She turned her eyes away from me and nodded. She was quiet as she stared off into the corner of the room. I was sure I caught a glimmer of a tear in the corner of her eye.
"What were you dreaming about the other night?" she questioned, her voice weak.
I knew exactly what I had been dreaming about. I'd felt her touch me and comfort me until I fell back asleep. It was the same dream I'd had before. We were alone in that dark alley, Connor lay dead before me, everyone had disappeared, and then he sat up and blamed me for our breakup.
"It was nothing," I lied.
She was quiet for another minute before letting out a loud sigh. "I see nothing has changed. Still not being truthful with me are you?" She stood up from where she'd been sitting. "It's been five years, and you still can't tell me the truth about those dreams."
I jumped up from where I was sitting. "Bailey, what is that supposed to mean? I've always been honest with you. "
She had just reached for her sweatshirt that hung on the hook beside the door, her hand resting on the fabric. She didn't say anything for a moment or two, and then slowly turned to me. "You still can't tell me you dream of him. You had nightmares, almost every single night after it happened. Yet you would never talk to me. You want things to be different, you want us back together, you need to be able to talk to me," she said, stepping closer and jabbing her finger roughly into my chest.
"What do you want me to tell you? That you ripped my fucking heart out when you blamed me for his death? Do you want to know that I'm haunted by what happened and have been for the past five years? Do you need to know that every year at this time the dreams run rampant for weeks, sometimes months, and that I can do little to stop them?"
Bailey looked at me with tears lining her eyes. "Jackson, I just want you to be able to talk to me. I have no idea why you always felt you couldn't. I know in your head you probably felt the need to protect me, even if you suffered."
"Yes, I felt the need to protect you. To protect you from the horrifying events I saw that night. I promised him I'd look after you and keep you safe, and knowing that I did a shitty job of that makes me fucking sick inside."
"Even if it means you suffer alone?" She pulled the sweatshirt down off the hook and turned to look at me. "You want things to be back to the way they were, you need to start sharing with me how you feel. Stop worrying about me, stop trying to protect me, and let me help you carry whatever it is you are feeling."
She studied my eyes and stood there waiting with tears running down her face for me to answer her. I shook my head. "I can't."
"You can't or you won't?" she demanded, standing there with her hand on her hip. "Look, it happened to both of us, Jackson."
"No, it didn't. You lost a brother."
"So did you. All I ever wanted from you was for you to open up and share with me how you felt. Share what you were going through, but instead, you pretended to be okay when you were with me when, in fact, you were blaming yourself inside. Sure, I didn't make it any better, and I know that, but I felt very jilted when you couldn't talk to me but you'd go sit and talk to some therapist in a cold office."
I looked at her. I could tell she wasn't just saying that, but I still couldn't shake the feeling of blame I felt either. "I know that was all you wanted," I whispered, still not fully prepared to share with her the memories of the dreams that had been haunting me for the past couple of months.
"Then talk to me," she pleaded as she walked up to me and wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my chest. I placed my arms around her, holding her close to me.
"I miss him, Jackson," she murmured, her face pressed into my shirt.
I pulled her tighter against me and closed my eyes as I rested my chin on the top of her head. "Me too," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. "So much."
"Were you dreaming of him?"
I was silent, the dreams haunting my thoughts again. No matter how badly I wanted to tell her, I couldn't. She didn't press me. Instead, when I didn't answer, she slipped out from my grasp and walked out the front door without even looking back at me, just as she had five years ago.
15
Bailey
I was sohappy that the lunch rush was over. I had cleared and washed the last few tables and now was finishing stacking the clean glasses behind the bar. It had been busier than normal, and we had a little bit of time to get the place ready for dinner and the rest of the night. I had just finished washing down the bar when the door opened. I looked up to see Cara walk in, waving at me as she climbed up on a stool.
"Hey, what brings you here?" I asked, smiling.
"I got off work early. I saw your car out front and thought I would pop in and see you. I didn't think you were working until later."
"I wasn't supposed to, but one of the girls was sick, and since I called in yesterday, I figured I could use the money."
"How you doing?" Cara asked, giving me a knowing look.
I shrugged. It had been five years since my brother’s death, and this was the first year since that I had been back in Sunnyville. How did she think I was? "All right, I guess."
"Are you guys going to the police memorial picnic tomorrow?"