Hallucinating again. The medication used to make her ears ring and sometimes caused the room to spin. There were other effects she was too modest to mention, even to her doctor. Now she thought she was hearing Lyndsey call to her from somewhere far away as she lay in her bed, as if he was trapped behind something.
She raised her head and listened for him. He was speaking as if to himself but Lyndsey never carried on that way. He was so quiet and thoughtful. The wicked medication made her think she heard him say, “How can I do this? Polly…I need to talk to you about something…no…I want you to know…that’s ridiculous. It sounds so phony…”
Polly lowered her head, certain she was in the grip of unreality. Lyndsey had never been unsure of himself at any time. His hand was always steady as he balanced his equations. Watching him in the classroom took her breath away. Because she understood little of what he wrote on the white board, she saw only elaborate designs and arcane symbols, flowing together in a complex abstract pattern, a dazzling Kandinsky swirling out of her husband’s talented hand.
“I can’t do this to her,” the phantasm sighed.
The bedroom door seemed to creak. More fantasy. The bed sank in around her as some weight seemed to depress its edges. The feeling of fingertips brushing her face intruded in a manner so realistic that she nearly opened her eyes in response.
“I’m glad you’re asleep,” the voice murmured. “I’m not ready for this conversation.”
The warmth of a body close at hand spread up and down her limbs. A hand closed across her cold fingers. Humid breath skimmed across her ear. Now it was too delicious not to risk a peek.
Polly opened her eyes. Lyndsey’s face was buried so deeply against her that she could barely glimpse him in the corner of her eye.
“Lyndsey,” she said. “You’re here. You’re safe. Don’t tell me what happened to you. I don’t need to know.”
“I think you should.”
“I disagree. Let me carry on in dignified ignorance until I fade away. If you really love me, you’ll do that for me. You’ll let me steep myself in memories of you as my handsome, noble prince and die a blissfully happy death.”
“After you do that…after you fade away…what do you expect me to…?”
Polly rubbed his hand. “It won’t matter a bit since I will be gone. I would hope you could find happiness but I would no longer be part of the story. It’s all up to you to keep writing it.”
“It can’t be. I don’t know how to spin a story. I have no lines without you. For all I know, I’m a figment of your imagination.”
Polly laughed and laid a kiss on his head. “My imagination could never be that colorful.”
“Thank you for dreaming me up anyway.”
