Dreams I Cannot Dream Ch. 01

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"She wasn't doing a thing that I could see, except standing there leaning on the balcony railing, holding the universe together." ― J.D. Salinger

* *

One hundred and sixty-six days.

That was how long I had been dying but not yet dead. My eyes kept seeing, my ears kept hearing and my heart kept up its futile rhythm of pumping blood to all parts of my body. At that moment, much of that blood was required in maintaining my rigid erection which a lovely lady had straddled.

Ample, firm breasts bouncing a foot from your face really should make you feel better than this.

The bartender at the Lion's Head did not lack for looks, talent or effort. She had this outcome in mind from the time I wandered into her bar a couple of hours back. Beth flirted with me till it was time for her to close for the day.

Currently, she was astride my hips and rocking her body against mine. Her fleshy walls had a perfect grip around my semi-hard erection as she tried her best to coax some pleasure out of it. Her smile remained intact, looking considerably better than the forced one frozen on my face.

Eventually, I called it. Some coffee, some questionable snacks from my refrigerator and the cab fare and I was alone again.

I liked Beth, but in all honesty she didn't know what she was up against. She had a weakness for the silent brooding type and I was available at her counter.

An unfortunate misunderstanding. That's all.

I saw her out and got back to bed. One of the pills the good doctor prescribed for me and I can get some sleep. I looked at the ornately framed photo of Lucy by my bedside one last time before turning off the light.

* *

Morning came too soon, heralded by the sounds of birds, joggers and a garbage truck that braked too hard. My slumber was rudely interrupted by cursing pedestrians. I shrugged it off and snuggled back into my covers.

A more persistent wake-up call came by a few minutes later. I groped at my bedside table, knocking over some miscellaneous stationery before I found the errant ringing phone.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" I asked exasperatedly over the call.

"I don't have time to argue," said Jeannie brusquely on the other end. "Today's your first day."

"Remind me again, why did I let you talk me into a new job?" I mumbled sleepily. "It's not like I need money."

"No, sweetie. It's not about money. It's about finding your purpose again. You look awful moping around in your apartment all day."

I briefly glanced at my alarm clock.

"Besides, you're only there as a consultant. Just go and tell those kids how to get their company started. That's all."

"I'm not feeling up to it, Jeannie. Why don't you tell them I'll start tomorrow?"

"No, you're not putting this off again. I've known you long enough to know that you'll say the same thing to me every time," said the voice on the other end. "You need this. You need to forget about all that's happened over the past few months and this job is exactly for that."

I took a few seconds to clear my head when she said.

"You know it's what Lucy would have wanted. It would hurt her so much to see you right now."

"Yeah, real classy, Jeannie... bringing Lucy up as an emotional punchline."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, I was just messing with you," I laughed.

"Seriously though, have you been seeing Dr Kravitz regularly? And don't you even think of lying."

"Relax, Jeannie. I'm not fifteen any more. Therapists don't scare me as much now."

"And your pills? Tell me you're taking them on schedule."

"Mom, is that you?" I chuckled.

"Not even close. Our mother didn't even think depression was an actual thing."

There was a brief pause as I reluctantly let go of the last vestiges of sleep.

"Send me the address again, will you? I'll go and see what those guys are about."

"You got it... and Jason, take care of yourself. Lucy wasn't the only one who loved you."

"I'll try."

The call dropped. I checked the clock to make sure I had a few minutes to work up the courage to get out of bed.

* *

Getting out of bed isn't as hard as it used to be. The mundane routine of starting my day began. For a few minutes, I pictured cleaning out my bank account and running off to Fiji. It did have a certain allure to it, sitting on a pristine white beach watching waves crash into the breakers with a chilled Mai Thai in hand.

No, not Fiji. That's where I promised we'd go on our next anniversary.

I was on my fifth possible runaway destination by the time I stepped out of my apartment. The corner deli armed me with enough caffeine to jump-start a car. It sustained me to the subway where I joined scores of bored commuters glued to their devices.

A few stations later, a panhandler made her way into my compartment. She tried her luck with a few people, getting some glares and coins for her efforts. She came to me, looking hopeful. I mused it over for a few seconds before rolling out a bunch of notes from my wallet into her hat. She looked at me with a look of disbelief and muttered a thanks before moving to her next potential benefactor.

I took another sip of the steaming latte in my hand and surveyed the crowd. All of them were busy on some smart device or the other, except a man on the far end who stared intently at the glass window opposite him. His hair was untidy and his appearance shabby in general. His eyes had the droopiness that comes with most over-the-counter medication.

Maybe I was reading too much into him. I diverted my attentions to my upcoming meeting and what to expect. Not being the most social person in Manhattan, interactions with people made me nervous.

I got off at my station and did a sprint up to the surface. The business district of Lower Manhattan loomed over me. I shot a quick glance at my phone's GPS to confirm the building I was looking for was two blocks away.

Everything around me brimmed with vibrant urgency. People thronged the sidewalks on their way to the next meeting or interview or investment. I waded through the crowd until I reached the zebra crossing. It was a wonder there weren't more accidents with the number of people who crossed with their eyes firmly on their screens.

The light turned red and, like a model citizen, I slouched my way to the other side. There was a small food truck violating the parking laws on the other side of the road. A typically busy kid had an improvised burrito in his hand, the sauces leaking down his fingers. He stopped to lick the trail all the way from his wrist to his fingertip.

... And all at once, it was that day again.

I was in the living room, watching CSI Cyber and laughing at the bad tech references. I took a peek out the window to the ocean, idly seeing yachts and surfers all the way to the blue horizon. Lucy's trip to the wine shop was taking longer than expected, probably due to her checking out a new vintage. Anyone who had seen her at the high end Silicon Valley parties we attended would not believe that the same person with such a refined taste in food and wine could devour a burrito with rabid ferocity and lick the entire residue off her fingers. That contradiction was one of the many things that made her special.

The wait dragged on and my fingers began tapping the sofa agitatedly. I turned off the TV and got up to call her when the doorbell rang. This was it. The second that door swung open, I was going to pounce on her, tear her clothes off while carrying her to the living room and make love to her on the overly expensive Kashan rug she had picked out herself. I opened the door, half ready to lunge, when I saw two smartly dressed LAPD detectives instead.

"Mr Saunders?" asked the heavy-set Hispanic woman to the right. I nodded briefly.

"Detective Velásquez, LAPD. Can we come inside?"

"Hey asshole. Get a move on!"

I shook out of my memory to see a thoroughly displeased commuter held up because I had chosen to freeze right in front of her car. After failing to honk me out of my stupor, she had decided to try a more direct approach.

"What're you waiting for, dumbfuck?"

I hurriedly finished crossing the road just in time for her to whiz by me, displaying her extended middle finger out the window as a final repartee. The kid and his burrito were nowhere to be seen.

I checked my watch to see I was late. Half of me wanted to dash back to my apartment and dive under the covers, but then I would have a very angry sister to answer to.

It took another few minutes before I worked up the courage to enter the office building.

* *

LiveTrade was emblazoned across the glass doors on the seventeenth floor lobby. The logo had a horrifying shade of green and a loopy font that looked like the product of Dali on crack. Simply looking at it made me sick enough to reconsider any potential investment.

"Mr Saunders?" asked a seemingly friendly young man. I nodded.

"Hi, Chase Lassiter from LiveTrade," he said, shaking my hand. "It's such an honour to finally meet you in person."

Chase led me inside to a conference room where, much to my chagrin, that infernal company logo was prominently displayed. Five more people were present, all of whom stood up to greet me.

"Mr Saunders, meet the core team at LiveTrade. This is Jordan, our lead developer. Andy and Hugh are working under him. Kristen handles the marketing and advertising and Helen is responsible for our day to day operations and finances."

I shook all of their hands in turn. Everybody looked like five year olds who had just met Santa.

"First order of business," I began. "Call me Jason. Seriously guys, I'm not even thirty."

There was a ripple of laughter.

"You guys are living the start-up dream, eh? Aren't you on the wrong coast for that?"

"Our company deals with finance. Given that, I'd say we're at the perfect place."

"All right then, now that the preliminaries are over, why don't you sell me your idea?"

Chase looked at me like a deer in the headlights. I shot a quick glance around to see the rest of his team in similar states of stupefied disbelief.

"You know how this works, right? You pitch your idea to me. I think it through and if I'm convinced with its viability, I write you a cheque for five million dollars."

"That's it?"

"I'm afraid so. Now can one of you explain to me how the hell you came up with the design for that logo?"

Over the next two hours I listened to the details of their company. In truth, I spent the last one hour fifty minutes of that time in my idle ruminations. I tried remembering if I had missed a pill recently. The feeling of hopeless dread returned, but it gave me some measure of comfort knowing it was all in my head.

Meanwhile, the poor kids went on with their presentation. I would have paid them my promised five mil just for them to shut up.

"Jason, what do you think?"

I shook myself back to the present. The THANK YOU slide was on the screen. A row of faces stared at me expectantly.

"Not half bad."

"Does this mean you're considering investing?" asked one of them eagerly.

"Let's just say I'm considering it," I said, stretching my limbs. "How about we break for lunch? We'll meet back here in an hour or so."

My overenthusiastic prisoners nodded and began to filter out of the room. Kristen came up to me with a pad in her hand.

"Could you please autograph this?" she beamed. "My brother is a huge fan of yours."

"Who should I make it out to?" I asked, taking the pen from her.

"Marcus," she said, giddy with schoolgirl enthusiasm. "I can't believe you're really here with us. You're like a billionaire, right?"

"I was for a short while after I sold my company. I've given most of that money away. So I'm just a millionaire now," I chuckled and finished signing the pad. "Where's the cafeteria in this building?"

"Tenth floor. Far side."

I duly took the elevator to the tenth floor. There were other offices in the building in various stages of renovation. Somewhere gradually filling with nascent businesses trying to make their presence felt in the already burgeoning district.

I ordered a reasonably sized lunch and sat down to eat in solitude. Alone was the only time I was content. The food was indifferent, but filling. In truth, I neither had the appetite or taste to try something better.

"Yes, I know what he said. I was in that meeting too, remember?"

There was something pleasantly familiar about that voice. It came from the doorway and grew louder as the owner approached me.

"Don't worry, Mark. I checked all the clauses and sub-clauses myself. There is no way they can terminate the contract without five months' notice or a buyout of the remaining amount. I need you to stay calm. I got this, all right."

She walked right past my table towards the counter. Her blonde hair was tied neatly in a ponytail behind her back, swinging from side to side.

"All you do is make sure the unions are solidly behind you and you'll be sure thing for the Board of Directors. Yeah, feel free to reach out to me any time. That's why you pay my retainer. See you at the next deposition then, Mark."

The lady grumbled as she swiped her phone shut and ordered something.

I hastily finished the rest of my lunch and left. There was a board near the elevator listing out all the businesses. I found the one I was looking for on the next floor. I checked my watch - still a good forty five minutes until I was expected back, an hour if I wanted to be fashionably late.

I went to the suite in question and saw a girl barely out of her teens with an earphone wrapped around her head. I approached her tentatively.

"Offices of Amanda Rossi, Esquire. How may I help you?"

Taken slightly aback, I tried to gather my words.

"She has a meeting at four on Thursday. How does six sound?"

I let out an audible sigh of relief when I realised she was simply talking into the microphone dangling off the side of her face. She heard it and gave me a funny look throughout the remainder of her call.

"How may I help you?" she asked again. There was a brief pause as I realised her phone call had now ceased and she was looking at me with an equal measure of curiosity and distaste.

"Could you give my card to Mrs Rossi when she gets back?" I said, rifling through my pockets for one.

"Who should I say it's from?"

"Jason Saunders. I used to know her."

Her eyebrow rose a few millimetres as she looked me from head to toe. I suddenly found myself wishing I was wearing something worthy of an eight figure bank balance.

The awkward silence prolonged for a few more seconds before Amanda Rossi herself walked in. Either she had a freakishly fast lunch or I had spent far too long gawking at her receptionist.

"Ms Rossi. This is-"

"Jason Saunders," I hastily completed, extending my hand.

God, those perfect blue eyes could hypnotize anybody. The way they shimmered and played with the light. The brow above them wrinkled slightly with confusion.

"I'm sorry, Mr Saunders, but have we met before?"

Ten years had changed nothing about her voice. It still had a slightly melodious tilt. She could be reading out the Yellow Pages and still captivate me with every word.

"Not recently. We went to High School together, if that helps."

"I can't seem to place you," she said.

"Everhard High School in LA. We graduated in '03."

"That's right," she said. "I still can't remember you though."

"No worries. I've given your receptionist my card. Maybe we can meet up later."

"Maybe," Amanda said, clearly not taking any more of a liking to me than her receptionist. "I've got to be in court in half an hour, so I'll be on my way. It was nice meeting you."

And you can walk your loser ass back to whichever basement you crawled out off.

I heard the unsaid line from both women before I smiled and walked back to the offices of LiveTrade. The team was waiting with their desktops ready for me.

How I stifled my groan when I saw the technical side of their operations, I will never know.

* *

By the end of the day, I had a few choice clichés of encouragement for them. I felt for them, mostly good kids trying to build a dream for themselves. They at least had support from their friends and family.

What I wouldn't have given for a single syllable of encouragement when I started on the source code of my company back in my dorm room at Berkeley.

I took the subway back to my place, stopping for a perfunctory Cuban sandwich and tortilla at the deli. Nobody who saw me gave a second look. I reached my place just in time for my phone's alarm to remind me to take some of Dr Kravitz's finest.

I laid down and put one hand over my head. When I was younger, I had this stupid idea that anti-depressants would instantly make me feel better. I'd a pop a pill and then be able to run and tell everyone it worked.

Now, I was older and still wanted the same thing.

Medicine did not work that way yet. For now, I resigned myself to thinking about the futility of life all over again. There were thousands of people working their asses off as I lay there. Business analysts scrambling over data, executives involved in calls with their global offices situated in other time-zones and doctors who were in the middle of their shifts to name a few.

I wish I could go to each and every one of those fools and tell them none of it matters. Disconnect your line, cancel the meeting, take a night off. Go back home and see your kid rush to you when you open the door. Hug your wife and remind her how totally drop-dead gorgeous she still is. Catch up with a sibling you haven't talked to in a while.

Data. Patients. Proposals. Unwritten code. They would all be there when you got back. Your family... you shouldn't take their being there for granted.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was feeling distracted. It wasn't the normal fugue today. Something was different.

"It's the walls, isn't it? I knew I hated this awful lime green colour."

A car sped past, shining its headlights through the grills for a brief instant. The picture of Lucy looked brighter and then it was back to the darkness.

"What do you think, Luce? How about a shade of blue? Something cool and calming. Like the ocean back in California. Remember how you picked out the ocean blue shade for every part of our house?"

I laughed involuntarily at the memory. Lucy held that one paint patch against every wall to prove her point until I finally relented.

"I started at a new job today. Not the right choice of words since I'll be giving money rather than getting it for the time being. It's an interesting gig, to be honest. Part investor, part mentor, part consultant."

I took a deep breath before continuing.

"Jeannie called me again to make sure I'm taking my medication and seeing my shrink. She can be a bit bossy and overbearing, but she has my best interests at heart and that's what matters. I wish you had the chance to know her better.

Oh and by the way, I bumped into someone at work today. I can't remember if I've ever told you about her. Amanda from back in LA. She was easily the most popular girl in my school."

I glanced over at Lucy's picture once more.

"I'm pretty sure it's the last I'll be seeing of her. If I get the chance, though, I'd like to thank her some time. Going to school was not easy. Hell, getting out of bed was tough enough, but I did it mainly so I would get to see her."

I turned to my side and said, "I should probably try to stay away from her, or else there may be a restraining order in my future. She probably already thinks of me as somewhere between dateless pervert trying to get into her pants and psycho stalker. Not quite my comfort zone."