express line anyway, but today she wished that she could see him close up.
She wanted to see his eyes close up. She had heard the girls in the break room last week mentioning that his eyes were gray. Two of the girls, Sally and Olivia, who were on the same evening shift as she was had made a bet. Sally said they were real and Olivia said they were contacts.
She'd bet anything that they were real gray. Somehow she didn't peg him as someone to wear colored contacts. He looked more like a serious corporate type of guy, not a fashion-conscious person who would want to draw attention to himself.
Sally was now cashing his items and talking to him. He laughed at whatever she said and his shoulders shook. It made the tiredness that she had seen earlier disappear. It slid off him like a second unwanted skin. He looked even better than before with the mantle of weariness gone from him.
Della wished that she could hear his voice. What was he saying? Had Sally asked him about his eyes? She was forced to turn back to her customers and when she looked up again he was gone.
She pressed her hand to her head and hurriedly lowered it when she saw Ted passing by. Her frequent headaches were coming back. She had not gotten them for years but ever since she started working at the supermarket they had been coming back.
The dreams were also coming back and she was reluctant to go to sleep these days. She dreamt the same thing over and over, and when she woke up she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something.
First thing Monday when she went to school she would visit the school counselor and discuss her plight.
*****
"Hello." The counselor was young; she barely looked older than Della. She had also peppily introduced herself as Saffron McGuire and had a nameplate on her desk that had a string of letters after it, including PhD.
Della frowned. This girl has a doctorate?
"Don't mind the name," she grinned, showing Della her braces. "My father is a chef; my sisters' names are Sage and Pepper."
Della reluctantly sat down in the chair opposite her and mouthed. "I have never been in here before."
"That's okay." Saffron leaned forward. "I'll tell you a secret: not coming here is a good thing but you are here now. What can I help you with?"
"I am having dreams," Della mouthed to her.
Saffron watched her lips intently and then asked, "You are having twins?"
"No. Dreams." Della mouthed the words deliberately and carefully.
Saffron shook her head and then opened her drawer and took out a pair of glasses. "Sorry Della. I am farsighted. So I can't really read your lips without the help of my glasses. Say it again."
Della sighed. Maybe she was wasting her time; Saffron seemed a bit too ditzy to be taken seriously. "I am having dreams."
"Dreams! Oh thank goodness. That's much less expensive than twins," Saffron said. "Good. Go on."
"I have had these dreams since I was young. They disappeared for a while and now they are back."
"What type of dreams?" Saffron asked.
"It's the same dream every time. I am under water drowning and then I struggle to get free and when I wake up I have a headache. I used to have them when I was nine or ten and when I was sixteen or so but they disappeared. Now they are back."
"Mmmm." Saffron frowned. "Your subconscious is trying to tell you something."
Della resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard the same thing so many times, from so many doctors, that she was beginning to believe that they were all working from the same script. She was happy that the university offered student counseling for free.
Saffron opened her drawer and pulled out a thick notebook and pushed it toward her. It looked like one of those ledgers that she had to buy for the Principles of Accounting course that she took in her first year.
"What's this for?" Della asked, opening the book and staring at the blank pages.
"It's for you to write," Saffron said, "put down your thoughts. Write what you see in your
She wanted to see his eyes close up. She had heard the girls in the break room last week mentioning that his eyes were gray. Two of the girls, Sally and Olivia, who were on the same evening shift as she was had made a bet. Sally said they were real and Olivia said they were contacts.
She'd bet anything that they were real gray. Somehow she didn't peg him as someone to wear colored contacts. He looked more like a serious corporate type of guy, not a fashion-conscious person who would want to draw attention to himself.
Sally was now cashing his items and talking to him. He laughed at whatever she said and his shoulders shook. It made the tiredness that she had seen earlier disappear. It slid off him like a second unwanted skin. He looked even better than before with the mantle of weariness gone from him.
Della wished that she could hear his voice. What was he saying? Had Sally asked him about his eyes? She was forced to turn back to her customers and when she looked up again he was gone.
She pressed her hand to her head and hurriedly lowered it when she saw Ted passing by. Her frequent headaches were coming back. She had not gotten them for years but ever since she started working at the supermarket they had been coming back.
The dreams were also coming back and she was reluctant to go to sleep these days. She dreamt the same thing over and over, and when she woke up she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something.
First thing Monday when she went to school she would visit the school counselor and discuss her plight.
*****
"Hello." The counselor was young; she barely looked older than Della. She had also peppily introduced herself as Saffron McGuire and had a nameplate on her desk that had a string of letters after it, including PhD.
Della frowned. This girl has a doctorate?
"Don't mind the name," she grinned, showing Della her braces. "My father is a chef; my sisters' names are Sage and Pepper."
Della reluctantly sat down in the chair opposite her and mouthed. "I have never been in here before."
"That's okay." Saffron leaned forward. "I'll tell you a secret: not coming here is a good thing but you are here now. What can I help you with?"
"I am having dreams," Della mouthed to her.
Saffron watched her lips intently and then asked, "You are having twins?"
"No. Dreams." Della mouthed the words deliberately and carefully.
Saffron shook her head and then opened her drawer and took out a pair of glasses. "Sorry Della. I am farsighted. So I can't really read your lips without the help of my glasses. Say it again."
Della sighed. Maybe she was wasting her time; Saffron seemed a bit too ditzy to be taken seriously. "I am having dreams."
"Dreams! Oh thank goodness. That's much less expensive than twins," Saffron said. "Good. Go on."
"I have had these dreams since I was young. They disappeared for a while and now they are back."
"What type of dreams?" Saffron asked.
"It's the same dream every time. I am under water drowning and then I struggle to get free and when I wake up I have a headache. I used to have them when I was nine or ten and when I was sixteen or so but they disappeared. Now they are back."
"Mmmm." Saffron frowned. "Your subconscious is trying to tell you something."
Della resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard the same thing so many times, from so many doctors, that she was beginning to believe that they were all working from the same script. She was happy that the university offered student counseling for free.
Saffron opened her drawer and pulled out a thick notebook and pushed it toward her. It looked like one of those ledgers that she had to buy for the Principles of Accounting course that she took in her first year.
"What's this for?" Della asked, opening the book and staring at the blank pages.
"It's for you to write," Saffron said, "put down your thoughts. Write what you see in your
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