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Hello all. Here's a story I've been working on. I'm posting it another place as well, but figured no harm in having more eyes look it over. This story has a magical realism thing going on. Adult language, sexual situations, and violence are elements of this story as well. So, forewarned = forlorn and all that.

Hope you enjoy.

-malus

Prologue:

“How is it where you are, my precious boy?” the feminine voice was soft, kind, and strangely resonant.

He paused for a moment before answering her, and watched as the sky drifted into focus - a collision of colors; violet, amber, magenta, and orange. Dawn and dusk, noon and night met and mingled as bright stars sparkled.

“Different” he felt himself say. His words and movements were not his, he felt. His gaze drifted as he leaned his head back and beheld her delicate face, with those eyes of green which blazed with adoration and something near mischief.

“How so, sweetest of all?” Her full lips spread wide as she smiled lovingly. His nostrils flared as he breathed in. Lavender. She always smelled of lavender.

“It’s…more.” His voice came out distant. He tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to be where his thoughts would lead. His gaze was pleading as he took in her impossible loveliness.

She laughed brightly. “More…what?” she pried as she traced a long, slender finger over his pouty lips. The odor of talcum mingled with the prevailing scent of lavender. He relaxed into the fragrance.

“More everything. Moreness. More Substantial…more hard.” He answered in a choked whisper. Tears welling in his eyes.

“That will change soon, little one” Her smile was sad.

The words could hardly leave his mouth “I’ve missed you.” He tried to reach out to her only to find that his limbs were frozen.

Her aspect suddenly solemn, she said “You will know me soon”. The words were not the succor that he needed. He wanted her to hold him close.

“Don’t go” he begged in a thin squeak. Panic rising within him, her warmth diminished as she started to fade away.

Tears rolled down her high, regal cheeks “I am not the one that is going, precious creature.” Once more she smiled sadly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He never felt her lips.

He was dissolving as the lunatic sky shimmered, its colors muddling and mixing, becoming darker with each moment. Coldness remained in the absence of her warmth. Something musty replaced her scent. Darkness reigned. He still could not move.

Nor could he breathe.

Chapter One

Nathaniel Carmichael woke with a sharp, greedy inhalation. Promptly following was a low moan which was equal parts terror and longing. A few rapid, ragged gasps followed as moan became a soft whimper. He regained his senses, awake now, in his bed; cold and wet.

Sighing as he starred at his ceiling, the dim, azure light of dawn let him know that it was about five in the morning. As much as he hated waking up wet, he needed a moment to find himself. It had happened again, the third time in four weeks. Nathan pulled back his blanket and gazed down at his soaking wet boxers, as well as the large wet patch on his sheets. After a few more moments he rolled out of bed, and stripped the sheets with practiced efficiency.

“Mattress is ruined” he thought as he padded down the hallway of his apartment “Third time in a month. Over 12 this year. God damn it.”

Stuffing his soiled sheets and wet boxers into the tiny washing machine located in one of the hall closets, Nathaniel sleepily puzzled over the meaning of what was happening to him. He had this dream, on and off, since his mid-teens. It wasn’t always the same, but she was always there, whoever she was. He always woke up soaked, too. His best guess is that it was some kind of reaction to finding out he was adopted. He had taken enough 100 and 200 level Psych classes to provide himself an armchair analysis of his problem.

While his adoptive parents were kind and provided a loving home, finding out he was not theirs put his identity in crisis. Not knowing what he could trust in the world, he created some fantasy mother-type character in his dreams. The end of each dream was the same. She would go away, and he would wake up terrified, half choking, and wet. The problem with that analysis is that she always told him that it was Nathaniel who was going. Still, it made enough sense; abandonment, mommy issues, Freud and all that bullshit. Also, Nathaniel did not think of himself as being especially bothered about being adopted. He loved his parents.

Walking into his bathroom, Nathaniel frowned in the faint glow of the bathroom’s night light. He looked at his slender form in the mirror. Broad ribcage, narrow waist, and a surprisingly ample bottom for someone of his build...Nathaniel Carmichael was a handsome, rather pretty, young man. He blinked at his reflection, and a finely featured face with a strong chin, expressive hazel eyes, high cheekbones, and a wild mop of thick ringlet curls, blinked back. “You’re too old for this shit, Nate” he admonished himself in the best grizzled old man affect he could manage.

After relieving himself in the bathroom, Nathaniel returned to his bedroom. He donned a clean, dry pair of boxer briefs, and fetched a composition book from his bedside table. He then went to his living room, and sitting on his couch wrote in his book

Had dream Again. Dinner was a salad and turkey sandwich. Fluids after 6 were three glasses of water, glass

of wine. Tomorrow – get plastic sheet and other stuff. Make shrink appointment?

He turned on the television, and put it on some quiet show about the history of Russia or something. Nathaniel was not paying particular attention to the program. He just wanted a distraction to sleep to. Some noise to keep his thoughts away from her, and that wild sky, and the dreadfulness of parting ways.

Chapter Two

The morning routine - coffee, shower, dress, more coffee, drive to work. Groggy as he was, Nathaniel found it easy to not dwell too much on last night’s dream. His job as assistant manager at little corner candy shop in the town mall was not especially strenuous, just retail - a kind of work that came with its own frustrations. Nathaniel made just enough to afford his relatively Spartan lifestyle, though he would occasionally need some help from his parents when his car insurance, or some other large bill, was due.

Come lunch time, Nathaniel flipped through the phone book in the small backroom of the store. He first searched for a pharmacy, and was struck by the name Gonne Apothecary. It had an antiquated kind of affect that tickled him. Even if they didn’t have what he needed, it might be a weird and neat place to visit. The address indicated it was near enough to work, so he called to find out about their hours.

“Thank you for calling Gonne Apothecary, your independent source for all of your health needs. This is Heather, how may I help you?” the voice was pleasant and lilting with the practiced enthusiasm of someone who had been answering phones for some time.

“Uh, hi. I just wanted to see what your hours are?”

“We close at nine tonight, and we’re open 10-9 Monday through Friday; noon till six, Saturday, and noon till four, Sunday” Heather replied promptly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She chirped.

“No…um, that’s all” he said before adding “Thanks.” He had considered asking if they had what he was looking specifically looking for, but shame kept him from it.

“Welcome! Bye now” Heather ended the conversation with warm finality.

Nathan flipped through the counseling section of the phone book. He didn’t have any recommendations, so he was mostly looking for a shrink that was close to work or home. It took a while before he found someone, Alexander Weinack, M.D. He called, and after a few rings, went to voicemail.

“Hi there…This is Nathan Carmichael. I’m having a few” he paused “problems and was just looking for someone to sort it out with.” He spoke into the machine. He went on to provide his insurance information, and his cell phone number. Those tasks out of the way, Nathan went on with his day. Clocking out at 4, he bid his co-workers a good night, and drove to Gonne Apothecary.

Gonne Apothecary sat in a rundown strip mall, sharing the building with a CPA, a nail salon that appeared closed, and a vacant space for rent. The apothecary itself seemed closed as well, its windows tinted in such a way that no interior lights could be seen from the outside. The only hint that it was open was a little read sign hanging on the front door that stated as much.

“Don’t see how they could stay in business like this” Nathaniel thought as he parked. He was having second thoughts. On one hand, he could use something to protect his already ruined mattress. His four years of being single would continue on for a while if he brought women to his place and his bed smelled like a toddler going through a rough patch in his potty training. On the other hand, he’d never bought anything related to his intermittent problem. His mom took care of the mattress protector when he lived at home, and he didn’t wet that often when he was on his own…well, until recently. “They’re professionals. They won’t laugh. It’s for someone else, or something. Besides, it’s not like I’ll see any friends in here” he thought, a touch sardonically.

A bell chimed as he entered the apothecary. Nathaniel felt a bit of disappointment as he entered the place, finding it to look much like a normal pharmacy; the floor linoleum, the walls white, the air anti-septic, and the tall shelving units ecru. He was hoping for dark, stained wood and drawers filled with obscure reagents. Despite his initial disappointment, the place seemed well stocked, and the shelves were tall, which blocked the line of site to the counter at the back. It was a mercy for privacy, but not a good way to prevent theft, Nathaniel surmised as he glanced about for the incontinence section.

He quickly found it, against a wall of, thoughtfully tucked away from casual view. All sorts of products, ranging from gloves and wipes to catheters and leg bags were in the section, and each range of product was helpfully labeled. He tried to be quick about getting what he needed, and was relieved to find Mattress Protectors/Bed Pads. While Nathan was trying to be quick, he was trying to be casual as well. “Don’t want to act all weird” he thought, which was quickly followed by “maybe this is acting weird. Just pick something and go”.

Nathaniel grabbed the most visually striking package that had ‘Double’ written on it, and quickly regretted his choice. KeepDry Mattress Cover from LeakPro he cringed as he read and looked at the package containing the vinyl mattress cover. It showed a night sky, with an oversized moon, and cartoon stars. Rather than feeling like an adult with a medical problem, Nathan felt, for the first time since his ex left him, like a bedwetter. He sighed as he felt his shame burn in his face. “No one’s seen me. I’ll just leave. Can’t deal with this now” Nathan thought to himself as he started to replace the package.

“There you are” said a voice from behind. Feminine and soft, kind and adoring, the voice held Nathaniel fast. He gasped softly in surprise as goose bumps arose on his arms and the back of his neck, and the gentle fragrance of lavender filled his nose. For nine years, he had heard her voice. For nine years, he had begged her not to leave. Nine years, she was the reason he was here.

Gently, with a just a hint of chiding, she added “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Chapter Three

Falling from Nathaniel’s hand, the mattress cover hit the linoleum floor with a smack. He swallowed hard, as a thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow. His knees felt weak, and goose bumps continued to form on his skin. “Can’t be! It sound just like. Holy shit! Fuck I just dropped! Gah!” Nathan’s thoughts roared all at once.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to startle you. I heard the bell, and knew someone had to be about. Let me help with that.” She said kindly. Nathan stood stock still as the woman moved beside him and bent over to retrieve the mattress cover. Despite himself, he made a quiet noise that sounded like a groan and a whimper as he watched her.

As she stood up, he couldn’t help but stare. She seemed to be in her late twenties or early thirties, at a glance. Her black hair was bound in a loose bun. Errant strands of hair hung down, framing her face. The shape of her face was not that of the face in his dreams. This woman’s face had fuller cheeks, a more drastic jaw line, and the nose was more button like. It was on the whole, a more heart shaped. Her eyes, however, were the same enchanting green which stood in contrast to cream colored skin. Nathaniel stared into those eyes as his heart raced. Images of kaleidoscopic skies casting schizophrenic arrays of gloam and bright over familiar, alien, landscapes flashed through his mind’s eye. He could see her lips moving as a look of concern crossed her face.

“…such a freight. Are you faint? Do you need to sit down?” Nathan caught only the last part of what she was saying, enough to know that he should respond to her question. He shook his head no in response to her question.

“Poor thing” she said sympathetically “I should really get louder shoes. Heather is always complaining that she can never hear me when I come by” she continued.

Nathaniel blinked a few times as he fought to regain his composure. He had to say something. Not saying something was definitely not normal. He didn’t want to be weird. He couldn’t say “I’ve dreamed of you”, that’s what a crazy person says.

“Hhhhhh Hi” he stuttered out, a bit lamely “i-it’s alright. I, uh, just, uh…I was just lost in thought. I just need some, um, things.” He looked down at the woman’s hands, and noticed that she had a lab coat over her clothes, which concealed her figure. He also noticed that she was on the tall side for a woman. Not wanting to ogle more than he had, Nathan glanced at the shelf of mattress covers and bed pads, as his cheeks flushed.

“I can tell” The woman said with a smirk “I just wanted to see if you needed help finding the best products to suit your needs.” She shifted the mattress cover in her hand as she joined Nathaniel in looking at the shelf.

“I just need something for the night.” The indirect admission of his problem came from Nathaniel unbidden. All hope of playing it cool was lost now; he had essentially just told this woman he wet the bed.

“I see. Well…This will certainly keep your mattress dry. It is one of the more durable products we have, though a touch on the noisy side” The woman offered Nathaniel a smile that was at once coy and kind. “My name is Anya, by the way; Anya Gonne. I would be happy to help you get whatever you need, or advise you in product selection, if you wish”

“I’m Nathaniel” He replied, mentally kicking himself afterwards. He cleared his throat, and looked at Anya again. ‘She wants to help you. Just ask her to help you’ Nathaniel thought in a voice that wasn’t his. She was smiling softly at him.

“Could you help me, please?” He asked as he looked at her, losing himself for a few moments as he looked into her eyes.

She beamed happily at him. “Of course I can. Now, Nathaniel. Do you wet very often?”

“Oh, I…No. I mean, recently, yes.” He replied. He wanted to take back asking her for help. He was unsure why he even asked. Was he losing his mind? Yet, he couldn’t figure out a way to gracefully back-peddle out of the situation.

Anya’s smile took on a coy aspect once again. “I see. Well, a mattress cover will protect your mattress. However, it won’t keep your bedding, or yourself, dry. If you’re having more frequent night time accidents, I have some products over here that might help.” Anya led Nathan to some adjacent shelves.

Nathan swallowed hard as he looked at the contents of the shelves. He knew well enough that these were diapers for adults, the kind of thing that old people wore. During one of her more cruel moments, his ex had joked about making him wear something like these. “God, I should put you in some old man Pampers , or something” she ridiculed. His heart continued to race, and he felt a swell of panic. Maybe he could run.

“Do you wet much, Nathan?” Anya asked casually, as if it were a normal topic of conversation.

Her voice kept his feet still, and the urge to run diminished. “Huh? Oh…yes.” He cringed, wondering what precisely motivated him to admit that.

“I assume you’ve seen the doctor? “ Anya’s statement, phrased as a question, contained a maternal note of menace.

“Oh, well, I’m, uh, working on that” Nathan blushed. He didn’t look too closely at the packages, most of them having labels like Assure, Abena, Dignity, UltraDry, Freedom, Gentle Care…

“Tsk-tsk” Anya admonished “Do that immediately. We want to get to the bottom of this, don’t we?” her question rhetorical. Anya handed the mattress cover to Nathaniel, which he accepted in an automatic fashion. She then reached for a package as she said “In the mean time, you may want to wear these to bed. These are just like normal underwear, only a bit more absorbent. If you wet, your sheets will stay dry, and you may sleep a little better.” Anya’s smile was peculiar, her tone consoling.

Nathan swallowed hard. His mouth felt rather dry. He managed a weak nod in response to Anya, hoping this would be over soon. The odor of lavender seemed to linger in the air, he noticed.

“Come now, let me get these bagged up for you” Anya said softly as he she led Nathan to the back of the store where the cash wrap was located. She placed Nathan’s pull ups and mattress cover in two separate, opaque, black bags and handed them to him. “I’ve put my card in the bag with your pull ups. If you need anything else, please feel free to call whenever you like” she said to Nathan in a reassuring, almost tender, voice.

Nathaniel nodded again and managed a “Uh huh.” Once he had his bags, he left the apothecary as quickly as his shaking legs would take him without completely abandoning his composure. Throwing his bags into the passenger seat of his car, Nathan buckled up and drove home. Questions roiling through his mind: ‘Oh God. What the fuck was that? Did that just happen? Who was she? I’m crazy. This is crazy. Dream women don’t happen. I dream of that voice, and I hear it the next day. My mind is fucking with me. Wait? Was she supposed to act like that? Was that professional? Agh!’

All during the drive home, and once at home until it was nearly time for bed, Nathan asked himself the questions came up again and again. Each time, they went unanswered. Strangest of all was that not at any point did he wonder why she did not make him pay.

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Chapter Four

Not television, music, nor food allayed Nathaniel’s anxiety. He checked his cell phone repeatedly to see if Dr. Weinack had called back, and each check ended in disappointment. As the night wore on, Nathaniel knew he’d have to get ready for bed. Maybe he would feel better about this afternoon’s events if he just got the sheet on the bed and stopped thinking about everything so damned much. Grabbing his two black bags, Nathaniel retired to his bedroom.

He pulled the mattress cover from the bag, and then pulled it from its package. The white, vinyl sheet unfolded slowly. He was surprised at how thick and smooth the material felt in his hands as he fumbled about with the thing, searching for a corner. Nathaniel looked at his bed, still stripped from the morning’s accident, and frowned at the collage of urine stains upon it. Making sure his mattress was dry before putting on the vinyl cover, Nathaniel spent a few minutes tucking it in, and smoothing it. Another look at his bed, and the bright white cover seemed to hide the sins of his little wetting problem. Nathaniel did feel a bit better.

After retrieving his bedding from the dryer and making his bed up, Nathaniel stripped down to his boxer briefs and gave a long hard look at the black bag containing his pull-ups. “Protective underwear. The protective underwear. Not my pull-ups” he corrected himself. Sighing, he removed the package from the bag. As he did this a little white card fell to the ground. He set the pull-ups on his bed, and grabbed the card. He flipped it over in his hands as he examined it.

Gonne Apothecary

Est. 1982

Proprietor Anya Gonne

Dcotor of Pharmacy

We Give a Personal Touch

Nathaniel puzzled over the card for a while. Her cell phone number was written on the back, which he found disarming. That’s not something people did, usually - unless they were coming on to you or they wanted something. What did she want? Nathaniel looked at the date of establishment. “She can’t be the original owner. They were in business six years before I was born, and she was maybe five or six years older than me. Must be a family thing” He rationalized. Nathaniel looked in the black bag that held the business card and the pull-ups in search of a receipt. “Must have dropped it” he told himself.

Setting Anya’s card on his dresser, Nathaniel turned his attention to the bed, and the waiting package of pull-ups. Despite the innocuous graphics on the package, Nathaniel could not shake the sense that it looked very much like a pack of diapers. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the package, tore open the top, and with some difficulty managed to pull out a single pull up. Setting the pull-up on the bed, he then put the nearly full package into his closet, and shut the door.

Nathaniel slid out of his boxer briefs once he returned to his bed. He took the pull-up in his hand. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not like you wet every night. Besides, the mattress is safe now” He thought as he unfolded his night time protection. He was surprised by its thickness, and was relieved that it had a cloth backing.

Pulling open the waist, Nathaniel slid his well shaped legs through the leg openings. The standing leg guards tickled his skin a bit as he drew his pull-up into place. Soft, it felt soft; the interior top sheet that pressed against his privates, the leg guards that gently pressed against the crease of his thighs, and the large elastic waistband that nestled the pull-up firmly in place…it was all so soft. Nathaniel quietly sighed, a noise of comfort and relaxation. He looked down at his somewhat padded nethers, and blushed. He did look a bit ridiculous in his garment…

Nathaniel crawled under the covers of his bed, the plastic sheet rustling a quiet greeting to him. He turned off the light, and in the darkness he wriggled a bit, easing into the comfort that came with knowing he was protected. “This isn’t so bad” he thought to himself. Yawning softly, he thought about the day. “It wasn’t her voice I heard. I just wanted to hear her voice…I had just had the dream, and it was on my mind. Anya is just very kind, and interested in helping people” he rationalized as his eyes grew heavy.

He thought about his night time protection, and wondered “Maybe Lauren wouldn’t have left me if I’d done something like this sooner.”

And then sleep was upon him.

Chapter Five

The room was sky blue. On the walls, white clouds, cartoon moons, and cartoon stars made a celestial playground for cartoon bears. Nathaniel sat on a luxurious, white carpet, dressed in his pull-up and a short, bright yellow shirt. Dread and loneliness gripped him. A thin, velar groan escaped his lips.

“You know me now, sweetest foundling” her voice came from behind. Nathaniel’s dread melted away, replaced by a sense of comfort. The odors of lavender and talcum filled the air as Nathaniel turned his body to look at her. He beheld Anya, her hair still in a bun, heart shaped face beaming adoration, dressed in a sweater of blue and a grey pencil skirt. She knelt on the floor mere feet away.

“You came” his voice came out small, cracking slightly with emotion.

She continued to smile, her green eyes blazing with joy. “Oh, my precious fawn…of course I came. Now come to me” she patted her thigh.

Nathaniel crawled along the carpet, and as he neared, his vision of Anya shifted. Her face was at once the highborn face that he had known for so many years, and that of the virtual stranger Anya, all at once. As if the ghost of the dream woman rode the bones that carried her voice. He felt no fear at this seeming as he crawled into Anya’s lap.

Anya slid her arms around him and cradle him close to her breast. “There, there my beloved boy. Is this not better?” she whispered soothingly as continued to cradle Nathaniel.

Calm ecstasy flowed through Nathaniel. Never had he felt such peace and happiness, joy and pleasure, as he did at that moment. He gazed lovingly at Anya, and nodded a soft “mm-hmm”.

Anya placed a gentle kiss upon Nathaniel’s forehead as she placed a hand upon his padded crotch. Rapturous waves of delight shot through Nathaniel’s body as she did this. He groaned and writhed in delight as she held him close with one arm. “Shhhhhhh” Anya hushed “shhhhhh”.

The waves of pleasure slowly subsided, and were replaced with warm relief. Anya gently rocked him, cooing softly,”There’s my good boy.”

Anya began reciting something in a lilting, though resonant, sing song voice.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses

The dim grey sands with light,

Far off by furthest Rosses

We foot it all the night,

Weaving olden dances,

Mingling hands and mingling glances

Till the moon has taken flight;

To and fro we leap

And chase the frothy bubbles,

While the world is full of troubles

And is anxious in its sleep.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters of the wild…

Nathaniel tried his best to listen, but Anya’s voice lulled him into a deep slumber.

There was blackness. There was peace.

Nathaniel stirred a little as he woke up. He felt magnificent. Stretching beneath his covers, he noticed the cool, squishy dampness between his legs. Pulling back his blankets he looked down, his pull-up was swollen. He had wet in the night, and given the slight slickness he felt against his cock, he was pretty sure he had cum, too.

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Chapter Six

“I’m glad you could make it, Mr. Carmichael” the somewhat paunchy, middle aged man smiled.

Nathaniel offered a perfunctory nod to Dr. Weinack as he took in the room. It was nicely appointed, lit soothingly by table lamps. The air smelled a bit like disinfectant. “Thanks for seeing me” Nathaniel said softly.

“Of course. You sounded like you were in a bit of a crisis when I spoke to you earlier this week” Dr. Weinack spoke with ease, his voice naturally calming. “Please, have a seat.”

Nathaniel nodded again as he took a seat on the leather couch. Dr. Weinack sat opposite from him. It had been a rough week for Nathaniel. After his first night in pull-ups, and the new dream, his enuresis had gotten worse. He was wetting every night even though he hadn’t dreamed since he had the new dream. He tried not wearing his pull-ups for one night, figuring that the sense of protection may have been giving his body cues that it was okay to wet. Dr, Weinack had called him back three days after, and then it was three more days before Dr. Weinack could see him.

But he was here, and Dr. Weinack could help Nathaniel hoped. “I see from your paperwork that you’re having some issues with anxiety?” Dr. Weinack offered Nathaniel a reassuring smile. Nathaniel quietly sighed while nodding agreement. He was relieved the doctor did not immediately jump into the bed wetting. “Would you like to tell me about it?” Dr. Weinack inquired patiently.

Licking his lips, Nathaniel nodded softly. He felt like he was always nodding. “Uh, yeah. So, you know…I’m adopted” Nathaniel started, his speech a bit halting. “I found this out when I was 15…and, you know, that’s okay. I mean, I love my parents, they love me. Maybe we’re not as close as other families, but, I mean…we’re happy” he went on, picking at his fingernails all the while.

Dr. Weinack nodded and smiled his reassuring smile again. “Go on.”

“Well, after I found that out. I started having this dream. My head is in the lap of this beautiful woman, and she tells me how much she misses me and loves me and stuff. And, it’s like…it’s like I can feel my heart being torn in two…very, very slowly, as I talk to her. I keep slipping away, and I don’t want her to leave” Nathaniel felt a lump in his throat. He had not ever told anyone about these dreams. He tried with Lauren, but she freaked out when he mentioned he had been dreaming of another woman.

Dr. Weinack asked “And then what happens, Nathaniel?”

“She tells me that it’s me that is leaving. And then I can’t move, and I can’t breathe” Nathan cast his eyes to the floor, focusing on the meandering pattern of the carpet. “I feel like I’m dying…and then I wake up” Nathaniel sighed, a tiny shudder moving through his body “I wake up, and I’ve wet the bed. Every goddamned time”.

Dr. Weinack just nodded sympathetically at Nathaniel. “How often do you have this dream?”

Shrugging a little bit “It used to be once every few months. More when I was with my ex, less after we broke up...and now it’s at least once a week” Nathan replied. He thought about his wetting journal, and his most recent dream; how he could not bring himself to write it out, how the pleasure he felt worried and disturbed him. Nathaniel decided an abbreviated history would suffice for now.

“I see” Dr. Weinack concluded.

As the minutes moved on, Dr. Weinack asked Nathaniel about his work life, romantic life, his family and his friends, and whether he had seen a urologist or physician regarding his problem.

The fifty minute session drew to an end Dr. Weinack said “I’d like to see you later this week, Nathaniel. You seem to be experiencing acute anxiety, and I suspect that it is exacerbating your night time issues. In the mean time, I highly recommend you see a urologist. I realize that your problem might be embarrassing, however, you need to be sure that your issues are not being caused by a more serious medical problem.” Dr. Weinack took a sip of water before continuing “I’d like you to try Alprazolam. Generic Xanax. It’s a short course. Four weeks. I anticipate that it will help with your immediate anxiety, and it may help with your enuresis.”

Nathaniel nodded mutely. The session had taken a lot out of him, he did not feel particularly better, but he was getting something that should help. Better living through chemistry, he thought, a bit wryly.

Standing up, Nathaniel offered his hand to Dr. Weinack, who shook it firmly. “I’ll call about later this week. Work schedule is kinda screwy” Nathaniel’s voice was tired, drained. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to come back just yet.

Dr. Weinack wrote out the prescription and handed it to Nathaniel. “My secretary can call it in for you” he offered helpfully.

Nathaniel shook his head in response “No thanks…I’m just starting with a new pharmacy. I’ll just drop it off.” Nathaniel left Dr. Weinack’s office. He got into his car, and without really thinking about it, started driving to Gonne Apothecary.

Chapter Seven

“Look, we want different things out of life. Namely I don’t want to wake up in wet fucking bed every goddamned morning. I’m not going to marry a goddamned bedwetter. I’m not going to spend another fucking night with you, you fucking baby!” Lauren’s words still stung after four years. She had a talent for cruelty when she got angry. Even though she was the one that cheated on Nathaniel, Nathaniel was the one who was getting demeaned. It was good that it ended when it did. After two and a half years, Lauren had managed to destroy his sense of worth. He clung on desperately, and he wasn’t sure why. Dr. Weinack was especially interested in his relationship with Lauren. Nathaniel was especially interested in not talking about it. Still, the scant discussion they had led his mind to reminiscences of those years.

The car’s engine hummed as Nathaniel drove on engrossed in thought. The radio crackled and hissed static. He hadn’t bothered to change the station. The summer sun drew nearer the horizon. Seven o’clock. Still bright. A malignant hollowness gnawed at Nathaniel. Four years, no friends to speak of, no one to speak of. Just a phantom. A phantom, a woman he’d embedded in his dreams, and hissing whispers from the radio void.

Nathaniel put his car into park, sighed, and rested his head against the steering wheel. His life, he determined, was best left unexamined. But his life didn’t have the grace to let it all lay. He had to be an orphan. He had to be a bedwetter. He had to be Nathaniel…an unconscionable and unfair way of things if ever there was.

Taking a few deep breaths, Nathaniel looked up at the store front of Gonne Apothecary. The hollowness that ate at him melted into ambivalent anticipation. Despite how crazy he felt considering his most recent dream starring Anya and a wet, sticky pull-up, Nathaniel badly wanted to see her. He had a sense that she could make everything better, that seeing her would make everything less…bad - as though her smile would abate his shame.

The bell above the pharmacy door rang as he entered. He couldn’t see anyone else in the store as he trudged his way to the back counter, shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. His heart beat quickly, and his palms grew moist with sweat. As he neared the counter, he could see the top of Anya’s head as she leaned over the counter, busy with paper work or something as such.

Anya lifted her gaze to meet Nathaniel’s, and Nathaniel stopped in his tracks. She smiled brightly at him, and Nathaniel’s heart melted. He felt his eyes moisten a little ‘Am I crying? What the hell! It can’t be, just the air. Just the air’ he reassured himself as he started walking towards Anya.

“Nathaniel!” She chirped happily “Such a pleasant surprise to see you again.” Anya’s expression became concerned as Nathaniel approached her. “Oh, sweetie, You look wretched! Now tell me, what can I do for you?” her tone was consolingly.

Nathaniel felt warm as she called him sweetie. Wiping at his eyes, he handed his prescription to Anya. “I, uh…have a script” was all he could manage as his voice cracked a little bit.

Anya looked it over, nodded and said “I’ll see to it right away. Why don’t you have a seat, in the mean time, okay?” She gesture to two chairs near the counter.

Nathaniel sniffled, nodded his head, and took a seat. Was he this much of a mess? Was he really fighting back tears? Why was he so relieved to see Anya? He thought on these questions while doing his best to avoid answering them. He just wanted his drugs, and to go home, and to look at Anya, and to feel better. He stared at the dully reflected florescent lights upon the linoleum floor, forearms resting on his knees, lips curled into a frowning pout.

His pitying reverie was broken when he noticed Anya taking the seat next to him. In her hand she held a small paper bag with a few slips of paper stuffed inside. She placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, and he felt himself tense before relaxing into her touch.

“Do you want to talk?” her question was all sweetness and worry.

Nathaniel did not care that her conduct might be professionally unbecoming. He craved this contact. He looked into Anya’s lovely face, those scintillating green eyes, and shrugged lamely. “I’m…just tired. It’s been a hard week.”

Anya draped her arm along Nathaniel’s shoulders, and gently pulled him close so that his head came to rest on her shoulder. Nathaniel resisted at first, but when Anya hushed “shhhhh” he gave up any notion of propriety or concern for her professionalism. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of lavender and talcum. He felt the familiar lump in his throat as tears dripped from his eyes. This was not his dream. This was not where he’d linger forever. This contact would end, this comfort grow cold, they would part, and he’d be alone in his apartment, popping pills and wearing pull-ups. Still, the bitterness of that inevitability could not completely tarnish the moment.

Anya pulled away after a while, and taking his chin in her hand, lifted his face to meet her eyes. “You are obviously going through a lot right now. What you’ve been prescribed is pretty powerful. I’m concerned that, given your apparent duress, you may misuse your prescription” Her voice was firm, but somehow tender.

Nathaniel furrowed his brow at Anya. Was she not going to give him his medicine?

“It’s within my power to withhold this from you if I have legitimate concerns about its abuse” she went on “So I will make you this offer. You join me tonight so you can talk to me. If you do, then I will give you your script.”

Nathaniel wanted to protest. How was it remotely ethical for her to do this? Then he thought about how good she smelled, and how being near her made him feel better, and how long it had been since he had a friend. He relented, nodding his agreement.

Anya released his chin, and smiled. “Good. Now, when was the last time you ate?” she asked, brow quirked.

“Um, yesterday.” Nathan replied meekly.

“Tsk-tsk!” Anya chided “You sit right here. I’m going to let Heather know she’s closing alone tonight. Then you are going to eat. Understood?”

Nathaniel blinked, surprised at Anya’s tone. He nodded and reflexively said “Yes, Ma’am.” Anya’s bright smile made him feel like it was one of the best things he’d ever said.

“Good” and with that, Anya went behind the counter and into the back of the store. Nathaniel thought heard some conversation, but he could not make out the details. Minutes later, Anya returned. She had shed her lab coat, was wearing a pair of black slacks, a white short sleeved blouse that complimented her shape. Her purse was slung over one shoulder, and over the other, a small duffle.

With an impish little smile, she reached her hand out to Nathan. He took it, and like a little boy, was led out into the world.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Struggled with this for a bit, and was a little pressed for time.

Chapter Eight

He was cold - cold and curious how he had ended up in this peculiar predicament; a rare moment of lucidity in the past few troubling days. He sat opposite of Anya in the restaurant booth, the air conditioning vent directly above him. Rubbing at his arms in an effort to ward off the chill, he gazed at the menu mutely.

“Know what you want?” her voice drifted into his consciousness. He looked up to see her smiling at him, her green eyes fixed and questioning.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. I’ll be getting a sandwich thing” his reply was a touch distant. He had followed her to this place, the strangeness he felt urging him to just go home, while the surprisingly fiercer desire for comfort and company kept him following. Now he sat with her, and had no idea what to discuss. His bedwetting? His ex? His dreams? His otherwise dull life? None of it seemed fit, and he maintained hope that she would carry the discussion.

“Oh, a sandwich thing. I see” Anya nodded, feigning seriousness, as she closed her menu. “So, Nathaniel. Why Xanax?”

“Well…um. My shrink. He thought it would, you know. Help” he did not feel the need to add what it would help with.

Anya nodded her understanding. “It could, assuming it is all stress related. Have you seen anyone other than a psychiatrist? Like a GP or urologist?”

Nathaniel averted his eyes as he shook his head no.

“I see” Anya said, once more. She sighed her frustration. “Well, let’s assume its stress then” she stated, getting the discussion back on the rails “What’s making you worry so, if not the issue itself?”

Nathaniel was grateful to Anya for her discretion; not once had she named his problem in such a public space. “It’s” Nathaniel began, pausing as he focused his gaze on a salt shaker, uncertain of which words would come out next. “It’s been a lot of things I guess. Some hard years…and with my, um, with my problem getting worse…it just kinda highlights everything, you know? Like being alone…it’s that much more lonely. How do you even talk to people?”

Anya nodded, listening. “Well, you can talk to me. I know how hard loneliness is. I don’t take your problems as being anything wrong with you.” She shrugged a little before asking “But you don’t let people in, do you?”

He sighed, not liking where the conversation had gone. This would lead back to Lauren, and he hated talking about her. He wanted to pretend the hurt was over, ended when he moved out and away - moved here, hundreds of miles away from his adoptive parents, and his few friends. She lingered still, a malevolent specter, his life her haunt.

“What did she do to you?” her voice was tender, a bare whisper. Nathaniel could only meet her eye for a moment before looking away.

“She was…she was never the one. She was the first, and she broke my heart” Nathaniel felt his mind detach from his body. His voice took on a dull monotone as he narrated his two years with Lauren. He mostly stared at the ketchup bottle at the side of the table as he went on; looking up only every now and then, the server coming to take the food order, the arrival of said food, when acknowledging a question from Anya. He had not recited the entirety of the tale to anyone, only snatches and glimpses. As he finished, there was no catharsis, no great burden lifted from him…merely regret, numbness and that hollowness he had felt earlier. “And so, here I am. With you. In this place, I guess” Nathaniel frowned as he ended the story.

Anya had been attentive during the tale. She nodded softly, and placed a consoling hand on Nathaniel’s hand. Her smile was kind and understanding “I know that it can be difficult to let someone in after something like that. But maybe you might not need pills if you’d let someone take care of you.” A solicitous hint was in her voice as she continued to look at Nathan.

Nathaniel offered Anya a false smile, more teeth and tightness in his lips then there ought to have been. He had a difficult time determining just what she meant by her comment, and after his telling of the tale, his desire for comfort had been strangled by his fear of being hurt again. “Sure…maybe…but god knows when” he offered in reply, an edge he did not intend marking his words.

Anya’s frown was brief, though her demeanor remained caring and cheerful. She squeezed his hand and whispered “You just let me know.”

Conversation after that had stalled, and it was not long before they asked for the check. Anya insisted on paying, despite Nathaniel’s protest. He was admittedly relieved that she had sprung for the meal, as his funds were spread thin this month. Anya gave Nathaniel his medication, warned him to be careful, and give him a hug before they parted ways.

Arriving at his apartment, Nathaniel locked the door behind him and made his way to his tiny kitchen. Passing his couch, he noticed the form of a person sitting upon it. It seemed a man in a hat and waistcoat, face obscured. Nathaniel turned to look directly at the couch, his heart beat quickening. No one was there.

Dread shot through him. He knew this. He had done this before. There was a person, and then there was not. He could not remember what came next. He heard music. He thought it was violins.

Sick rose. Thorn fetch. She stole from me.” The voice hissed, sibilant noises crackling, distorted as though the sounds were echoing off each other. Nathaniel twiddled his thumb against his forefinger, his lips smacked softly against one another, over and over. He felt a caress against his neck, a faint sensation on the threshold of perception. He saw that form again from his peripheral vision. Turning to look once more, and not seeing it there.

What is mine I will pluck from your very bones.” This time, it was the voice of a woman, echoing over a faint buzz and pop of radio static. Nathaniel did not know how this would end, but with every passing moment, his familiarity with this scene grew as did his panic. He wanted to cry for help, but instead a dull, idiot “uhhh” was the only noise he could make until his terror crested. It was then that he found the power of speech, slurring “I have seen the acorn before the oak” before darkness overwhelmed him.

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