That night I decided to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. There was no way that I would sleep in the bed of a man who believes of me to be a harlot. Azna followed me, trotting down the hall to the second guestroom.
This room was dark and modernized with smooth brown walls and mahogany hardwood floors. The king sized bed was mounted on an ivory platform with a high headboard and was covered with a chocolate brown text-tiled quilted comforter that resembled small concrete blocks trimly stacked on top of each other. There was an off white chaise placed catty-cornered in the corner of the room with brown and ivory throw pillows neatly placed on it. Over the bed, a dark brown jeweled chandelier hung. The poster sized artwork displayed on the wall appropriately blended with the jazzy motif of the room and the flat screen television mounted to the wall added practicability to the room.
Although I knew he’d hired an interior decorator for this place, it once again reminded me of Azmir’s impeccable taste. He approved and even designed much of the swanky and prodigiousness. This man’s genius and creativity knew no bounds. As I lay on the firm mattress, I realized how luxurious it was, like the one in the master suite. But nothing compared to that one because that’s where Azmir lays his head at night and the linens smelled of him. No one has ever slept in this bed not even Mr. Jacobs himself. My thoughts went blue again and I fought them off to finally sleep.
I’m sitting down in an outdoor dining area at an amusement park. I look across to find Michelle looking her usual preoccupied yet beautiful self. I don’t know what we were chatting about, but she was assuring me that everything would be okay.
“Na-Na, you know everything is going to work out in your favor at the end, right?” she says with a huge smile while eating her frozen yogurt. “You just have to be patient and wait for things to fall into place. You worry too much about what you have very little control over,” Michelle declares as she takes a heartfelt laugh at my expense.
The sky is the perfect shade of blue, as the sun doesn’t give too brutal of a shine. Kids are carelessly playing in the background, wondrously taking in all the youthful spectacles of the park.
“I gotta go now,” she says so casually.
I’m unable to speak in this dream. I can only listen. But I am visibly upset at the announcement of her departure. She takes notice and cheerfully says, “Na-Na, you’ll be fine. Girl, you know I’ll see you later! I just have to send the letter off before the post office closes.” Her smile is warm.
While her reassurance is intended to calm me, it has the opposite effect. I start to tremor in agitation to my muteness. There’s so much I want to tell her and ask her, too. She packs up her things to go and shakes her head in confusion as if I had been overreacting. She stands to leave and I watch her throw her trash in the can and walk away. I get up to try to run to her, but no matter how fast I run I can’t catch up to her. She never looks back. I try calling her, but nothing comes out. I run and run and run for Michelle, but never get to her.
I’m awakened from the dream. I looked around the room and took inventory to recall where I was. I then realize I’m not in bed alone. The fragrance smelled familiar. I looked over to find Azmir stretched out over me, sleeping quietly. How long has he been here? I looked over to the nightstand at the digital clock that read 9:03 a.m.
I jumped up to get out of the bed. I had hoped I wouldn’t be late.
Azmir stirred, trying to collect himself. “What’s the problem? Where are you going?” From my peripheral he looked a little dazed and confused. I was surprised he’d slept so late. His body is on a timer. I guess he stayed up much later than did I last night.