He Dreamed of Another Woman's Name

After moving in with my boyfriend, I got used to being woken by the things he said in his sleep.

Phyllis hemostat

Phyllis, you take the lead on this one

Tonight made a hundred. A hundred nights lying beside him, listening to him say Phyllis Pruitt's name into the dark.

Never once mine, even though I was the anesthesiologist standing at the same table.

In the morning he looked at the dark circles under my eyes and said, all apology, "Couldn't sleep again? Maybe you should see a therapist, get something to take. I'll go with you."

So he'd known all along. Knew I was depressed. Knew I wasn't sleeping.

I didn't ask again why someone else lived in his dreams. I just held out a glass of warm water.

"You called out all night. Soothe your throat."

He froze for a second, then set the glass down hard, frowning.

"It's not like I was having some sex dream. What are you imagining now?"

He went looking for tape, irritated.

"Fine, you can tape my mouth shut when I sleep. Happy?"

I smiled, took the tape from him, and started packing.

Ray Delgado finished making breakfast before he noticed my suitcase.

"You're going somewhere for work? Why didn't I know about it?"

He took my hand, sweet and reluctant to let go, eyes full of how much he'd miss me.

As if nothing had happened half an hour ago.

I said nothing.

The department schedule had gone out days ago.

He just cared more about whether Phyllis would be operating with him.

When I stayed quiet, Ray decided I was still upset about the dream. He laughed and pulled me to the table.

"All right, still angry? I spent all night dreaming about surgery and still got up to make you breakfast. Don't I get any sympathy?"

"I promise I'll dream about you next time, okay?"

He'd promised that a thousand times. Not once had he dreamed of me.

He thought I'd do what I always did, sit and look at the lovingly made eggs and tuck all the hurt and the unease away.

He didn't know that hidden long enough, hidden deep enough, even my love for him had thinned out across all those sleepless nights.

At first, when he dreamed of Phyllis, I'd wake him and demand an answer.

His excuse started as too many surgeries in the day, too tired.

Then it became I'd woken him too early, before he got the chance to dream me into the scene.

Later it became that he'd just been about to talk to the dream version of me when I shook him awake.

It took three months to go from believing him completely, blaming myself for picking fights with a dream, to no longer waking him at all.

And a hundred sleepless nights to understand what it means that what fills the day fills the night.

A hundred nights of him calling Phyllis's name until dawn.

Not one of them mine.

Nearly a thousand surgeries side by side, and I'd never once made it into his dreams.

He had no idea how I got through it.

Got through it until something in me was simply dead, until I could look at his lovingly made eggs and feel nothing at all.

I drew my hand back and stood up to get the door key.

"Let's break up"

His phone rang. One glance at the screen and he answered before it finished.

"Yes, I know. Ten minutes!"

He hung up, yanked off the apron, and grabbed the key out of my hand on his way past.

"Something went wrong in Phyllis's surgery. I have to go. I'll be with you when I'm done."

He never heard the breakup. Never noticed he'd taken the wrong key.

A life was on the line. I picked up the car key from the entry table and went after him.

When I stepped off the elevator, he was right there, eyes bloodshot, jabbing at the call button.

Phone to his ear, his voice gone gentle for whoever was on the other end.

"Tell Phyllis not to be scared. The sky can fall and I'll hold it up"

I let it wash over me and held out the car key.

"You want my help in there?"

Ray snatched it, hand cupped over the receiver as he snapped at me.

"Did you hand me the wrong one on purpose? If anything happens to that patient, you and I are finished!"

I opened my mouth to explain, but he had already turned and strode away.

Watching his hurried back, I murmured under my breath,

"It's already over between us."

Back in the room, I looked around at the soft, pink little nest we'd built, and my eyes burned.

The truth was, the signs had always been there. I should have seen them long ago.

I love everything pink. Ray prefers cold, minimalist gray.

He'd lived here for the better part of a year, and though he always said I could decorate however I liked, in practice he resisted every bit of it.

The pink sheets I bought, he wouldn't sleep on. The throw pillow I'd stitched by hand, he wouldn't lean against. Even the bright red lucky underwear I'd bought him for his zodiac year, he refused to wear.

"I'm a grown man. Using girly stuff like that is humiliating."

"You like it, you use it. I'd rather die first."

Then Phyllis Pruitt came over, pointed at the pink-and-charcoal mix of furnishings, and laughed so hard she could barely stand up straight.

"This combination is so bizarre. If my boyfriend were ever this clueless, I'd dump him on the spot."

Then, still laughing, she reached over and tugged at her own boyfriend's waistband, ordering him,

"Come on, show Faith and the others your pink underwear!"

Her boyfriend didn't get annoyed at all. He just played along, indulging her teasing.

I looked at Ray, envy all over my face.

The next second, he threw out everything in gray and charcoal, and that night he ordered a whole pile of the pink couple's things I liked.

Back then, I was moved by what I thought was Ray's favoritism toward me.

Now, the pink filling every corner of the room only mocked me for being childish and stupid.

If Phyllis had never walked in, everything here would still be divided cleanly into his gray and my pink.

I picked up my phone and texted the director.

*Director Jennings, does the Overseas Medical Aid Team still need people? I'd like to go too.*

*Are you sure? Once you go, it's three years at the very least.*

*I'm sure.*

The director told me to get my things together and come to the hospital that afternoon to hand over my work.

Departure in seven days.

I put the phone away and cleared out every pink thing in the apartment, hauling all of it to the trash station.

By the time I left, dragging my suitcase behind me, everything had turned back into the gray and charcoal Ray liked.

I dropped my luggage at the staff dorm, and the moment I reached the lobby I ran into a patient dispute.

I was in a hurry to hand over my work and had no interest in the commotion.

Halfway across, someone called out to me.

"Faith, please, talk Dr. Delgado down! If he keeps hitting him, someone's going to die!"

I turned my head, and only then saw that the man at the center of the crowd was Ray, locked in a fight with a patient's family member.

He was straddling the man, driving his fists in, each blow landing on flesh.

"Why did you hide his medical history?"

"He has hepatitis B and syphiliswhy didn't you say anything?"

"Do you have any idea this could get someone killed? This is attempted murder. You could go to prison for this!"

The relative kept insisting he hadn't known either, but Ray didn't believe a word of it.

He beat the man until his face was swollen and bloody.

Then I saw the blood spattered across Ray's surgical scrubs, and my chest seized.

He'd been exposed to the patient's blood.

Fear surged up in me, and on instinct I rushed over and grabbed his arm.

"Ray, stop, you need to go clean up right now and get the prophylactic shots"

Before I could finish, he wrenched his arm free and shoved me away.

"None of your damn business!"

He didn't even glance at me, just grabbed the relative by the collar and started in again.

I went down hard, and pain tore through my abdomen and my tailbone at the same time.

Head Nurse Coleman hurried to help me up.

"Faith, are you all right?"

I shook my head, swallowing the pain.

Seeing that even I couldn't stop him, the head nurse was beside herself.

"If even you can't talk Dr. Delgado down, what are we supposed to do? The patient was unconscious when they brought him in, the family didn't know he had an infectious disease eitherblaming them now won't help anything! Who could have guessed Dr. Pruitt's protective mask would slip off mid-surgery, ugh"

It hadn't been Ray who got contaminated by the patient's blood.

It was Phyllis.

No wonder a man this steady had come apart.

I pressed a hand to my abdomen and told Head Nurse Abbott quietly,

"Go get Dr. Pruitt. She's the only one who can stop him."

She didn't believe me.

"This whole thing started because of her. Bringing her here will only make Dr. Delgado worse"

She'd barely finished when another voice cut in, cold and furious:

"Ray! Stop it! That's enough!"

Phyllis only shouted it from the edge of the crowd, and Ray's raised fist froze in midair.

Then he let go of the man, scrambled up, and stumbled toward her.

As if remembering the filth all over him, he backed off three steps and kept his distance.

But his eyes clung to her, frantic, full of worry.

"Are you all right? Did you get the shot? Are the results back? Were you infected?"

Four questions in a row, and each one knocked me a little further off balance.

A year ago he and I had been in surgery together. The patient was unconscious too, and the family had deliberately hidden his HIV status.

I'd finished the anesthesia and was pulling the needle when the patient suddenly woke and thrashed.

The needle that had been in him drove straight into the back of my hand.

All Ray said was,

"Go clean it. Take the meds."

Afterward, when I wanted to hold the family accountable, he stopped me.

"Let it go. It's already happened, there's no point chasing it, and doctor-patient tensions are bad enough. Don't make trouble."

He told me not to make trouble.

He never asked if I was scared. He never asked how the results came back.

Now, for Phyllis, he was using that precious right hand of his to beat a family member who hadn't known a thing.

Beating it until the hand was swollen and raw, and not caring in the least.

Anyone who didn't know better would think he was Phyllis's boyfriend.

The next second a man rushed over, shoved Ray aside, and pulled Phyllis into his arms.

"Phyllis, are you okay? Are you scared?"

"Don't worry, you're going to be fine!"

Phyllis's real boyfriend, Byron Jennings, had come.

Ray staggered backward and knocked me to the floor a second time.

Only then did he notice I was there at all.

A bitter, hollow smile crossed his face.

"What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer. I just watched him, watched the way his gaze kept sliding back to the man and woman locked in that embrace.

The envy and jealousy in it, he didn't bother to hide.

He was in love with Phyllis.

But he could never hold her like that, out in the open.

So that was the real reason he dreamed of Phyllis night after night.

I gave a small, self-mocking laugh and walked toward the office.

At the door, I looked back once.

Ray hadn't followed me.

He was doing as Phyllis told him, head bowed, apologizing to the patient's family.

They hadn't forgiven him. They were giving back, blow for blow, every bit of the violence they'd just taken.

And he knelt there on the floor, silently taking one ringing slap after another.

As if he felt my eyes on him, his head snapped up.

There was guilt in his eyes, and hope.

He wanted me to do what I always had: rush to the family, shield him, make his excuses, take the blame for him.

Remembering how he'd once pulled me out of the path of a runaway truck, I turned and started back.

Then a warm rush spilled out of me from below.

That was when it hit me. My period was already half a month late.

I stared at the blood dripping to the floor, and the color drained from my face inch by inch.

I opened my mouth to scream for Ray.

But he was already lurching to his feet, rushing toward Phyllis, who had clutched her head and fainted.

"Phyllis!"

But Phyllis had collapsed into Byron's arms.

Ray's outstretched hand froze in midair, then drew back, useless.

I watched him limp after Byron toward the ER, and everything inside me went to ash.

The crowd thinned out, and Head Nurse Abbott was the first to notice something was wrong with me. She rushed me straight to the trauma room.

By the time word reached Ray and he came running, the baby was already gone.

His face was swollen like a battered lump, his eyes narrowed to slits.

But the words that came out cut like a blade.

"You killed our baby over a dream?"

Head Nurse Abbott rounded on him for me. "What are you even saying? If she hadn't been trying to break up the fight, you wouldn't have shoved her down! The baby wouldn't be gone!"

Ray went rigid all over, and what little color was left in his swollen face drained away.

The room fell into a terrible silence.

His lips worked, and he mumbled, "I was furious right then. I didn't know it was you"

I'd grabbed his arm to stop him. He didn't know it was me.

One shout from Phyllis outside the crowd, and he'd done as he was told.

Something stung behind my nose, and I forced it down.

Not because I wasn't loved. Only for this child that had ended before it began.

Looking at my reddened eyes, his voice softened.

"Faith, I'm sorry. I was just scared it would happen to Phyllis the way it happened to you. Afterward I kept thinking back on it, and I felt that as your boyfriend I should've avenged you instead of telling you to let it go. I wanted to make up for doing nothing last time"

So he'd known all along how frightened I'd been that day.

Known too how vile it was that the patient's family had hidden the truth on purpose.

But he hadn't done a thing. Hadn't said a word.

I couldn't help laughing.

I wasn't dead, so why pour the guilt he owed me onto Phyllis?

And under the banner of avenging me, shove our child out of existence?

He reached up to wipe my tears, and only then did I realize my face was wet through.

From outside the room came Byron's booming voice. "Phyllis, thank you for making me a father! Let's set the wedding for next month, all right?"

Phyllis answered yes, bright and clear.

Ray's hand jerked, jabbing the corner of my eye, and more tears spilled out before I could stop them.

He panicked instantly, fumbling. "Faith, don't cry! It's my fault. Once you've recovered, we'll have another baby."

I turned my face away so he couldn't touch me.

"Ray, we're breaking up."

Not a discussion. A notice.

He froze for a second, then suddenly crushed me against him, shaking from head to toe. "Faith, don't do this! Hit me, curse me, whatever you want, just don't break up with me! I really didn't know the person pulling me back was you, and I never imagined you were pregnant"

"Faith, let's get married!"

Before all this, if he'd proposed, I'd have jumped up out of sheer joy.

But now I shoved him off hard and said coldly, "Why are you proposing to me?"

He dropped to one knee and pulled a diamond ring from his pocket, refusing to let himself glance back at the commotion in the hallway.

"Because I love you, of course!"

"You've always felt insecure because of my dream, and now you've lost the baby too. I'm a man. I should take responsibility for you."

What a fine line. Take responsibility.

Was it responsibility, or was it that Phyllis was carrying Byron's child and about to marry Byron, and he needed to marry me to put his own feelings to rest?

I took the ring he'd somehow had ready and slid it onto my ring finger.

It wouldn't go past the knuckle, no matter what.

So like this hollow love of ours, the kind that was never going to last.

He saw the ring didn't fit and pulled a second diamond ring from his pocket, explaining, "Faith, I grabbed the wrong one! This one came out the wrong size and I didn't have time to fix it. Once it's resized, it's all yours! When do you want to get married? Let's set the date as soon as we can!"

He'd even prepared two engagement rings.

I didn't know whether to laugh that he'd once thought of marrying me, or to cry that I was only the spare.

I handed the ring back to him and said, flatly,

"Let's talk again in seven days."

The director had just walked in. He watched Ray on his knees in front of me, opened his mouth, hesitated a long moment, then finally asked,

"Faith, are you still going to"

I cut him off.

"I'm going."

The director looked confused, but the aid team really was short on people, and I'd always kept my word, so he didn't press.

Ray seemed uneasy. He asked,

"Faith, where are you going?"

I closed my eyes and answered something else entirely.

"I'm tired. I want to rest."

When Phyllis heard about the miscarriage, she came with Byron to console me.

They brought not only the wedding invitation, but a gold ring and a jade bracelet too, a thank-you to Ray for getting even on her behalf.

And an apology for my being caught in the crossfire.

I didn't want to take them, but Phyllis slid them onto me anyway.

The bracelet fit perfectly.

Even the ring fit perfectly.

You could tell at a glance someone had been careful.

Phyllis lifted my hand and ordered Ray,

"Take good care of Faith! Loving someone is like tending a flower. Don't let me catch you letting her down!"

In that instant I understood. Phyllis had known about his buried feelings all along.

And this was how she meant to make him cherish me.

Ray took my hand, laced his fingers through mine, and nodded over and over, his eyes red.

I couldn't imagine how much he had to love Phyllis to treat her every word as gospel.

Over the next few days, Ray took his annual leave and stayed at my bedside, doing everything he could to look after me.

He made all three meals himself, even getting the soup to exactly the right temperature.

He found time, too, to redo our restored apartment back into the pink I liked.

The way he looked at me was so tender it was as if no one else existed.

Even in his dreams, he called my name.

It was the picture I'd longed for.

But the next second, asleep, he gripped my hand and murmured,

"Phyllis, as long as you're happy, I'll do as you say. I'll be good to Faith for the rest of my life"

My phone buzzed.

The director was telling me to leave a night early.

I pulled my hand free, hard, and Ray didn't even wake.

As the plane lifted off, I sent him one last scheduled message:

Sweet dreams!

The next day, he stared at the empty hospital bed and, uneasy, called my number.

No one answered.

So he ran to find the head nurse.

"Have you seen Faith? We're supposed to get our marriage license at nine."

The head nurse froze, then asked him back,

"Marriage license? She flew out last night for the overseas aid mission. You didn't know?"