3 Unconscious

She was startled awake by a loud bang. Sleepily, she rubbed her eyes and climbed out of bed. Slowly making her way downstairs, she started to feel more and more awake, remembering the events of the morning. Remembering her mother's words, she expected it to be her mother, coming here to 'talk things over' with her. Diane yelled, "You again? Don't you know when to give up?"

At the door, she found a very surprised best friend. Smiling sheepishly, Diane apologized. "Sorry, Catherine. I thought you were my mom."

"Family problems?" Catherine asked, putting her shoes away.

"Yeah," Diane said, shaking her head.

"What is it this time?" Catherine asked sympathetically.

"My mom wants me to marry. She found seven suitors for me," Diane answered.

"Mhmm. You rejected them?" Catherine said.

"Yeah, they were pretty annoying. Not that I stayed long enough to get to know them," Diane admitted.

"Just what I expected," Catherine teased. "Did your mother force anyone to follow you nonetheless?"

"So, what brought you here?" Diane asked, face flushing. Catherine had hit too close to home. Diane was desperate to change the subject. She still hadn't sorted out how she was going to deal with her mother and Lorenzo. She didn't want to talk about it just yet because even now, when she'd had time to think it over, it was an awkward subject for her.

Catherine nodded in an understanding way. "You didn't show up to tea so I decided to check out what was keeping you," Catherine explained. "And I found you half asleep."

"That's not my fault!" Diane protested.

Catherine laughed. "Come on, I'll make some tea right now."

Over a cup of tea, Diane and Catherine had their Sunday chat. Being best friends since 10th grade, they shared practically everything in their lives with each other. And to keep their friendship from falling apart (like most friendships do due to not being able to keep in touch), they met every Sunday at a local tea shop to discuss their lives, rant about any problems, or to just have a quiet thinking time with a friend. Diane and Catherine both laughed when Catherine talked about the cat that showed up for food at the nursing home but never stayed long enough for anyone to catch or tame it. The cat had been nicknamed "Picky" because of its picky nature. One of the funniest things about Picky was that he was picky about who even came near him. He hated young nurses and loved the residents of the nursing home. When it was Diane's turn to talk, she tried to avoid the topic of her mother's party but Catherine eventually brought it up. Apparently, she'd forgotten that it was still an uncomfortable

"Can we please not talk about it? It's not really a subject I want to talk about…" Diane's voice trailed off at the sight of her friend's murderous glare.

"The point of our Sunday chat," Catherine hissed through clenched teeth, "is to talk about our week. If you're not going to tell me about the biggest event that happened to you this week, then what's the point of tea with me?"

Diane didn't back down. "The point of our Sunday chat is to keep us informed about the other's life. It's to keep our friendship from unraveling."

This feels familiar. Have I done this before? With someone else? Diane thought back to her days as a child, but she couldn't remember ever resisting against someone's glare like that. Or trying to stare down someone like this to get what she wanted. Diane felt a small tingle in her fingertips. Could I have forgotten something? Trying really hard to remember, the feeling grew and spread until both her hands were numb. A memory kept resurfacing, but then dissolving into nothing, making Diane doubt that she was actually remembering a memory. Especially a forgotten memory. By now, the feeling had spread halfway up her arms, and her hands were shaking really badly. She was sweating and gasping like a fish out of water. Dark hair. The feeling was halfway up her arms. Red glint. It was up to her shoulders. Red. She was paralyzed. She couldn't move. What is happening? Help! Help! HELP!

Diane woke to a cool towel pressed to her forehead. The water was dripping down to her eyes and down the side of her head. Where am I? The last thing Diane remembered was an empty field. Field? She stared at the ceiling, her eyes dead blank. Her thoughts were so mixed up. Was she at her house before or a parking lot? Was she talking to Catherine or someone else? Who is Catherine? My best friend. Slowly, Diane started to remember, regaining consciousness. She started to be able to tell apart real events from fragments of the dream she just had.

"Diane? Are you ok?" Catherine asked, her worry showing in her voice. "You just passed out for a few minutes and I was afraid that you were sick. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pressed for you to talk about the morning, it was wrong of me. I should have let you tell me when you were comfortable. You were trembling and-"

"Don't worry. I'm fine. I guess I was just tired," Diane lied. To be honest, her head was throbbing and her vision was still obscured by spots that swam across her eyes.

"Then maybe you should go rest. You still seem pretty weak. Did you eat anything expired? Should you schedule an appointment?" Catherine fretted.

Diane let out a weak laugh. "As a nurse myself, I should be able to tell when I need a checkup. And Catherine, really, I'm fine. You don't have to worry. A good sleep on a real bed will probably fix all my problems." Shoving Catherine in the direction of the door, Diane added, "Off you go now. I don't need another mother."

Catherine laughed and answered, "I think you do, actually, if you're going to pass out randomly like that. Bye. Sweet dreams!" And she was gone.

Struggling to even take a step, Diane hobbled her way up the stairs and into her bedroom. She fell onto her bed, for once glad that she had a comforter. The warm quilt made her drowsy, and within seconds, she was asleep again.