CHAPTER 6
The water splashes against the hull of my boat, a soft comforting sound. The sky is bright blue without a cloud in sight. I am at peace. This part of the dream is always pleasant. I like this part of the dream. Evan is alive and happy with Grace. Mom and Dad are safe at home, and we are going to have meatloaf for dinner.
Then, the rigging starts to tangle. Impossible knots form on the lines, turning the sails into flying monsters that catch the wind and threaten to tear my boat apart. A storm is rising from the depths of hell, the sky going black in an instant. The peace and calm is gone. I have to move quickly; if I'm fast enough, I can escape the storm before it gets to me. If I just go fast enough, maybe this time I can avoid the storm. My hands fumble on the rigging, and every movement seems delayed.
Wind howls through the now ripped and tangled sails, and giant waves slosh over the deck, threatening my every step. I wasn't fast enough. The storm has found me, and I can't escape it. If I had help, I would have made it, but by myself, I am too slow. I cling desperately to the mast, praying that the storm will stop.
I see my parents, sailing on a boat in the distance. Dad is at the helm, tied to the wheel as he tries to steer into the storm. I scream at him, but he doesn't hear. Mom turns and waves, the wind and rain twisting her hair, but she smiles at me. She taps Dad on the shoulder, then points toward me. Her sundress flaps in the hurricane winds, but she looks toward my boat with relief. They were looking for me.
Dad turns the boat and smiles, his eyes twinkling as he carefully makes his way across the choppy water. He doesn't see the ropes holding him down. They don't seem concerned with the storm raging around them. Lightning flashes and a gaping hole appears in their hull, water surging inside their small vessel. They are going to drown.
I scream, wrenching my yellow sails to reach them faster, praying myself ragged that they'll let me get to them in time. Dad turns his head, confusion crossing his face as the water laps at his ankles. He keeps going, my mother urging him toward me. They are so close, but in this storm, they are never going to make it. Their ship sinks lower and lower, the dark waves gobbling it up long before I can reach it. They're gone, the water devours them as though they never existed.
I sob, holding onto the main mast as my boat creaks and groans beneath me, barely staying afloat in the raging sea. They are gone and I am alone. But then, a beam of light cuts through the darkness. A new boat is coming, someone who can save me. Hope bubbles up within me and I stand tall. Evan stands on the prow of a mighty ship, his hand shielding his eyes from the spray. His Army dress uniform is beautiful and perfect, the way it was at his funeral. He points toward me, and his ship turns. I'm saved.
Lightning flashes, a hot thin jagged line of molten light crashing into Evan's ship. He looks back at it, his face contorting with terror. His ship is on fire. Orange and red flames engulf his ship in fire and he screams, sinking quickly into the black raging waters. I can see the light of the fire slowly fade into the black depths swallowed it completely.
I'm alone again. I have no sails left. The wind keeps on howling, and the rain stings as it hits me. I know that if someone else were here, this never would have happened. It's all my fault that I couldn't reach them in time. I wasn't fast enough to save them. I know in my bones that if someone had been there to help me trim the sails, I never would have hit that storm. I would have gotten home before anyone would have gone out to look for me. My parents never would have been out in that storm if it weren't for me. If they had survived, Evan wouldn't have joined the Army. He'd still be here too.
It was all my fault because I had sailed alone.
***
I woke up in a cold sweat. The hospital room was unfamiliar at first, but moonlight from the window illuminated the room. I heard a quiet beeping at the nurses' station, and soft voices down the hall. I was safe. There was no storm. I willed my heartbeat to slow before it pounded out of my chest, but I knew I would have a hard time falling back asleep. I always did.
I hated that nightmare. It had started the day after my parents died. Grace insisted it wasn't my fault, but only a part of me believed her. My parents had gone out in the storm to look for me. I was the reason they were on the road the night their car crashed. If I hadn't been sailing by myself, if I hadn't been stupid enough to get caught in the storm, then they would never have been out in the rain. Their brakes would never have failed and that tree would have fallen on empty road. If someone had been out on that boat with me, they wouldn't have been so worried. I might not have even been in the storm in the first place.
No, despite Grace's kind words, their death was my fault. I sailed into a storm by myself, and they were worried. If someone had been with me, then everything would be different. The day they died, I swore never to sail alone.
The nightmare had stopped while Evan was with us. The first three years of Avery's life, the nightmares were gone. Evan kept us safe. I always sailed with someone, and things were going well. But then Evan died. I came home from a rough race to Grace's tear stained face and a man in a crisp uniform. My nightmare came back that night, and Evan became a part of it.
I flipped my pillow over, searching for the cool side. It always took me a while to fall back asleep after the nightmare. I hadn't had it for a few months, but with the recent accident, I could see why my brain had dredged it up. The sails being yellow, like my windsurfing sails, was the obvious connection between the nightmares and my accident.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing.
My eyes were growing heavy as I concentrated on keeping my breathing even. I had to be calm going back to sleep, or I'd fall into the nightmare again. It was a risk I took while trying to find rest again. Once the nightmare debuted for the night, it often stayed and replayed itself until morning. I was just drowsing off when a nurse popped her head into my room. She walked over and gently put her hand on my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, but we have to do another concussion check," she whispered. I groaned and opened my eyes. At this rate, I was never going to get any sleep.
The nurse turned on the bathroom light, the weak yellow bulb casting strange shadows across the room. I sat up, getting ready to answer her questions and let her check my pupils; I yawned, but was actually okay with the fact she was keeping me up. If I was awake, I couldn't get stuck in the storm of my nightmare.