She giggled again and traced a circle around my navel. "I don't mind rain. Just not a lot of it all at once."
Nodding, I focussed on the ceiling fan as silence settled over us.
"Lots, do you think about the storm drain often?"
My answer was instantaneous. "All the time."
"I don't. At least, I haven't for a long time. Ever since seeing a doctor about it in my twenties, I've managed to keep the horror of our experience out of my head. The nightmares lasted for a while longer, though. But even they stopped eventually."
"Nightmares?" My heart began to beat erratically at the thought.
"Yeah. They used to be so bad, so debilitating. Dr Emmerson helped, and over time, we found ways of increasing my sense of security, together with thinking less about the experience." She shrugged and drew another circle. "The nightmares eased. I haven't had one for over a year."
Hearing Danielle open up about her posttraumatic experience tore a hole in my chest, or more accurately, tore the one I already had, wider. If it hadn't been for me, she'd never have endured those nightmares in the first place.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, kissing her head.
"Lots, don't."
I didn't say anything, and yet I felt as if I needed to say everything … not that there was much I could say. It was one of those moments where you held your breath and hoped by the time you needed to exhale that you would. So, instead, I just quietly absorbed the moment of her in my arms, where I'd always wanted her to be.
"I mean it. Don't," she repeated, her voice noticeably more stern.
It made me chuckle. "Okay. I'm not … doing anything."
"Good. Now, can we go to sleep? We have a fence to paint tomorrow."
I stopped fighting the pull of my heavy eyelids and smiled the type of smile a man smiles when he finally has the woman of his dreams.
"NO! DON'T!"
I jerked awake to Danielle's desperate pleas, my eyelids shooting open, my heart pounding so hard it hurt my chest.
"No! NO! Stay-"
I sat up and flipped the switch on my lamp, turning back to find Danielle thrashing in the bed next to me. She was still asleep, but trembling, her skin covered in perspiration.
"NOOOOO!" she screamed.
"Hey … " I gave her a light shake. "It's okay. Wake up."
She stopped screaming but didn't wake, her frantic state, slowly easing. I sat there, frozen with shock, not knowing whether to wake her or leave her be. Not knowing whether she would cry out again or not. The muscles in her face had relaxed and she was once again breathing normally. Peacefully. Like Sleeping Beauty without a care in the world. My breathing, on the other hand, was akin to that of a marathon runner. Laboured. Nostrils flared. Fuck! She'd just had a nightmare, something she was adamant she didn't have anymore.
Easing down the bed to lie beside her, I propped my head on my hand and watched her sleep, dread squirming its way through my body. What if I caused this? What if being with me has triggered her nightmares again?
I scrubbed my face with my hand, that notion unthinkable. Naaa. this has got to be a once-off. I couldn't be a trigger. She'd said so herself that it wasn't my fault. Unless she doesn't truly believe that and is only saying it for my benefit?
Swallowing heavily, I calmed myself down, moved closer and kissed her shoulder, careful not to wake her. She was peaceful, safe and sound, and that's how I wanted her to stay.
My fears were once again realised when the following night was no different. We'd made love, talked about the storm and our 'gap years' afterward. I'd asked her about her nightmares again, if they really had stopped, and that she could tell me otherwise if they hadn't. She got pissed at me and swore blind that they had stopped then told me not to worry and to stop blaming myself for us getting stuck in the drain. But I was worried. In fact, I was scared shitless because, that night, the same thing occurred - Danielle crying out in her sleep and shooting terror through my bones when it woke me - except this time, it was much worse and lasted longer, and I couldn't wake her.
I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that I couldn't be selfish and be around her as much as I was if I was the reason for her nightmares returning and causing her pain and distress. Maybe I'd come on too quickly, my initial we're-engaged-whether-you-think-so-or-not approach too strong? Maybe I'd not allowed enough time for her subconscious to process my being in her life again, and maybe it was all just a bit too much for her?
Not wanting to, but knowing I should, I had to create some distance between us until it all settled down. Perhaps allow some time for her to fit me into her life once again instead of just pushing my way into it. Whether I liked it or not, distance and time were the logical explanation. It was all I could think to do.