bedcovers and couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud, that Peter had died.
“I…I met Peter, but he was sick, then he disappeared.” I looked up at her with a choked voice. “I don’t think I’m ever going to see him again.”
Tears came pouring out again and I started to wonder how much water my body was shedding, maybe I did need that glass of water after all.
“Oh hun.” She hugged me. “You can’t know that for sure. Maybe it was just a bad dream, you know, maybe that sort of thing goes in waves.”
I was desperate to believe her theory but deep down I knew that wasn’t the case. I knew he had said goodbye, in the nicest way possible.
“I don’t think so, he said goodbye.” She was quiet for a few seconds.
“It’ll be OK, you’re tired and you had a nightmare, I reckon you’ll feel better in the morning.”
I couldn’t imagine I would, but I nodded my head anyway. She handed me another tissue.
“Do you want me to stay here for a while?” “No, it’s OK. You go back to bed.”
I looked at her and tried to force a little smile but my facial muscles couldn’t seem to lift the side of my mouth, but instead I said: “Thank you for looking after me.”
“Any time my friend. Let me know if you need me OK?” I nodded; she pressed her lips together in a worried frown, and then left the room.
My head hit the pillow as I stared at Peters face on the canvas. I just kept staring until somehow I fell back asleep, probably out of exhaustion from crying.