And then I wake up.

I wake up in my car. Light stabs sharply through the windshield, and I squint my eyes. There are greasy fingerprints on the driver’s side window. Hands that pressed and slid. They’ve been there for a while … something about being drunk and eating fried chicken, then not being able to find my keys. I keep meaning to clean them off, but I’m so … busy. I look for Kit. Where is he? No, I’m not supposed to be looking for Kit. It’s Neil I’m with. Neil I love. My mind is still caught in my … dream? I raise my seat and rub at my heart. It’s hurting. Like for real. This could be a heart attack; I feel like I have high cholesterol. No, no—it’s something else. I feel so sad. How could a dream have so much detail? I’ve never experienced anything like that. The screen on my phone lights up. It’s Neil. They’re in the restaurant looking for me. Neil, Della, and Kit. Kit. I remember now. I arrived an hour early and wanted to close my eyes for a few minutes before everyone got to the restaurant. All the late nights studying are catching up to me.

I get out of the car slowly and look around. I haven’t been sleeping well with finals in a week. And then I graduate. And then I’m grown up. Not quite like the grownup I was in the dream, with children and a house, and a Kit. I can still feel his lips on my neck. I reach up to touch my sweet spot, right below my ear. I laugh as I walk to the door of the restaurant. So stupid. I’ve never even thought of the guy in that way. The dream will dissipate soon, but as I walk through the doors, and toward my boyfriend, it’s still there, sticky and thick. I do not feel like Helena of now, but rather the Helena of my dream. I look for Kit. He’s sitting next to Della, listening intently to something she’s whispering in his ear. I wait for him to look up and see me. I don’t know what I expect to see in his eyes, familiarity maybe. It’s so stupid. No such thing happens. When Kit sees me walk up to the table, he smiles politely, his eyes flitting, non-committal. How they should be since we hardly know each other. Della’s greeting is much more enthusiastic. I smile blandly as she jumps up to embrace me, commenting on my shirt. Kit is looking at the menu. I want to snatch it from him.

Don’t you see me? We had a baby together!

I blush at my own thoughts as Neil pulls out my chair, kissing me on the cheek. I close my eyes and try to be pulled in by him. But he smells off, and his fingers are too long and pokey as he kneads my neck.

Oh my God. It’s like I’m on drugs.

“What’s wrong?” Neil asks.

I take a sip of my water, spilling it on myself. “Nothing,” I say. “I’m just really hungry.” He flags down the server, and as he does, I wonder if he would really cheat on me. Neil, who likes things to be simple and easy. Cheating takes work. A complicated smorgasbord of emotions that he isn’t wired for.

When the waiter comes, I order wine. Neil raises his eyebrows. I don’t blame him, I suppose. I’ve been a beer drinker until this very moment. “I thought you didn’t like wine.”

“I didn’t,” I say, shooting Kit a look. “I guess I do now. It’s, like, super hot in here.”

Kit orders wine too. Della and Neil make fun of us. Old people, they say. I would have said that too … last week, this morning, an hour ago. Can a dream really influence your palate? I don’t think so.

They talk about all kinds of things, but I barely hear them. They are not things I care about anymore. I pull out a pen from my purse and start to draw on the paper placemat. I am trying to draw the things I saw in the coloring book, but I’m terrible.

“What are you doing?” Della asks me. “You’re totally zoned out.” She’s leaning into him, her hand rubbing his thigh. She picks up the placemat and examines it. “Is this … a treehouse?”

“Yes!” I say excitedly. She giggles, and I feel sad.

“Don’t quit your day job, Helena,” she says. “You’re the math girl.” I take back the placemat and put it face down on the table. Kit looks at me for the first time—like really zones in.

“Do you like to draw?” he asks. I like to compare people’s eyes to sweets. Kit’s eyes are chocolaty—melty and warm. I’m not a big chocolate person, but Neil has cough drop eyes, and right now I just really need something sweet.

“No,” Neil answers for me. “I’ve known her for years, and I’ve never seen her so much as doodle in a notebook.”

I look back at Kit, hoping for something. I think about saying that thing about wanting to illustrate a coloring book, but it’s not true, and I’d feel silly saying it. Maybe I’m scared.

“I don’t know,” I say to Kit. “I’m not very good at it.”

I wait for him to encourage me, but the server comes with our food, and all is forgotten. They spend the rest of dinner talking about a trip we are all planning to take over the summer. I spend it thinking about the dream. A life I never knew I wanted. I want to go back. I want to fall asleep again to see if I can visit Helena and Kit’s Pottery Barn house in Port Townsend, Washington. When Kit says something, I listen. He’s kind of the same person I knew in the dream, maybe not as self-aware. But, for the first time, I notice how attentive he is to my best friend. How touchy-feely, and not in a smothering way. He just likes to touch her, and I feel jealous. When he speaks, it’s never without purpose. He says things that make Neil nod thoughtfully, and make Della look up at him with a dreamy look on her face. This is crazy. I stand up.