A Dream. A Girl. An Unrequited Love. My short story for the UNCW Creative Writing Department's Undergraduate Anthology, These Fish Bite (2020).
“Are you sure I can’t break his nose?” Julia asked, earning annoyed glances from the people around us.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Sadie whispered. “Quiet down. We’re in the library.”
“They can deal with it,” Julia said, but lowered her voice anyway. “What if I just break his nose a little?”
“No, not even a little,” Sadie said, holding back a smile.
Ever since Sadie had told her friend what happened between Kameron and herself (or what hadn’t happened, she supposed) Julia yearned for violence.
“Why aren’t you more upset about this?” Julia asked. “She won’t even let you talk to him. I would be furious.”
“I am furious,” Sadie said. “But I’m not going to tell him to break up with her. Yeah, I’m upset he’s not doing anything about it, but if he’s happy I just have to put up with it.”
“I don’t see how anyone could be happy with that thing,” Julia said.
“That thing?” Sadie repeated, amused.
“She doesn’t deserve the status of personhood,” Julia clarified.
“Harsh,” Sadie said, “but I agree.”
***
Julia and Sadie finished working in the library around 11 p.m. and collapsed in their beds the moment they returned to their shared two-bedroom apartment.
That night, Sadie dreamt of Kameron and the large, twisting oak tree they used to call their home.
The tree was in the field behind their middle school, where they hung out with two or three other friends. Each of them had claimed a branch, calling it their room in the house that was the oak tree. Soft green moss covered the branches and cushioned them from the splintery bark. Still, the children would bring towels and pillows to sprawl across their branches, upon which they would talk for hours––as if they had all the time in the world.
In the dream, Kameron sat on his extended mossy branch; his legs swayed back and forth, rustling the golden leaves below him. He waved to her.
Sadie tried to call out to him, but her voice caught in her throat.
She wheezed, pushing out as much air from her lungs as possible; her throat felt like it would burst, yet no sound escaped.
The wind intensified until its roaring was all Sadie could hear. Leaves and twigs blew around her, some whacking her in the face with their sharp edges.
Fear spilled down her cheeks.
The person who ran to her apartment at three in the morning when she had a panic attack, who held her hand and talked until his voice grew hoarse and she could finally sleep, was disappearing.
Sadie spotted Kameron’s girlfriend through the tornado of leaves, sitting on the branch where she should have been.
She wanted to scream at the girl, hit her, and demand she gave Kameron back. She was glued to the spot.
***
The next morning, Sadie’s first instinct was to tell Julia about her dream, but a part of her didn’t want to acknowledge it; hearing Julia repeat the dream back to her would make it feel too real.
“Hey, what’s up?” Julia asked on their walk back to campus. “You seem upset.”
“I’ve just got a lot going on,” Sadie said.
“Did something happen? Is it the Taylor thing? You know, I really think you should just talk to Kameron about it. If you don’t want to, I will.”
Sadie shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I don’t want you to talk to him for me. I just need to think about it for a while.”
“All right,” Julia said slowly. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”
“I will,” Sadie agreed, though she doubted she would.
***
That night, Sadie dreamt again of her childhood oak tree. Only this time, the tree spoke to her in a familiar voice––she couldn’t tell if it was hers or Julia’s.
“Why so scared?” the tree asked.
Sadie looked to Kameron, who still sat atop his branch, oblivious to the talking tree.
“Why so scared?” the tree repeated.
A gentle breeze scattered golden leaves around her ankles.
“I think I’m losing him,” Sadie said at last.
“Why?” the tree said.
“Because of Taylor,” Sadie said. “Because––because of me.”
Its branches swayed as if nodding.
“Why not let him leave?” the tree said. “He doesn’t seem upset about it.”
“I mean, he said he is,” Sadie muttered.
“Yet he has done nothing to stop her,” the tree said, referring to Taylor.
“That’s not true,” Sadie argued. “Kameron talked to Taylor. She just wouldn’t listen, and he’s too nice to say no.”
Wait. Why am I defending him? she wondered. No. If he’s happy, I’m happy.
But she knew this wasn’t true.
“Take him back or let him go,” the tree said.
Sadie wrapped thin arms around her torso. “No.”
“Take him back or let him go,” the tree repeated.
“No!” Sadie yelled over the sound of the wind, which had again picked up speed.
How could she do that to her best friend?
“Take him back or let him go,” the tree said.
She could no longer see Kameron within its leaves.
“I don’t want to be hated,” Sadie cried.
“Take him and Taylor will hate you,” the tree said, “or let him go and hate yourself.”
***
Sadie’s eyes flew open. She made to rub the sleep from her lashes and felt wetness on her cheeks.
“Sadie,” Julia said as they packed their bags for school. “Are you all right?”
Sadie knew exactly what she needed to do.
“Never better,” she said and smiled.
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