Unstable

1

I can’t breathe. My eyes snap open, hoping to see who or what has hold of me. From the darkness I manage to make out a human figure, with their outstretched hand, a vice grip around my throat. My survival instincts kick in. I try kicking my legs against the bed, nothing. I focus on moving my arms to fight my attacker off of me, still nothing. It’s like my whole body is encased in concrete! All I can do is lie there, motionless, gasping for air. Unable to stop what is happening to me, I stare wide eyed at the terrifying hooded figure above me with the knowledge, I am going to die. Hot, salty tears pour from my eyes down the sides of my face, my lungs burning as I make my final attempts to fill them with air to no avail. Accepting my fate, I close my eyes. I feel myself about to lose consciousness as my final thoughts race through my mind. Why isn’t Marc helping me? Did my attacker already subdue him? Is he still alive? Will I see my girls again? Is this the end?

Suddenly, the vice grip leaves my throat. My lungs immediately fill with air, realizing at the same time that my arms and legs are no longer encased in the feeling of concrete and are moving freely at my will again. My hands fly to my throat, still gasping for air. Jumping from the bed, I stand ready to face off with my attacker, but the room is empty. I look frantically around the room for the intruder, wondering why, when they were so close to killing me, they decided to let me go. I’m so worried about the intruder I didn’t even notice that Marc is still in the bed next to me, sitting straight up, reaching toward me, pulling me to sit beside him.

Babe? Are you okay? What’s wrong? His voice is a mix of concern and sleep while he rubs slow circles on my back trying to console me. I close my eyes, focusing on my breathing and the feeling of his hand on me. Did you have a bad dream?

Someone…someone was here, they were, they were choking me! I tell him through my gasping breath, feeling fresh hot tears roll down my face. Before my eyes, I watch the sleep dissipate from him as he jumps from the bed on high alert, grabbing the bat from under the bed.

What? Where? They were here? In the room? he asks, focused on moving toward the hall. I didn’t hear anything; did you see where they went? Stay here while I check on the girls. He swiftly makes his way out of the bedroom, avoiding all the creaking floorboards. The bat is gripped tightly in his hands, poised in the air ready to swing at a moment’s notice.

While he’s gone, I focus on my breathing trying to think of what made this whole encounter feel…off. I try to remember everything. The not being able to move feels so familiar, but how? No one has ever tried to kill me in my sleep before. That’s when it dawns on me, the feeling of not moving, not being able to speak, and seeing things that look so real, but aren’t. I instantly feel foolish not only for causing Marc to panic, but also for not recognizing what was happening sooner so I could implement the calming techniques I learned years ago. I used to get sleep paralysis almost every night as a child.

I’m fine. I say to myself as I let out a strangled breath. I get out of bed and tiptoe downstairs to find Marc. He’s making his way through the kitchen when I get his attention. I’m okay, there’s no one here, I say embarrassed. I think I actually had a sleep paralysis episode… I’m so sorry to worry you; are the girls, okay? Did you wake them?

Oh my god, babe, you scared me half to death! he says, blowing out a frustrated breath running his hand through his hair. No, they’re still sleeping. Are you sure that’s what it was? You seemed really sure someone was in here.

Yes, I’m sure. Come on, let’s go back to bed, I say, taking his hand to lead him back upstairs. My eyes are starting to adjust to the darkness; I can see Marc looking at me with hints of worry on his face. My voice is still hoarse, but I am finally able to breathe normally, and my heart rate is slowing down. He places the bat back under the bed so we can settle back into the covers. I lay my head back down to my pillow and look over to Marc who is now looking down at me.

You haven’t had one of those in a while. Are you sure you’re, okay? he asked, circling me into his comforting arms. Come here, I’ll hold you while you try to go back to sleep.

As good as it sounds though, I have to get up and check something out first.

One second, I’m going to splash some water on my face and get a drink. I reluctantly leave his comforting embrace and start to get up out of bed, putting on my soft robe and slippers before heading out of the room. I look back to see he is already drifting off to sleep again. Before I go downstairs I stop by the girls’ room for my own peace of mind to make sure they are still asleep. I close the door and make my way to the kitchen to grab a water from the fridge and find myself tiptoeing around the house, peaking around every corner and on high alert as if some intruder will pop out at any moment. Feeling silly, I shake the thought from my head before taking a few sips of water. Heading to the main floor bathroom, I prepare myself for what I may or may not find.

Taking a deep breath, I turn on the light so I can look at my reflection in the mirror. When my eyes adjust to the brightness, I notice my honey brown eyes look dark, sullen, and wide with lingering fright. I slowly move my hair out of the way. A couple of gray strands show through my chestnut hair, making me wonder if I should remove them. Tomorrow’s problem. I think, and return my focus to my neck. I am sure I am going to have marks there, but all I see is my porcelain-colored skin void of any red marks, let alone bruises.

Well, of course nothing is there, it was only a sleep paralysis induced dream, I say barely above a whisper, secretly relieved it really was simply a dream. It felt so real though, as if I were actually dying. Oh well, guess this is what happens when you’re stressed out, turning 30 next week, and your art career has been at a painful standstill for the last couple of years. I take one last look in the mirror, satisfied there really are no marks on my skin, but make a note to dab concealer on my eyes in the morning. I turn out the light and head back to the kitchen to grab my water from the counter. Unfortunately, I am wide awake now so I walk into the living room to sit on the couch. Setting my water on the table, I reach for my sketch pad and start to draw what I saw so vividly, hoping it will help make sense of things. The smell of my charcoal pencil in my hand, produces a calming effect all on its own. As I touch the obsidian to the stark white paper, the evil intent of my attacker leaps off the page.

I hear the shower turn on from the upstairs, and grab my phone to check the time. Two hours have already passed. Feeling parched, I drink the rest of my untouched water and inspect my drawing as a whole. To my disappointment, nothing extraordinary stands out. A hooded figure, masked by darkness with an outstretched, gloved hand. Seeing it in front of me sends a jolt of fear down my spine as if I can feel the powerful gloved hand squeezing around my neck again. Threatening to end my life. Shaking the feeling away, I attempt to focus on the glove itself. It was soft, almost having a buttery feel like leather. I touch my neck absentmindedly, lost in the horrific memory of near death. I bring myself back to the present, knowing I should get breakfast started before Marc and the girls come downstairs. I give my sketchbook a final glance before locking the figure away between the pages.

I’m putting the food on plates when Marc walks in with the girls right behind him, sleep still present in their eyes. Seeing Marc in his crisp white dress shirt and the blue tie I love so much because it brings out his piercing blue eyes, I feel as attracted to him as the first day I met him on campus. He was a business major and I was an art major. At least one of us was able to further their career. I know he worked his ass off to get promoted VP in the company so he could provide for our family, but I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that settles in the back of my mind.

The girls, however, are still in their pjs looking half asleep until they eye the food on the table, instantly waking them up a little.

How are my girls doing on this glorious day? he asks as he winks at me.

We’re good, Daddy, are you taking us to school today? Annabelle says through a mouthful of eggs.

I don’t want to go to school, Adalaide whispers while looking down. She has always been more introverted than Anna, but luckily, Anna is able to bring her out of her shell on occasion.

My eyes find his, silently telling him to cheer up Ada, but he is already moving toward her.

Unfortunately, I can’t take you today, sweetie, he says to them, but Anna is already looking at Ada, giving her an encouraging smile.

That’s okay, Daddy, Ada says with a smile on her face now. School actually sounds fun.

Marc picks her up lightning fast to twirl her around making her squeal with delight.

That’s the spirit, monkey! Now I can’t take you girls to school, but… since it’s your first day of first grade, how about I take my girls out for ice cream afterward? he asks as he puts Ada back down. The girls cheer and giggle, they are always in the mood for ice cream.

With the girls getting ready for their first day, I follow Marc to the door so I can get a kiss goodbye before he jogs to his car. He notices me waiting and gives me one final wave before backing out of the driveway, disappearing down the road.

Girls, are you almost ready for your first day? I need pictures of you two so hurry and come down here. They run down the stairs. Be careful, I yell, but they are already in the kitchen with backpacks on and ready. I’m so glad they decided to wear the matching yellow sundresses because they look absolutely adorable. I gather their long brown hair and tie it up with a yellow ribbon to match so I can see their faces better. Ada’s freckles are a little more prominent on her face than Anna’s are, but that would be the only difference between them and even then you have to look hard. They even lost the same tooth within the same week of each other, giving them the same toothy smile.

Okay my Gemini stars, each of you hold this sign up and smile pretty for me. They love when I use the secret nickname I gave them, so we always have something among the three of us. Anna holds her sign up proudly and smiles her biggest smile while Ada holds hers slightly lower and only gives me a close-lipped grin.

Come on, Ada. I say. Please, for me, can you show me your pretty smile?

Okay, Mom, I’ll try, she whispers as she changes her face to form a big smile. It doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but it will do.

I snap the picture on my phone and quickly send it to their dad so he can see how adorable they look.

As we pull up in front of the school, Anna’s eyes light up with excitement while Ada slowly sinks further into her seat.

Come on, girls, I’ll walk you to your classroom, I say hoping Ada will become less anxious. We walk in a line with me in the middle holding onto their tiny hands, Ada’s grip so much tighter than Anna’s. Their pony tails sway back and forth as they walk. Anna picks up the pace as we get closer, pulling my arm forward, while Ada pulls my other hand behind me. I give her a reassuring glance and squeeze her hand hoping to put her at ease. Up ahead their teacher stands outside the classroom door to greet everyone and seems to notice her hesitation because he walks over to us.

Hi, I’m Mr. Young, he says with a full smile as he reaches his hand out to meet mine before kneeling down to greet the girls.

Hi, I’m Autumn, Autumn Fowler and these are my girls, Ada and—

And I’m Anna, she says as she reaches her tiny hand out to shake his.

Well, lovely to meet you three. What do you say you head on in and meet your other classmates, he says, gesturing for them to head into the classroom.

They do as he says and head toward the door, Anna pulling an unsure Ada along. I give her an encouraging smile before she disappears in the room.

Thank you. Ada is pretty shy and nervous.

That’s okay, they are in good hands and I’m sure they will make lots of friends.

Well, keep me posted on how they do, and thank you again. I give a small wave and turn to leave. My heart sinks the further I walk away from them, but I’m comforted knowing that they have each other.

Pulling into the driveway, I take the final sips of my coffee and head to the door. Putting one foot in front of the other and entering the empty house, the silence hits me. The memory of this morning’s sleep paralysis dream comes racing back into my thoughts. I try to shake off my fears, but decide to put chores ahead of painting. I head upstairs to start the many loads of laundry that need to get done. After they are started, I go into the girl’s room and do a quick tidy and make their beds. Standing in the middle of the room between their twin-size bed, I can’t help but reminisce about when they were first brought home from the hospital, their tiny hands barely big enough to wrap around one of my fingers. Now, surrounded by the bubblegum pink walls that match their butterfly bedding, I realize how big they are getting. All of their dolls and stuffed animals wait, sitting at the small table posed and ready to have a tea party. I blink. I can’t believe the girls are already starting first grade.

Before the girls, my art career was taking off, and my paintings were being sold at high end galleries. Since their arrival, I had to put my career on hold, but I think I’m finally ready to get back at it again. My studio beckons me to come inside. Obliging, I walk inside, but the atmosphere feels different, almost like someone has been in here, but nothing seems out of place. Hmm that’s weird, maybe I’m still feeling effects from this morning’s nightmare. I shake off the feeling, determined to create something. I choose various brushes to bring all the different textures of a landscape alive. I set my towels and water glass up before opening the window to reveal the beautiful scenery that is in my own backyard. We have a lovely lake with weeping willows surrounding it that are always so peaceful to look at. This will be a perfect first painting to get back in the swing of things. My brush is poised and ready to dip in the hunter green paint when I hear my cell phone ring. Annoyance runs through me. Ugh, seriously? I put the brush back down and go in search of my phone. I find it exactly where I left it on the kitchen counter.

Hey, I mentally check the slight irritation coloring my voice.

Hey, babe. You, okay? You sound a little off.

Yeah, I’m fine, you caught me as I was about to start painting, is all.

Oh, I’m sorry. I can keep it short. I only wanted to see how it went getting the girls to school on their first day. They looked so adorable holding up their signs.

"No, that’s okay I want to talk to you, the heat rises in my cheeks at my earlier tone, and yeah it was all good. I got them to their class. The teacher, Mr. Young, seems really nice and they went in okay, seemed a little excited even."

Okay, good, that’s good. I was a little worried about Ada this morning. She didn’t seem like she was going to do okay.

She was a little hesitant, but Anna really helped her, I say, forcing myself to be present in the conversation.

We talk for a bit longer until he says he has an important client calling and has to hang up. As soon as the phone call ends, another call comes through. Why doesn’t anyone want me to paint today?

Hello, I answer

Hey, girlie! Just wanted to call and catch up, Liz says from the other line in her usual bubbly tone.

Oh hey. Yeah, I just got the girls off to their first day of school and I was about to start painting, I tell her. Her bubbly personality is infectious, so my irritation is already gone.

Wow! Nice. That was today? she asks.

Yep. I should really take the time to catch up on some sleep though, I tell her through a forced laugh.

Why’s that? Not sleeping too well?

No, not really. I’m definitely not ready to tell her about my sleep paralysis though.

Okay, well you get some sleep then, okay? Talk more at your party. Love you!

Love you.

Putting the phone on silent, before anyone else can call me, I think about starting the painting, but all the unfinished chores cloud my mind and I am pressed for time. Disappointment radiates through me as I am forced to put off painting yet again. I’m upset that the fresh paint will dry and be wasted, but not enough to attempt to salvage it. I abandon my clean brush, turn the ringer back on my phone and leave my studio. Maybe I can start painting tomorrow instead.

Waiting in the air conditioned car, I take a moment to de-stress before my girls get out of school. I close my eyes, but am still plagued with thoughts from my nightmare. Why now? What is the cause for this starting up again? The more I question, the deeper I spiral. I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to put the thoughts aside. Opening my eyes, the bright yellow of the girls’ dresses catch my eye as they walk out of the building. I can tell when they finally see our car, because they hold hands and break into a run, skidding to a stop before they wave at me through the window.

Hey girls! I say as I’m getting out of the car and pulling them into a big hug, How was your first day; was it fun; did you make any new friends?

Yeah, it was super fun and our teacher is super nice! Anna says with a big toothy smile on her face.

Ada, how about you, sweetie?

Yeah, it was really fun. We made a new friend; her name is Sarah, she tells me as she glances toward Anna, wiping some of the loose hairs out of her face and tucking them behind her ear.

That’s awesome, well maybe you guys can have a playdate with Sarah sometime soon then, I tell them as I get them buckled in.

They both smile and bob their heads up and down, their pony tails swaying right along with their head. On our drive, we talk more about their day and what they did. I’m shocked when they inform me of their additional homework. I don’t remember having so much homework when I was in first grade.

Once home, I make them a snack before dinner, and they set up at the kitchen table, eager to get their homework done so they can go upstairs and play. Luckily, their assignment doesn’t take too long and they race upstairs. I can already hear them laughing while I start on dinner. Smiling to myself, I can’t help thinking about how there is something about their laughter that always makes me feel wonderful and puts me at ease.

I hear the key in the lock before the door opens.

Marc is home.

Perfect timing, I call out.

He comes over to me and wraps me in a big hug and kisses me on the top of my head. I close my eyes loving how intimate a single forehead kiss from him can feel. I lean back so our lips can meet, and he puts his hand in my hair to pull me in for an even deeper kiss.

I missed you, he breathes into my lips before pulling back slightly to look at me, his hand still in my hair.

I missed you too. I smile Why don’t you go get changed for dinner and send the girls down when you go up.

Will do. He winks and gives me one more quick kiss and heads upstairs. Minutes later, I hear the pitter patter of the girls’ feet rushing downstairs, followed by the heavier footfalls of their father. I load up the girls’ plates with the spaghetti I made with extra meatballs, then serve myself and Marc. With mouths full of spaghetti, the girls tell Marc about their day at school, but mostly talk about their new friend Sarah, telling him I promised they could have a playdate with her soon. I only have to look at him and smile. He continues to listen intently, and agrees that Sarah sounds like a wonderful new friend. When we’re all finished, he takes the plates to the sink, comes back, and whispers,

I’ll wash these when we get back, okay?

Okay, I say before he turns back around to face the girls.

Hey! Who’s ready for ice cream? he yells with his arms wide open waiting for the girls to run into them.

We are! The girls scream with delight as they run into their dad’s arms so he can pick them up and spin them around.

"Come on my little monkeys, go get in