Blind Date(22)

So he knows about Raymond?

He probably knows everything about me.

Not weird at all.

"Same difference," I mumble, walking to the door and holding it open for him. "I have to get some sleep, I have a test tomorrow. Thanks for doing your yearly neighborly duties and helping me."

Unfazed by my little jab, he leans down, picks up his tools, walks to the door and steps out into the hall. "Keep an eye on that tap."

With that, he strolls off back to his apartment.


      ///
       
         
       
        

I can't help but give a little smile.





EIGHT


I blink, once, twice, and then sit up in bed. A sound can be heard faintly traveling through my apartment. I rub my eyes and listen. It sounds like a video is playing somewhere, maybe a television, or the radio. If I listen hard enough, it almost sounds like people talking, but it seems too close for me to be able to hear it that clearly.

In all the time I've lived here, I've never heard any noise from outside my own apartment. These apartments are soundproof, or maybe it's just that my neighbors are quiet. Either way, it's always quiet. It almost sounds like it's inside the apartment.

I glance at the clock. It's seven a.m.

I studied all day yesterday, and well into the night, not slipping into bed until midnight. Jacob brought me lunch during the day, keeping me entertained for a little while, but eventually I had to get back to it. I was exhausted when I fell asleep, I don't even think I got up to use the toilet. I rub my eyes again and climb out of bed in search of the sound that woke me.

I move into the hall and towards the living room. With every step I take, the sound gets louder and louder, until I'm standing in my living room, staring at my television, my body stiff and my heart racing. This must be a dream. It has to be. I know, I just know, that what is playing on the television right now was packed away a long time ago. I know because I cried so many tears as I watched it one final time, then wrapped it and sealed the box. I remember it like it was yesterday, the way my heart felt like it was being torn from my chest as I said good bye to my husband for a final time.

"I, Hartley James, take you Raymond Watson to be my husband."

My voice trails out from the speakers on the TV and I can't drag my eyes from the screen, from Raymond's smiling face, from the tears in my eyes. This has to be some sort of joke. It has to be. There is no other way my wedding video would be playing. I didn't put it in there. I didn't. I would know if I did. There is no way I'd put myself through the pain of watching this again. Dragging my eyes from the TV, I rush down the hall to the spare room.

The box the video was in, has been opened, but sealed back shut. Did I do that? I try to think back and recall if I have opened these boxes recently, but I can't seem to remember doing that.

Something isn't right.

In a panic, I turn the video off and rush back out and dial Taylor right away, trying to calm my racing heart. I'm either losing my mind, or something is very wrong. How and why would my wedding video be playing? Is this some sort of joke? Some sort of trick? I'm sure I didn't sleepwalk last night. I was so tired and nothing else in my apartment is messed up or different. No. Something is off. I know it. I can feel it. My palms start sweating as I say over and over, "Come on. Answer." 

"Hey, babes," she answers on the fifth ring.

"Taylor," I croak. "Something is wrong."

Her happy tone instantly turns worried. "Shit, Hart, are you okay? What's happened?"

I stammer over quickly what has happened, how I found Raymond's shirt, and now our wedding video is playing. It's all too much for me, and I'm freaking out. I can't control it. I'm trying but I can't. I close my eyes and take a staggering breath when I'm done, waiting for her to respond. Praying she will have some valid explanation that makes it all better.

"Honey, calm down. I know it seems weird, but is it possible that you may have actually been sleepwalking both of those times?"

I take a deep breath.

Calm.

Be calm.

"I'd know if I was sleepwalking," I say, my voice still thick and full of emotion.

"People don't," she says, her voice so calming, so steady. "Some have left their houses and not known it. Hell, there are those people that even eat full meals in their sleep. It is highly possible you're subconsciously doing these things. Have you been thinking about Raymond more than usual lately? Possibly you dating Jacob has stirred up some old feelings, maybe even some guilty ones, and it has brought it all to the surface?"