Isabel Sutter
We’ ll Always Have Innisfree
Isabel Sutter
“
I
’ ve been having these stupid nightmares,” I began.“ Stupid nightmares?” Grace echoed distractedly. Perched on a kitchen stool, I watched as Grace stirred spinach into the lentil soup she was cooking.“ Take last night,” I ventured.“ In the dream, I was paired with this guy for a group project. Only he started texting me all the time.”“ Was he cute?”“ That’ s not the point, Grace.”“ Was he?”“ I didn’ t notice.” I spun around on my stool so I could see out the window. Rain dripped out of the magnolias, lazily sliding into the vegetable garden. It gathered in puddles under the zucchini plants and little streams about the raised herb beds. From a distance, it resembled a rough map of Massachusetts Bay.
“ This doesn’ t sound like such a bad dream.” Grace drew me back to the conversation at hand.
“ It was horrible. He asked me to go to a play with him. He wanted to study together. It was constant. Constant!”“ This is what your nightmares are like, Ruthie?” Grace giggled.“ Don’ t laugh! I haven’ t gotten to the worst part yet!”“ It gets worse?” she mocked.“ Shut up.” The soup boiled for an instant, a deep, guttural bubbling, and Grace quickly turned down the burner. Catching her eye between stirs to be sure she was still listening, I resumed:“ After all of this texting and all this time spent together on the group project, he starts telling how he thinks of me as his best friend. Best friend! That’ s when I woke up last night.”
“ I heard that.” Grace noted absently, unceasingly stirring the soup.“ You screeched and flopped off your pillow.”
“ I didn’ t mean to wake you.”
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