Chapter 21: Hyperphantasia

Cora was so angry with herself she could have screamed. Her overactive brain had struck again. A blessing when it came to calculus. A curse when it came to living life.

She had always been this way, like a violin with all her strings tuned to slightly different frequencies than the standard notes. Some strings a bit too taut, like her hypersensitivity to the sound of chewing gum or the tactile sensation of moisture on her face. Crying irritated her on a visceral level. She clutched the crumpled washcloth in her hands and blotted impatiently every time more tears threatened to overflow.

And yet other strings were under-tightened. Here in this pitch black room, Cora's weak sense of proprioception had abandoned her yet again. She'd enjoyed the floating sensation last night, but the fearsome flashback had left her reeling and unsettled, and she was grateful for Jamie's solid presence at her back.

He spooned her from behind and wrapped his arms around her, tucking them inside the hem of the tuxedo jacket she still wore. His biceps bracketed her ribcage, and his forearms formed a rigid bar in front of her waist. Safe and secure. No risk of losing her bearings and falling off the bed.

She folded her own forearms against his gratefully and concentrated on the sensation of his smooth skin against her shoulder blades. This wasn't what she had meant when she set out for skin-to-skin contact tonight, but it felt lovely in its own way to be enveloped by someone else's skin besides her own. She absorbed the sensation, drinking him in through her pores.

Jamie was silent for a time, rendered speechless by the story she'd finished telling him. It was amazing he hadn't already extricated himself from this clench in which they found themselves. She'd half-expected him to let go the moment he heard the ugly truth. After all, it was one thing to console a grieving widow, quite another to give comfort to the woman who had caused the poor guy's death.

You didn't cause it, Cora told herself firmly. She closed her eyes and pulled up a mental image of her therapist sitting in his office, handing her a familiar box of tissues, and all the words he would have offered along with it. Intentions matter. Accidents happen. Sometimes there's no reason. Sometimes no one is to blame.

Cora wanted to believe all that, but she wasn't sure she did. The truth was, she'd never told a soul about what happened in the car before the crash because she'd always feared the judgment that would follow.

She held her breath now and waited for Jamie to render his verdict.

"That's a hell of a weight to carry," he said at last. He left it at that, and his arms squeezed gently to punctuate his words.

Cora let out a long breath. "Just the truth."

"But why?" he asked. "Why did you break it off?"

"I didn't love him."

"Then why did you get engaged?"

She sighed. "I loved him, and then I didn't. The physical attraction went away."

Her brain had ruined that relationship too, Cora thought to herself, just like it ruined every relationship she'd ever been in.

Apparently, it even ruined one night stands.

Cora pursed her lips. That was all she had wanted from tonight. As easily as her oversensitive nerve endings could be irritated, they were also capable of intense pleasure given the proper stimulation. Feather light caresses in some places, deep pressure in others. She had a feeling Jamie would find the right notes to play. He had an instinct for how to touch her—and an extensive repertoire of past experience if she had to venture a guess.

One night of pure sensory enjoyment. Was that really so much to ask the universe to provide?

Yes. She could almost hear the universe answer in its malevolent old-crone voice. Yes, it was. Too much to ask.

And Cora knew exactly why.

Because of the oddest note of all in this slightly off-key brain of hers. Hyperphantasia, it was called. Cora hadn't learned the name for the phenomenon until she took Cognitive Neuroscience in college, but she had recognized herself in the textbook definition. Not a difference in any of the real senses, but in the imagined ones.

It turned out the mind's eye varied in acuity from one person to the next, just as real eyes did. If you told someone to close their eyes and imagine a loved one's face, most people would call up a misty, darkened image. Some would only sense a vague presence with no visual image at all. And then there was a tiny segment of the population like Cora, who could render a picture in their heads with photorealistic detail, modify it to her liking, and make it move or speak or touch her any way she pleased.

Hyperphantasia had its upsides. When it came to sex, most people had a strong preference for reality over fantasy, but not everyone. Not her. Cora could read a book and watch the story play like a movie in her head with herself as the main character. She could appreciate the benefits of both real partners and imaginary ones in equal measure.

And the truth was, Cora cherished this difference in her wiring. As much as she sometimes wished her quirky little brain had been tuned the same as everyone else's, she wouldn't have traded places given the choice. She couldn't imagine the dreariness of life without her daydreams to keep her company.

Unfortunately, this particular trait proved less than ideal in certain limited circumstances. For example, when prompted by your potential partner to visualize the ex whom you may or may not have accidentally killed. Photorealistic flashbacks were not much fun. Cora still felt shaky now, even after banishing the awful images from her head. She remained cold and shivery despite the warmth of Jamie's jacket and his arms. Her limbs had turned to rubber from the rush of adrenaline that had come and ebbed away.

Jamie's voice cut into her thoughts, a dreamy murmur that may have been addressed to himself as much as her. "He turned into a frog... That's what you meant last night?"

Cora furrowed her forehead. "What did you say?"

He cleared his throat, and his voice firmed into its normal tone. "You told me last night if I kissed you, I would turn into a frog."

She turned her head as if to look at him over her shoulder, even though she couldn't see a blessed thing in the dark. Surprising. He'd put that together from the vague, evasive answers she'd given him? She stroked him lightly on the arm. "You are a good listener."

"But surely, if you were engaged, he must've known you didn't like—?"

"No," she interrupted before he could finish.

"He didn't know? About the kissing thing?"

Cora shook her head. "I—I'm not usually as forthright as I've been with you."

He chewed on this for a moment. "Because I'm not a—how did you put it?—I'm not a real person."

Cora wrinkled her nose. "I meant that as a compliment, believe it or not."

"Yes," he said. "I took of as such." He chuckled, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of her neck. It sent ripples of sensation down her spine.

Cora considered turning in his arms, trying to start something up again. What a waste, not to go through with it after she'd been so brave last night. After she'd spoken her truth and set her boundaries, and found a partner willing to work around them.

But she didn't move, weighed down by the leaden feeling in her arms and legs. The moment had passed. The pent up energy had all been spent on something else.

Cora let out a long breath. If Jamie had stayed silent then, she might have drifted off to sleep. But their game of Truth or Dare for Cowards wasn't over. He still had more questions. "This is why you're so determined to stay single?"

It was, she thought, but not the way he meant. Her overactive imagination meant freedom.

Freedom from the tyranny of boredom.

Freedom from the tyranny of love.

Not everyone had the luxury to go through life without a partner. Not without some sacrifice to their overall contentment. But Cora didn't need anyone besides herself to keep her warm at night.

That wasn't what Jamie meant by his question, of course. He was still referring to the accident. Would she have made this choice if Steven hadn't died? If they'd simply broken up and gone their separate ways, would she have looked for love again with someone else?

It didn't matter. What was done couldn't be undone. Her decision had been made, and it was final. Cora shrugged in Jamie's arms. "I'm not cut out for love," she said. "I don't need the trouble."

"But have you been with anyone since it happened? Three years ago, you said?"

She shook her head.

"Three years," he murmured in wonder. "I can't imagine."

How could she explain it to him? Three years had been a long time, not so much because she needed physical contact, but because her daydreams had begun to grow monotonous. They lacked the variety of real-life interaction, limited by the range of her past experiences. It turned out even the most vivid imagination required refueling from time to time. Things she'd seen in movies and read about in books were never quite the same.

That's what she'd been hoping to take away from this interlude with Jamie. Not so much a single night of pleasure. A trove of new material for her to revisit later on, as many times as she liked.

But the moment had passed. No one wanted to fool around with a girl who started crying for her ex. She felt self-conscious for foisting herself on Jamie as much as she already had. He was being lovely about the whole thing, for which she would be eternally grateful when she looked back later on the memory of this night with abject mortification. But she was under no illusions. He had to be chomping at the bit to be rid of her.

Out of his bed. Out of his life. On to his gorgeous new partner in the morning. He must be sorely regretting his decision not to trade her in for an upgrade yesterday, when he had the chance.

He wouldn't let her stick around for another night, even if she had wanted to stay and give it a go. And she didn't want to stay. She felt unmoored by the whole experience. Lost at sea. Adrift. She wanted nothing more than to be home and safe in her own familiar bed, with her little nightlight to keep her bearings, and the books on her e-reader to whisper her to sleep.

It was better this way, she told herself. The experience hadn't been for nothing. She had a hundred small moments to relive. She catalogued them in her mind, organizing each one in chronological order.

The way he'd touched her hair the day they met...

The way his arm had moved when he stole her olive from her drink...

How he'd looked the other day, after she dared him to jump off a rock into the sea, and he'd emerged from the waves, all abs and water droplets, glistening in the sun...

The way he'd rolled her on her back last night and pressed his hips against her...

The stab of lust this afternoon when he pulled her close and claimed her for his prize...

The way he'd toyed with the belt of her robe...

The look of the firelight flickering in his dark eyes...

The gentle rhythm of his breath against the nape of her neck now, whispering into the delicious spot behind her ear every time he spoke...

And the way it felt to be held.

That last one, Cora thought. She needed to hold on to it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on memorizing every detail. Firm chest. Arms bracketing her in. Not too loose but not too tight. Like a safety harness on a roller coaster. Locked in place and tightened just enough until you hear the tiny click, too soft for anyone but you to hear. And that tiny click, barely audible, was the only thing that stood between the thrill of the ride and sheer terror.

Cora filed it all away for later, like a squirrel stocking up on nuts for the long winter.

Like notes, not nuts, she silently amended. Snatches of melody that didn't add up to a song. But she would mix them together into her own private symphony, until they built to a crescendo.

Jamie had left plenty of new material for the violin to play, if not the grand finale. Maybe that was for the best. For all she knew, the reality of a one night stand would have been awful if they'd gone through with it. Awkward and uncomfortable. Quite possibly revolting if he went about things in a less-than-perfect way.

It wouldn't have been perfect, Cora told herself sternly. Only fantasies were perfect.

Reality had a way of failing to live up to the hype.

Dear Readers:
If you're enjoying the story, please let me know with your COMMENTS and VOTES. I love to hear your reactions. Thank you! ❤️