Whispering Minds

by A. T. O'Connor

  * * *

  Angel crossed her chest and murmured a quick prayer. She prayed for a real Christmas. One where her parents could forget the Fall and start over again. Impossible, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from asking just the same. She also prayed for forgiveness once again. Both for her sins and theirs.

  * * *

  JayJay loved Christmas. Alone in his room, he tore down his train track and set up a farmyard. Horses grazed on the rug. Tractors plowed the wooden fields. He’d heard about cow tipping from Brutus—thought he’d give it a try. He lined up the black-and-white heifers and pushed them over one by one—found it crazy boring—and put them back in the field beside the tumbleweed-dust bunnies.

  Next he played with his army dudes—let them tip cows— until the dinosaurs came. They crushed the army guys and munched on the cows—got Mad Cow Disease—and died too.

  With the farm destroyed, JayJay pulled out the one stuffed animal he hid from everyone. He curled up on his bed, rubbed the tail between his finger and thumb and dreamed about tomorrow. Maybe he’d play with his pirate ship. He’d build a great big wall—bigger than the China Wall—and keep the pirates from invading the Land of Giant Bugs.

  * * *

  For Daisy, the most magical part of Christmas happened after the presents were unwrapped and the littles ran off to play with their new toys. Long into the night, she listened to the stories of old, shared over dessert and drinks, the men growing raucous and silly, the women growing content and serene.

  From the shadows, the girls watched through virgin eyes, the love pass between the adults and the playful banter that followed. They learned what it looked like. Sounded like. Smelled like. And they dreamed of their own future loves as they silently flirted with the boys across the room.

  * * *

  After spending Christmas with Trav’s extended family and friends I’d been exhausted. I’d gone from sipping tea with dark-haired preschoolers in velvet dresses to smashing block cities with dimpled little boys. I’d washed dishes, served pie and watched the exchange of gifts from one family member to another. When we got back to the Stone residence, we’d both crashed on the couch.

  With great difficulty, I wiggled out from under Trav’s arm without waking him. In sleep, he was more perfect than he was awake, and I resisted the temptation to crawl back under the blanket with him. I’d give anything to relive the magic of yesterday instead of heading off to work, but I’d already neglected my real life long enough.

  Somewhere in the last week, I’d fallen in love with my best friend. It terrified and delighted me. Mostly terrified. I had no business starting a serious relationship when I slipped in and out of the real world as easily as I changed clothes each day.

  Never mind that I had nothing to offer him. His life was perfect. His family was perfect. Mine was anything but.

  Chapter 21

  I settled into the work routine at the nursing home as if I had never left. The residents had been told I lost my granny and shared just the right amount of concern without crossing the line. They knew, after all, just how tenuous a grasp we all had on each day. I ended my shift exhausted, yet satisfied.

  On the way home from work, I bought myself another phone to replace my lost one—thank God for insurance—and drove past the darkened farm in Trav’s pick up. The drifts were door high, and the place looked abandoned. I’d have to wait to retrieve my boxes from the garage. Not that it mattered: I had no place to put my stuff. Not until I talked to Clarence about letting me live at Granny’s.

  Putting it off had been easy once I’d convinced myself that staying with Travis was best in the short term. At least until I went to the doctor. Forgetting the past was different than forgetting the now, and after everything that had gone on, a brain tumor no longer seemed far-fetched.

  With nobody home at the Stone residence, I locked myself in the bathroom and dialed the clinic’s number. When I finished setting up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, I flushed the toilet and washed my hands to mask my stay behind closed doors. It didn’t work.

  “Who was that?” Trav’s easy grin did nothing to hide his suspicion. There’d been a lot of that yesterday. Little moments where we weighed each other’s answers, searching for the lie behind the words. I wondered if we’d ever come clean about our secrets or if keeping things hidden was an inevitable part of all relationships.

  “The doctor.”

  “A therapist?”

  “A regular doctor. I’ve just been…off. You know?” He shook his head, making me feel like a little kid lying about an empty cookie jar. I grasped at straws. “Ever since that accident, I’ve been having headaches. I worry it’s more serious than I first thought.”

  * * *

  Indie stretched out on the examining table, letting the gown drape open at the front. Not enough to completely bare herself, but just enough to garner a second glance from the doctor when he walked in.

  He adjusted his glasses and peered at her file. “And what seems to be the problem today?”

  “I think I’m pregnant.”

  * * *

  “Tell me again what your symptoms are.”

  I sighed and started all over with the headaches.

  “When did they begin?”

  “About two months ago. Middle of October or so.”

  “And then what?”

  “Nausea. Sometimes I throw up.”

  “Hmmm hmmm?”

  Before I lost my nerve, I plunged in with new information. “I’ve, uh, also been more forgetful. Almost like I pass out without actually fainting. And I kind of don’t remember some things when I wake up.”

  “You drink?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you drink?”

  “No. I was in a car accident. I think I might have a concussion.”

  “When did this accident happen?”

  It was a question I couldn’t exactly answer. Suddenly I wished Travis had come with me. “Last week sometime.”

  “Wrong time frame.”

  “What about seizures? Sometimes it smells like smoke before I lose track of time.”

  “What kind of smoke, pot?”

  Blood pounded in my ears, and my temple started to ping. “Fire smoke. Like an aura some epileptics supposedly get. Or is that migraines? Maybe I have migraines.”

  He scratched notes into his file, not looking up.

  The silence dragged me to an uncomfortable place, and I pulled out the trump card. “What about a brain tumor? My granny just died from cancer.”

  The doctor actually snickered. He leaned back on his stool to rest against the wall and ogle me through his glasses. That’s what I got for taking the “his-schedule’s-wide-open” doctor at an unknown clinic in an unfamiliar town. “Forget it. Let’s just pretend I never came here today.”

  “Irritable?”

  “Heck yes, I’m irritable. Your questions are ridiculous.”

  “No, I mean you sound irritable. Together with the vomiting, memory issues and headaches, it sounds like you might be experiencing chemically-induced blackouts.”

  I’d had enough. I gathered the sheet around me and slid off the examining table. “You know what? I came in here because I have headaches, and you took a pregnancy test that I knew would be negative. And now you’re accusing me of being a drunk when I just told you I don’t drink. If you’re done insulting me, I’m going to leave.”

  “Hmmmm.” Doctor Steinman peered up from his file, noncommittal, non-comforting. Just stared at me as if assessing my crazy-factor, like he actually wanted me to stumble out of the room half-dressed.

  I did one better. I dropped the sheet and the thin hospital gown, tugged on my jeans and sweatshirt and pulled open the door.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.”

  “Because now I’m crazy?”

  He shrugged: the likeness to my dad in that action set my stomach quivering. I snatched the prescription sheets from his hand and let the door s
lam between us.

  * * *

  Luna stepped into the office and dropped a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “I have an appointment.”

  The receptionist—Madge, by the wood-carved name plate—twirled a lock of graying hair around a finger. “Name?”

  “Luna.”

  “I see…”

  Clearly she didn’t. Luna leaned on the counter, picked up the money and waved it under Madge’s nose. “I don’t have insurance, but I have the greens. Now can you see if Doc is available?”

  Flustered, the older lady excused herself. She disappeared down the hall, leaving Luna alone in the drab waiting room. A single chair sat in the corner next to a television tray over-flowing with outdated magazines that had the addresses blacked out on the back cover. A dried-up Christmas tree tilted unceremoniously from its spot against the far wall. Luna spent her time counting the pine needles on the worn-out carpeting.

  When Madge returned, Luna smiled gamely. She’d done this before. Not this psychiatrist in particular, but it didn’t matter. The ones with the house-converted-offices were all the same. Burnt out, run down, tired. And all looking for an easy buck.

  Madge stuck her noise in the air, pointed down the hall—“First door on the left.”—and got back to her computer solitaire.

  * * *

  I made my way through the maze of snow-packed roads to downtown Tinkers Creek and a non-descript pharmacy/department store combo. After my pelvic exam, my stomach had cramped, and I needed a few supplies to get me through the night.

  I felt violated, as if I was more wrong than right. Tomorrow I would go to Granny’s, whether I’d talked with Clarence or not, whether Travis wanted me to or not.

  Now more than ever, I believed my headaches were part of the secret between my parents, Granny and the whole Stone family. I needed to find some answers before I completely fell apart, and I would never be able to concentrate with Travis so close. With my prescription filled, I drove the twenty minutes back to Prairie Flats to pick Travis up from work.

  “How’d your appointment go?” Although his face was casual, I could tell Travis was fishing for answers I didn’t yet have.

  “Fine.”

  “And?”

  “And I had a mild concussion. No big deal.”

  “You seem awfully jumpy. Anything else?”

  The wheel jerked under my hands as I turned to face Travis. In slow motion, the pharmacy bag toppled off the bench seat, landing by his feet. The contents scattered. Tampons. Birth control pills. A bottle of generic ibuprofen and another of depression meds.

  My cheeks flamed, and I swung my eyes back to the road to get myself under control. In my peripheral vision, I watched him slide the items back into the bag and turn to stare out the window into the darkness beyond. His jaw clenched and unclenched.

  Lord, help me.

  But God didn’t give me the answers. Daisy did, by reminding me just how much stress can affect a girl’s body.

  “I’m kind of messed up, too, I guess. My period is off, my head aches and my heart is broken.” I nodded toward the bag between us. “I just need to get balanced again.”

  “I understand.”

  “Seriously, Travis. It’s nothing. Once my body gets regulated, I should be back to my normal self.”

  Still looking out the window. “I hope so, Gem, because I miss you.”

  A text chinked through on my phone.

  I turned up the radio as if I hadn’t heard the notice. Only two people had my new cell phone number: my mom and Travis.

  And Mom didn’t text.

  Chapter 22

  All the next day, prickly fear washed over my body, leaving me sweating and nearly paranoid. While changing the bed linens in room 218, I looked over my shoulder no less than five times, the feeling of being watched was so strong. When walking patients up and down the halls, I’d nearly scream whenever a door whooshed open or slammed shut behind me. I’d gone from forgetful to paranoid.

  The text had come from my old phone number. The one that fell in the toilet at Granny’s funeral. The one that should never work again.

  Hi. That was it. But that one little word struck a nerve. I’d been through three phones in as many months, and having one call the other was too much.

  I couldn’t put a name to this fear, or a face to my invisible stalker. Nor could I shake the feeling that after the drug store incident, I had broken something precious between me and Travis. I could tell he didn’t believe my birth control pills were for balancing my hormones and not because I actually needed them as a safety precaution.

  When 3:30 rolled around, this feeling intensified. Travis and Collin stood face to face in the nursing home parking lot. I ran forward, hoping to head off an explosion. Their words came out raw and uncensored, neither of them noticing my approach, nor caring if they did.

  “She’s coming with me.” Collin pushed a finger into Trav’s chest. “We have plans that don’t include you.”

  “They couldn’t have been all that grand because she doesn’t remember your little date.”

  Collin sneered. “In your dreams. Gemini doesn’t even know you exist.”

  Trav’s jaw tightened. So did his fists. It was the cat thing all over again where Travis defended the helpless to the point of excessive force. I feared for Collin’s safety. Collin, however, remained oblivious to the threat. “You’re a convenience, and chicks don’t fuck a convenience. They spread their legs for real men.”

  Travis smashed his fist into Collin’s face. “Bastard.”

  Collin collapsed to the ground, rolled to his side and held his cheek in his hands. Blood poured through his fingers, but this didn’t stop him from delivering a parting shot. “And I have pictures to prove it.”

  A primal scream ripped through the parking lot. Mine. Rooted in place, I watched in horror as Travis kicked Collin in the ribs and turned away. His eyes connected with mine. Before I closed the distance between us, he held up his hand, his face less forgiving than stone. He reached into his truck, pulled out my messenger bag and dropped it to the cement.

  His pickup roared to life and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with Collin and a hole in my soul so deep I didn’t know if it could ever be filled.

  Needing answers about the pictures, I drove while Collin pressed a wad of fast food napkins to his face. My head pounded. Brutus pulled at his bonds. I wanted to kick Collin until he couldn’t move and silently applauded Travis for leaving him with that parting gift.

  “Turn left at the next light.” Collin’s words slurred through his puffy lips.

  By the time we arrived at his apartment, my knuckles were white from gripping the wheel, and my elbows ached from holding myself so rigid. “What pictures?”

  Collin grimaced. “I don’t have any.”

  “You said you did.”

  “I lied.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? You don’t like that prick anyways.”

  “You don’t get to decide that. And from now on, stay the hell out of my life.”

  Instead of answering, Collin reached over and caressed my shoulder through my jacket. That slimy, used-car-salesman look masked his handsome face.

  The voices in my head rose to a dangerous level, the Dozen as irate as I was.

  “Where’s Indie?”

  I froze. “What are you talking about?”

  Cobwebby darkness crouched in the corners of my vision. I shook my head to clear it of the smoke-infested fog, keeping focused on the steering wheel grasped between my fingers. Cold glass pressed against my lips. The sweet scent of nectar filled my nostrils. I turned my head, trying to get away, yet at the same time opened my lips to the dribble of liquid fire.

  “Indie. Come out, come out wherever you are.”

  Move over, baby, it’s my time.

  Leave her alone, Indie.

  Whatever, Rae. It’s not like Travis wants her anymore. She’s used goods.

  She’s not. Yo
u are.

  Oh come on, she likes it as much as I do. Just watch and see.

  I fought against the drumming in my head. The voices that talked about me, then through me. I watched from the outside looking into my own life, incapable of stopping myself from accepting the peach schnapps.

  Will somebody please put her to bed?

  Bach, music.

  * * *

  The days rolled into each other.

  Each morning, Collin gave me something that allowed me to focus long enough to fulfill my shift at the nursing home. He’d then pick me up in the afternoon and take me back to his place where he plied me with booze. I was helpless to refuse.

  Each night, he subjected me to a deep, emotional probing, showing far more interest in dissecting my mind than ravaging my body. His questions were ruthless, the penetration into my mind so cruel and relentless that I could barely function.

  I hated him and needed him at the same time. He fed me, medicated me and gave me a place to sleep, but he also made me feel dirty and unwhole, as if his only purpose was to peck away at my sanity.

  Oh yes, I hated Collin.

  But I needed him.

  Unlike Travis, he had not abandoned me. He opened his arms and took me in when Travis turned his back.

  I loved Travis, and he hated me. Hated me and loved me. Like I hated and loved myself. They are not opposites. Hate and love. The two passions so strong they can rip you in two. They are not exclusive. I held them both in my hand and my heart equally. Just as I held pain so deep there was no bottom to it.

  Abandoned by my parents, by Travis, by Granny.

  Only the Dozen remained to take me away from Collin’s incessant prying.

  I found myself pulled, half-in, half-out of reality. I was in both Collin’s opulent apartment and the yellow room with the Dozen.

  Luna had returned, a sad mess of a girl. Torn and bitter from finding no one to care.

  She alternated between lining up pills in front of her on the wooden floor and rocking herself in the corner. Fell fought with her over the pills—“they make you suicidal”—while Luna begged to take them all—“I want to die.” In the end, she hid them in her sleeve and ignored everyone. Her hair hung limply around her face, her heartbeats weak and dark like her mood.