Before I could answer, Ethan stormed in, his
face a mask of fury. The crew hesitated to stop
him. He grabbed my wrist.
r
“You called him… Garrett?”
Julian, now fully dressed, extended a hand.
“Garrett is just a character I’m playing. Nice to
meet you, I’m Julian.”
Ethan ignored him, his grip tightening on my
wrist. Julian frowned, rapping Ethan’s elbow
sharply. Ethan yelped, recoiling and releasing
- me.
“Please show some respect to my leading lady,”
Julian said, then wiped a smudge of lipstick
from my mouth with his thumb.
- 9.
Ethan, seething, insisted on talking. He’d
spoken to my therapist, he knew about my…
condition. He’d clearly gotten the wrong
impression. He thought I’d invented Garrett, a
dream–version of him, because I was obsessed
く
with him. He thought my pain, my dreams, were
all about him. He looked guilty, but mostly…
smug.
“Nancy, I messed up. I didn’t know I hurt you so
badly.” He reached for me.
“You kept touching my neck at night,” he
continued, his voice laced with a newfound
tenderness. “It was because you dreamt of
hurting me. You were carrying all that pain, and
I didn’t even know.”
I pulled away.
“I know you’re angry,” he said, “but I thought
we were just having fun, that night at the bar. I
didn’t know you were so serious. If you’d shown
any vulnerability, I wouldn’t have treated you
that way.”
I stared at him, a flicker of doubt in my mind.
Was dream–Garrett just as manipulative when I
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wasn’t dreaming? Was this whole fantasy just a
twisted game?
Ethan continued, oblivious. “Nancy, I was
wrong. You’re using this actor, calling him
Garrett, to get over me. I shouldn’t have pushed
you away. Let’s stop this, okay?”
It was the first time he’d humbled himself. He
looked at me expectantly.
I laughed. He smiled, relieved.
“Did your therapist tell you when I started
dreaming about Garrett?” I asked.
He looked confused. “No… but we’ve known
each other for six months, so… you’ve been in
pain this whole time?”
