Sometimes, he wished to wake up from this nightmare – some other days, he simply wished to fall asleep. Standing near the highway, delighting in the flurry from the accelerating cars. He thought about driving somewhere tropical.
Maybe Mexico, or even further south: Guatemala or El Salvador. But not this Christmas, and definitely not next spring. Maybe next year, when he had earned it. After all, to work wasn’t just to sustain.
New Year’s came and went. The weather chapped his hands. He kept forgetting to wash the pair of scrubs he slept in. He was in OR. He was in the RV. He was at the grocer and on a date. Where was he? First, the day stretched, then it pulled away – then morphed into another, then another.
He was up to his forearms in someone’s chest cavity. He was asleep. He was screaming himself awake. He took a midnight walk through the foggy parking lot and thanked god that his only neighbors were his own ghosts.
The sheets were soft and he wasn’t hungry. There was a soft humming coming from above him and something firm rising and falling next to him. It was the nicest dream he has had in a long while.
Then, the bubble burst.
“Slept well?” Trapper’s familiar cadence rumbled through Gonzo’s body pressed into his side. He opened his eyes and against all odds, reality didn’t come crashing into this fantasy.
Gonzo nodded.
Right. He was at Trapper’s place. They lay close enough for him to rub his toes against his calf. Yesterday, he had eaten dinner for the first time in nearly two moths. Yesterday, he had wept while Trapper had held him. He closed his eyes again. Tomorrow could wait; He’d like to stay here for a little while.