The Space Between (10 page)

“What the hell!” She turned and took in the room behind her. “What the fuck!”

Before she could full on panic, a cell phone rang.
 

An icy sliver went up her spine.

That ring tone…

 
She crept towards the sound, as if the device would detonate. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t had that number on her phone, well, since three phones ago.
 

She squeezed her eyes shut.
 

“Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three.” She picked up the phone and looked at the screen.

“Son of a bitch.”
 

She hadn’t cursed this much in one day since she had to push out a softball sized head without an epidural.

The ringing stopped and she let out a sigh of relief. Then three things happened almost simultaneously—she acknowledged she had no idea where she was, that she was wearing a stranger’s pajamas, and she fainted.

~Chapter Eleven~

Georgia’s eyes fluttered open.
 

Damn, she was on the floor again. Carpet? Alas, no, and there was a throbbing pain on the side of her face. She held her cheek with one hand and pushed off the ground with the other. She looked around at the small room she occupied, her hands trembling. Where was her family? Were they looking for her? The tears sprung to her eyes, fear making her stomach twist.
 

She went over the last memory she had. She’d fallen asleep, in
her
bed. Now she was…Where the hell was she?
 

The word kidnapped flashed into her mind, when something caught her eye. She walked over to a small table beside the bed she’d rolled off. It held a framed picture of her and Lucy at graduation. Also the yellow and white pattern of the bedding nagged at a memory. It looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.
 

“Bearington!” she squealed,
 
picking up her beloved childhood toy from his cramped corner. “What are you doing here?” She clutched the stuffed bear to her chest, a bear that should be in a box in her mother’s attic. Things were getting stranger by the second.

She put her bear back onto the bed, with a furrowed brow. Just then, things started to add up—the ring tone, the picture, her teddy bear.
 

Relief filled her. “Thank God.”
 

She hadn’t been drugged and kidnapped. It was a dream, and the picture and her bear were proof—items from her childhood were always making random appearances. Like when she was fighting vampires under the Eiffel Tower and her stake morphed into her debate trophy. Or the time she won a televised talent competition with an interpretive dance wearing the brown plaid dress she’d worn in her second grade picture.
 

A dream. That would explain the people milling about outside the window four floors down. The strange room, which she now noticed to be some kind of dorm room. And that’s why the bedding looked familiar. It was the set her mom had bought for her to take to college.
 

She remembered trying to smile when she’d first seen the comforter, thinking it better suited for
Little House on the Prairie
, rather than a dorm room at a major university. But her mom was so excited that she’d found it at one of “them big fancy stores,” which ended up being the Walmart two towns over.
 

Along with the bed in the bag her mother presented, she also bought Georgia some new clothes on this momentous shopping trip. She’d often felt slighted that her mom never offered to buy her new school clothes, but after seeing Bette Abernathy’s purchases, she realized she’d lucked out during her teenage years. She was pretty sure no one would be wearing ankle length white washed denim skirts on campus. Did she mention the turtlenecks? Yes, there were four, and a sweater vest. Either her mom was going for Mormon chic, or she just wanted every inch of Georgia’s body covered. Her mom needn’t worry, in that skirt there’d be no need for birth control.

Once Georgia broke the news to her mom about getting knocked up, she was pretty sure her mom burned the comforter in the steel bin behind their house. She hoped the denim skirt was in there too, it deserved to burn.

She jumped off the bed—she just had to look. The floor was cold under her bare feet and she looked down to find her toes painted in light blue. She crinkled her nose, not remembering having bad taste as a teenager. She slid the closet door to the side, and there it was…the skirt that should never see the light of day unless on a dare. Georgia removed the hanger and then put it right back…no, not even in a dream.

She continued investigating. The other twin bed pushed against the window was covered in a black comforter with thick white stripes. There where no pictures, only a poster of what looked to be Bora Bora on the wall. The small thatched huts out in the water made her smile. She’d always wanted to go there. She’d settle for anywhere outside of Texas at this point. Georgia needed to live life outside of her usual mundane box.
 

There was a small refrigerator on the floor and a backpack on the chair. Georgia walked over to the backpack and rifled through the pockets and main pouch.
 

A green spiral had Organic Chem written in black. She smiled again, opening the spiral to see her scrawling notes inside.
 

 
Alkane formula: C
_n
H
_2n+2
the highest possible H/C ratio for a stable hydrocarbon.

She had no idea what that meant, but she felt smarter just from reading.
 

When she closed the zipper there was a loud banging on the door. She squeaked and the bag dropped to the floor. This was the weirdest dream she’d ever had, not because of the situation, but the vividness of it all. The sounds, the thoughts in her head, the clarity. The pain from the fall. She was usually a slave to whatever her “dream self” was doing, but this time she felt in her own body and very much in control.
 

Maybe it was something she ate for dinner…

“The tea!”

That had to be it, and it must have had some powerful herbs in there to give her such a realistic dream, or maybe it was something stronger than herbs. Gwen said when she woke all would be revealed. Georgia wasn’t sure how a dream about being college would make a difference. Maybe it was supposed to give her a real taste of what she’d thought she’s missed out on. Made sense.

“This is so cool.” Georgia shook her hips and danced around.
 

Woohoo—college, firm tits, and…

Boom, boom, boom.

 
Him.
 

The banging on the other side of the door turned her head. She tip-toed over and put her back to the wood, inhaling deeply .

 
It’s not real. It’s not real.
 

That thought gave her a shot of bravery, and she was able to open the door.

 
And there he was…Brady Carmichael. Wavy brown hair just in need of a cut. Long dark lashes over carmel eyes. Tall. Built. Confident.
 
He grinned, and a smile broke across her face as warmth filled her chest. Georgia wanted to kick herself for the knee jerk reaction he’d always brought out in her.
 

She wasn’t in love with Brady. That was ages ago. So, why did her stomach just do a somersault at the sight of him? But first loves were like that. You never forgot, even if it was just the memory of them ingrained in your heart. She would always have love for Brady, but she was
in
love with her husband…she thought…most of the time. Well, not so much lately. The disconnect had been pretty excruciating, but they’d get it back.
 

“G, why weren’t you answering? You scared the shit out of me…And what the hell happened to your face? Did someone hit you?” He pushed his way into the room, commencing an immediate examination.
 

The smell hit her first.
 

The clean breezy smell of his soap, followed by the spicy scent of the cologne he always wore. Mmmm.
 

Strange, she didn’t smell things in her dream.
 

“It’s nothing. I just fell out of bed,” she admitted. The sound of her voice was light, breezy with youth. But inside, she was still herself, thirty year old Georgia.
 

“Baby, you okay?” It was weird hearing him call her baby. That’s what Nate called her. She pushed that thought away—annoyed he kept popping up in her mind.

Brady rubbed her injured cheek with his thumb, then kissed her mouth gently. That was strange, too. Strange, but nice. She never got to touch him. She wasn’t counting the faceless bangs she’d been getting at the kitchen sink the past few months. No, in her normal dreams their mouths would be a breath apart, then she’d remember she was married, or that she had to pick up her kids. Even in her dreams she was a wife and mother. Sometimes she just wanted to be plain old Georgia Beth Abernathy. It looked like maybe she was getting her wish.
 

She mentally thanked Gwen and her magical tea.

Georgia smiled against his lips and kissed him back—with tongue and gusto. She hadn’t kissed anyone other than Nate in years. It
was
a bit strange, even if it wasn’t real, and her stomach turned a bit. Not because the kiss was bad, but because it felt wrong. But that was ridiculous.

Going with that, she hummed as he put his arms around her waist. Drawing her closer. The texture of his jeans against her thighs, the minty taste of his toothpaste. These were all details she noticed. She was re-remembering the feel of him. It’d been a long time. Warm waves hit her which made her rub against him. Her body seemed to remember even if her mind hadn’t retained the details.

He pulled his face away. “G, I’d love to stay here all day making out, but we have to book it if we’re gonna make it to our 9:00.”

“Let’s skip.” She grinned seductively, pulling the black thermal tucked into his pants.
 

Dream Georgia is kind of slutty.
 

He groaned. “You’re killing me.” Not nearly enough, because, he gently pushed her away from him. He gave her a chaste peck on the forehead, which was now creased.
What guy would rather go to class then get it on with his girlfriend?
 
Brady Carmichael, apparently. His studies had always come first, they did for her too once upon a time. But not in dreamland, where she was eighteen again, and hopefully had the eighteen year old vagina to go with it.

“Well, go on then.” She twirled on her heels and headed toward the squat dresser in the corner. She hoped her clothes were inside.

“Come on, G. Don’t be upset. I can’t miss my government class and you know you can’t miss chem lab.”

Chem lab? Shit. She hoped her partner would pick up the slack, or that the dream would pick up after class, during a frat party would be great. Who was her partner? Better question—where the hell was class? But what did it matter? It’s not like she would have to worry about grades or tests, and it might be nice to absorb some higher learning. That was the purpose of this dream after all. Having the experience she missed out on.
 

Then maybe she’d wake up with Nate beside her, and a sense of peace.
 

Okay dream, I’ll go to class.

“Always so responsible, Brady. What would I do without you?”
 

Have fun, skip class. Find a co-ed hottie with rock hard abs and take eighteen year old vagina for a test spin. The possibilities were endless.
 

She hoped dream Brady wouldn’t be a wet blanket. Had he always been like that? She couldn’t remember. He always had the halo effect when she thought about their high school romance.
 

“That’s what I’m here for. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
 

She stared at the door. He left? She thought she could prance around in her undies a bit, but he just had to be a gentleman. Huffing, she went over to the dresser, hoping it held something she could wear. She wondered if dream Brady was still a virgin. She, however, had all the knowledge of an old married woman. If she could get goodie two shoes naked before this dream ended, then maybe she could show him a thing or two. Only a guy who didn’t know what he was missing would opt to go to a government lecture in lieu of getting some.

Virgin, definitely.

When she saw her selection, thrown haphazardly in the drawer, she made a face. Teenage Georgia did indeed have bad taste. She found a semi-wrinkled, she hoped clean, t-shirt with an Atari symbol on the front. She smelled it…clean. Then she laughed, remembering her love of weird screen tees when she was young.
 

She pressed her armpits to her nose. Didn’t matter if the shirt was clean if she put it over stinky pits. Satisfied with her smell test, she threw on the shirt and found a pair of jeans. She scraped something off just below the pocket. Without her mom doing her laundry, her cleanliness had obviously taken a hit.

Dream G is not only slutty, she’s a slob.

That thought delighted her. She always kept her girls’ clothes clean and pressed. The kitchen floors scrubbed and the carpet vacuumed. In fact, she was always cleaning something. Taking a break from all of that would be nice. She looked in the closet and found a gray hoodie. She opened a door and found it led to a small bathroom. Two toothbrushes—one red, one yellow. She grabbed what she hoped was hers. Not that it mattered in a dream, but the thought of using a stranger’s toothbrush made her ill. Georgia turned the hot water on and waited for it to steam, then ran the red brush beneath.
 
It couldn’t hurt.
 

She found a makeup bag on her side of the bedroom. It contained little makeup, but with no wrinkles or creases her skin could go commando. She ran some pale gloss across her lips and put mascara on her lashes and she was good to go.

But go where, was the question. She grabbed her backpack and a set of keys fell to the ground. One must be to her dorm room, unfortunately neither key belonged to a car. She never had one in high school. But that didn’t bother her because Brady always drove her around. When he’d dumped her, she was left to bum rides from Lucy, or borrow her mom’s car which was a bit embarrassing because it looked like the Titanic on wheels.