Stalking the Moon

by Angel Leigh McCoy

  "Phew," Lettie said. "I’m totally creeped out. When are you getting out of there?"

  "Soon." I crossed my fingers. "I’m behaving myself."

  "You know the rules, girl. When the moonbeams come calling, make it a private conversation. Keep your shit to yourself, and nobody’ll know you’re stalking the moon."

  "Nobody but you."

  "Ain’t that the truth. I always know when you’re about to go Tyler Durden on me."

  I replied, "As Tyler once said, ‘Only after disaster can we be resurrected.’"

  Lettie’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "Oh, that’s not the least bit creepy."

  I said, "Hey, I’ve been thinking. I don’t suppose you’d want to be roomies? You and me?"

  She sounded surprised. "I don’t know. It never occurred to me. Did Abram rent out your room already?"

  "I don’t want to live with him anymore. The house smells like twenty-year-old cigars and old-man feet."

  Lettie laughed. "Let me think about it. I wouldn’t mind living with you, and I am a roommate down now that Nina’s gone, but let’s see how it goes."

  "I gotta get out of here, Lettie. I need a place to go. It’ll speed things up."

  "You know what you have to do to get out of here—or rather, not do."

  She was right; I did know. "I won’t freak out anymore."

  "Or, if you do, don’t let Richard find out about it. Don't get caught."

  "Right."

  "I’ll come by tomorrow, and we can strategize. It's time for you to stop being a patient and start being a Center employee who just happens to be stay-cationing in one of the bedrooms. Then, we'll work on getting you out."

  "Awesome. Thanks."

  "It’s no trouble. You know I love you."

  "I love you, too."

  After I hung up, Simon said, "I’ll be busy for a while, imagining you and Lettie watching television in your nighties, having pillow fights, and sharing a bathroom."

  I ignored him.

  ♦♦♦

  CHAPTER 17

  My sadness weighed me down like a wet wool coat, but I couldn’t go on the way I had been. I had to get out of the Center and back to my job and routine.

  I started wearing street clothes for my sessions with Richard. I even went to the Center’s gym a few times. It felt good to run on the treadmill again. It gave me a chance to think about Colin and what he’d have wanted for me—about what I wanted for myself.

  Time has a way of setting you straight no matter how far you go off-track.

  During the dinner hour, I went to the women’s dining room with my mom. Corona and Polly accompanied us. We sat at a table, waiting to be served, sniffing the wafting food aromas and discussing what surprise was on the menu.

  Polly stretched her neck to peer into the kitchen and tugged at her hair. "I’m starving."

  "I doubt it." Corona slapped her hand away from her head.

  "I am." Polly put her hand in her lap and pouted. "I’m going to die if I don’t get something to eat real soon."

  Corona straightened the fork and spoon on either side of her plate. "It would be truer to say that you’re going to die someday whether you get anything to eat or not."

  Polly said, "I wonder what they’re bringing us."

  Corona looked at me with those kitten eyes of hers and asked, "Have you been training with Jake?"

  "No. You know him?"

  "Yeah." Corona pinched her mouth into something very serious.

  Polly said, "Corona thinks he’s hot."

  "I do not. Gross."

  Polly looked shocked. "You’re crushing hard on him."

  "No, I’m not." Corona smacked Polly lightly on the arm. "I barely know him. I’m not even sure he’s a good guy."

  I said, "I think he’s one of the good guys," though I didn’t fully believe it myself. I asked Corona how she knew him.

  She shrugged. "He’s interested in my case. He’s an expert."

  "An expert on what?"

  "On the reality challenged." Corona displayed a tiny, but deeply pleased smile. "He says I’m special."

  Polly said, "He says I’m special too."

  "Don’t lie. It’s unbecoming. You never even met him."

  "So?"

  Corona looked at me. "He’s from Wyrdwood, Oregon. Ask me how I know."

  "How do you know?"

  She lifted both her eyebrows and her chin. "He gave me his business card. Did he give you one too?"

  "No. Obviously, you’re more special than I am."

  Corona laughed. "Oh, no. I’m sure that’s not it. He probably gave one to Dr. Reuter for you. They’re special invitations, you know?"

  "I had no idea."

  "Your mom says you’re leaving soon. Are you going there?"

  "Where?"

  "To Wyrdwood."

  Amused, I shook my head. "No. I’ve got a job here, and my mom’s here." I set my hand on Mom’s shoulder. She had her head tipped to one side as if listening to music only she could hear.

  The kitchen workers rolled carts between tables. They dropped off a plate of food in front of each patient.

  "What is this stuff?" Polly asked.

  I replied, "Chicken."

  Corona’s upper lip curled. "Are you sure?"

  "I think so." I poked it with my fork. It resembled chicken.

  Corona asked, "Can you be absolutely certain?"

  I thought about it and had to admit that I could not be absolutely certain.

  "Of course not." Corona leaned over her plate to eat.

  ♦

  I spent the rest of the evening pondering how to get out of the Center. I figured my best bet was to simply tell Richard that I was ready. I’d been on my best behavior and hadn’t had an "episode," that he knew about, for a while. I’d done my time, and Richard would have to agree. I was an adult, after all. He wouldn’t keep me against my will—at least, I hoped he wouldn't. I tried not to think about the fact that he could keep me there—indefinitely—if he wanted to. Just like my mom. Heaven knew my grandfather wouldn't have fought for me.

  I checked on Mom shortly before bedtime and helped her into her nightgown, another white one with eyelet lace and billowy sleeves.

  She lay down and settled on her side. "The prince is not what he seems."

  I covered her up.

  She said, "Beware the prince."

  I kissed her cheek, then looked right into her eyes. She was with me. I could tell. I said, "Hi."

  Her eyes lit up, crinkling at the corners as pleasure spread across her face.

  I said, "I love you."

  She was beautiful when present, her face smoothed and happy. I didn’t remember her from childhood, and there had been few photos, but I could easily imagine that she’d had that expression while holding me when I was young.

  Then, as abruptly as it came, it was over, and she was gone.

  I'd arranged my whole life so I could be there whenever her true self shone through. Those moments were falling stars, rare and gone almost before my mind could process them.

  Back in my own bed, I didn’t sleep so much as wander the territory between Asleep and Awake. My conscious mind struggled in an ocean of unconscious currents. The day’s efforts had exhausted me to the bone.

  Colin called to me through the water, through the black depths of the lake. "Viviane," he said, "you’re mine."

  I dove deeper, seeking the dreamlands where Colin waited for me.

  I cried, "Colin!" and my own voice woke me up. I curled down into the bed and pursued the dream, but the harder I tried to catch it, the faster it fled.

  The ring of a cell phone leaked into my consciousness and pulled me back to the surface. I barely recognized it as my own. Ultimately, it was the physical closeness of the sound that grabbed me. I reached for it.

  It rang its last ring before I could tap the button.

  Simon asked, "Who’d be calling you in the middle of the night?"

  "No idea." The caller I.D. didn’t help
. It didn’t list a name, and I didn’t recognize the number. I set the phone back on the nightstand and flopped onto my pillow.

  The phone rang again.

  I said, "Son of a bitch," and lurched at it. I thumbed the button. "Hello?"

  No one replied.

  I repeated, "Hello?" and this time, I was irritated.

  Nothing.

  "It's the middle of the night, and you’ve got the wrong number."

  A distant voice whispered, "Viviane." It was a man. "Viviane, listen to me."

  My heart stopped, full stop. It seized in my chest. I didn’t dare believe, and yet, the question that rose to my lips was, "Colin?"

  ♦♦♦

  CHAPTER 18

  Colin whispered it. "I’ve only got a minute. Talk to me. I need to hear your voice. How are you?"

  I couldn’t form a complete thought. "Colin?"

  "Shit! I have to go," he said. "They’re coming."

  "No, wait!"

  "Viviane, I love you. Check my hiding place. Maybe they didn’t get to it. I love—"

  The phone went dead, and I sat there gulping air like a fish out of water.

  Simon said, "Shite."

  A freak-out loomed at the periphery of my vision. It delved for an opening, but I couldn’t afford to let it have its way with me. I crawled out of bed, breathing as deeply and slowly as I could. I paced and pinched myself—hard. When that didn’t work, I pushed the straight pin into my fingertip. I used every trick I knew to keep from losing it.

  Finally, I said aloud, "It was Colin."

  "No way," Simon said. "It couldn’t have been."

  "It was."

  "You were confused." Simon was pacing too. His voice traveled back and forth. "Still half-asleep."

  "No. It was him." I watched the phone on the bedside table as if it might leap across the room and attack me.

  "Someone’s playing a sick joke on you—someone who wants you to lose your mind."

  "Who would do that?" I wrapped my arms around myself to control the shaking. "I don’t know anyone who would do that."

  "You obviously haven’t read enough gothic romances. You might be surprised."

  My mind raced even faster than Simon’s questions and suggestions. My heart could barely keep up, though it did its level best. I flipped open the phone. The caller I.D. gave no name, but it had saved the number.

  Simon said, "What are you doing?"

  "Calling him back."

  "Are you sure that’s a good idea?"

  The phone rang on the other end.

  "No, but it’s all I got."

  A woman answered. "Hello?"

  "Hello. Someone just called me from this number. Colin?"

  "Viviane? Is that you?"

  "Yes." I recognized her voice.

  "It’s Bella, dear. Thanks so much for calling me back. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you at this hour. I was going to leave you a message, but then I decided to just try again in the morning."

  "I don’t understand. You called me?"

  "Yes, I did. I wanted to see how you were doing. I apologize for not getting in touch sooner, but I’ve been dreadfully busy. I got roped into teaching, you know?"

  "So, you just called me?"

  "I did. How are you?"

  My mind reeled. Possibilities tumbled over one another, confusing me. Had I heard the phone ring and dreamt it was Colin?

  Bella said, "I know the past few weeks can’t have been easy for you. I heard you were staying at the Center, and I was concerned."

  "I’m fine." My body trembled.

  "Good, good. Well, I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you ever need to talk. You have my number now, so please call anytime. It’s been good talking to you, my dear. I'm sorry I woke you."

  "Okay."

  "Good-bye now."

  I said, "Good-bye," and glanced at the time on the phone. It was 3:52 A.M.

  Doubt comes with the territory of mental illness. You ask yourself questions: Did I hear that right? Did I really see that? Am I being paranoid? After my conversation with Bella, I had so many questions there was no room left for answers. One question in particular kept bobbing to the surface: Did I dream it? Everything in me shouted, "No!"

  Then, a quieter voice said, "But…" and I was thrust back into the cloud of questions. I buried my head in my hands and rocked.

  I didn’t want that infant ray of hope that had birthed in me at the sound of Colin’s voice to die. I wanted it to live and grow.

  Aloud, I said, "Was I dreaming?"

  Simon replied, "It’s a distinct possibility."

  Tears welled in my eyes. Colin’s voice had seemed so real. I flipped open the phone again and pressed a few buttons.

  "Now who are you calling?"

  "Lettie."

  The phone rang a handful of times before Lettie picked up. "Hey, Viv." The laundry machines roared in the background. She was in the middle of her shift.

  "I’m totally freaking. Something happened."

  "It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay." What we say three times must be true. She added, "Breathe."

  "I have been. This is me after breathing."

  "All right. Hold on. Let me get out of the laundry. Hold on." I heard her shout, "Ajani, I’m going on break. Back in ten." I imagined her crossing the laundry then heard the fire door open and close. The machines became a distant hum.

  "There. Now I can hear you. What happened?"

  The words stuck in my throat. My anxiety meter was in the red, and my internal alarm bells had begun ringing.

  "Viv?"

  "Something…weird." I hoped I could ease my way into it.

  "Tell me."

  "I got a phone call?"

  "What? From who?"

  The moment of truth had arrived, and I barely believed myself. "From Colin?"

  There was a beat of silence, then Lettie said, "I’m sorry. From who?"

  "Colin."

  "You’re kidding?"

  "No. Not funny. A cat with a perma-frown is funny. A streaker is funny. A duck walking into a bar is sometimes funny. Getting a phone call in the middle of the night from your dead fiancé is definitely not funny."

  "Okay. Look. It’s impossible, honey."

  "I know. But it was so real."

  "Okay. Calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay. You have to calm down. You’re going to ruin everything you’ve worked for."

  I was on the verge of hysteria. "That’s why I called you!"

  "Okay, okay. Shhhh. It’s okay. There’s a logical explanation for this. You hear me?"

  "Uh huh." I tried desperately to drop anchor.

  "Say it. Say, ‘There’s a logical explanation for this.’"

  "There’s a logical explanation for this."

  Simon interjected, "Maybe it was his ghost haunting you?"

  I glared in his general direction. "There’s no such thing as ghosts."

  "No," Lettie replied, "there’s no such thing as ghosts. Look, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it all out later today. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Go back to bed. Relax. Don’t worry. There’s nothing we can do about it now. I’ll come by after my shift, okay?" How Lettie managed to stay rational and calm when faced with one of my episodes, I’ll never know. She talked me back into bed, and we hung up.

  I lay there, staring into the darkness, watching visions of Colin and me laughing, loving. An annoying pair of words kept creeping into my consciousness: "What if?" By merely entertaining the possibility, could I influence reality in the direction of my desires? If I wished hard enough, could I make it so?

  Simon had gone quiet or maybe just gone.

  I was determined to stay awake until Lettie came, but then I woke up.

  It was a little after 6:00, and the light coming in the window was a dim combination of natural and unnatural, the sun not yet having brightened enough to shut off the outdoor lights. I lay where I was, staring up at the ceiling. The night before s
eemed like a dream. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure I had called Lettie.

  I went through my morning routine and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and running shoes. By the time Lettie showed up, I’d made my bed and was pretending to read. It was about 7:15. The graveyard shift had ended at 7:00.

  She stuck her head in and said, "Good morning. Can I come in?"

  "Of course, get in here."

  The dam broke, and I became a torrent of thoughts spoken aloud. "Do you think he could be alive? I don’t dare believe it. I might have dreamed it. Do you think maybe he was kidnapped? Maybe—"

  "Whoa there, cowgirl. Slow your roll. You’re getting awfully manic. Let’s bring this conversation back down to Earth, okay?"

  "Okay." I shook my hands as if to dry them.

  Lettie pulled a chair over to sit within touching distance, "Let’s start at the beginning. Lay it out for me, step by step."

  I told her everything exactly as I remembered it all the way through to the part where Doc Bella answered the phone.

  At that point, she said, "Hold on."

  She tapped her teeth with her fingernail, then asked, "You mean you called the number back and got Grandma Rosenblum? Isn’t she out of town?"

  "She left the same day of the accident. She was going on a six-month sabbatical to Boston. Colin didn’t tell me much about it, mostly because I didn’t care."

  "Then what?"

  "Then, she thanked me for calling her back and asked how I—"

  "Wait. She said she called you? Let me see your phone."

  She turned it on. "Says here she called at a quarter to 4:00 in the morning? And again a minute later? She called twice?"

  "I didn’t answer quick enough the first time."

  "At quarter to 4:00?"

  "Yeah, that’s weird, huh?"

  Lettie frowned. "10:00 P.M. is weird. 4:00 A.M. is criminal. Besides, you’ve been in here for weeks. Does she call you every night, or what?"

  I shook my head. "This was the first time."

  She shook hers, too. "The only people who call you at 4:00 in the morning are the police, hospitals, teenage pranksters, and drunk dialers. Even if you take into consideration that the East Coast is a different time zone, it still would've been 5:00 there. Everybody knows you don’t call that early. That’s just crazy."