by Annie Jocoby
Then, one day, at the end of the week, when I had gone about five days without sleep, Iris arrived.
Chapter Eighteen
My beautiful girl arrived after I had a particularly harrowing experience in the shower. I was exhausted and spent, not having slept for around 5 days, and I slipped and hit my head, hard, on the edge of the tub. I passed out, only to come to sometime later, being awakened by the licking of Brutus and Maximus. I looked at the clock, realizing that I was unconscious for the better part of the hour. I patted my head, and found that I was bleeding. I then tried to call Daniel to come and take me to the hospital, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his phone number. I couldn’t even remember 911. I remembered that there were three numbers that you are supposed to dial when you have an emergency, and I dialed 711, 611, 311, then gave up in frustration after dialing these numbers and getting nowhere.
I finally decided just to go to my bed and try to sleep it off, but my head was throbbing. Then I saw my father, as plain as day. He was in my bedroom and talking to me. Only he looked different – his head was blue, his body orange. Not a fake tan sort of orange, but more like an Oompa Loompa orange. He was also very fuzzy.
“Dad,” I said. “Have you heard any word about my wife?”
He just shook his head and said nothing.
“Where is she, dad? Is she still alive?”
“I don’t know, son. I wish I did.”
Then I passed out again, and, when I came to, Iris was standing by the bed. I rubbed my eyes, not sure that I was actually seeing what I was seeing.
I touched her, and felt flesh and bone.
My heart leapt out of my throat. She was finally home! Relief coursed through every cell of my body.
“Oh, my god! Beautiful! You're back!” I shouted, wrapping myself around my one true love.
“I don't understand. What do you mean?” Iris asked me.
“What happened to you? Why did you shut off your phone? Why didn't you call me? I was so worried,” I said to her, my face in her hair, my hand on her back.
“Shut off my phone? I don't understand. This isn't Iris, this is...” Iris hesitated. Then she said, “of course, I'm back. I love you. I've always loved you.”
“I love you too. Oh, god, I was so worried.”
Then I kissed her full and sensuous lips. Her lips met mine hungrily, her hands clawing my back. “I love you so much,” she said. “I've loved you for so many years.”
There was something in the back of my mind that was telling me that it wasn't right, but I ignored that inner voice that was trying to remind me that Iris and I had only known each other about a year and a half.
I carried Iris to our bedroom, and laid her down on the bed. I stripped off her clothes, and stripped off mine as well, and hovered over her for a few seconds. Then I kissed her passionately and thrust deeply into her, over and over again. I was so hungry for her, I couldn't get enough. She was telling me, over and over again, how much she loved me, and how much she had always wanted this to happen. I put her face in my hands, and kissed all around her face, my hands in her hair. Her legs were wrapped tightly around me as I thrust, deeper and deeper into her, for hours. Then I came inside her, and, feeling completely spent, I laid down next to her and stroked her hair.
And, since the first time since I found out she was missing, I was relieved of my stress, and I found the sleep that I needed for so long.
Chapter Nineteen
I woke up in my bed, and looked at the clock. It read 8 AM, which meant that I had only been asleep about 5 hours. I think that I fell asleep around three in the morning, after making love to Iris for hours after she came home to me.
I made my way down the stairs.
Natalie was in my kitchen, helping herself to some orange juice.
“Nat,” I said, confused. “When did you get here?”
She was startled by my presence. I also noticed that she was wearing one of my button down shirts, and seemingly nothing else. Her face turned bright red. “Uh, I got here a couple of days ago.”
“A couple of days ago? Where's Iris?”
“Sit down,” Natalie asked.
I sat down at the kitchen bar, feeling disoriented and confused. Natalie had been here a couple of days? I didn't remember her coming here at all.
“I did a terrible, terrible thing,” she began.
“What terrible thing did you do?” I asked, although I was starting to realize what, exactly, she was referring to.
“Uh, the other night, I came into town. I called Nick, because I couldn't get ahold of you. Nick told me what you were going through with Iris missing, so I flew into town because I wanted to help.”
“Go on,” I said, becoming increasingly suspicious, and feeling that my confusion was clearing up with every word she spoke.
“I came in the door, and you thought that I was Iris. And I -”
“Pretended to be her,” I finished.
“Yes.”
I just stared at her for a few minutes. Then said “well, Nat, looks like you got your fucking wish.” Then I looked away.
“Ryan, I'm so sorry. You made love to me thinking that I was Iris.”
“I know exactly what happened now. I finally got some sleep, because I thought that Iris had come home. Now my mind is totally clear, and I can't believe that you would pull a stunt like that. On top of it all, Iris is still missing.” Natalie was shaking a little, pulling on the ends of her hair, and examining it carefully. “That's why I said that you finally got your fucking wish.”
“I know,” she said. “But I do love you, Ryan. I love you so much, I can't stand it.”
“Go home, Nat. Go home to your husband. Get out and leave me alone, and never, ever, say a word about this to anybody. Do you understand?”
She started crying, and hung her head. “I'll see what flights I can catch, but, since this is Sunday, there might not be much available.”
Wait, Sunday? Sunday? I asked Nat “how is it Sunday? How long have I been asleep?”
“For over a day,” she said. “You've been asleep about 30 hours. I was about to call the ambulance, if you didn't wake up soon.”
“30 hours. I haven't slept in more than a week, which is why I was hallucinating. And I hit my head.” I shook my head. “You completely took advantage of my mental state. I just can't believe you would do something like this.”
She was crying again. “Why can't it be me? What's so wrong with me?”
“Nat, nothing's wrong with you. You're beautiful, you're bright, and you're sweet. But you're not Iris.”
“I loved you for years before you met Iris,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “Bad timing, I guess.”
Then I sat down again on the bar, and put my head in my hands. When was Iris going to come home for real? Where was she? Did Rochelle get to her? She said that she didn't, and I believed her, but was I being naïve? What happened to Andrew?
Then Nat said, as if it just dawned on her, “you hit your head? Oh, shit. When did that happen?”
“Sometime. I’m not sure. I fell in the shower because of my exhaustion, and knocked myself out. All I remember was that I was talking to my father, but he looked weird. Then you came in, and I thought you were her.”
“I better get you to the ER right away.”
At that, Natalie drove me to the nearest hospital so that I could get checked out. The doctor finally saw me after about two hours in the waiting room, and gave me a neurological exam, including a CAT scan. He announced what I already knew – I had suffered a severe concussion when I smacked my head, and that, combined with severe sleep deprivation, is what caused me to hallucinate.
“Are you still having the hallucinations?” the doctor asked me.
“No. My memory issues have resolved as well.”
“There probably is not any reason for further treatment, then. Just monitor your symptoms, and come back in if you start suffering severe headaches, more hallucinations,
memory lapses, nausea or vomiting, dizziness, vision problems, slurred speech, confusion or clumsiness. We can’t be too careful,” the doctor said, handing me a brochure on concussions. “It sounds like you also hallucinated because of severe sleep deprivation. Five days without any sleep can cause a variety of neurological impairments. It is somewhat unusual to hallucinate, even after a lack of sleep and a concussion, but not unheard of. Especially since the two risk factors were combined.”
“Thanks,” I said.
On the way home, I laid into Natalie again. “Natalie, first of all, thanks for taking me to the hospital. I want to get that out of the way. Now I have to ask – what the fuck were you thinking? You completely took advantage of my mental state.”
“I told you, I love you. I don’t know. You thought I was her, and I…well, I had to feel you inside of me again. I’ve never gotten over that feeling of having you inside of me. I’m ashamed of what I did, but it was almost worth it to have that feeling again.”
“As I said, Nat, not a goddamned word about this. Not to Nate, not to Nick, not to Alexis, and certainly never to Iris. Got that? You breathe a word, and I will never speak to you again. Ever. We clear?”
She nodded her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I just want you to love me, that’s all.”
“I have to be blunt here. You’re a good friend. Like a sister. Nothing more. I know that we used to be friends with benefits back in the day, but that can’t happen anymore. I’m married to my soul mate. I’m sorry if that’s an inconvenient truth, but there we are. Now, you have to get on my plane and go home.”
I sent Nat on her way, putting her on my private plane, so that she couldn't use the excuse that she was unable to find a flight home on such short notice.
Then stayed awake all that night.
I got into work the next day, and put on my acting face once more.
Around five, I was working away, trying to focus and throw myself into my projects, when my secretary informed me that I had a call from a Cindy Johnson.
I groaned. Cindy was the prosecutor for Rochelle's case, and she no doubt was looking for Iris to ask her some questions prior to Rochelle's trial as a part of the discovery process.
“Ryan Gallagher,” I spoke into the phone.
“Hello, this is Cindy Johnson. I've been trying to get in touch with Iris because I need to talk to her about the Rochelle Anderson case.”
“Actually, Ms. Johnson, Iris is missing,” I said in as professional tone as I could possibly muster.
“I don't understand?”
“I haven't seen or talked to my wife for over two weeks now.” Just saying the words made me die inside, but I had on my actor persona again, and I was sure that I was coming off cold.
“Over two weeks? That’s about when I spoke with her.”
Chapter Twenty
I was stunned when Cindy Johnson informed me that she had spoken to my wife. “What? What do you mean?” I asked her anxiously.
“She called me and negotiated a plea deal with me a little over two weeks ago. I haven't been able to get ahold of her since, and I need to ask her some important questions before I depose Ms. Anderson.”
“A plea deal. With whom?”
“His name is Shaun Jefferson. It was a plea deal on a drug case.”
“Where does Shaun Jefferson live?”
“Just a second,” she said. “2615 Montgall Ave., KCMO.”
“Thanks,” I said, “I'll have Iris call you as soon as I see her.”
After getting off the phone with her, I immediately bolted out the door, and headed down to 2615 Montgall Ave.
I got to the house, which was a shirt-waist house in the run-down area of town. The other cars that were parked on the street were older-model cars, most with hubcaps missing and sporting various dents. I knew that my Porsche was probably not safe here, but I figured that if I was jacked or rolled, I could always call Daniel to come and get me.
I approached the creaky porch, and knocked on the door.
A pale blonde-headed boy of about 22 answered the door, and just looked at me expectantly.
“I'm looking for Shaun Jefferson,” I said.
“That's me,” the boy said. Then he looked at my car, and looked back at me. “You a cop or a dealer?”
“Neither. I'm looking for my wife, Iris Gallagher,” I said, holding up her picture on my phone.
His face lit up in recognition. “Ah, yeah. Yeah. She real cool.”
My heart started pounding. “Where is she?”
“I dunno. I met her when she knocked on this door. She said she was an attorney and she could get me out of a drug charge if I gave her, uh, money.”
“Did you give her money?”
“Yeah. She worked a good deal for me, so it was worth every penny.”
“Where is she now?”
“Shit. You better not be a cop.”
“I'm not. Where did she go?”
“There's a house up the street. It's abandoned. Not sure of the address.”
“Where? Exactly where?” I tried to contain my excitement, although I could feel myself breathing heavily, and my heart was pounding a mile a minute.
“Three houses up, on this side of the road. It's a big old house, like this one. It's been taken over by squatters.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling like kissing him.
Then I ran up to the house to which he was referring, and tried the door. The door wasn’t locked, so I walked in and looked around.
There were no lights, and, this being wintertime, it was almost pitch black outside, even though it was only around 5:30, so I could see very little. A cat came up to me and rubbed on my leg, purring loudly.
Somebody turned a flashlight on me.
“Who are you?” that person asked, then brought out a pistol and held it up to my face.
I put up my hands, and looked around, my eyes adjusting to the dark. There were people everywhere, in corners asleep. Some of them were not asleep, but were holding their arms and staring into space. A few were crashed out in sleeping bags in the middle of the floor. Somebody had a boom box, and the strains of Beethoven's 7th Symphony was wafting through the air.
Good taste.
Nobody paid attention to me except the guy who held the flashlight and gun up to me.
I started feeling the shivers of familiarity, knowing that I was once one of these people, even if I never actually lived in an abandoned house. I wanted to get out of there because the temptation to use was still strong.
But I had to get Iris out of there first.
“I'm Ryan Gallagher. I'm looking for my wife,” I said, holding up my cell phone and showing him her picture.
“She's here. She's upstairs,” he said, motioning to the ancient staircase.
My heart leapt with joy at the thought of being so close to my beautiful Iris. I could barely contain my excitement as I hurried to the staircase.
However, flashlight boy beat me to the staircase, and stood in front of it, crossing his arms. “You look like a rich boy,” he said.
“I am a very rich boy. What do you want?”
“That looks like a Rolex,” he observed, looking at my watch.
At that, I took it off and gave it to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Lemme see your wallet.”
I gave him my wallet, which had about a thousand dollars in it, which is the amount that I usually carry with me. “Take it all,” I said. “Just let me find my wife.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking out all the money out of my wallet. “Follow me,” he said.
I followed him up the creaky stairs, with him leading the way with his flashlight. He went into the second bedroom, with me following closely behind, then flashed his lights into the figures who were lying down in the room. There was about six people in this room, some of them sleeping on the floor, others sleeping upright. As with the people downstairs, none of them reacted to our presence or to the light.
My pulse qu
ickened as he shined the light on an alabaster-skinned red-haired girl who I barely recognized. She was dressed in oversized sweats that went well past her ankles, and a man's t-shirt. Like everybody else in the room, she had a vacant stare. Her hair appeared that it hadn't been combed in two weeks, and she apparently hadn’t bathed in that time, either. She was extremely skinny, and, when the guy shined his light on her arms, I could see track marks on her skin.
I felt tears running down my cheeks.
I had found Iris at last.
Chapter Twenty-One
I walked over to Iris. She looked at me with her dead eyes, and I gently picked her up off the floor. She was limp, like a rag doll, and I couldn't get her to hold on to my neck. She just lay in my arms, her head swinging as I walked, so I slung her over my shoulder, my hands wrapped around her legs. I could feel her arms and head on my back.
As I approached the staircase, I knew that this was going to be tricky at best. Flashlight boy illuminated the staircase, but it was narrow, the stairs were very steep, and I was extremely nervous about falling with Iris in my arms. I sat down at the top of the stairs, and gently set Iris down next to me. She went limp on my lap. I gently stroked her hair while I tried to think of what to do. I knew that she couldn't walk - she was way too high. Since this was December, the sky was pitch black outside, as was this house. There was no way I could make my way down this staircase safely, with Iris in my arms.
Flashlight boy was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking at me expectantly. “You coming or not?” he asked.
I gently tried the railing to see if it was solid. It was unstable and threatened to give way if I were to lean on it. So, bracing myself on the railing while taking Iris down the stairs was out of the question. Maybe flashlight boy could help me? Nah, he was probably high, and I didn't trust him not to drop her.
I sighed and said to flashlight boy “I better not. The staircase is too dark. I'll just have to stay here until it is light.”
“Suit yourself,” flashlight boy said. “You can sleep on one of the beds in that first bedroom. Nobody will bother you.”