Jasmine thrashed with all her might, crying and pushing against the force surrounding her, holding her back. Strong, unyielding arms pinned her down preventing her from escaping, and she could feel a scream starting to rise from the center of her being. Through terrified eyes she strained, trying to remember where she was, trying to see through the vaguely familiar darkness. She could barely make out his face, but she felt his moist and warm breath as he held her in a tender, firm embrace.
“It’s the dream again, isn’t it?” he asked. With her heart beating wildly like a frightened creature, she tearfully nodded in mute testimony.
“It’s alright, sweetheart, everything is going to be alright,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, we’re going to find her and everything will be okay, just like before.”
He gently stroked her face and hair and whispered words of comfort. And as he whispered, he wiped away her tears with a small corner of their satin sheet.
Gradually, Jasmine calmed down and floated back into a dreamless sleep, while her husband continued to rock her in the now safe darkness. He prayed silently for the peace of his distraught wife and for the safety of his innocent daughter until at last, the images of the nightmare faded away, and daylight slipped quietly into the room.
The next morning, Jasmine awoke feeling as worn and exhausted as a field slave who has picked unending rows of cotton from sunup to sundown. She sleepily reached over to touch Brian, but all she felt was the warm spot and rumpled bed linen where he had recently laid. She yawned, stretched carefully, and glanced over at the alarm clock on her side of the bed. The lighted display read 8:16 a.m.
“Oh, shoot! I’m late!” she exclaimed, and jumped up from the bed as fast as her sore limbs would allow. In her haste, she managed to get one house slipper on, but she couldn’t find the other one. And as she headed toward the master bathroom, she began taking off her nightgown. She had just plugged in the curling iron and turned on the water to warm up the shower, when she thought she heard someone come into the bedroom. Her heart beat rapidly as she peeped through the bathroom door to see who it was.
“Brian! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the office!” she shouted above the sound of rushing water. Brian looked at her like she was crazy.
“It’s Saturday, I don’t work on Saturdays if I can help it,” he said. “What are you doing up so early? The way you twisted and turned in your sleep last night, I thought you would be out of it ‘til the crack of noon!”
Jasmine stood there naked with one house shoe on and her hair sticking out like Buckwheat on amphetamines. She was holding her nightgown in one hand and her toothbrush in the other. All she could do was look at him and quietly say, “Oh, yeah, it is Saturday isn’t it? I must be losing it.”
Even though she looked so completely lost and forlorn, Brian couldn’t help but burst out laughing. In an effort to apologize for his laughter, he went over and hugged her. She just reached over to the vanity, picked up her hairbrush, and popped him playfully on the head with it. Brian laughed, snatched the nightgown from her hand, and threw it to the floor.
Ten minutes later, they shared that shower together.