her abs screamed in protest. There was no pain, exactly—the lingering medication made sure of that. Just an intense feeling of weakness as they adamantly refused to cooperate. Olivia stopped short with a wince, carefully lowering herself back until the sensation faded.

Before she could say a word, Jason swiped the water bottle off the desk and uncapped it. She accepted it gratefully.

"Thanks."

"Of course. Silly."

"I'm not silly. Just an invalid." He nodded meaningfully at her belly and the newly stitched up incision across it.

"An invalid who's trying to do things she shouldn't. Hence silly." She smiled weakly and sipped some water. They fell into a companionable silence as her attention drifted back down to George. So many emotions welled up within her. Excitement, fear, trepidation, joy… But above all else, love. Pure affection for the little bundle in her arms. Some part of her had feared that wouldn't be the case. She'd never been one much for babies, after all. Who was to say her own wouldn't be the same?

Now, those fears had evaporated like mist. She loved him, completely and absolutely. All the trials and troubles she'd gone through, that they had gone through to get here, were so incredibly worth it. How could they not be, if they'd resulted in this. She smiled. Maybe it was the hormones talking. But that was all right. There was a reason humanity had survived for this long, and the deep-rooted maternal instinct was most certainly one of them. George's eyes suddenly opened.

Wide baby blue irises met her own brown ones, staring into her very soul. Olivia's eyebrows rose in shock.

"Jason. Do you see this? He's opening his eyes… Jason?" She lifted her head, only to find that she'd been speaking to thin air. Jason was nowhere to be found. Her head whipped around the hospital room.

"Jason? Jason!"

"Mama?" Her attention snapped back down to George. Her son blinked, his dark eyelashes moving in a long and slow arc. Then, the edges of his form began to flake away. Olivia stared in disbelief. Then, as pieces of him began to rise into the air, fluttering away like so many pink butterflies, she cried out.

"No. Nonono. George!" She clutched her son to her, trying to hold him together like pieces of a crumbling vase. When that failed, she grabbed at the pieces and tried to scoop them back into her arms, fighting the protests of her healing body at the frantic movements. Yet they lazily swirled about her hands just out of reach. The stream of butterflies meandered towards the window, where the first rays of the morning sunrise were just beginning to peek above the horizon.

She struggled, crying, clinging to what little of her son remained to no avail. Soon the last one disappeared out the window and into the morning. Olivia stared down at her empty arms, her hospital gown wet with fresh tears. She screamed.

Olivia's eyes flew open as she shot up in bed. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, echoing the desperation she'd felt in the dream. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. … A dream. It was just a dream. That's all. She instinctually reached out for Jason's comforting presence. All she found was the cool wall beside her. Her jaw clenched and she took a deep breath.

It took a minute for her to calm down, and another several to convince herself that it had in fact been a dream. Even then, Olivia was certain that sleep wouldn't find her again that night. Nor did she particularly want it to. Her thoughts cast back to the sugar cookies her dad had foisted on her during their grocery run. No more sweets. I don't care how strange it looks or how adamant I have to be. I'm not doing this again. The ice cream had been bad, sure. But this?

This had her spooked enough to make the change permanent. By the time she finally managed to collect herself, the sky outside had just begun to lighten to a dusky blue. Sighing, she flung the covers off and slid onto the floor before assuming a pushup position. Her arms trembled as she slowly lowered herself down, then collapsed onto her stomach. Still too weak. Dang. I know it hasn't been long, but still…

She let her knees touch the ground for the rest of her reps—a far more reasonable challenge—then progressed with the rest of her exercises. By the time all of that was done, it was still a bit early to get ready for the day, so Olivia spent a bit of time writing down more future memories in her notebook to pass the time. It wasn't quite as effective at getting her mind off the nightmares, considering the subject, but it was something. Eventually, she stretched upward and rose.

It was time to prepare for another day of school. Hopefully, this one would prove just as unremarkable as the last.

Well, we're certainly off to a good start. Rather than doing her makeup, Ms. Roche decided to start off this new week with breakfast at her desk—some fast food sandwich stuffed into a grease-soaked wrapper. As for actually teaching her freshman English class? There was still zero sign of her doing any such thing. She'd briefly written a selection of pages on the board at some point last week, implying that they were to read some excerpt out of the textbook.

Only, the woman had never followed up on the "assignment" or mentioned it since. There weren't even any questions that needed answering there. Olivia had checked. If it were any later in the day, this would be a perfect time to get homework done. But it has to be first thing in the morning… Of course, she could have left some of her homework unfinished to really take advantage of the time. But that was cutting it a bit too close for Olivia's comfort.

While she had no doubts about finishing her assignments on schedule either way, letting them hang over her head like that was extra stress she simply didn't want. The woman eventually leaned over to retrieve a black folder.

"All right. Who's missing today?" The students looked at each other before piping up.

"Sierra. Sierra Noon. She got sick." Ms. Roche dutifully marked the girl off.

"Anyone else?" No response came as the kids went back to their conversations. Shrugging, Ms. Roche set the folder down and kept eating. She hadn't looked up at the class once. We are definitely missing more than just one person, Olivia frowned, casting her eyes around the room. There were at least four empty seats compared to last week. But then, she honestly couldn't blame them for skipping. She might have considered it herself, were things a bit different.

Did the woman's other classes suffer from this same issue, or did Ms. Roche simply need an hour to work herself up and do her job? Olivia wasn't sure, but she gave it a fifty-fifty chance either way. At least if it was just this period, then the woman's continued employment wouldn't seem quite so absurd. Shaking her head, Olivia returned her attention to the drawing before her. Her baby's wrinkled face frowned back from within a bundle of blankets, eyes closed in peaceful sleep.

If there was a single shred of silver lining to be gleaned from her unpleasant night, it was that her eldest son's newborn figure stood out fresh in her mind. Something that she had every intention of taking advantage of. She bent back over the drawing, sketching in details and tweaking lines all around the piece. It was rough, but already much better than last week's efforts.

Once she was relatively satisfied with his face, she began adding a bit of patterning to the blanket—trucks, in line with his biggest obsession. Olivia found herself smiling despite herself.

"Wow, you're like, really good!" She didn't register the words at first. Not until someone walked around to lean on the edge of her desk. Surprised, Olivia tore her attention away from her work to find a petite blonde smiling down at her. A glittery blue cardigan hugged her petite form, matched by a remarkably tasteful application of eyeliner. Curls that must have taken at least an hour to style fell over narrow shoulders with a shine that spoke of way more hair care than Olivia had ever bothered with.

Tight jeans with bell bottoms that flared into a silky, shimmery fabric completed the look. Wow. She really reminds me of the cheerleader from the show my dad and I watched the other day. Except she's actually a teenager, rather than a twenty-something trying to act as someone half her age. The girl was a perfect match for the popular girl stereotype—and not at all the kind of person who would be caught dead around a quiet loner. So that exactly did she want? Olivia figured she'd find out soon enough. Although…

why does she seem kind of familiar? I'm sure I've never met her before. Maybe it's just because I saw her in class last time around,...?

"Your drawing." The girl prompted, nodding at baby George's picture. The faint smell of hairspray and flowers wafted off of her.

"It's really good."

"Oh. Uh… thanks?" Olivia responded with a bit of confusion. She really had no idea how to approach this situation. The best thing to do would probably be to fall back on quiet awkwardness. Unfortunately, the girl had other ideas.

"Who is it?"

"... My cousin." The lie pushed itself past her lips.

"Cuuuute," the girl fawned over George.

"He must be a newborn, huh? Those are so adorable. I have a baby cousin, too. His little chubby cheeks are the best." Olivia continued to stare at the girl, wondering what in the world she wanted. The blonde just smiled.

"Oh! I'm Trisha by the way. Friends call me Trish." Suddenly it clicked into place.

"Trisha? Trisha Atwood?" Trisha raised one thin eyebrow and smiled.

"Oh? Wow, I'm surprised. Do you remember everyone's names? Or am I just that special?" Olivia was surprised too, though for an entirely different reason. She did recognize this girl. And it wasn't because of any firsthand social interactions or anything of the sort. It was because of the absolute maelstrom of drama she'd later become the center of. Isn't she the cheerleader who gets pregnant?