When Lucille opened her eyes, waking up from the strange dream, her eyes beheld Sheila first. The latter was sitting on the couch, very near to her bed, holding her hands.
“You are running a temperature…” Sheila muttered, before standing up quickly and walking out of the beautiful room which Lucille had come to take as a mini home since they had arrived here yesterday night.
After the musky air had been cleared concerning who she was, and who she belonged to, Sheila had suggested that she leave with her that night to her own place, that they had a lot to talk about, and Maryann hadn’t opposed that motion. So, she had packed her bags, and loaded it into the car trunk of Sheila, and off they had gone, but not before she had kissed her little brother on the cheek since he had been sleeping still. And although they weren’t at all related, she had still thought him of her little brother. She had wondered then if she would ever see him again.
The car had come to a stop, after a thirty minutes drive at a white washed bungalow, which sat alone on some acres of land. She had considered then that her mother, Sheila, must really love her privacy. The next house or compound would be a ten minutes drive from the house. But she hadn’t been discouraged by that fact, rather she was intrigued, especially since the woman had mentioned that they had had a lot of things to talk about.
Getting inside the house, she had noticed that the living room was quite bare, except for some cane chairs, and a wooden table. There were no pictures or flowers. The sitting room was just there. She hadn’t blamed the woman though, since she had been in coma for more than ten years. She had understood that everything would be a bit hazy for the older woman. She had actually felt pity and sad for the latter. But her own room had been a different case.
The woman had put in a lot of effort to decorate it for her. She knew this because when she had dropped in the woman’s room to ask her about food, having seen that the kitchen was also empty, she had noted the distinct bareness of the room too except for a chair and bed. And although she had felt sad again for the past situation of the beautiful woman, she had still felt warm inside, because of the woman’s care. She had believed then that their journey to mother and daughter hood would a smooth short ride.
And now, she had left to get something to sooth her temperature. Lucille thought, a sort smile on her lips, happy to be fussed over. She never had a cause to be fussed over by her former parents. She had never been sick, or anything. The only time she had been weak was when she had almost being raped by the stupid guy, and even then, Maryann and Uncle hadn’t still fussed over her. The nurses had done much better.
It is a nice feeling. She mused, sitting up straight on the bed, waiting for Sheila to come back in.
Her stomach growled, and she sighed. She was hungry too. The food they had ordered last night from a reputable restaurant had been a large dinner. It had been then that she had known that perhaps she had gotten her large appetite from her mother.
What about her father? She wondered, remembering the dream now. She had mentioned father whilst talking with the strange man she had had sex with in the dream. Who was that man? She thought, remembering his handsomeness and cruelty at the same time. She shook her head, not understanding the dream at all since she had never been a believer or fan of dreams, in short, she almost, never had them.
“I don’t know what this is. But it’s really crazy.” She said out aloud, biting her lips, when she felt her body reacting to the vivid sex scenes of the dream. What the hell!
“But why had it been so real?” She asked herself, her eyebrows thinned as she pondered on this matter.
She jerked her head up when she heard Sheila’s confused voice the next minute.
“What had been so real?” Sheila asked, dropping a tray of spaghetti and meatballs with a bottle of water on the bed.
Lucille noticed that there was no tablets of medicine or water with towel to perhaps reduce her body temperature, just food. Not that she had ever used tablets or the water-towel act, but she had cared for her little brother, and knew the whole procedures by heart. So, why just food? She thought, even as she felt her head pounding. A fever was coming.
Why was she sick now? could it be because of the dream?
Should she tell Sheila about it? The woman would laugh at her, that’s all. She was sure of it. So, she decided to lie.
“Lucille…” Sheila called her again, tapping her on the shoulder this time around, and she shrugged.
“It is nothing. Just a funny memory.” She replied, as her eyes wandered to the food on the tray.
Sheila, noticing this, gestured her to take up the fork and eat.
“You will need the strength. Your body needs it too. I believe the fever will go away when you are done.” She said, and Lucille nodded, whisking the tray to her lap, and grabbing the fork, ready to throw in food into her mouth, when Sheila made her next statement.
“And about my earlier question. I know that you lied, Lucille. And I wish I could say something, perhaps to convince you to tell me what is actually bothering you, but I don’t have anything. I can only say that you can trust me. I am your mother, and would only and always want to be a help to you, no matter what.” Sheila said, and Lucille dropped the fork, back on the plate, deciding to tell the woman of her dream.
What could go wrong after all? She thought.