“So, what’s keeping you up at night?” said the sleep therapist.
I don’t want to admit it. I tried everything to avoid the obstacle. Melatonin pills and gummies. Herbal teas that promised to put you to sleep in an hour. Hell, I even followed those hardcore sleeping schedules. Put your phone away one hour before sleep, turn off all artificial light one hour before sleep, don’t eat before bed, and read a book to sleep. I can’t even read! But I still tried.
None of it worked.
It would be the same story over and over again. Toss and turn. Shut my eyes and see her face. Toss and turn again. Shut my eyes and images of our time together flashing through my mind like a slideshow. Jolt up out of bed and think I see her in the shadows of my room. Flick on the light switch and disappointment washes over me like a tsunami. Only to start from the beginning over and over.
“…Nightmares, I guess.” I managed to stammer. I looked up at my new sleep therapist, who noticed I was daydreaming. “Sorry, I tend to… Well, uh, yeah.”
Her blue eyes seemed to stare deep into my soul. Those eyes analyzed every little movement I did—some I wasn’t even conscious of. They focused on my fidgeting fingers, then at my bouncing legs. As she noticed my fidgeting, I stopped doing it.
She leaned forward, the brown leather couch squeaking, and grabbed a coffee mug from her side of the table.
“It’s only normal,” she said, “for those who’ve gone without sleep for so long to lose themselves in daydreams.” She wrapped her red lips around the cup and sipped. “Some say repeated nightmares may be your subconscious self telling you something. Maybe unfinished business? Others say they’re a way to relieve stress and anxiety from your mind. So tell me, Xander, what do you see in these nightmares?”
“I-I see my fiance.”
“What is your fiance doing?”
“She… She does many stuff.” I avoided eye contact, my eyes darting back and forth. “It starts sweet. I see her and I at our highest. The moments I cherished, you know? And then-”
“Tell me a few of those moments,” she said, setting the coffee mug down and sitting back in her seat.
“Oh, you know, sexual stuff.” I scratched the back of my head.
“Are those the only cherishable moments, Xander?”
“No-no, of course not. They’re just the first that came to mind.”
“And why is that, Xander?” She leaned forward again, grabbing a notebook from the table and a pencil from her hair bun. As she pulled the pencil out, her straight black hair came cascading down to her shoulders.
“…I-I don’t know. I guess, if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I miss her body. There are other memories I cherish as well, don’t get me wrong. Like that one time we-”
“You haven’t seen another woman after her? Is that why you miss her body?”
I stared down at the floor, my Converse were untied. I spoke as I leaned down to tie them. “Of course not. She was the love of my life… Like, this one time we raced through the Mexican beaches barefoot and I tripped over some rocks. That was a great memory. We laughed the whole way back to our hotel-”
“Look at me, Xander.”
Slowly, I looked up at her, tears trickling down my cheek.
“You’ve seen other women, haven’t you?”
“…I-I haven’t.”
“Xander, those dreams you are getting of her are because you feel shame. Is that correct?”
The tears went from trickling to streaming. “Yes.”
“And this shame stems from having a sexual encounter with another woman. Is that correct?”
“No…” …Images of Abby and I, laughing and having a great time, flashed through my mind. “Fuck! Okay, yes! I had one little one-night stand. I just couldn’t control the desire any longer. And… and I didn’t even fucking finish. I couldn’t. I felt shameful as soon as I stuck it in. Abby’s ghost loomed overhead, watching me with her head shaking from side to side and her arms crossed and…”
I buried my face in my palms. Tears seeped through my finger and landed on the hardwood floor.
I felt a delicate pat on my shoulder as I shuddered.
“Xander, you said it’s been a little over two years now, no?”
“Yeah.” I sniveled.
“Wouldn’t Abby want you to move on?”
“I-I don’t know what she wants anymore. I just see her shaking her head and her face… I can’t even remember her fucking face.”
“Why wouldn’t she want you to move on?” She sat back down across from me. I wiped the tears with my long sleeve. “Is there any other action you did that brings you shame? Maybe this Abby you see is a manifestation of that guilt.”
“I don’t think it’s a manifestation. It’s like she is real.”
“Xander, is there anything you’re leaving out?”
“I really see her–and no, I’m not crazy. I can see you looking at me as if I’m another one of those crazy people you’d give pills to.”
“Xander, I wasn’t implying that. I genuinely want to help, but you have to talk to me.”
“And that’s another thing. What the hell is talking gonna do? You’re just making things worse. I…” I turned left and saw Abby’s blonde hair peeking from the corner. “Look! Look, there she fucking is!”
The sleep therapist didn’t look. Her eyes stayed locked on me.
“Answer my question, Xander. Is there anything you’re leaving out?”
“No, I already told you, no.”
“After that first sexual encounter, you had another. Didn’t you?”
“Are you a therapist or a fucking detective? No!”
Abby walked forward, hair dangling in front of her face, and stood next to the sleep therapist.
“Then where does this guilt stem from? Abby’s ghost wouldn’t just manifest itself to you if you didn’t have anything to hide.”
“I-I…” Abby’s head cranked to me. The black holes that were her eyes seemed to suck in my soul. “No.. No,” I murmured to myself, “Leave her alone, she is good.”
“Leave who alone, Xander?” She looked at Abby. “Is Abby standing right here, right now?”
“Yes.”
“What is she doing?”
“She’s trying to make me do something that I don’t want to do.”
The sleep therapist’s eyebrow shot up in confusion and she looked at her Apple watch. “How does Abby appear to you now? Describe what she’s wearing and how she looks.”
“She… She looks angry. She’s wearing the clothes she died in.”
The therapist stood up slowly, her eyes wide, and began to walk backwards to the exit. “We-We’ll pick this up tomorrow, Xander. Your time is up.”
I looked at the clock and stood up. “Ten minutes early?”
She avoided eye contact. Abby was staring directly at me, nodding her head. “Yeah, I just remembered I have to go pick up my kids… Don’t worry though, I won’t charge you for a full session.”
I inched forward. She placed her hand on the doorknob. Abby vanished.
“Please, stay. I’ll talk. I’ll tell you what I left out.”
She let go of her grip on the doorknob and crossed her arms. “What’d you leave out?”
“Abby… Abby wasn’t real.”
I lunged forward and tackled her on the ground. She squirmed around, reaching to press her Apple watch. I pinned her arms down and looked around for something sharp. As I spotted a plant pot, I felt a set of teeth clamp onto my forearm.
I fell back, gripping my arm and groaning. The therapist stood and grabbed the plant pot I had just set my eyes on. She raised it over her head and yanked it at me.
I twisted my head, the pot just scraping my ears, and exploded off the ground. I tackled her again.
Her head banged off the wall, those blue eyes rolling back. Her body collapsed on the floor, folding over itself, as I let go of my grip.
A pool of blood formed.
“She almost found out,” Abby’s voice called out from behind. “Sooner or later, one of them will find out.”
I turned back, Abby’s dark eyes stopping me dead in my tracks. Her wedding dress was torn from stab marks. The bottom of the dress dipped into the pool of blood like a quill.
“No one, not one person, will find out.”