His Mafia Queen

Dreams and Doubts

I'm thankful Gabriel's asking questions because I'm still wondering if it's my left or right kidney that's infected and whether I'm going to be fired for my absence at work.

The doctor clears his throat and for some reason, seems uncomfortable. He glances at me, then at Gabriel. "Research has shown that women who have sex more than three times a week have a higher risk of kidney infections."

I look at him, my mouth slack. He basically is blaming my infected kidney on ... fucking? I'm not gonna lie, Gabriel and I do have sex a lot. But I didn't know that was a bad thing. I'd had bladder infections in the past, so this all makes sense. Or does it? Who knows.

My eyes go to Gabriel, who is scowling even deeper.

The doctor continues. "Frequent intercourse can lead to bladder infections, which if left untreated, can result in kidney infections. Before Riley's released, we can all go over ways to prevent this. I can prescribe antibiotics and suggest other best practices. But for now, we're going to fix her up with some IV antibiotics and keep her on morphine for the pain."

"Blrb," I manage to croak.

Both men look at me.

"I have a question."

"Of course, dear," the doctor says.

"When can I go back to work?"

The doctor leans against a cabinet. "Probably not for a week. You need to rest."

Gabriel shoots me a look that says, I told you so.

"I need to message my editor," I mumble.

"I'll let the two of you work things out, but in the meantime, I'm sending a nurse in to handle the antibiotics. After that, I'd try to get some sleep. But you have the button on the side of your bed to call a nurse if you need anything."

The doctor shakes my hand, then shakes Gabriel's. The two men walk out of the room, and Gabriel looks over his shoulder at me. "I'll be back in a few minutes, babe."

The door shuts behind them, and I'm alone in the room. My head feels like it's filled with cotton, and I shut my eyes. For some reason, I can't keep a single thought in my head, and I drift into a half sleep.

Sometime later — maybe it's a few minutes, maybe it's hours, who really knows what time is anymore — Gabriel walks in.

He sits on the edge of the bed, sweeping the hair off my face and stroking my cheek.

# # #

I've always wondered what the term "lucid dreaming" meant, but now I know. Even though I know I'm sleeping, an entire, vivid world is unfolding in my mind.

It's trippy and fun, for a while.

I dream of Boston, of blizzards and cold. I dream of Mom, of us walking to the market in Southie. I dream of Lorna.

Beautiful, funny Lorna.

In my dream I'm running toward her, yet she's getting farther away. I'm confused, I'm upset, and I'm crying. Something crosses my path, a dark, nebulous thing. I stop because I'm afraid, and the form moves toward me.

I scream, and my entire body quakes as I call out for Lorna. But she's gone, vanished in the thick Boston blizzard. Snow swirls around me, almost like magic. I'm shivering from the cold. Somehow, I can remind myself that I'm dreaming, so I do.

Wake up.

Wake up.

WAKE UP. I'm shouting into the void, at the swirling snow.