Remembering

Marty was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty syringe lying in front of him. He got up and started walking around the house, thinking what was left in there. The kitchen had been stripped of all appliances. There was no oven anymore, no microwave. The only thing left was the fridge. But he couldn't remove that, he already got rid of all his tools. When did this happen? How did he get here? He crashed on the couch, aimlessly staring at the ceiling. People told him it was impossible, but he was sure he could see his mothers face at times like this. He closed his eyes and saw her smile, her bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sun, her golden hair waving in the wind as her giant hands picked him up.
People said it was impossible, but he was sure he remembered life from when he was three years old and his mother was still alive. How else could he explain this feeling. The feeling of flying as his mother lifted him up above her head and spinned him around. He kept his eyes on his mothers face, on her smile and on every detail he could possibly remember. He saw her in such detail that even a picture wouldn't give the same memory. He saw every summer freckle, every wrinkle that her smile formed around her mouth and everything that made her beautiful. He smiled at her. Then he laughed, a high pitched squeaky child's laugh, waving his arms in the air, yelling to go faster. "Faster mommy, faster." He heard a high pitched voice yell. It was his own voice he realized. His voice of almost thirty years ago. This was the most perfect moment Marty could possibly imagine.
But he should've known better. Every time his dreams reached this point the same thing happened. His mother did go faster just like he asked. And then faster still. The unbridled joy of a little kid he had felt moments ago had changed in uttermost horror as everything around him blurred. "Mom, no! Mom, stop!" He heard his own three year old voice yell now. And his mother did stop. And for a moment he thought everything would be fine. He reached for his mother, wanting to hold her. Then she disappeared. He saw her fading away, starting at her legs. "Mom, don't go!" His voice yelled again. His mother looked down and gave him a sorrowful smile. By this time most of her body had disappeared. Marty tried kicking, screaming and flailing his arms, but his mother kept fading away. Her arms somehow kept holding him up as they slowly disappeared. He was helplessly floating in the air as her face started to fade out now. He saw her smile dissolving in thin air first. As a tear rolled down her cheek the rest of her face disappeared. "Mooooooooom!" He screamed. And then, when the last of her hands had dissolved, he started falling. Marty kept screaming at the top of his lungs as he fell down. This was not how it should go. It was just not fair. Why did the cancer have to take his mom away from him.
When he was a kid Marty had always believed that Cancer was a huge dragon with giant claws. The dreams about his mother used to be different back then. For years every night he would stand eye to eye with that dragon. It would look a little different every night, but it would be there. The dragon that stood between him and his mother. And every single night he would fight it, but he would loose more often then he would win. And even when he succeeded in slaying that dragon, his mother was still dead when he woke up. There was no way to tame this dragon. And there was no way to stop these dreams. Not yet anyway. Now he longed back to the days when his dreams were so simple. He wanted to live back in a time where his fear and pain could be defined as a tangible thing. When he could see the danger he thought he was facing, even if it looked much bigger and stronger then him. But the moment you grow up everything becomes more complicated. He was completely torn back to reality when his body hit the floor.

His eyes opened wide and he realized he had just rolled out of the couch. He lay there for a minute, catching his breath. Even though he knew it had just been a dream, he fell like he had fallen for hours. He looked back to the table, to the empty syringe. That one was from a week or so ago, and it was the last one he had.
Marty started pacing the room again, afraid to go back to sleep. He looked around the room. There was an empty shelve where there had used to be a television. There was no DVD player anymore either of course. He looked at his desk, filled with bills. His computer had been the last thing to go. There was no more silver in the kitchen, no more decoration standing around the house.
If only Marty could block out all these dreams. If only she was still here to help him. She had always known what to do and what to say. If these dreams wouldn't return there wouldn't be any problems. And there hadn't been any problems for so long. But that was when she was still around. He couldn't sleep normal anymore now. His body felt his lack of sleep and his mind started caving under the long hours awake as well. He had lost his job and things had only gotten worse from there.
Marty fell his knees starting to buckle beneath him. As he looked at the cheap clock hanging on the wall he saw there were only two hours left in the night. He stumbled to the kitchen and hid away the syringe. However clouded his mind was, he was still clear enough not to let that lying around. He dropped his body back on the couch, knowing it was no use to fight his sleep anymore. By this time the nightmares weren't all that bad. He just had to allow himself to get tired enough. He closed his eyes and his mind drifted off in the infinite darkness before him.

There was a light in this darkness. A small light flickering and flashing as he floated towards it. The moment it enveloped him, he felt a wetness settle on him. His clothes sticked to his body, all soaked through. When the next thunderclap came, he realized it was raining. Lightning strikes around him as the water soaked his hair and ran over his face. The world around him slowly came into focus. First he saw the grass at his feet, there were flowers lying just in front of him. He looked to the left, where he saw a giant of a man standing next to him, holding his hand, crying. No, not a giant. Marty looked at his own hand. The man next to him wasn't a giant, Marty was a kid again. But he still didn't see where he was. He focused beyond the flowers in front of him. There was stone there, it looked like granite. There was text on it, but somehow he couldn't read it. The letters looked all jumbled and mixed up. He wiped his eyes clean from the water that had streamed into them. That's when he saw that the stone went on and stood upright before him. There was something written on there as well. He still couldn't read what, but he didn't need to. He now saw the picture that was on there. The picture of his mother, the granite slab on the ground, the lilies at his feet. This was his mothers funeral. He wiped his eyes again. Now he realized, there wasn't water running into them, there were tears running out. He looked back up at the man besides him. This was the first time he had seen his father cry.
This is when the scenery around Marty started changing. The grass disappeared and was replaced by a wooden floor, the lilies and the grave just sank into the ground before the wooden floor formed over them. Walls grew around him and furniture morphed out of the ground. As last it stopped raining. Well it didn't really stop. As Marty looked up he saw a ceiling being formed over his head, lamps falling down from it. And even though he somehow knew this wasn't normal, it all seemed so natural. He was still standing with his left hand at shoulder height, holding his fathers hand, but when he flexed his fingers he noticed it was empty. He looked back at his side to find his father was gone. He started looking closer to his surroundings again. He recognized the pictures on the wall, the mirrors, the closets and the big clock standing in the corner. This was his childhood home. From the bright wallpaper to the hard wooden furniture standing around. He started walking around, running his small hands along the walls. He even recognized the toys that lay around the floor. He finally saw his dad sitting at the table in the dining room. His face buried in his arm, his body shocking as he audibly sobbed. A half empty bottle of scotch was standing in front of him. "Daddy?" He heard his squeaky voice ask.
His dad lifted his head and looked at him with a hazy look on his face. "Marty." He said with surprise in his voice. "Yyyou ssshhhould be innn bed." He said slurring his words. "Nnnnow up you gggo." He said as he tried standing up, but miserably failed. He waved the boy off in stead as he poured himself another glass of scotch.
Somehow the world around Marty started transforming again. It was more subtle this time though. The room stayed the same, but everything just went a little darker around him and his father. His fathers voice had also become more of a low grumbling growl in Marty's ears now. That's when Marty started running. He didn't know where he should go, but it shouldn't be here. He ran into the darkness, finding the stairs. He ran quickly upstairs until he arrived at his room. He opened the door and a bright light shined out blinding him as he lifted his hands to protect his eyes. Then he heard a voice. It was soft and gentle at first "Wake up Marty. Marty wake up."

Marty's eyes opened wide, and closed again almost as fast. "Marty, wake up and get yo' lazy ass outta this couch." He squinted against the light that shone through the window. Slowly he started to see shapes, and one shape was moving towards him. Even though he couldn't see her face he knew it was his neighbor Grace. "Marty, really, it's time to get up." She said as she shook his shoulder rather violently.
"M'kay, M'kay." Marty reacted, trying to cover his eyes against the light. "I'm up. What time is it?"
As his sight slowly returned he saw the big black woman in front of him look at her watch. "It's ten thirty." She replied to him. "Or better said," she continued "time to get yo' life in order. Just look at this place Marty."
"Well it's not like I'm in much of a position to change things now." Marty grunted back at her as he buried his face I his hands. He really appreciated the help Grace had given him through these last couple of months, but right now he didn't feel like receiving another lecture.
"Mmhhmm." Grace answered sarcastically. "Whatever ya say Hun." She walked up to him and held the empty syringe up in his face. "I was filling up your fridge. I decided to put at least something to eat with in your drawer, you're not an animal after all. Three guesses what I found."
Marty looked up at her face as he snatched the syringe from her hand. "I didn't use it, if that's what you're asking." He snapped at her in a bitter voice. "And I hid it."
"In the kitchen drawer where you keep your cutlery. Not really a safe hiding place." She snapped back. "Just imagine what could've happened. Do you realize..."
"I know, I know. You're right of course." He buried his face in his hands again, feeling ashamed of his own mistakes. "Thank you for looking out for me." he added sincerely as he looked up at her.
She frowned at him with a condescending look in her eyes. "You know full well I'm not here to look out for you. You can just count yourself lucky I look in your general direction. If it wasn't for her..."
Marty broke her of with an exhausted grunt. "Okay, okay. Thank you for looking out for her then. I still appreciate it."
Grace sighed, shrugging of his words. "I filled up your fridge. You should be good for the next couple of days." she said as she started to walk towards the door.
"Grace." Marty stopped her. "You don't happen to have..."
This time it was Grace that interrupted him. "Don't you dare." she yelled spinning back around to face him. "I'm prepared to fill your fridge. I'm prepared to help with the house. I'm even willing to help you get your affairs in order for her sake. But never, ever ask me for money. Not again" Rage was dripping from her voice and Marty turned his head away in shame.
"Grace, please." he mumbled. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. I can't get anything in order if I can't sleep." Grace looked down at him without compassion. All Marty could see in her face was pity. And at this point he didn't care. He would take her pity, her loathing, whatever, as long as he could get some sleep.
But all Grace did was shake her head as she walked out. "You're unbelievable, you know that." He heard her say as she closed the door behind her.
With those words he was left alone again. Marty got up and went to the bathroom to wash up. He looked at his unshaven face in the mirror. His dirty blonde hair had grown to his shoulders by now and a beard that looked like it had trouble breaking through covered his face. And that was what still looked kind of decent about him. His face looked like that of a sleep depraved maniac. The fact that he had lost multiple pounds in the last month alone didn't really help. His eyes looked like they had dropped back into his skull. He threw a handful of ice cold water in his face, but it didn't wash away the bags under his eyes. He needed sleep, he needed the dreams to go away. Frustrated he slammed his fist into the wall.
"There has to be something left." He thought to himself as he stormed back into the house. He started pulling open drawers and opening closets, digging through everything. There was a lot of junk left, but nothing of real value. "It can't be that I lost everything. I can't have sold it all back when..." His train of thought was abruptly halted by the sound of metal when he pulled open a drawer. He slowly reached in there, pushing aside papers until he saw the origin of the noise. It was his great-grandfathers pocket watch. He grabbed hold of the chain and slowly lifted it out of the drawer, dropping it in his hand. This watch had been in his family for generations now. He slowly stumbled back to the couch, eyeing the antique timepiece in his hand. As he felt the rounded metal under his fingertips, and saw the craftsmanship of the hand carved motives on the face plate, memories started flooding back to him. He dropped back on the couch, his head tilted backwards, facing the ceiling. With the watch clasped tightly in his fist, he closed his eyes and his mind allowed him to slowly drift off into the darkness once again.

When he opened his eyes he still felt the comfort of the watch in his hand. He tried to close his hand around it again, but somehow the watch didn't fit in his hand anymore. This was when he started looking around the room. "Again?" he murmured to himself. Once again he seemed to have been transported back into his childhood home. He looked around more carefully now. He seemed to be a little older then last time. When he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, he instinctively grasped the watch close to his chest. Then he turned to face his dad.
"Hey, sport." he heard his dad say with a tired voice as he walked in the door.
Marty seemed to remember moments like this. They were the only moments of every day since his mom died, that his dad was sober enough to have a conversation. The moment he came home from work. But even as Marty remembered these moments, he saw his father walk over to the liquor cabinet and poor himself a drink. "What is that you've got there?" his dad asked, taking a sip.
Marty carefully, almost reluctantly opened his hands, revealing the watch to his father. His father frowned. "You be careful with this son." he said with a reprimanding tone in his voice. "This is a very valuable piece of our family, and not a toy." he took the watch from Marty's hands and held it up. "Do you know he story of this watch, Marty?" his father asked as he went to sit besides his son, putting his drink aside. Young Marty shook his head. "It belonged to my grandfather." his dad started to explain. "It was a wedding gift to him and my grandmother. Back then only special or very rich people could afford watches like this. So the whole family took some of their savings and bought my grandfather the best watch they could find. They found one made of gold and silver with gold letters on the faceplate. See?" He held the watch out for Marty to look at it. "And on the back" he continued as he flipped the watch over "they had it inscribed." he held it out for Marty to see.
"May your love be timeless." Marty read out loud. "James and Agnes. 05-12-1911" When Marty had read the date he looked up at his dad. "Has this watch been with us for that long?"
His dad nodded solemnly. "Yes it has son. Your great-grandfather protected it trough the first great war until he came back home. He gave it to your grandfather before the second great war and your grandfather handed it down to me. We all kept it safe, we protected it under all costs. And one day, it will be your task to protect it, son." With that said Marty's dad got up and hung the watch back on its designated place on the wall, before he emptied his drink and went to pour himself another. Marty just got up and went to stare at the watch on the wall. He could see his reflection in the glass plate, and he even thought he could see the twinkle in his own eyes. It was the sound of breaking glass that broke his stare. His fathers sober moment had past. Once again little Marty felt a sense of fear and dread come over him. He turned around to run again. But this time he didn't reach his room, or even the stairs. He simply slipped as the ground beneath him turned to darkness, swallowing him whole.

Marty opened his eyes and straightened his head with a loud gasp. His eyes needed some time to adjust to the brightness, but he felt the watch safely clasped in his fist again. Then the room slowly came back into focus. The clock was still ticking on the wall. He looked over at it and noticed that only half an hour had past. With an annoyed grunt he heaved himself back out of the couch. His breathing was still heavy from the dream's shock ending. He looked at the watch in his hand, contemplating its future. That's when his eye fell on the empty syringe Grace had left lying there. This pushed him over the edge. With a look of determination in his eyes he clenched his jaw and put on a coat. It wasn't far from his apartment to a local pawn shop. But then again, maybe he'd be better off with the antique dealer two blocks down. He had done dealings with antique dealers before, and it had always turned out very good for Marty. By the time he left the apartment building he had decided. With his hands stuck deep in his pockets and the watch firmly in one of his fists he turned towards the antique dealer. He might get a nice price out of this.
As Marty walked through the city streets he pulled up his collar to ward off some of the cold. His breath formed visible clouds in the cold winter air, even though rays of sun shone down on his face. Marty hated days like this. He even enjoyed dark and rainy days more then this freezing cold. He always chilled right to the bone. Deep in his warm pockets his fingers kept running over the watch. It's ironic how the weather today was just like on that day, years ago when he had acquired this watch. He had been barely eighteen, and was just about fed up with his fathers drunken rages. It was weird how he remembered the fear from when he was a little kid, and the loathing from when he was a teenager. But he also remembered that his father, no matter how drunk he got and no matter how aggressive his drunken fits were, had never laid a single finger on him. Marty hadn't been abused per say, but living with the fear of a drunk maniac and the lack of emotional support from the day his mother died forward had left a hole in Marty’s very being. And one cold winter day when his father lay passed out on the floor after he had smashed into the wall one too many times, Marty had decided it was enough. He knew where his dad kept some money, and he had his own savings of course. He had a bag packed and just up and left. He had thrown a last look at the house that had been a home for him for so long, looking over smashed bottles on the floor and shattered picture frames on the wall. That’s when he saw the watch, hanging from the middle of the wall, like the eye in this crazy storm. The words his father had spoken to him came back “And one day, it will be your task to protect it, son." He had decided that that day would be today. He had grabbed the watch, slammed the door behind him, walked off in the cold winter air and never looked back. To Marty's misfortune he decided to ask one of his old school friends for help. That's where his life had taken a turn for the worse. His so called friend had taken in with a bad crowd, and it wasn't long before Marty was introduced to the substance that finally helped him sleep. It started with pills, then powder, until he moved up to the liquid stuff. He could barely pay his newfound addictions with the several side jobs he kept, but he stayed afloat, somehow. And this watch had been with him through it all. Well,... through most of it anyways.

Marty shook his head. He had been so deep in thoughts that he had almost walked past the antique dealer. A little bell chimed as he opened the door and a balding, older man walked in from a back door with a warm smile on his face. "Welcome." the man started warmly. His warm tone and expression changed however when he got a better look at Marty. With one glance the man had realized that Marty could never afford the finer merchandise his store had to offer. "I'm guessing you walked into the wrong store." the man said with an annoyed tone, waving Marty off to the door. "And no you can not use the bathroom." he added as he started turning around. Marty pulled out the watch and held it up without saying a word. The man froze, half expecting a gun or a knife to come out of the pocket, but when he saw the watch he got a little curiouser.
"It's not stolen." Marty stated when he saw the man was still hesitant. Eventually the man's curiosity won from his carefulness and he eagerly took the watch from Marty's hand.
"Let's see what we have here, shall we." he said as he motioned Marty to follow him to the back of the store. Marty saw the twinkle in the man's eyes. It was almost the same twinkle he had seen in his own eyes back when his father had first told him of the watch's origins. Of course this twinkle was filled with more then just a childlike interest in the history of the watch. This twinkle was also overflowing with greed.
The man put the watch down on a workbench and put on a pair of glasses. "I see, I see." he mumbled as he turned the watch over and over in the light. "Excellent craftsmanship." he mumbled as he examined the back. He grabbed an even bigger magnifying glass and examined the faceplate again. "Let's see here." he whispered as he grabbed a large book. Marty couldn't quite see but it seemed to be an index of some sort. As he saw the man looking back and forth between the watch and the index, he heard the man utter a small gasp, but quickly containing himself again. He turned back to Marty with an extremely neutral look on his face. "It is, no doubt, an old watch." he said matter-of-factly. "But that doesn't mean it's worth much. I could give you maybe a couple of hundred dollars for the silver and gold."
Marty looked down and started laughing. "You are a terrible poker player, you know that?" he said as he snatched the watch back from the mans hand. "This is an antique timepiece in working condition. It was handcrafted by the Swiss watchmakers of the Gallet Geneve company back in the early nineteen hundreds. It's worth at least four thousand dollars."
The man swallowed. "Well, yes, but without a Certificate of Authenticity..." the man started before he got interrupted by Marty. "Which I can provide. Tomorrow, when you provide the money."
"In that case." the man said, with a little look of shame on his face. "I feel obliged to inform you that the price went up since you got this piece last appraised." the man stammered. "It's now worth five thousand four hundred and fifty three dollars."
Marty, blinked his eyes a couple of times to take in the news. "That certainly is good news. I believe ten percent would be for you, that would leave about four thousand nine hundred dollars for me."
"Correct." the man admitted now that he saw that Marty was no fool. He pointed back at the watch. "I can give you thousand five hundred dollars now and the rest tomorrow when you bring the Certificate of Authenticity." The man grabbed some papers from the desk drawer and filled out some details. "I assume you want cash." the man mentioned as he handed Marty the papers.
Marty started reading over the details with a scrutinizing look on his face. "That would be highly appreciated." he answered. He watched the man as he walked off. The guy couldn't know that Marty had been in this situation before.

Some good eight years ago was the one time this watch hadn't been with him. He had distanced himself from his father some years by then. That's why it came as such a surprise to him when a letter from his dad arrived in the mail. It had taken him weeks after that to even open it. But eventually his own curiosity had gotten the better of him. Inside the envelope he had found a handwritten letter.

"Dear Marty

I understand I wasn't there for you in the rough time we had. I was selfish to put my own need for pain relief in front of yours. I know this might all be empty words by now, but I'm working on becoming sober. I can never relive those years I abandoned you and it's only logical for you to abandon me.
I also understand why you had to take the watch. It could have fallen victim to one of my drunken rages sooner or later. It seems like you took up the family legacy of protecting it, even from me. With this letter I also sent you its Certificate of Authenticity. I hope you never have to use it, but it should always be kept close to the watch itself. It's up to you to protect this family heirloom now son. Please do it more proud then I did.
I sincerely hope that one day, you will find it in your heart to forgive me and be ready to let me step back into your life. Until then, I will keep your memory and that of you mother in my heart.

With all of my love,
Dad."

This letter couldn't have come at a worse time though. Marty had just lost one of his jobs for being high during his shift and now money was getting scarce. He had also reached that point in his life where he needed to blame someone, anyone really, for his situation and his dad was as good a person as any. And in his loathing and disgust for his father it had occurred to him that with the Certificate of Authenticity this old watch might be worth something. There could be no harm in at least checking it out. He had started looking for people that could help him on the internet in a local library. But there had been so much information, spread over such a large area that he was just about to give up. That's when he found an add for this little antiquity shop not to far from him, not more then a bus ride away. It was quickly decided right then and there, he needed money bad, it wouldn't be long now before the dreams came back, and he was sure he couldn't handle that again. This last piece of his father might give him exactly what he needed so badly right now.
One small buss ride later he walked through the door of a little cozy shop. And that's where he met her. The moment the little bell filled the shop with it's sound she turned around to face him, her long blonde hair waving around her, glowing in the light of the chandeliers that hung down from the ceiling. Her eyes sparkling brighter then any of the jewels laying in the display behind her. And her face. Her face was decorated with a sincere smile that made her look like an angel in his eyes. She didn't change her smile or her tone when she saw him. She simply kept smiling with all her face and asked what it was she could do for him. Marty was almost embarrassed about his own reaction when he thought back to it. When she told it, she would always say how cute he looked, he just remembered how he became this shy, stuttering mess whenever he looked at her. He had laid the watch in front of her, avoiding all forms of eye contact. He stopped that as well though when he noticed he was staring at her breasts instead. "How... How much could this be worth?" he asked, quickly glancing at her face.
She gave a little chuckle at him, and he felt his face run hot with embarrassment. "Let's see what we have, shall we." she said as she picked up the watch with gentle thin fingers. She pulled a lamp closer and gave it a thorough checkup. "Since this is not that big of a shop, and I only work here..." the woman slowly started explaining with a sweet almost melodic voice "I can't give you an official price." she handed him the watch back. "Unofficially." she added quickly "I would say it could fetch four thousand dollars. If you have the Certificate of Authenticity, that is."
This snapped Marty out of the hypnotic state this woman's beauty had put him in. "Come again, please." he said quickly blinking his eyes, convinced that he had misunderstood her.
"Four thousand dollars." she said leaning in a little closer. "But I didn't tell you that. Okay?"
Marty looked back at the watch in his hand. He hadn't even noticed that his hand had started shaking. "Where should I sell it?" he asked in a serious tone, not looking up from his hand.
"There are a number of bigger antique dealers that would be happy to buy such a fine piece." she answered. "We could even take it ourselves, when my boss is back and he can get an official price check. But is that really what you want to do?" She asked him in a somber tone.
He looked up at her and for the first time he saw the smile run away from her face. "What do you mean?" he asked her a little confused.
"What I mean is," she answered him as she looked down at the watch, and lay her hand on his "that this watch seems to have a lot of personal history around it. It would be a shame to let this get lost."
The words from his father's letter started playing through Marty's head again at that point. "It's up to you to protect this family heirloom now son. Please do it more proud then I did." Marty felt shame fill his whole body. How was it that this strange woman had put more value to this watch's history then he himself. "Yeah. Yeah it has a very rich history." he admitted to her.
"Well maybe you can tell me about it." she said, smiling again.
"You know how old this watch is." Marty started grinning himself now. "It might take some time to tell it all."
"Then maybe you should tell me over drinks." she offered, smiling from ear to ear now. "My shift ends in fifteen minutes."
And about twenty minutes later the two of them were sitting in a bar, laughing, crying and comforting each other. That was the first time Marty met his wife, that was when he met Courtney. That night, Marty had handed the watch to Courtney, entrusting her with the family task of keeping it safe, and Courtney had helped Marty put his life straight. She had gotten him a respected job, she had helped him rehabbing and one year later they were married. And all this time there wasn't a single sleepless night due to dreams about his mother, dragons or a fire breathing father. Marty had found peace, and it seemed like a peace only Courtney could give him.

A cough pulled Marty out of his daydream. He had been so far gone that he needed to reorientate himself for a second. He quickly realized where he was when he saw a balding man look at him with a disapproving frown. Marty cleared his throat. "These papers seem to be good." he said, squaring the papers the antique dealer had handed him to sign. He grabbed a pen from the desk and signed the papers.
The man smiled at him and started counting down money on the table. "... thousand nine hundred,... two thousand." He squared the bills and held out an empty hand to Marty.
Marty put the watch in the man's hand, surprised by his own reluctance to let the thing go. When the antique dealer had finally pulled it free from Marty's fingers, he handed him the money. "Don't spend it all in one place." he said with a sarcastic undertone. "Then again, what do I care. Go have a ball. Just make sure you come back tomorrow with the Certificate of Authenticity." he added as he turned around to put the watch into his vault. Marty heard him mumble as he walked trough the door "The sooner this piece is mine, the better."
Marty grabbed the money and thrust his hands deep in his pockets again. On his way home he walked by the place where his dealer stood around regularly. Today wasn't one of his selling days it seemed. "Just one more night. One more night." Marty kept repeating to himself. One more night and he'd be settled for the next months. Then he would be able to sleep. To put his life back in order. For her. He would be fine as long as he remembered that it was all for her.
He couldn't handle seeing the empty apartment right now. He started wandering around the city, lost in his own thoughts and memories. Maybe it was best for him to be out for some time, the apartment was filled with too much nightmares. In this city he at least had some good memories. As he wandered the streets he recognized the Italian restaurant where he and Courtney had their first official date. He smiled when he remembered how they decided not to count the drinks they had when they first met.
One block further was the small apartment where she had lived when they started dating. "Oh, if those walls could talk, they'd probably keep silent in shame anyway." Courtney used to say. It had been a nice place, but a little too small. And with the money they had saved they were finally able to buy a bigger place.
Marty entered a park and went to sit on a bench, looking out over the grass field. In this cold weather only the most hardened of people wandered on the field. In the spring however it would be filled with picnickers, playing children and lovers, coming here to enjoy the sun's warm rays. Six years ago he had been on this field with Courtney. He could almost see the situation playing out in front of him once again. He had secured a spot in the middle of the field, with some of his and her best friends waiting around in the crowd of people sitting around them. They had eaten breakfast together. They had laughed, they had talked. That's when he had dropped to one knee, opened the box holding the best ring he could afford and asked her the big question. And just like in every good movie, and bad movie for that fact, she had started crying from happiness, letting all of her emotions out and said yes. That's when all friends had stood up and started cheering. It didn't take all that long to have the whole field cheer at their kiss and the happiness they had together.
When the cold finally started to penetrate his clothes, Marty got up and started moving again, kicking his legs wide to warm them up. He followed the path outside the park. They had been renovating and he had no idea where he'd wind up now. But he didn't really care, he needed these random fond memories, they kept his mind calm. He kept wandering, head deep in thought. It was only when he lifted his eyes some streets later that he recognized where he was. He wandered inside the fence and started walking down the well maintained paths. He didn't even look at the names of the graves he walked by. He knew where he was going. He stopped by her grave, tears already welling up in his eyes. He lowered himself down on his knees. He didn't care how dramatic or cliched he looked doing it. As he looked at the tombstone tears started rolling down his face. "Why?" was all he could muster to say at this point. Even though he had all these good memories around the city, this was the one that overshadowed them all. And just like that it seemed as if the dreams had returned.

Marty found himself sitting in a doctor's office, holding Courtney's hand as she had her head on his shoulder, crying and sobbing into his arm. His rock, his life and his joy was leaning on him. The woman he had always looked up to for help and guidance just broke down in front of him, and now it was his turn to be strong. He didn't really remember the whole conversation past that point, except for two facts. They had no insurance, and an operation would be pricy and risky. All he could think about was the dragon that had just returned.
That night he and Courtney sat down and talked. They talked, cried ,calculated and even prayed deep into the night. And Marty decided they wouldn't give up. He had felt like he was five years old again, when this cancer was still a dragon in his eyes. A dragon that was way stronger then him. But this time he wasn't facing the dragon alone. He and Courtney would be able to face it together this time. They gathered everything of value and most of the money they had in the bank. It still wasn't enough to stand a fighting chance. That's when Grace had come in as a savior, their knight in shining armor. She had grabbed deep in her emergency funds and helped them with paying the rest of the operations. And now they had gathered enough money to stand a chance of beating this monster. But all of that, all the money, all the help, all the support and all the love in the world hadn't been enough. She went in and never woke up. The dragon had taken another pillar from Marty's life, another woman he loved was carried away, never to be seen again.
That was the night the nightmares returned. That was the night he saw his mother disappear again. But now his mother was joined by Courtney. That night he had been weak. He had taken all the money that was left, most of it a loan from Grace, and bought himself enough drugs to be high for weeks straight. He didn't remember much of the following two months though. The first thing he really remembered was sobering up last week, having the nightmares return worse then ever.

That brought him back to the here and now. Kneeling in front of his wife's grave, enough money in his pockets to get rid of the dreams for a couple of weeks. As he looked around he saw that it was getting dark. It was the highest time to go home. He grabbed the dollar bills tighter in his pockets and put his collar up high again as even the little warmth the sun had provided was fleeting away. With brisk steps he walked down the streets and before it was completely dark out he had closed and locked the door of his apartment behind him. However depressing these empty walls were, he felt better now that he wasn't looking at his wife’s grave anymore.
He opened the fridge and started looking around. He loved that Grace filled his fridge and all, but did the woman have to be vegetarian. Somehow he wasn’t all that hungry anyways so he just grabbed a carrot to have something to gnaw on. He sat back on the couch and started dozing off. It would be another night on the couch. He still had a bed of course. But in these last weeks he hadn’t been able to sleep in it again. He slowly drifted away in the darkness again, his mind and body too tired to stay awake any longer. And once again he dreamt. But right now his body was caught in an exhausted state and it never allowed him to wake. He dreamt all his nightmares again, all in one night. Starting with his mother slowly disappearing, after which he fell into her funeral, his drunk father followed. All nightmares of his life past by once again until he ended up at a hospital room, hearing the beeping of a heart rate slowing down until the long beep of a stopping heart finally tore him from him from his sleep.

He looked around until he found the clock on the wall. At least he had slept twelve hours. But this was the last night. Tonight he would sleep like a baby again. He started to prepare for the big day. He took a long shower, shaved and did his hair. He decided to at least eat some cereal for breakfast this morning. On the kitchen table he found a note.

“Hey
I’ll be going out tonight. Make sure you’re prepared.
Grace”

Grace must’ve been in here this morning. Marty pondered the meaning of the note and was pretty sure he’d be good for tonight. As noon approached he grabbed the papers for the sale and started off.
With the papers safely tucked away in a binder and the thousand five hundred dollars he already had deep in his pockets he walked off to the antique dealer once again. After that full night of sleep he didn’t seem that distracted by memories, his head seemed a little clearer. With a determination in his step and his head held high he turned corners and crossed roads, certain to reach his destination. That was until he reached another brewing place of memories.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw the sign of the hospital. This was the place where he had lost everything. Tears started to fill his eyes again. He had lost so much. He looked up through the windows, scanning them for movements. That’s when some younger couples walking out caught his eye and something clicked in Marty's mind. He hadn’t lost everything here. Now tears started rolling down his cheeks, but they were different tears. They were the tears of a man that realized how stupid he’d been.
He walked on to the shop, breaking in a spontaneous run, almost storming inside and drawing another fowl look from the balding man. That look became only worse when Marty started talking. A fiery discussion ensued but Marty stood his ground. He walked out of that shop with a big grin on his face, thousand five hundred dollars lighter but with the watch in his pocket. He decided that there was one more stop he had to make before he went home. He walked onto the graveyard and stopped before his wife’s grave. “I’m sorry Courtney.” he said out loud. “I seem to have forgotten my other reason to live. I’ll make sure to keep your memory alive.” he brought his fingers to his lips to kiss them, then he leaned forwards and pushed his fingers against the lips on Courtney’s picture on the grave. “I’ll miss you my love.” he said as he turned and walked of home.


He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, staring at the watch in his hand, before the door opened. But once that door opened Marty smiled from ear to ear.
“Look who’s here.” Grace yelled with a forced happy tone as she walked in.
Behind her a three year old girl stormed in the room. “Daddy, daddy, daddy.”
Marty opened his arms wide to pick up his daughter. “Eden, little Eden. I’ve missed you.”
“Grace said you were sick.” the little girl said seriously as she put her hands on her father’s face. “Are you better now?”
Marty looked Grace in the eye. “Yes dear.” he said nodding at Grace. “Daddy is feeling all better now.”
Grace got the message and smiled. “Good job.” she mouthed at him before she quietly left the room.
“Hey, do you wanna hear a story?” Marty asked Grace.
The little girl’s eyes sparkled as she smiled.
Marty took out the watch and held it out for Grace to see it. “A long time ago,” he started “Your daddy’s daddy’s granddaddy met the most beautiful women he had ever seen…”
Eden hung on her fathers every word. After that story they gave the watch a special place on the wall together, next to a picture of Courtney, “Because Mommy loved that watch too.” Grace said cheerfully.
“Yes, she did.” Marty answered looking at the picture as he held his daughter. They stayed up for hours together, playing, drawing and telling stories until Eden fell asleep on her father’s lap. He smiled as he carefully picked her up ad put her to bed. “Goodnight Eden.” he whispered as he kissed her forehead. As he turned around and threw one last glance on his daughter before he closed the door, Marty knew he would sleep well tonight. But there was one last thing he had to do.
He walked in the living room and picked up the phone. He nervously waited as it rang.
“Hello?” a voice came from the other side. When Marty didn’t answer right away the voice continued “Who’s there? Hello?”
“Dad.” Marty said with a cracked up voice as tears ran down his cheeks. “I think I might need your help.”