Page 11 of In His Skates

But why am I not awake yet?

“Keanu, wake uuuup, I don’t like this,” I say in my best Eddie from Stranger Things impression.

It doesn’t help that I sound like Leigh.

“Fuck!” I pinch myself, and it does nothing but cause me pain.

It’s then that I notice this isn’t my fucking bathroom. No wonder I couldn’t locate the toilet right away. It’s much more spacious, and bright, with its white walls and light granite sink top.

In a daze, I walk out of the bathroom. It takes me a moment to find the light switch for the bedroom, and when I do, my stomach drops. This isn’t my fucking bedroom either. It’s girlie to the max, with light peach wallpaper and more white everywhere, from the bed frame to the furniture. There’s a damn chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Jesus.

I run to the white curtains on the other side of the bed and part them brusquely. “No, no, no!”

I open the French doors and step onto the balcony. Instead of a high-rise view of the city, I’m staring at a pool and a beautifully landscaped yard from a house’s second story. “This can’t be happening!”

The annoying ringtone starts again. I rush to see who’s calling. Like everything else in this bizarre dream, the phone isn’t mine; it’s Leigh’s, and Bobbi is calling her. I stare, frozen. Then, finally, I decide to lean into the craziness.

I answer. “Hello?”

“Finally. Why weren’t you picking up your phone?”

“Because it’s only six in the morning. I was asleep.”

“You were asleep?” His voice rises to a shrill. “Please tell me you’re ready. I’m two minutes from your house.”

“Ready for what?”

“Leigh? What’s the matter with you? Are you getting sick?”

“I don’t know. I feel weird.”

“Oh, that’s no good. Okay, maybe you should skip yoga, then. I’ll run to your favorite smoothie place and get you something nutritious.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

Man, this is sure as shit a super-vivid dream. Since I’m still stuck in it, I might as well have some fun.

“Hey, Bobbi. Quick question: Why do you put up with me? I’m such a heinous bitch.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I get my hopes up that this is the moment I wake up, but no such luck. “Leigh, what is the matter with you? Is this about Keanu?”

My spine goes rigid. What exactly does dream-Bobbi have to say about me? Obviously, whatever comes out of his mouth will be nothing but a figment of my imagination. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on. I know spending the whole day with that piece of shit wasn’t easy after everything he’s done to you.”

Anger surges from the pit of my stomach. “Everything I’ve done to her?” I blurt out. “She’s the one who fucked up my life!”

“What? Leigh, you sound crazy. I’m getting worried.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and start to pace. This is nuts, but it feels all too real. Dreams usually aren’t so linear and sharp. And I shouldn’t be aware that I’m dreaming.

What if this is really happening, and I’m truly stuck in Leigh’s body?

“Bobbi, I’ll have to call you back.”

I end the call, then rush down the stairs. I’ve never been to Leigh’s house, but the décor screams her name. It’s all very light and feminine, and there are too many details—I know my mind wouldn’t be able to conjure all this up.

Like a maniac, I search for a car key. Thank God Leigh is predictable and keeps hers in a bowl on the console in the entryway. There’s another mirror here, and I grimace at my reflection. I have no idea what type of car she drives, but I’m shocked when I find a Toyota RAV4, not a luxury car, parked in her garage.