My Dinosaur Life

”You ever fear the dark, impressions of your future?”

(Her)

Chelsea calls me – she wants to know where I am.

I don’t know, is what I tell her.

Why the fuck don’t I fucking know where I fucking am – is what she wants to know next.

“Drowning,” I sarcastically tell her, wanting to hang up.

“Where?” she replies, and I can just hear her rolling her eyes at me on the other end.

She’s the only one who knows about my dreams.

“Minnetonka. Just for the weekend,” I admit, before hanging up the phone.

I don’t understand why everyone always wants to know where I am.

It takes the spontaneity out of everything – out of my life.

I arrange my favorite sunglasses back on my face, glancing over at Justin in the water.

“Coming in?” he calls to me.

“No way,” I reply, shaking my head. “I can’t swim.”

“You don’t need to. It’s really shallow right here,” he insists, “I’ll be right here. It’ll be fine.”

I can see that the water’s barely up to his waist, but I shake my head compulsively anyways.

I’m terrified.

“Just your feet?” he tempts, and I actually consider it for a split second for reasons unknown to me.

“No,” I find myself answering instinctively.

At this point, he’s back on the sand, standing over me.

I look up at him through my sunglasses.

He suddenly reaches out to tug my arms in the direction of the water.

“St-stop it,” I stammer, trying to shake him off. He ignores me, pulling me to stand up then playfully tossing me over his shoulder. “JUSTIN!” I shout, my irrational fear controlling my words and actions.

“Annie!” he replies in a singsong voice as he carries me towards the water. The nerves twist my stomach into a jumble of nausea and panic while my breathing becomes shorter and shorter with every step he takes towards the lake.

“Put. Me. DOWN!”I demand hysterically, and he laughs, not realizing the depth of my distress. “RIGHT. NOW.”

“Why?” He’s still teasing, he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me, and I’m freaking out as his footsteps carry me, struggling, closer, towards the water.

“Because I’m going to drown, that’s why! I can’t…fucking…breathe!”I yell at him, squirming uncontrollably and hitting my fists on his back. He immediately stops and puts me down, finally understanding just before it’s too late, me breathing heavily and feeling a bit sick and dizzy.

He blanches at the look on my face and then just hugs me as a sob escapes my lips.

“I’m so sorry, Annie,” he says, and I hug him back, the terror of my panic attack slowly fading.

Then I realize my eyes are slowly leaking tears.

“I’m sorry, I just-” I start to excuse myself, a little calmer by now.

“I know,” he says soothingly, kissing my face. “You can’t help it.”

And the thing that surprises me most of all is he doesn’t think I’m crazy –

He understands.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Justin?” I ask.

I’m sprawled comfortably across his chest, feeling him still breathing heavily, like I am.

“How do you know?”

He doesn’t have to ask me what I mean, and I love that.

“I don’t know anything,” he states. I feel the calluses on his fingers tracing over my bare skin.

“Do you know why I came back to Minneapolis?” I ask. I wait but he doesn’t answer, so I answer myself. “To avoid rehab.”

“Sounds familiar,” he remarks, mumbling, then closing his eyes and sighing.

“What does?” I ask.

“You know. Drinking, drugs, self-loathing, relapses, therapy. The works,” he tries to laugh, but it comes out humorless and forced.

“I have this dream,” I begin to tell him. “It’s why I’m afraid of drowning. His arm tightens briefly around me, still apologetic after my episode from earlier. “I’m scared of the ocean the most. Chelsea always makes us go when we’re on tour, and I can’t stand it.”

“I hate the ocean,” he agrees. “But do you know what’s even scarier?”

“What?” I ask. I really don’t have a clue.

“The future.”

“Maybe,” I concede, closing my eyes. His heartbeat gets steadier and I feel drowsier.

There’s a long silence where I think he’s fallen asleep and it makes me want a sleeping pill or a maybe joint, but I’m too comfortable to get up and go digging through my bags and ruin the moment.

“Justin?” I ask, whispering in case he’s asleep.

“Hmm?” he replies, stifling a small yawn.

“Never let me drown, okay?”

“Okay.”