I slept fitfully that night. Wrapped up in my lover’s arms with my head tucked under his chin and his heartbeat against my ear, I dreamt I was walking down the darkened corridors of Sacred Heart (a school I attended for several years when I was little). I was in my uniform with my pleated skirt pressed and my leather shoes shined and I was supposed to be in class but I walked up and down the hallway and every door was closed. I’d look in the windows in the doors, to see if that class was where I was supposed to be, but every seat was full. An obvious dream, I know, but don’t read too much into it – I dream the same thing everytime I’m worried about the future and what I should be doing.
I woke up to his alarm clock, so I could go to work and he and I talked of this and that while I finally pulled myself up and hit the road, both too early to be awake and too late to be leaving on time. With my windows rolled down and the wind tussling my red hair, I went too fast, racing with my GPS clock to get to work on time. I played my music loud to hear it over the wind in my windows, played tag with the cars headed in the same direction as I was, danced in and out of the left and right lanes as I passed those slower than I…
And I abruptly realized that I was happy. I laughed the whole way home.
Trent keeps telling me I’m making a mistake – my lover doesn’t love me, doesn’t respect me, doesn’t care about me, never will. And there’s a very good chance he’s right and I’m making a stupid mistake, following the same patterns because they’re comfortable and safe and I’m too scared to break out of them. But the future isn’t promised to us, not in one way or another. So I’ll drive my car fast, with the wind in my hair, wander when I need to and come back when I want to, and I’ll draw my comics and tell my stories.
It’s who I am.