by Rena Mason
When I’m done, I step out and make good time getting dressed. Yummy, home cooked food aromas have been floating upstairs, drifting through cracks in the door. My stomach grumbles and my mouth waters. I slide into a pair of fuzzy slippers then head down to Pat’s room.
I open his door, step in then close it behind me. He covers the microphone of his telemarketer-looking gamer headset. “Hey, Mom, glad you’re home. What’s up?”
“Not much. I just wanted to talk with you for a minute before we go downstairs.”
“Hang on. Let me finish this.”
I hear voices coming from his headset. “Dude, you’re already dead.”
“Aw, man. You ass…” Patrick glances over at me then stops. “I gotta go, guys. Catch ‘ya later.” He takes off his headset then powers everything down. There’s a deep impression across the top of his hair like he’d been wearing a headband.
“Doesn’t that thing give you a headache?”
“No.”
I step up and sit down on the edge of his bed. “Pat, I don’t think playing these video games all the time are good for your social skills.”
“Yeah they are. I talk to people from all over the world.”
“Talk or swear?”
“Depends where they’re from. It’s funny to hear people with different accents cuss.”
“Wouldn’t you like to go and hang out with your friends?”
“Not really.”
“I could drop you off at the movie theatre or the mall.”
“The mall? I think that was the Eighties. Nobody goes to the mall now. Besides, all my friends are gone on family vacations.”
“You’re right. You know, I didn’t even think of that.”
“That’s ‘cause Grandma’s got you believing her.”
“She’s just looking out for you. And she’s right. It’s not normal to stay cooped up in here all day and night. Get out and do something. Life’s too short to sit around and wait for things to happen. You never know when it might end, and if it did, would you feel as though you lived up to your potential?”
“Uh…yeah, Mom. I’ve got the highest score in this game so far, and soon I’ll have it beat.”
“Then what?”
“Next game.”
“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be out, though?”
“Where? You have to be twenty-one to go anywhere that’s any fun. I go out and do stuff. Don’t listen to Grandma, she’s old school. Thinks I should go door to door and ask people to rake their leaves. No one even has any leaves, and there’s no grass. I told her it wouldn’t be right to put landscapers out of work in this economy. That’s when she got mad.”
“She doesn’t remember what it was like when I was a teenager.”
“All she ever talks about is how good you were. I told her times have changed. She didn’t like that, either.”
“I bet. Come on, let’s go downstairs and eat. She cooked, and there’s no reason to be rude to her because you don’t agree with what she’s saying.”
“I guess.”
“Promise me you’ll try and get along.”
“Yeah.” He sighs.
I get up from the bed and he follows me out. On our way through the hall, I push open the office door. Jon looks up from the computer screen.
“Is it time to eat?” he says.
“Yeah, we’re heading down.”
“You’ve got Pat?”
“Uh-huh.”
He circles the mouse, clicks it a couple of times then gets up from the chair. Pat and I go on ahead. My mom has set up a smorgasbord across the kitchen island.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” I say.
“Make up a plate then have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?” she asks.
“I’d love a soda.”
“Soda,” she says with a quizzical look. “Really?”
“I’ll get her one,” Pat says. He takes off down the hall toward the garage then comes back carrying two cans.
“I see you got a soda for yourself, too,” my mom says. “Did you ask anyone else if they wanted one?”
“Uh…” Patrick says.
The phone rings and my mom darts across the kitchen to answer it. Patrick lets out a sigh of relief. He was literally saved by the bell. It seems she is the one I have to have a talk with. She’s too hard on him. Patrick needs space, not nagging, and if she keeps this up she’ll alienate him forever.
“Troy residence,” she answers. “Yes, she’s back home. Uh-huh…well I’m afraid she’s unavailable at the moment, but I’d be happy to take a message.” She grabs a slip of paper and jots something down. “Okay, I’ll let her know. Bye.”
“Who was that?” Jon’s voice booms from behind me.
“It was for Stacy,” she says. “Tara says to give her call.”
Jon kisses the back of my head. “See,” he whispers. “She’s a phone whore.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
A million colored twinkles glint at the far end of a dark open space. I float toward them, disembodied. My dark energy travels transcendentally, the way they told me it did when I was in a coma. The brilliant flashes recede upon my approach, leaving behind a fleeting rainbow trail that goes black as my energy suddenly sinks. I stretch and reach out, but I am only darkness.
“Come back to us.” “We wait.” “You must See.”
The tones, their voices, are one in the same. I understand. They are calling me and I have to go.
* * *
Day comes and beams white light through shutter slats. They streak across the room in elongated linear patterns and make me feel confined. To break free, I flip the covers away and accidentally smack Jon in the side of the head.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry. You okay?”
“Are you?”
“Don’t be grouchy, it was an accident. I’m ready to get up. I’ve been in bed too long.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Fine, but it took me a while to get there.”
“Really?”
“It was too quiet.”
“You got used to all the bells, beeps, and buzzers…hospital sounds.” He yawns.
“Ha, you’re right. I don’t remember them now.”
“Ready for some coffee?” Jon pushes his half of the covers to the middle of the bed and sits up.
“Yes, please.”
I’m in the shower when he comes into the bathroom carrying two steaming cups. “Are you going in to work today?” I ask.
“No. Not till Monday. Remember? I told you I was off for the rest of the week.”
“Oh. I don’t remember. So what’re your plans?”
“I didn’t have any, really. Thought I’d play it by ear. Wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling.”
“I feel really good, like I have to get out and do something. I was thinking we could go to the mall for a bit and I could look for some new shoes.”
“Shoes for what?”
“For the party.”
“You still determined to go?”
“Yeah.”
“Positive you’re up to it?”
“Yeah.”
“Then fine, go shoe shopping but not with me. Take your mother.”
“’Kay.”
“If you start feeling unwell, come back. At least I’ll get some more office work done…” He continues mumbling something on his way out.
I knew he wouldn’t want to go if I said the word shopping, but I hadn’t planned on him making me take my mother. I’ll have to improvise for where I mean to go—lie and tell my mom there’s a new store I want to check out. Fortunately, she’s easy to convince.
When I’m dressed, I take my empty coffee cup and walk down the hall to Patrick’s room. He’s already up and sitting on the edge of his bed with his headset on, deep into something involving lots of rapid gunfire. Strobe light reflections from the TV flicker across his pale face in the half-dark of his room. Then I notice a bulge protruding from one of his nostrils.
His eyes don’t shift from the images on the television. “I had another bloody nose.”
“Did it stop? Let me see.” I step up, and he holds his hand out to keep me back.
“It’s fine, Mom, not now. I’m in the middle of a game.” He quickly pulls the bulge from his nose and hands me the scrunched up, bloody tissue shaped like a tiny badminton shuttlecock.
“That’s really disgusting, Pat.”
“Will you toss that? Thanks.”
I move to the corner of his room and step into his bathroom with the thing splayed across my open palm. His wastebasket is a third of the way full with bunches of bloodstained tissues.
“Are all these from today?” I say.
“What? No. Mom…” he whines. His words are followed by a succession of quick, clickety-clack sounds. I turn my palm over and the redheaded tissue falls in with the rest. Then I walk over to the door and lean my hip against the jamb. His fingers move speedily over buttons on the game controller in his hands. His focus remains fixed on the television screen.
My mind wanders off and remembers bits and pieces of the nightmares I tried so hard to forget. The bleeding disease—the pandemic—I can’t remember how it began. Suspicion followed by nightmare images and horrendous thoughts begin to wall up around me. Impossible. That can’t be right. I have to stay calm.
“Fine, I get it. You’re busy, but we will talk about this later. I’m going to the mall.”
“’Kay. Bye, Mom. Later.”
* * *
Downstairs, I put my coffee cup in the dishwasher. Odd, I don’t feel the need for a refill, and good thing, too, because the empty pot is sitting in the sink. I’m thankful to have been in a coma while being weaned from caffeine. Hard to believe only a month ago, I was drinking close to two pots a day, not including my drive-thru visits.
Jon told my mom about the mall and she’s just about ready. My dad is sitting outside on a patio chair reading the paper, sipping a steaming mug of coffee. So, that’s where it all went.
I hear the sound of tapping echoes around the hallway before I can physically see my mom in her heels. “Which mall are we going to?” she says as she rounds the corner. A heavy cabled sweater is draped over one of her forearms and her purse is in the crook of the other.
“The one on the strip, but there’s a new store I want to take you to first.”
“That mall is going to be crowded today.”
“It’s always like that, but we’ll be fine. We’re starting out early.” I grab my purse and keys from the counter. “You ready?”
“Well, I wanted a little more coffee.”
“Dad drank it all. Let’s go, and I’ll hit a drive-thru on the way. We won’t have to wait in long lines at the mall then.”
“Let me tell your father we’re leaving.” She walks over to the sliding glass doors, pulls one slightly open and sticks her head out. My dad gets up, gives her a kiss and then she comes back inside and closes the door. “Okay. Let’s go. Did you want to say goodbye to Jon?”
“He knows I’m leaving.”
* * *
The line is five cars deep after we order our coffees. I take the time to check the car’s navigation history. I scroll down the addresses, but I can’t find the one for Dr. Light’s building, and I don’t recall the exact street name and numbers, either. Strange, I know I programmed it in the first time I went there. I guess I’ll have to go on memory, which shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Every time I had an appointment, I usually wound up smack dab in front of his office without remembering how I had arrived there.
“Here, Mom.” I hand her coffee over.
“This is too hot,” she says, nearly dropping it. Good thing I didn’t let go. I set it down in the cup holder between us.
“It’ll cool by the time we get to the mall.” Mine on the other hand is perfect. I take several gulps then pull away and head for the 215 Beltway.
“What kind of stuff do they sell at this new store? It’s not another one of your friend’s boutiques is it? I’m not in the mood to be pressured.”
“No. You’ll like it.”
She clings to her purse as if I’m the one after her shopping dollars.
After about twenty minutes, I take the exit and drive down the frontier road for a ways. Then I turn down a familiar, newly paved road that leads to nowhere.
“That’s weird,” I say.
“What? Are you lost?”
“No. This is where it should be.” At the end of the road there’s a large circular drive but nothing on the other side. I know I’m not lost because there is zilch out here, except for miles of graded land.
“Maybe it’s not built yet. How did you hear about it, anyway? What’s on that sign over there?”
I pull in front of a big white billboard with two matching legs staked into the dirt. It reads, “Five Acres for Sale, zoned for commercial business park,” and there’s an out-of-state phone number at the bottom.
“Are you sure this is it?”
“Yeah, Mom! I know it is.” Geez, between her twenty questions, a missing fucking building, and feeling ridiculous, I’m about to lose it. My hands start shaking on the steering wheel.
“Are you all right?”
“Please, Mom.” I say with a calmer voice. “Just give me a minute.”
She turns away and looks out the passenger side window. “Okay, but if you’re not feeling up to the mall, we can go home.”
I know she won’t stop. I take in a deep breath then purse my lips and slowly exhale. A thin stream of icy white smoke blows out. I put my window down and cough out the rest. Shit!
My mom turns back around. “What is it?”
“Nothing. The coffee’s hot is all.”
“I told you.”
Before I put the window up, I take a quick breath in and out. The air is clear. I put the car into drive then circle around and exit the way I came in. When I’m back on the highway I pick up my coffee and take another drink.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have any more of that, dear.”
“You’re probably right.” I put the coffee down. I’m a lot less shaky now.
She gently puts her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“Aw, Mom, it wasn’t you. I’m sorry I snapped. I was just sure…”
“A lot of things have changed since you were in the hospital. Maybe you remembered it wrong.”
“Yeah…that could be. I’ll look it up later.”
“Maybe your friend Tara will know. You can ask her when you return her call.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead. I couldn’t bear to look at my mom’s face right now. I’m about to burst into tears, and I know if I see her expression I’ll start and won’t be able to stop.
She gives my arm a light squeeze then releases it, moves her hand away, and clutches her purse again. She shifts her body slightly toward the passenger door and stares out the window. Gray and brown images fleet by in continuous flashes of blah. No matter how hard I push my foot down on the gas pedal, I can’t make the boring parts go by any faster, and they go on for miles—that I know from driving to Southern California for weekend getaways.
I can only imagine what she could be thinking now. Probably the same thing I am.
So, I guess this means I’m crazy. Everything about Dr. Light and his office building, imagined. It seems impossible I could be that far gone. Every other part of my life is normal, aside from the recent bout of bleeding and the coma. Which I guess, probably isn’t so typical. I’m not so sure however, unbalanced people suspect they are disturbed. I know I heard or read that somewhere. I wonder if Cally knew she was going to try and kill herself. Depression, which is what she must be suffering through, is different though, like comparing apples to oranges. If I am crazy, it’s schizophrenia, I think, and that’s about as far out there as a person can get. But Dr. Light didn’t think that’s what I had.
But, HA! According to what just happened, he doesn’t exist. And if he does, then he’s an alien! What the hell is wrong with me?
Nothing. This is bullshit. I must have made a wrong turn somewhere, taken a different exit, but the more I think about it, there were no alternate routes. Maybe if I came without her, they, the building, would have been there. That would still make me crazy, though. “They only appear to me when I’m alone.” Definitely sounds like a textbook nutcase statement.
They did call to me in my dream this morning. They are the ones who told me to come, that they were waiting, and then they didn’t show up. I suppose something could have happened—maybe something involving the sun. If only I could get back there without a chaperone. I’ll have to try again, soon.
* * *
My mom and I step through the door. Jon and my dad are standing there in the hallway to take our bags. “Oh, I could get used to this kind of service,” my mom says. She steps over to my dad.
Jon comes up, takes my bags, and kisses me. “I thought you were just buying a pair of shoes. What’s all this?” he says.
“They were having a sale.”
“Famous last words.”
“Besides, I needed to get some holiday shopping done.”
“Oh,” he raises the bags and peeks in, “is there anything in here for me?”
“Knock it off.”
“Not that I’d be able to see anything with all this tissue paper.”
“That’s exactly why it’s there—to keep nosy husbands from seeing their gifts.”
“I thought it was to hide all the extra stuff you bought for yourself.”
“Funny. Will you bring them upstairs?”
“Yeah. You coming up?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
We walk past the family room and kitchen. My parents have already gone to the guest room. No doubt my mom is whispering tales of my lunacy while she shows my dad how much money she saved him because she bought everything on sale. Fortunately, I know my dad will assume it’s my mom who’s crazy.
At the top of the landing, Jon heads into the master. I make a break and head down the hall to Patrick’s room. Jon steps back with the bags crunching together. “Where you going?”