prompt: Write a story where a character runs into someone they’ve seen in their dreams, or enters a building they’ve dreamt about before.
available at Reedsy
She was in my dream again. Six feet of whippy muscle under pale ochre skin with a splash of deep brown freckles across her nose, one tusk chipped just enough that it was noticeable, thick, black hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wasn’t a beauty, small and thin for an orc, and kind of plain. Still, like every other time she showed up in my dreams, my heart skipped.
I stood under the shower, both to wake myself and to clear the dream girl from my head. Orcs weren’t usually my type. In fact, the only girl I’d ever dated that wasn’t human like myself was Gwendolyn, the gnome I dated in high school. We made an odd couple, the captain of the girls’ basketball team and the nerdy little gnome.
There were chores to do, and I needed to get my head in the game. I rinsed out the memories of Gwen, and the dream girl was there again every time I closed my eyes. To keep my mind on task I began reciting my grocery list. It was all in my phone but thinking about it before I got to the store helped me plan out my route. That was something I’d picked up from Gwen, looking at tasks in terms of efficiency.
Normally, I’d do all my running around in sweats, no makeup, hair pulled back and allowed to fluff itself into a semi-afro puff. For a change, I dressed in jeans and a loose top. I held the concealer in my hand, looking in the mirror. I thought about covering the vitiligo, then thought against it. I hadn’t hidden my skin since high school, and there was no reason to start now. My skin was a medium red-brown with patches of pinkish white. One patch intersected my right eyebrow, that half of it white rather than dark brown.
I put on some lipstick, since I still hadn’t gotten comfortable with my pale lips in the center of a large white patch on my lower face. Satisfied, I left to do my weekend chores.
Self-consciousness didn’t set in until I was pushing the cart with its wobbly wheel through the grocery store. Here I was, dressed up for someone I dreamed about. No one seemed to be paying any attention to me, except for the guy that ogled me openly. He was quickly dissuaded when I glared at him, though.
Most of my shopping done, I only needed to go to the deli counter for some ham. I turned the corner around the large coolers of energy drinks next to kombucha and overly sugared vegetable juices and there she was. Not right there, but behind the deli counter. Had I seen her there before, and my brain was reminding me?
I walked up to the counter to order, and she turned and asked, “How can I help you?”
My heart stopped for a moment, then began to pound. I stammered, unable to speak. She was no raving beauty, but something about her lit a fire inside me.
“C—can I help you?” she asked again.
“Sorry, you just…,” I said, “I thought I recognized you. How long have you worked here?”
“I just started today.” She smiled. Her smile was crooked, genuine, and completely breathtaking.
“I—uh, one pound of honey ham, please.”
“I’ll get that started for you. Anything else?”
“Your number,” I muttered under my breath.
She laughed. “You really don’t remember me, Angela?”
“I—no, but I’ve been seeing you in my dreams for a couple weeks now.”
“That would be a crappy pickup line, if I thought you were making it up.” She was already an inch shorter than me, but she squatted down another foot and held her hand out as if giving me something. “Great game, Angela. I warmed your towel on the heater.”
It snapped into place. “Grace! You look so different!”
“I’m not the short, chubby orc anymore,” she said. “Now I’m the short, scrawny orc.” Her laugh was genuine; not melodic or angelic or anything of the sort, just a hearty, genuine laugh.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you. But, how…?”
“I got back into town a couple weeks ago. I saw you going into Crazy Clara’s with another woman. I didn’t think you saw me, though. I waved and you passed by.”
“I must have missed it, at least consciously.”
“Was that woman your girlfriend?”
“Huh?” There was a hint of pink rising in her cheeks, the same blush I’d seen a hundred times before when the awkward little towel girl would give me my special towel. “No, just a coworker. You should’ve come into the bar.”
She turned away and reached into the case to pull out the honey ham. “I’ve never, um, been to a gay bar.”
“It’s a great place to hang out. And not everyone there is gay.”
She still hadn’t looked back at me, setting up slicer. “With the way my parents were, I guess it still feels…I don’t know.”
“Conservative parents?”
“They…were.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“I came back to take care of the house after the accident.” Tears pooled in her eyes, and I wanted to run around the counter and give her a hug.
One of the other deli workers came and whispered in her ear. She nodded and the other woman took over slicing the ham as she walked around the counter to where I was.
There was no intention in my hug other than to offer comfort, but it felt like so much more. She laid her head on my shoulder and wept. “I miss them so much.”
“I’m so sorry.”
We stood like that for a few minutes until she composed herself. “Here I am all grown up, and you’re still protecting me.”
She and Gwen ran in the same circles, although they weren’t close. Still, I’d threatened the bullies off her a time or two in high school. I guess I always did feel a little protective of all of them. “Just being me,” I said.
She stepped back. “Sorry, I bawled all over your top.”
“It’ll dry.” Before I realized what I was doing, I’d begun to wipe her tears with a gentle thumb, and she leaned her head into my palm. “Sorry if that was too forward of me.”
Grace sniffled and shook her head. “No, I liked it.” She took a deep breath and looked at the floor. “Could you go to the funeral with me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
I took her hands in mine. “Of course. Just tell me where and when.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I can handle it alone, and everyone’s gone.”
“Give me your phone,” I said, “and I’ll put my number in. You can call me any time, whether you just want to talk or whatever.”
She unlocked her phone and handed it to me. As I put my number in, I said, “And after you call me, I’ll be able to call back and ask you out on a date.”
When I handed her phone back to her, she immediately called my cell. It rang once and she hung up. “Now you have my number.” Her cheeks were burning red.
“You’re really cute when you blush,” I said. “I’ll call later this evening.”
She nodded and went back around the counter, where the other deli worker was waiting. There were whispered words between them, and Grace handed me the package of sliced ham. “I get off at four. Remember where my parents’…my house…is?”
“In the cul-de-sac off Druid, near the big park?”
“Yeah, the bright yellow house. The funeral is tomorrow. If you could pick me up at home around nine….”
“I’ll be there.” I smiled at her, my heart aching at the sadness I saw in her eyes. “I won’t let you go through this alone.”
“Thank you, Angela.” She leaned against the counter. “You know what Mercy just told me? She said we’re a sweet couple.”
“Well. You’re certainly sweet,” I said.
“I—I feel guilty.”
“Why?”
“The funeral is tomorrow, and I’m sad, but I’m also happy that you’re here.” Tears pooled in her eyes again. “It’s not the right time to feel happy.”
“Hey,” I said, holding her hand across the counter, “there’s no wrong or right time or place for happiness. It comes in little pieces, here and there, and you have to grab it where you can.”
She smiled, a crooked, sweet smile beneath sad eyes, and squeezed my hand. “Grab it where I can. I like that. Call me after five?”
