The next morning, I didn't really have to wake up.  I'd been lying in bed eyes wide open almost all night, forcing myself to stay conscious.  So once again I ended up starting the day before the sun had even risen.  I was exhausted, but what was a little grogginess when I was keeping a clear head?

For when I'd finally set my journal down and put myself to bed, I sank immediately into a dream.  A strange, unsettling dream. 

 Through a mauve mist, I found myself walking.  I couldn't see where I was going; the fog before me was too thick.  Looking down, I saw my hands were tied.  I tried to break the cords, but they held me fast.  All I could do was keep walking blindly. 

Then I heard another set of footsteps, not my own, coming toward me.  I stopped, my feet suddenly fastened to the ground where I stood.  But the other person didn't.  He or she kept coming.  My heart pounded.  I wanted to cry out.  But my lips were sewn together in fear, and I could not make a sound.

Suddenly a faint silhouette appeared a few feet from where I stood.  The person stopped advancing, and reached a hand out to me.  I trembled.  I couldn't move away, and I couldn't take their hand.  I didn't even know which one was the right thing to do. 

I tossed about in my sleep, my eyelids fluttering as I struggled to escape the nightmare.  But it wasn't until the person's shadow snapped out of sight with the abrupt violence of a rubber band drawn too tight, that I had the voice to scream and a second later wake up.

Freddie hadn't come back by that point, luckily, so I wasn't a nuisance to anyone save Oscar sleeping at the foot of the bed.  I sat up, freaked and befuddled.  I wish I'd paid more attention to the Jung chapter in class, I said to myself, I could figure out what just happened to me!

I had stayed awake for the rest of the night, thinking maybe that would make the nightmare vanish forever.  Little did I know I would soon accept that dream as my routine nightly torture. 

Now at (ugh) six-thirty in the morning, I yawned my way through a hot shower.  Wrapping a towel round me, I crept out of the bathroom and decided my long, wet hair wasn't enough of a reason not to lay down on the bed again, even for just a few minutes.  Through hazy, half closed eyes I pushed the ajar door open and curled up on top of the sheets. 

On the other side of the bed, which had somehow become twice as large as mine, I heard a quiet little snore.  In slight panic, I said to myself, I smell licorice.

Very slowly, I turned and squinted.  There, against the pillow, just inches away from my face, was the vague outline of a hand.  As my weak eyes adjusted, I saw the clear cut of his profile, his mouth slightly open and relaxed.  The funniest little snoring sounds escaped his fine nose at random intervals.  My stomach wrung itself. 

God!  Why does this sort of stuff keep happening?

I had to beat it before Freddie knew I was here.  It was bad enough I'd made this mistake; I couldn't bear that smug little smirk this morning.  Without shaking the bed, I carefully slid one leg over the side, almost touched the floor when Freddie shifted in his sleep.  He moaned softly,and rolled onto his stomach.  I timed my movements to his.  In seconds I lifted myself off the bed.  But instead of rushing out, I stood watching him.

What is this sorcery?  I asked myself.  Freddie Mercury all alone in bed? 1977.  He was a different man.  Not too different, true, but here's a guy who, while certainly not making a habit of it, can sleep by himself and be rested in the morning.  In five years- no, one year, he'll get the shivers if he walks into an empty bedroom.  I'd love to find the reason for that change!

After my inner psychologist had vented a bit, however, I was left to look him over.  He slept topless, that much was clear.  I was uncertain about the bottom half, however, and at this stage I didn't really care to know so much.  But with every second I spent ogling this sleeping man, the most peculiar notions swept me.  I wanted to run my hand along the curve of his bare shoulders.  I wondered how his thick hair would feel should I dare run my fingers through it.  And this thought came out of nowhere, as thoughts often do: I wonder what would happen if I slipped under the covers without my towel-

I slapped myself across the face.  Bad brain!  I'd been spending far too long in this man's company.  God, why did I have to lose that Relic? 

Freddie took a deep breath and moaned again.  I smiled.  All the same, that's one handsome man.  No doubt about it. 

Downstairs, the front door closed.  Ah!  That must have been Freddie's sleeping buddy, I assumed.  Bye-bye, one-night-stand, don't let the screen door hit you.

Oh, yes!  I was making Freddie an omelet today.  I'd forgotten to see if I had everything.  I padded down the stairs toward the kitchen, humming under my breath. 

I turned the corner and bumped into the woman standing there.  She jumped back and I instinctively apologized, "I'm sorry, excuse me." 

"No, no, pardon m-" she began, when all of sudden both of us realized we weren't alone in the kitchen. 

I squinted.  Without my contacts, I could see little save that the woman was blonde and her hands were clasped against her middle. 

The woman cleared her throat.  "...And... who might you be?"

"I'm Eve," I said.  "Eve Dubroc."  I was getting more and more comfortable with my alter ego.

"An American," she murmured.  Her hands dropped limply.  "Is that your real name?"

"No, that's just the name he gave me."

She nodded.  "I thought so."

"And you?" 

"I'm a, um, I'm a friend of Freddie's."  I didn't need good eyesight to tell she was extremely uncomfortable.  Suddenly I remembered I wasn't wearing anything except a towel.  My face flushed.

"I'm terribly sorry about- this," I said quickly, gesturing at my attire, "I wasn't expecting to find anyone down here."

"Neither was I."  Her cool voice tightened.  "Maybe I've come at a bad time-"

"Oh, no!  Not at all.  Freddie's still sleeping, he should be up and about pretty soon though.  Would you like some tea?"

"I shouldn't have come so early."

I'll take that as a no.  "Please stay!  I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you.  Just let me go put something a little more decent on, and I'll tell him you're here."  I walked into the living room.  The blonde didn't move.

"You don't have to do that.  He wasn't expecting me.  I just haven't heard from him in a few days, and I thought I'd come around and make sure everything was all right."  She swallowed. 

Her voice finally rang a bell in my dull, sleepy brain.  I gradually put everything together.  My eyes widened.

"Miss Austin!" I cried.  "You're Mary Austin!"

As fuzzy as my vision was, I could see her jaw tense up.  "How would you know that?"

Good question!  How would I know that?  And how bad must this look, me in a towel and talking about how Freddie's still asleep to his girlfriend?  Damage control!  I whipped up the worst lie possible. 

"Oh, he's told me so much about you," I gushed.  "He talks about you all the time, he's very fond of you.  He was just saying to me yesterday how much he loves-"

"Well, actually, we're recently separated, but we're still very good friends.  I thought that's what he wanted."  Mary's voice began to tremble. 

This wasn't going well.  I can only imagine what was running through her head.  "Miss Austin, this isn't what it looks like, I'm just living with him.  I mean, I'm not sleeping with him, we're not lovers by any stretch, there's no attraction whatsoever.  I'm in trouble, he's a nice man, and he's giving me shelter.  I can go get him for you, if you'll just let me put some clothes on..."

Mary stood there for a second, then slowly nodded.  "I do need to talk with him about something.  But you needn't wake him.  I can just as easily call-"

"I insist!  It's you, he won't mind, right?" I said, and started up the stairs. I hadn't even ascended halfway when Freddie's bedroom door opened.  Gah!  No, Freddie!  You're too early!  Go back to bed! 

"Good morning, Evie," he boomed in his theatrical voice.  "How's my pretty little slave today?"

I cringed, and whirled.  He shuffled out in his robe, rubbing his eyes.  Shut up, you idiot!  I screamed in my mind.  I'm trying to save our faces here!

But he kept on talking. "It's so funny, I'm actually a little sore from last night!  We really should do that again, I had the best time, what about..."

Freddie trailed off.  Of the million things a person could imply from his words, few of them were good, none of them innocent.  I covered my face, grateful for once I couldn't see so I wasn't able to catch their mutual expressions as Freddie and Mary saw each other.

"Hi, Mary," he said after a few long seconds.  It was as though someone had tightened his vocal chords so that too loud a sound would snap the strings in half.

When I looked up, Mary had put her hands behind her back.  And in a quivering voice, she said at last, "Well.  This isn't exactly what I pictured when you told me you were- told me you had other interests."

"Darling, I can explain everything.  Eve and I are friends-"

"Freddie, there's no need to explain.  Of course you know I'm happy with whatever makes you happy."

"What?  No!  Mary, you've got this all wrong."

But she was already making for the exit.  Freddie hurried down the stairs, muttering "Splendid, just too f---ing splendid,"  and almost brushed right past me before he stopped.  He gave me a look that I can only describe as contemptuous.  His fists clenched, telling me he'd deal with me later,  and went back to chasing Mary, following her out the front door.