Rocky woke up crying. In the dream, she and Arty were kids again and playing at the park. The park was by their house. They used to play there all the time. Arty would push her on the swings and then twirl her on the roundabout. When Arty was doing that, she felt safe. Happy, too, because he loved her. Even though they fought sometimes, she never doubted his love. Not because he said it, but because of what he did. In the dream, Arty was on the slide and was about to come down to the sand, where Rocky was waiting. But he hesitated. He was looking at her. His face was sad. He was crying. She asked him what the matter was. He didn’t answer but slid down. When he got to the end, he went into the sand and disappeared. The Rocky in the dream cried out. The Rocky on the sofa in Geena’s apartment felt herself shaken awake. “Hey, hey,” Geena was saying. Rocky put her face on Geena’s leg until the tears stopped. Geena stroked her hair. You had to hand it to her, Rocky thought. She was a little flighty, yes.
