Page 124 of In Somnis

I stare at her. At the green eyes that have always seen straight through me. Twelve years. She’s been in that state for twelve years, and I’ve been on the other side of a country with no idea, and the whole time…

“Tessa,” I say, and my voice comes out wrecked. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” She shakes her head firmly. “I didn’t tell you so you’d feel guilty. I told you because there’s something I need you to hear.” She hesitates. “There’s somewhere I could be instead of this. Somewhere that isn’t a chair or a dream mall or this horrible in-between. Somewhere I could actually…” she stops, starts again, her tone now softer, “… somewhere I could be happy.”

“5D,” I say quietly.

Her eyes widen. “How do you⁠—”

“Ridge tried to explain it to me.”

Somewhere in the mall, a shop light flickers again. Just one, halfway down the left corridor, blinking once. I don’t turn to look, but I feel it, the way you feel someone step into a room before you see them. I don’t know why, but I know it’s Ridge without looking.

Tessa’s eyes don’t move from mine, but there’s a flash of awareness, there and gone.

She knows he’s here too.

“You can’t explain it.” She exhales. “You can only experience it.”

Tessa’s gaze is steady, but her hands tighten around mine.

He’s listening. We both know it.

“The man from your journal, is he the reason you want to be in 5D?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and that’s answer enough. “Everything I’ve ever wanted is there. Lenny, it’s… I can’t even describe it. It’s more real than this. More real than waking up.”

“You say that like waking up is something you’ve given up on.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“What?”

“You have nothing left holding you in 3D, Lenny. Your mom is gone. Your house is gone. Spencer is gone. You drove three thousand miles to a town where you knew nobody because⁠—”

“Because of you.”

“Exactly.” She looks at me steadily. “You love me as much as I love you. We are each other’s tether, and if you let go of everything else, life doesn’t have to be empty anymore. You could have everything. Everything you’ve lost, everything you’ve missed…” she pauses, and something in her eyes goes very soft, “… everyone.”

The word lands differently from the others. Not hope exactly, it’s more of an ache of a door you convinced yourself was sealed forever, suddenly showing a crack of light underneath it.

I stare at her. “What do you mean, everyone?”

She doesn’t answer, but holds my gaze, and the fountain behind us is suddenly very loud.

“Tessa.” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to. “Are you saying my mom is⁠—”

“I’m saying there’s more there than you can imagine.” She squeezes my hands again. “I’m saying you don’t have to be alone anymore. Neither of us does. We could be together, the way we always said we would be. The restaurant, remember? Our stupid little notebook with all the plans?”

“I remember.”

I remember the notebook. I have it. It’s in the storage unit in Boston in a cardboard box with the rest of my broken dreams. Inside it, there are at least thirty pages of plans for a restaurant we designed in the margins of our coursework during the worst semester we had. Floor plan sketches in the back of her notes on sauce reduction. Menu written on the inside cover of my pastry textbook. We called it Maes & Vaughn and then Vaughn & Maes, depending on who was holding the pen.

She’s offering me Maes & Vaughn.

She’s offering me my mother.

“We could have that.” Her voice drops. “We could have all of it.”