Chapter Three - Waking Life

Chapter Three

~Waking Life~

The first time I masturbated was when I was twelve—well, maybe I was eleven. I'd stumbled upon one of my mother's Victoria Secret ads that she'd received in the mail. It was the first time I'd seen a woman half naked like that, and holy shit, I damn near busted a nut in my pants. There was nothing like seeing Heidi Klum in a barely there nude bra and panties. I mean, I must've yanked my dick for five solid hours that day.

It was a good day…

The first time I had sex was when I was fourteen, in fact, after I wore out one of my mom's Victoria Secret fall catalogs...that was when Kate Sinclair found me—fucking Kate Sinclair.

She was my next door neighbor who was two years older than me, which meant she was experienced. She had long golden blonde hair, crystal blue eyes—she was an absolute goddess, and effectively established my penchant for blondes. Unfortunately, the first time I had sex with her I was…awful, just pitiful, and the whole event was over before I knew it. It was literally two pumps of my dick and I released my load inside of her.

It was a great fucking day…

It was those two experiences combined that had solidified me as a man, and I found out that I never had to masturbate again. We dated for about three months and I thought I loved her. Well, that was before she fucking stomped on my heart and started to date some senior at our school. After that, I wasn't the same shy Edward I'd once been; I was suddenly very angry and extremely cocky, but girls at my school ate that shit up and effectively created a life for me where if I wanted sex, I got it. The craziest thing was the more I was a fucking dick to them the more they put out. Perhaps that was my downfall, but for ten years, I never had to yank my dick for anything, and I wasn't turning back.

So, it was a little confusing for me when I woke up to find myself stroking my cock relentlessly. By the time I was fully awake and aware of the situation, I was already coming all over myself.

Dammit.

My cock instantly went limp in my hand and I groaned with displeasure. The shit was disgusting. If there was one thing I hated, it was jizzing all over myself. The orgasm wasn't even worth the mess I had to clean up now and I cussed repeatedly under my breath.

What a way to start the fucking day.

Getting off my bed, I went over to my hamper, and pulled out a dirty shirt. Wiping the shit off my stomach, I looked around my room and saw that it was already two in the afternoon. I couldn't believe that I'd slept the whole fucking day, but the headache that was now throbbing and pulsating behind my eyelids told me that my stupid ass was hung over. Not that I was surprised. My whole goal last night was to get wasted and fuck some random girl. There wasn't much I could recall from last night. The last thing I remembered was playing cups with Emmett, and I knew damn well that I was setting myself up for disaster. I think it was right around the fourth game and my sixth shot that things got a little hazy for me. Fuck, I really hated when I drank so much that I would had blackouts. There was no telling what I did and I could only pray that it wasn't anything too stupid.

However, the odds were rarely on my side.

Making my way into the master bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Jesus, I looked like hell. My reddish-brown hair was flat against my head from where I slept on it. There were dark circles under my eyes, like I hadn't had a decent night sleep in ages. Of course, there was the usual bloating of a hard nights partying, but that wasn't my main concern. What bothered me was the cut on my lip.

Where did that fucking come from?

The probability that I'd done something stupid last night was greater than ever now. I leaned in closer to examine my face. It seemed the slit on my bottom lip was my only war wound, and I figured whatever happened last night wasn't as bad as I initially thought. Gathering my tooth brush and toothpaste, I stepped into the tub, turned on the shower, and let the hot water flow over my tense muscles. As I stood there under the spray I started to wonder why I'd been jacking myself off this morning. There were plenty of times I'd woken up with morning wood but that never resulted in me touching myself; it always went down on its own after I got up and moving. I couldn't remember any vivid sex dreams to elicit such a reaction, either. I tried to remember if I had sex last night. The fact that I woke up naked did nothing to solve the mystery because I always slept nude. The only thing that pointed to the conclusion that I didn't have sex last night was the fact that I woke up alone. Usually after a good fuck, I pass right out and rarely had the chance to tell the chick to leave. I mean, I was a fucking prick but even I had a heart…on occasion. Unless, I did tell the girl to get lost and that was how I got my busted lip.

What the fuck happened?

The water was starting to run cold, I realized that I'd been just fucking standing there, and not once during that whole time did I attempt to wash myself. It was hard to tell how long I'd been in the shower, but I figured it was awhile because even when I take a twenty minute shower, I never run out of hot water.

After washing myself and brushing my teeth in lightening speed, I turned off the water and got out. Grabbing one of my lush Egyptian cotton towels, I wrapped it around my waist. Glancing in the mirror as I was leaving the bathroom, I noticed that I didn't look so fucked up. My skin looked a little refreshed, my eyes were still blood shot, but my split lip was barely noticeable. It was obvious to anyone who saw me that I had a hangover, but at least I didn't look like the living dead anymore. My headache increased in intensity as I exited the bathroom into my room. I needed to find some aspirin to alleviate the pain and I needed that shit like two hours ago.

Searching my medicine cabinet, and my drawers in my bedroom, I realized that my supply was in the kitchen pantry. Leaving my bedroom, still just wearing just my towel, I headed towards the kitchen where I knew I kept my medications and pain killers. The moment I entered the dining room, I saw the back of a female sitting at the dining room table. I froze instantly. From my vantage point, all I could see was her blond hair, definitely my type. The fact that I wasn't alone had startled me. As I stood staring at the female, I had a hard time figuring out who she was.

Doesn't look like Jessica or Lauren…

The odds of this woman being a one night stand of mine was very likely, but that being said, I still couldn't remember for sure. I let my towel hang slightly from my hips as I made my silent approach. The moment I took a step towards the unknown blond, the floor creaked, and she turned around quickly in her seat. The woman's beautiful face was overtaken with revulsion, and there was only one person who would ever glare at me like that…

Rosalie.

I sighed with a mixture of relief and annoyance, "Oh, thank god it's just you."

"Who were you expecting, Romeo, one of your one night bangers?" Rosalie asked as she rolled her eyes. "It's so disgusting."

"Actually, you're not that far off," I admitted as I walked past her and into the kitchen.

"Such a slut," I heard Rosalie say under her breath

Normally I would've said something back at her, but I was shell shocked when I entered my kitchen. It was such a god damn mess. The cabinets and all their contents were sitting on top of the counters, empty beer bottles overflowed the trash can, and food was just left out—getting fucking ruined.

"Assholes," I grumbled as I opened the pantry and fished out some Tylenol.

Popping two tablets into my mouth, I yanked open my fridge door, and grabbed a bottled water. The clear liquid was so refreshing and it made me realize how dehydrated I really was. Taking one more glance around my poor kitchen, I decided that I wasn't going to clean it up. Fuck, I would probably hire a maid for the day or some shit.

Exiting the kitchen, I went straight to my room to change. Throwing on some random gym shorts and a wife beater, I threw my towel aimlessly. Returning back out to the dining room, I saw that Rosalie still hadn't moved, so I decided to take a seat across from her as she texted furiously on her phone. Watching her curiously, I noticed that she was wearing one of Em's jerseys. It went down to her knees, which were bare, and I gathered that she didn't even put pants on when she got up this afternoon. My eyes skimmed over her toned legs briefly before I stopped myself. It occurred to me that I'd been checking out my best friend's girlfriend, and I quickly tried to deflect the attention away from my blatant ogling.

"Where's Em?" I asked.

"He's in the shower," she replied flatly without ever taking her eyes off her phone.

I nodded as I took a sip of my water. The silence grew between us and I welcomed it. There was never a point in our relationship where she had anything nice to say. It seemed my very presence annoyed her, which I found funny. She was dating my best friend, he was like a brother to me, I was always going to be in his life, and she needed to accept that fact—I didn't want to have to enforce the bro's before hoe's law.

She misunderstood who I was and made snapped judgments about me based on my sex life. She once told me that I was a misogynist: That I had no respect for women and I was only in it for myself. I could admit to being in it for myself, but I never hit a woman in my life, and the girls I slept with knew what I was about. Never once did I ever force myself on a girl—and to say I hated women…I fucking loved women.

"Hey, bro," Emmett boomed as he strolled into the room.

He gave Rosalie a kiss on the lips and I averted my eyes away from them. They could be quite disgusting with this lovey-dovey shit of theirs. I rarely wanted to be around them after a meal because I'd feared of upchuck. Once the smoke cleared, Emmett fell into the chair next to me. He looked a hell of a lot better than I did, and I wondered if it was just me who got shit faced last night.

It was quiet for a moment before Emmett broke out into a fit of laughter, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked confused.

"Man, the shit you pulled last night…I mean, fuck. Tell him, baby," Emmett chuckled, swatting at Rosalie's arm to get her attention.

She looked up from her Blackberry bored, and rolled her eyes, "You were an idiot."

"Nah, she's not telling it right," Emmett pouted.

"Do I want to know any of this?" I groaned as I placed my throbbing head in my hands.

"Don't know. Let's see," Emmett said excitedly.

I peaked up from my hands and saw that Rosalie was now smiling at Emmett as he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. This was always his favorite thing to do. Whenever I got drunk and blacked out, Emmett recounted my idiocy. There was a reason I forgot it all and I told myself that it was because I didn't want to fucking remember.

"Okay, let's hear it," I urged, or relented…at this point I didn't know which one won out.

"Alright, so let's see. It started after Jazz cut you off and told you to go get sober. Ha! I told him that you would end finding more liquor, but instead you ended finding one of your ska…um, lady friends," Emmett corrected himself. "Well, then you took her back to your lair."

"What…my lair? What the fuck. Who has a lair?" I asked baffled and oddly amused with his choice of words.

"Relax, Edward. He's just been reading off his toilet paper again," Rosalie snickered.

"That figures. I knew that he couldn't possibly pull that word out of just thin air," I retorted.

He glared at us as we openly made fun of his ass. He was a good sport at times, but he loathed being ganged up on. It was the numbers that bothered him and he felt cornered.

I sighed, "We're fucking with you, Em. Stop being pansy and finish your story."

He looked at me skeptically and back at Rosalie, who had an apologetic look on her face, before he continued. He was such a forgiver. He reminded me of a pet, a big scruffy dog, who took the abuse because he forgot about it ten seconds later.

"As I was saying, asshole, you took your skank," Emmett enunciated the word and I smiled. Touché, Em, touché, "back to your room and we figured that you were down for the night. Ten minutes later, the girl storms out of your room readjusting her panties, and cursing about how you're such a fucking dick. That part of the night wasn't shocking, and if I had a quarter for every time a girl said that shit about you, I would be a billionaire," he paused as he looked at Rosalie. They both smiled as they went into song simultaneously, "I want to be a billionaire so freaking bad!"

"Stop, please," I begged as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

They both laughed hysterically like the shit they were doing was funny. Both of them were tone deaf and I was in pure agony. Emmett patted me on the shoulder hard and almost knocking me off the chair. I gave him a cold glare because he was a jackass and my headache was starting to come back.

"Anyways," Emmett boomed as he continued with his story, "We all thought the worst was over…" he paused as a large grin took residence on his face. "Oh, no...The best had yet to come, because about an hour later you came out of your room…" oh god, "Naked!"

"Naked?" I exclaimed.

"Yup! And sporting a massive woody," he said as he raised his pinky at me suggestively.

"I walked out of my room naked and with a fucking hard on?" I asked in disbelief.

Emmett nodded while Rosalie looked like she was going to puke. I narrowed my eyes at her, clearly offended. She had a look of disgust on her face and I knew she was exaggerating shit for Em. My shit wasn't as repulsive like she was making it.

"Oh, yeah, bro, it was pretty fucking epic. We were all pretty stunned at first because you hadn't done the whole frontal nudity in forever, and some of the ladies were enjoying the sausage show. But Jazz and I didn't want you to do anything you would later regret, so we tried taking you back to your room because you're our bro, we got your back no matter what," he said as he stuck his fist out for me to pound it.

"Thanks, man," I said gratefully as I connected my fist with his. "So, that was it? All I did was just piss off some random and display a full Monty?"

"Ha!" Emmett snorted. "You wish!"

Fuck!

Rosalie was thoroughly amused as she watched the color drain from my face. Being naked in front of strangers wasn't a big deal for me. In fact, I often went streaking for the fun of it. And the hard on was a little unfortunate, but what had me the most worried was my mouth. It was the one thing that got my ass and trouble, and the way Em and Rose were looking at me—fuck! I knew they had some juicy, blackmailing, and possibly extortion-worthy shit against me.

"What did I do?" I asked warily.

"Well you fought us when we got our arms around you and that's how your lip got busted. Your face kind of connected with my elbow," he said sheepishly. "The whole time that we tried to restrain you, you kept on shouting something about brown eyes."

My brow furrowed with confusion…brown eyes?

Rosalie leaned across the table with a devious smirk, "I think my favorite part was when you pointed at the door and shouted, "That bitch doesn't have the chocolate brown eyes I crave! She can't compare to the woman of my dreams," What the fuck was that? Who is this woman of your dreams?"

My heart stopped as last night's events came flooding back to me suddenly. After I kicked Jessica out of my room, I passed out on my bed. I hoped as I closed my eyes that I wouldn't dream of her, but I fucking did. The dream was so vivid to me now. It was like I could feel everything as my fingers gripped her hair, pulling it as I fucked her sweet ass from behind. My mystery girl had moaned my name as I gave it to her hard.

Fuck!

The dream was all too real. I had to distract myself before I was popping a woody and having to run to my bedroom to take care of it. That was my problem last night. It was my hard cock and my frustration that led me out to the living room because I was pissed off at Emmett. He did this to me. He fucked me over when he pointed her out in the crowd. My life would be a whole lot less complicated without her in it.

"I don't recall," I mumbled.

"Anyways, you seemed pretty pissed off at me for some reason, telling me that it was my entire fault," Emmett said, echoing my thoughts. "Eventually we got you back to your room and you just passed out. It was the weirdest shit you've done to date."

"God," I groaned.

"By the way, what did you do that girl to piss her off so much?" Emmett asked curiously.

I grimaced. It'd seemed I already said too fucking much as it was. Luckily, I had the whole 'I was wasted' shit going for me, but I really didn't want to go into it with him or his woman for that matter.

"I don't know," I muttered.

"Well, bro, like I said, you need to lay off the hard stuff," Emmett said all fatherly.

I lied and I felt sick. The last night shenanigans were flashing before me at a rapid pace. The whole time I was fingering Jessica, I was fantasizing about some other woman I didn't even know. That was just the beginning. It was unlike me to do something like that because I was more of a love-the-one-you're-with kind of guy. None of it made any sense to me and I just wanted to lie down. Standing up from the table, I excused myself and went straight to my room. Once inside I closed the door behind me and looked around my room. It was the same as I left it, and I didn't know why I felt like it should've been different…but maybe I was different.

God, I'm such a fucking loser!

Throwing myself on my bed, I put a pillow over my head, and bellowed. The pillow muffled the sound of my frustration and I knew that Emmett and Rosalie wouldn't be privy to my break down. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I acting like such a douche bag? There were women lining up for me left and right…why did I want this one? What had me so captivated? It'd been a week already! I didn't even mourn over Kate for that long.

There had to be a reason…

It had to be because I couldn't have her and she posed an unforeseen challenge for me. It aggravated me that there was no way to find her. Will there always be that desire for her that I could never quench? It irked me that she invaded my dreams. It was bad enough that she dominated my waking life. She wasn't the typical girl I went for, either. She had the brown hair that I usually overlooked, and from what I could tell that day in the coffee shop, she had real tits. Okay, so maybe that wasn't a prerequisite for me; in fact, I actually liked the real tits. They were so much softer and squishier.

This dream girl had a nice pair.

"Fuck," I hissed.

I flipped over onto my back and grabbed my dick. Just the simple thoughts had caused it to harden and ignoring the monster wasn't going to make it go away. For the second time that day I started to stroke my penis as my mind started to invoke images of coffee shop girl.

The brown eyes, the perfect tits, and the ivory cream skin—with the exquisite, rounded ass that reddened brightly as I smacked it soundly into a bright cherry color.

My breathing became more labored as my strokes got quicker and the visions became clearer. My eyes rolled back into my head as I remembered the dream with clarity. I imagined my rough hands going over her smooth back as I gripped her small hips tightly, pounding into her with as much force as I could muster. The moans that my actions elicited from her made my cock twitch.

She was so fucking beautiful. She stared at me over her shoulder, secretive brown eyes boring into mine, plump bottom lip sucked in between her teeth…fuck! The dream I had provided me with enough material to put in the spank bank to last a couple more of these sessions. It didn't take me too long, and before I knew it, I was coming all over my stomach again. The wife beater I had on this time served as a barrier and I didn't get the sticky substance on my skin.

Man, how do girls swallow this shit?

Once I was done and my penis was flaccid, I pulled off my shirt, cleaning off my hands with it. The headache was gone for the moment and as my eyes closed, I knew I would see her again…

But this time I welcomed it… I needed more material, anyways.

 ~~~888~~~888~~~888~~~888~~~

Every Saturday night I lived a double life. When I told my friends that I had some hot date, what I really was doing was going up to the local YMCA and teaching a piano class to young kids. I'd been teaching the class for five years now and I was in love with it. It was a far cry from when I first started, and initially, it was a way for my mom to punish me for getting caught smoking at school, or that what she'd thought. In truth, I'd actually been caught having sex with a girl and the principal lied for me. For some reason he liked me, and knew if my mother had known the truth, that she would've most likely had a brain aneurism. The guy was a dick, but I owed him to this day for that shit.

However, it still didn't make my punishment any less brutal. My mom said it was a way to teach me about life or some shit, that I needed to do something good for somebody for once and stop thinking about myself all the time. Given that I'd been playing piano since I was seven, my mom figured that I would be able to teach it, too. The first class I had was spent with me pouting the whole hour while kids ignored me and rightfully so.

At the time it felt like the community service was like a prison term, and I would count down the minutes until I was allowed to leave. It wasn't until the third session that I walked in and found an eight year old girl at the piano playing chop sticks. It was atrocious but her eagerness had inspired me. So, I decided to teach her the basic keys, and by the end of the class, we were playing several songs together. It was from that point on that I really started teaching these kids and I found was that I really did enjoy it. Every time we would complete a Chopin piece, I got this overwhelming feeling of pride. It made me high for days and I was a junkie for it.

Around six in the evening, I walked into the little auditorium and saw that my students were already going over their music sheets. They hadn't noticed me yet and I used that opportunity to listen to their progress. It was still a little choppy, but it was a far cry from three weeks ago when I presented them with the music. It was a tough piece to learn, but my kid's had talent. I knew they could do it.

"Good evening, guys," I greeted loudly, throwing my book bag on one of the available chairs.

Twelve pair of eyes shot up at me as I approached them. It was tiny Tina that made a beeline for me, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. Tina was still that precocious little girl she was when she was eight.

I chuckled as I wrapped an arm around her.

"Hi, Mr. Cullen," Tina said happily. She pulled away and looked up at me. "Did you have a good week? I practiced every day. Do you think we'll be able to perform next Saturday?"

"Wow, slow down, Tina. You're talking too fast again," I said amused.

Tina smiled as she took a deep breath to calm her excitement, "I told my mom that you said that we could perform soon if we practiced hard enough."

I looked up at the rest of my class and saw that they were all in agreement with Tina. It seemed that my words had weight, and I never lied to my kids, but the sudden reality of the situation made me nervous. When I had told them about performing last Saturday, I never really went into how soon they could. I was trying to inspire them to practice more. To get to know the music we were playing. It now seemed like I had made a promise I couldn't keep and I knew I was going to have call in a favor.

Fuck, I hated owing this asshole!

"Okay, listen up class," I clapped my hands loudly and getting all of their attention. "We have to practice a lot before we perform publicly and I don't want you guys taking this lightly. It takes time, determination, and persistence to get good enough. So today we're going to hammer down Chopin, Beethoven, and Debussy before we perform for anyone. Is that clear?"

They all nodded their head and I smiled.

"Alright, then. Now let's get started," I instructed.

The class flew by as I listened to my students play on the three pianos that the school provided. It was around eight at night when the parents came and picked up their kids, and like every Saturday night, I stayed behind and played for me.

I was euphoric as my fingers went over the smooth white keys with ease, letting the music flow effortlessly. Playing the piano was my first and only love; it had a way of engulfing me. I closed my eyes as I played the soft melodies of the Debussy piece, Clair De Lune. It was one of my mother's favorites. She always told me how much she enjoyed the way I played and that made me happy. If there was one thing I could do by her…it was this.

I was midway through the piece when a sudden sensation that someone was watching me stopped my playing. Placing my hands flat on the keys, I turned around, looking over my shoulder towards the door, and there in the back of the auditorium stood a figure. My eyes tried to focus but it was still dark where the person stood. It wasn't until they opened the door to step out that the light from the hallway shined through and illuminated the figure. I was surprised to see a woman, a petite woman at that, and as I centered my eyes on the woman's form as she stood motionless in the entrance, I saw that she was watching me, too. Interested, I pivoted my body all the way around so we were now facing each other. The woman's dark hair cascaded around her diminutive shoulders and I saw something very familiar in her face. It wasn't until she smirked that I knew who it was…

Coffee shop girl.

I shook my head in disbelief because it had to be a fucking hallucination. All the time I'd been searching for her, I couldn't believe that she was standing less than fifty feet from me now. We continued to stare at each other, both eying the other one curiously.

Did she know who I was? Without really any idea what I was doing, I tilted my head to the side and smiled. It was the cheesiest thing I ever did with a woman and it'd seemed with this woman it was becoming a habit for me.

"Hi," I said quietly as I lifted up my hand and waved.

Slowly rising to my feet, I took a broad step towards her, and before I was able to take another step in her direction, she disappeared from the entryway with the large metal door was closing loudly behind her.

"Wait!" I shouted after her.

I didn't even think about what I was doing when I ran out of the auditorium. It seemed I never thought clearly when it came to her anymore and if I was in a more stable frame of mind, that thought might've infuriated me, but it didn't. All I was focused at the moment was catching her. She was finally within my grasp and I had to have her.

It was still unclear to me what I would do once I'd caught her. It didn't seem likely that I would rip her clothes off and fuck her until I was fully satiated. It was tempting indeed, but highly doubtful.

Shoving the heavy auditorium door open, I glanced left and right wildly, unsure of what direction she might've went. Taking a chance, I turned right, knowing it would lead me out to the parking lot. Running down the long corridor, inhaling large gulps of air, I felt as though my legs were going to give out. It was an odd feeling because I was used to running at least five miles three times a week, so this feeling of fatigue after sixty feet was strange, but I didn't have time to think on it.

When I reached the door leading to the outside, I pushed it open with a desperate shove. Once the chilly Chicago air entered my lungs, I stilled my pursuit. The parking lot was virtually empty and my mystery girl had vanished. The disappointment I felt was overwhelming.

Fuck.

The sudden vibration of my phone had startled the shit out of me and I nearly jumped a hundred feet into the air. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled the phone out and answered it without even checking the caller ID. At this point, I didn't give a fuck to who it might be.

"Yeah?" I panted.

"Edward? Are you okay? Why are you breathing so hard?" my mom asked worriedly.

Dammit! I should've checked.

"I'm exercising," I lied. "What's up?"

"I called to see if you can do me a favor," she said offhandedly.

"What sort of favor?" I asked suspiciously as I headed back towards the auditorium.

My mother's favors usually involved me rearranging my whole life. The last time I promised to do her a favor, before knowing what it was, I had to quit smoking. It was the most fucked up shit I'd ever heard and I was so mad at her for tricking me, but I learned from it. Now, before I agree to anything I had to know what it was and preferably written down in ink.

"Here's the thing. You remember that incident with the nanny and I had to let her go?" my mom prompted.

"I do," I answered slowly.

"Well, I have an interview lined up on Monday for a new nanny and I was hoping you can go pick up the twins at school and maybe take them to get something to eat," she stated pensively.

"You want me to pick up Anthony and Masen up at school and that's it?" I asked somewhat doubtfully.

It seemed too simple. What was the catch?

"And grab them some dinner…maybe you could keep them until the morning and drive them to school," she said guiltily.

And there it was…

I sighed, "Mom, I have finals to study for; I can't be watching two five year olds all night. Is the nanny interview really going to take all night?"

"You know, I wouldn't ask you this if it wasn't important," she said innocently and I scoffed. "Edward Robert Cullen, I mean the smoking thing was for your benefit and in twenty years you'll thank me. Now, your father and I would like one night alone and I don't think that's too much to ask for. Are you going to do this for me or not?"

I rolled my eyes and thank god she couldn't see it because she would've smacked the shit out of me for that.

"Did I ever really have a choice?" I asked rhetorically.

"You always have a choice, sweetie," she cooed. "But I also have the choice to stop paying your rent."

I chuckled, "That's extortion."

"Maybe. Now, make sure you're there to pick them up at three-thirty sharp. Their teacher will have the overnight bag and inside there will be instructions for you. Thank you so much, honey. Bye," my mom said brusquely as she disconnected the call.

"Yeah, sure thing," I muttered.

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I looked up and saw that I was already at the auditorium door. I took a big whiff of the air and was disappointed to find that it was odorless. There was no proof that she was ever here and I was starting to think I imagined the whole thing.

Suddenly, Theodore Roethke's poem 'The Waking' came to mind.

I wake to sleep, and taking my waking slow. I learn by going where I have to go.

Yeah, this shit's going to be a problem.