by A A Bavar
“I thought I’d never see the day,” said Margaret, and smiled. “Maybe you left it in your car after you came back from your lunch meeting?”
Paul looked at Margaret and frowned. “No. Actually, that’s when I noticed I didn’t have it. I wanted to cancel lunch with Ackley… This is ridiculous!” he said, his tone angry but controlled. “Anyway, can you please reschedule whatever I have this afternoon for tomorrow. There’s somewhere, rather, someone I have to see.”
“Of course, Mr. Blast,” said Margaret, a look of concern on her face. “Um, Paul, is everything alright? Is there anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks. I need to go,” said Paul as he rushed out.
Paul parked his Veneno in the reserved staff parking close to the hospital entrance, rushed in through the sliding doors, and headed for the reception. A young, black man, clean shaven and in his early twenties, was sitting behind a small counter to the left of the entrance. As soon as Paul entered, he stood and called out, “Sir! Sir, you can’t park there. That’s for staff only.”
Paul stopped and turned, his eyes immediately on the young man’s lanyard, a cordial smile spreading across his face as he walked towards him. “Young man, John is it?” he said, and continued without waiting for a response, “I’m only going to be a few minutes, a short visit with an old friend, and would greatly appreciate it if you could, say, take care of this for me.”
John glanced at his clipboard and said, “I’m sorry, there’s nothin’ I can do. That’s staff parking. Visitor parking’s ‘round the back and to the left. I can give you a voucher—”
Paul raised his left hand, interrupting John, while taking out his wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket with his right hand. “Look, John, I really appreciate the offer, but what I really need right now is for you to help me out. It’s already past four, and I’m sure some of those spaces are going to stay empty for a while. So why don’t you make sure that happens?” He took out two twenty dollar bills and casually put them on the counter. “What do you say?”
John looked at the bills in front of him, then at the Veneno parked outside. “That’s a sweet ride,” he said, and looked at Paul. “What is it?”
“It’s a Lamborghini Veneno. Only five of them in the whole world,” said Paul, his smile fading. “Now, let’s do this. You take another look at your clipboard there, make sure no one messes with my car, and I’ll show you the inside on the way out.” Paul glanced over his shoulder at the reception desk. Two nurses were busy behind terminals.
“Sweet!” exclaimed John, picking up the bills and waving his hand dismissively. “You’re good. That’s Jane’s spot, one of our senior nurses… or used to be. From what I hear, she ain’t comin’ back,” he said with a shrug. “Got attacked in her house, or somethin’… the police was here, you know. Anyway, it’s all good.”
Paul frowned. “Okay, great.” Paul nodded, turned, and headed for the reception desk. “Thanks.”
“Hey! Don’t worry about the time either…” John shouted after him. “I’ll hang out an’ keep an eye on the car ‘till you come back. Make sure on one messes with it…”
Paul ignored him and quickened his pace. As he approached, he studied the two women sitting behind the desk, his eyes moving from one to the other, assessing who was the more vulnerable, the most willing to help or be lenient in case it was past visiting hours. He chose the younger, petite, blond sitting to the right. She seemed distracted and somewhat flustered.
“Hi, excuse me,” he said, “I’m here to see Ms. Samantha DesJardins.”
The nurse, in her mid-twenties, looked up blankly, her eyes red and puffy. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked, and wiped her nose with a tissue.
“I’m here to see Samantha DesJardins,” repeated Paul. “She’s a patient here.”
“Oh, of course… I’m sorry,” said the nurse, and bit her lip. She glanced at her screen, cleared her throat, and added, “Unfortunately, visiting hours were cut short today due to a… a…” She couldn’t finish. Her eyes welled with tears and her lips started to tremble. “I’m sorry…” she blurted, pulled a tissue, and dabbed her eyes.
“We had a death in the staff,” said the other nurse to Paul’s left. She was older, somewhere in her fifties, and pudgy. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, giving her a very formal and unapproachable look, but her eyes were kind, and she was pursing her lips in an attempt to keep from breaking apart. “Just got the news.”
Paul turned, glanced at the nurse’s name tag, and said, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Nurse Brown, but that’s exactly why I absolutely must see Samantha. I’m sure she’s going to be very upset when she finds out… if she hasn’t already. After all, Jane was a constant companion to her this past year. You see?”
Nurse Brown closed her eyes and nodded. “You’re right, of course. Ms. DesJardins doesn’t know yet, but I’m sure having someone she trusts with her when she finds out will be of great help,” she said, and shook her head. “Thank you. Did you know Jane?”
“Not so much, no,” replied Paul. “Can we?” he said, motioning towards the sliding doors behind the reception area with his head.
“Oh, of course. I’m sorry…” said Nurse Brown, as she turned, putting a hand on the younger nurse’s shoulder. “Amy, it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”
Paul followed Nurse Brown down the corridor, keeping a few steps behind, not wanting to engage in conversation. His heart was racing, the anticipation of seeing Samantha growing exponentially as they got closer.
“It’s been a terrible couple of weeks. First Dr. Yurka and now Jane,” said Nurse Brown. “It’s like we’ve been cursed.” She shook her head dismissively and continued, “I remember when we first started here, Jane and I… we were—”
“What?” Paul stopped, his head snapping towards Nurse Brown. It had taken his brain a few seconds to process the information and connect the dots. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that… are you talking about Dr. Dale Yurka? Samantha’s doctor?”
Nurse Brown stopped and turned towards Paul. “Yes… Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Dr. Yurka passed away a couple of weeks ago.”
Paul felt a sharp jolt in his chest, the uncontrollable fear of suspended knowledge, knowing the truth behind facts without ever having been exposed to them. He stared at Nurse Brown, his mouth gaping, his mind furiously repeating the same phrase over and over in his head: I have to visit a nurse friend of mine… she’s dying to see me… Wendy’s phrase. Samantha’s image. “Wendy… Samantha…” Paul heard his own voice, but it was far away, a whisper carried by the wind, now mixed with a female voice. He blinked, trying to clear the mist.
“Are you okay?” Nurse Brown took a step forward and touched Paul’s arm. “You don’t look—”
Her contact was electric, crashing Paul back to the present. Paul looked down at Nurse Brown, his eyes suddenly riveted on hers, alert but filled with urgency. “Samantha! I need to see Samantha. Now!”
“Sure… sure. But don’t worry, she’s sedated most of the time, so even if she knows about Jane she’ll still be quite calm,” said Nurse Brown, as she turned and started to walk briskly down the hall. “Her room is right around the corner to the left.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, their footsteps echoing in the long, empty corridor, each thump reverberating in Paul’s chest, and pressing against his heart. Finally, Nurse Brown stopped in front of a solid, white door and turned to face Paul. “Jane was a wonderful nurse. She was very dedicated to her patients… cared for them like family. I hope I can develop the same kind of relationship they had,” she said, inserted a key card into the lock, and opened the door. “I’ll be back in half an hour, but if you want to leave earlier, just press the button by the door to ring the bell.”
Paul nodded and walked in. The door shut behind him with a thud, blocking all sound, making the room suddenly seem much smaller, almost oppressive and lacking air. He stood there for a moment, the room’s empt
iness and padded walls adding to its feeling of sterility. That’s when he saw her, lying on the bed, her arms and legs strapped down. Her head was tilted slightly away from him, her long, auburn hair flowing beside her like that of a sleeping princess. He rushed to her side and looked down. She was breathing serenely, her eyes shut.
“Samantha…” whispered Paul almost dreamily. Gently, using the back of his hand, he caressed Samantha’s cheek. “What did we do? How did I agree to this?”
Wendy groaned and turned her head towards Paul. Slowly, like someone waking up from a very long and deep stupor, she opened her eyes. They looked distant and unfocused, lost in a faraway land. Lazily, she blinked several times.
“Samantha, it’s me, Paul,” said Paul softly, and put his hand on her shoulder.
Wendy groaned again and closed her eyes, scrunching up her face. “I’m… oh… my head… so hazy…” she mumbled. “Your voice…”
Paul leaned in closer and cupped Wendy’s face in his hands. “Samantha… Samantha!” he said loudly. “Open your eyes. It’s me, Paul.”
Suddenly, as if shocked into consciousness, Wendy’s eyes snapped wide open. They were clear, coherent, and fully focused on Paul. “Holy shit! Oh my God, it’s you! How the hell did you find me?”
Paul let go of Wendy and looked away. The room looked even smaller, even more constricting. “I… I always knew where you were,” he said finally, and took a step back, his eyes on the ground. “Wendy told me over a year ago…”
Wendy studied Paul’s face and bit her lower lip. “Who am I, Paul? Why are you here?” she asked. “Look at me!”
Paul reluctantly looked up. “What do you mean? I don’t know why I’m here!” he exploded. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore! One second I’m with Pat… Pat… I can’t even say her name for God’s sake! Every time I think of her I get this dreadful feeling and see her dead, mutilated body in my head. And then you! I can’t get you out of my mind. It’s maddening. I know what you are and what you did, but still something in me keeps pushing me to you.”
Wendy lifted her head and said in a calm voice, “Paul, it’s okay. Try to calm down. I think I know what’s going on—”
“How the hell can you know what’s going on?” Paul countered. “You’ve been cooped up in this hell hole for over a year, flying high, and strapped to a fucking bed! And that crazy bitch convinced me to do it! Fuck, here I go again…” Paul grabbed his face with his hands. “Every time I see or even think about Wendy you pop-up in my head. Maybe I’m the one who needs to be drugged and strapped to that bed!”
“Paul, look at me,” said Wendy in a calm but authoritative tone. “Come on, look in my eyes. I promise I won’t bite.”
Paul lowered his hands and looked at Wendy, his eyes finding hers.
“Good. Good,” said Wendy. “Relax. Take a deep breath and hold it, then release slowly.”
Paul did as he was told.
“Great, you’re feeling calm, more centered, in control. Now come here, but keep looking in my eyes,” said Wendy, and slowly leaned back on her pillow.
Paul nodded slightly and walked to the bed.
“I need you to take the ruby ring off the index finger of my left hand,” said Wendy.
“What? Why?”
Wendy shrugged. “No particular reason. It’s been bothering me, that’s all,” said Wendy with a smile.
Paul looked from Wendy to the ring and back. “I don’t believe you.” He spoke quietly, his eyes recovering their usual in control look. “I don’t know what you’ve got planned, or what you think you can do with that ring, but I’m sure it’s nothing good.”
“Paul, please! It’s the only—”
“Let me finish,” interrupted Paul. “What I was saying is that I don’t trust you, but I also feel like I owe you. So I’ll take the ring off, but I won’t leave it here or give it to you. Understood?”
“I wouldn’t want you to leave it here,” exclaimed Wendy. “Take it… give it to your girlfriend, throw it away. Do whatever the hell you want with it. I don’t care. Just take it off my freaking finger!”
Paul, a slightly amused look on his face, reached down with his right hand and held Wendy’s index finger, while carefully pulling the ring off with his left thumb and finger. Immediately, but unnoticed by Paul who was putting the ring inside his jacket pocket, a sheen of blue light crossed Wendy’s eyes.
Wendy took a deep, involuntary breath, as if filling her lungs after being submerged in water for a long time, her body deprived of oxygen. Slowly, she exhaled. “You know how many times I asked, pleaded, begged Jane to take that ring off?” she said, a hint of exhilaration in her voice. “Every single day… but she always laughed and ignored me…” said Wendy, her voice trailing off. “Oh my God, Jane!” Wendy looked at Paul, her eyes wild with fear, and tried to move her arm up, only to have the straps hold them tightly in place. “She’s going to kill her… you have to stop her! Now!”
Paul’s head snapped up and he pursed his lips. “Too late,” he said in a whisper. “Seems like something happened to Jane last night. How the hell did you know?”
Wendy closed her eyes, shaking her head in short rapid movements. “She won’t stop, you know,” she said matter-of-factly, and opened her eyes, leveling them on Paul. “She’ll go after your girlfriend, anyone you love, and eventually you. You have to stop her.”
“Stop Wendy? Samantha… Samantha!” yelled Paul in frustration. “I have to get you out of my head!” Paul grabbed his face, the palms of his hands pressing into his eye sockets. “God, why am I here? Why do I feel like I need to be with you? Oh God…”
Wendy looked at Paul, her eyes narrowed, and gritted her teeth. “I hope I’m strong enough,” she murmured, as her eyes started to glow blue, their intensity growing gradually. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash. Paul was thrown across the room, crashed against the padded wall, and fell to his knees. Slowly, he sank to the floor and passed out.
“Save us…” Wendy moaned, and passed out, her head rolling to the side.
Almost ten minutes later, Paul groaned and opened his eyes. The floor, despite being covered by a layer of rubber, felt hard and cold. He rolled over and tried to get up, but had to stop immediately. His head was throbbing, and he was dizzy, the effort causing him to almost pass out again. “Help…” he moaned. “Patricia… have to get to Patricia!” Slowly, cautiously, he dragged himself on all fours to the bed, reached up, grabbed the metal rails, and shakily tried to pull himself to his feet. The effort proved to be more than his body could handle, and he fell back unconscious.
Patricia turned off the shower and listened. The knocking on the front door was loud and consistent, someone who had been waiting for a while, the anxiousness apparent in the rather forceful rapping on the door.
“Coming! Coming!” she shouted, stepped out of the stall, and grabbed a towel from the rack beside the mirror. Clumsily, she wrapped it around her chest and rushed out of the bathroom to her bedroom, her hair dripping, and glanced at her clock radio. It read 7:02 p.m. “Paul! You’re early…” she said to herself, her tone curious but excited. The outfit she had chosen for the evening – a black chiffon dress with silver details, a thin, black, leather belt with a silver trim, and black lace-up heels – was neatly laid out on her bed, and she considered changing, but decided against it. Not only would her hair get it all wet, the knocking had escalated to a near banging. Without a second thought, Patricia rushed out and headed for the front door. Unconsciously, she glanced at the pictures in the hallway as she went by, mentally confirming their normalcy.
“Coming!” shouted Patricia. She ran through the living room, down the hall, and stopped behind the front door. She looked down, making sure her towel was still in place, and opened the door a small crack. “You’re early!” she said with a giggle, and stuck her head in the open space. “Joss!” she exclaimed, opening the door. “What the hell?”
Jocelyn stood there, smirking, her right hand on her waist. �
�So… is this how you were planning on receiving your date? Doesn’t leave much to the imagination now, does it?”
Patricia frowned and waved her hand dismissively. “You know I wasn’t… what are you doing here, anyway?” she said, turned, and started walking back. “You totally freaked me out! I mean, I thought it was Paul… can you imagine?”
Jocelyn walked in, closed the door, and followed Patricia. “Um… I don’t think I want to. Especially if you were going to open the door wearing only the towel. I love what you’ve done with your hair, by the way.”
Patricia stopped in the space between the kitchen and living room and turned around. “Well, if I don’t get to finish my hair, we know who to blame, don’t we? You know what, maybe I’ll just stay in the towel… make it exciting, and at the same time get rid of any meddling friends!” said Patricia with a grin, and shook her head in disbelief. “What are you doing here, Joss? You know he’ll be here in like twenty-five minutes, right?”
“Yes, I do,” said Jocelyn with a nod, and headed for the kitchen. “And that’s exactly why I’m here. I want to meet this Prince Charming and—”
“You what?” interrupted Patricia. “You’re worse than my mom! Or dad… for that matter. Might as well ask him for his driver’s license and have him checked out!”
Jocelyn opened the oven and looked inside. “Hey, not a bad idea. It would put my mind at ease,” she said, closed the oven, and turned. “Look, sweetie, after what’s been going on this past week, I thought… well, maybe I am exaggerating… but I thought it would be a good idea for me to meet this guy. You know, see what he’s like… and let him know that you have friends and family who look after you and will kick his butt if he ever hurts you.” Jocelyn lowered her head, as if peering over nonexistent glasses, frowned, and added, “Capisce?”