The Email

Bonnie awoke with a start. She could feel the icy cold water of the lake lapping against her knees. It was still dark, and Bonnie could see the reflection of the moon cascading over the ripples in the water just in front of her. She shivered, realizing now that she was completely naked. Turning around, she realized she was standing in the only shallow spot on this side of the lake. It was the boat landing, just down the road from the dock where she had awoken a few days before.

Bonnie pondered how the sleep-walking incidents appeared to be getting closer together, as she climbed the slippery algae covered rocks that ascended to the shore of the boat landing. The last one had only been, what, four days ago? 

"That's not good." She muttered to herself as she got her bearings. Bonnie had never been to the boat landing, but she knew of it's existence. It was down at the end of a secluded dirt road that was mostly overgrown, you would walk right past it if you didn't already know where it was. 

She continued up the path to the main road, sticking to the shadows, and praying that no one would see her in her skivvies before she made it back to her house. She was, once again, without shoes on a dirt road, with plenty of rocks and sticks embedded in the ground. This time, she was navigating by moonlight, which made things a lot more difficult.

After about 40 minutes, Bonnie finally arrived back at her lake house. She sighed with exhaustion, begging her body to stop with the midnight hikes. As she entered the house, glancing at the clock, she noted it was only 4:14am, there was still time to get some rest. Then, looking down at her feet, she saw the bloody footprints that she had made coming into the kitchen. Her feet were battered and bruised, both of them bleeding from wounds inflicted by the barefoot midnight stroll. 

With another heavy sigh, she hobbled to the bathroom to soak her abused feet. She knew there would not be any more sleep tonight, even if she was so exhausted she could fall asleep sitting on the side of the tub. The fact was, she didn't trust herself to sleep anymore. The first couple incidents of sleep-walking had been harmless enough, but the last one had made her uneasy, and tonight had scared the hell out of her. If she can get that far into the lake without waking up, what's stopping her from going further? She had been standing on slippery rocks, what if she had lost her footing and fallen into the deep water? What if she ended up lost in the woods? The horrible possibilities raced through Bonnie's mind as she washed and dried her feet, applying salve and bandages before tucking them both into a pair of thick, fuzzy socks. She wrapped the rest of her body in a fluffy robe, pulling it tight around herself and cinching the belt.

Limping her way back to the kitchen, Bonnie put on some coffee and sat down in her beanbag with her laptop sitting on her knees. If she wasn't going to sleep, she might as well do some research about sleep-walking and see what she can find out. 

Bonnie sipped her coffee slowly while scrolling through snake oil ads that claimed their miracle elixir would cure her sleep-walking if she paid the subscription fees and took a magic potion once a week. She scrolled past another that boasted immediate results with just one hypnotherapy session. She stopped for a moment, and considered that she had not seen her therapist since she moved, and therefor, had not yet discussed with him the sleep-walking issue. Maybe it was time to book another session and see if he had any insights into her sudden onset slumber-mischief.

The click clack of the keyboard soothed Bonnie's anxiety as she logged into her email and began drafting a message to her therapist's office to have them contact her for an appointment. She had started seeing Dr. Iris, who she affectionately referred to as "Dr. Irish", because of his accent, a few months before her relationship with Alex imploded. She had the utmost respect and trust for Dr. Irish, and if anyone could get to the bottom of this dangerous new habit, it would be him. He had talked her through so much in the last six months. The affair, the breakup, some soul searching, and lots of trauma. She couldn't wait to catch him up on the events of her life, and see what his thoughts were about her new problem.

Bonnie perused the new emails in her inbox after sending the appointment message to Dr. Irish's office. She wondered briefly how long it would take to go through all her junk mail and unsubscribe to every website that sent her coupons and flyers for sales she didn't care about. She had time, after all, if she wasn't going to get any rest.

Then, in the middle of all the ads and spam, she spotted it.

"OK, let's talk.
- Alex."

"Oh. My. God." Bonnie uttered as she stared at the words on the screen in front of her. Was this real? Did she fall asleep and this was just another cruel nightmare? Bonnie pinched herself, just in case. Reassured that she was awake, and this was actually happening, she hit the reply button and began typing furiously.

"Great, yes, let's talk! Where? When? Name a place and time and I will be here. 
- Bonnie"

She re-read the sentence a few times, and enthusiastically hit send. Suddenly, all her woes and exhaustion were forgotten. She would be given the chance to say her piece. And that was all she wanted, after all. With a newfound zest for life, Bonnie hopped out of her beanbag with renewed vigor. She would had to clean herself up for Alex. Maybe get a haircut, buy some new clothes, she wanted to look her very best. She wanted Alex to miss her as much as she missed Alex.