Tiny barked and licked my leg. “Bye, Tiny. Be a good girl,” I said as I gave her a quick pat and made my way out the door. I checked my cell for messages on the way out. There were none. I was a workaholic. I was different now. I wasn’t defenseless Em anymore. I was Amelia. Doctor Amelia Smith. I was a successful and independent woman. Thank you.
CHAPTER 4- BAD OMEN
Work was only a few blocks away, so I could easily walk there. The air was brisk as I made my way down the sidewalk, passing people on their phones rushing by with their morning coffees, walking their dogs, or commuting on city buses. My ears filled with the sounds of the city, people hailing taxis and traffic whizzing by. I moved faster as the brisk morning air felt cool against my skin. I preferred walking through all types of weather. It allowed me an outlet for my nervous energy.
I owned an old sky-blue VW Beetle that Grandma May had left to me when she died. Grandma had been smart and had given it to Aunt Georgia for safekeeping until I was old enough to drive. Aunt Georgia gave me the car when I was seventeen and was going off to college. She had kept it stored in her garage, only occasionally driving it a few miles to the local gas station to make sure it still ran. Grandma knew that if she had given it to Mama or Daddy that they would have ended up selling it to buy liquor or pills. Jordy and I had spent most of our childhoods in hand- me- down clothes scurrying for what little food we could find. I received my older cousin Julie’s hand-me-downs, and poor Jordy received them after I had outgrown them. Mama didn’t work, and Daddy could barely hold down a job for more than a few weeks at a time. Mama and Daddy never paid much attention to our needs. Without the occasional stern intervention from Grandma to jolt them back into reality, Jordy and I would have never survived.
I liked Aunt Georgia and would have stayed with her after Grandma died. Aunt Georgia was a nurse at the local hospital and had to work long shifts just to support my cousins, Jimmy and Julie, since losing her husband, my uncle Henry, to cancer when Julie and Jimmy were very young. Aunt Georgia found herself drowned in piles of hospital bills, late mortgages, and missed school loans. She was struggling just to support her own kids, let alone Jordy and me.
At work, I spoke very little about my life. I found it amazing how much people would talk about their own lives without questioning mine once they got started. Each day I saw dozens of patients with stories that resembled my own. But no matter how bad they sounded, nothing ever seemed quite as terrible as mine. I had gotten pretty good at burying my own emotions and focusing on those of others. Except for at night when I finally fell asleep from exhaustion, and the nightmares crept in like burglars to steal my solace.
I walked through the massive doors of black glass, entering the building. It was filled with many other practices, with everyone from general medical doctors to cardiologists. It was a coveted location with a reputation for having high standards of occupancy. To be here meant you were the best at what you did. I had received a recommendation from a professor of mine at University and was able to secure his spot after he retired along with a colleague of his, Dr. Brown.
Once inside the elevator, I made my way to the third floor past the physical and occupational therapy suites before arriving at the East corner mental health wing. I took a deep breath, exhaled and patted down my hair, put on my best smile, and walked inside.
“Good morning!” I said as I nervously grinned, encountering my co-workers in the break room as I hurriedly refilled my coffee. A few of them were talking and laughing as they readied themselves for the upcoming busy day. Steve, a therapist, stopped me. He was tall and slender, in his early thirties and had blonde hair and brown eyes.
“Good morning Amelia, did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Yes, as always,” I said, forcing both a lie and a smile as I made my way towards the door, wondering if my face revealed a clue to the secrets I hid behind the mask I wore.
“Good. Hey, listen, a few of us are going to the movies tonight. Would you like to go?” Steve said with a flirtatious smile.
Some of my female co-workers glanced over at us with obviously jealous faces.
“No thanks, Steve. I’m working late tonight. Got to catch up,” I said. Steve was good looking enough, but I wasn’t looking for a relationship and certainly not one at work where I would have to see him every day. A romance at work allowed for way too much contact and intimacy, and I was comfortable with neither.
The break room seemed to be the meeting place for budding inner-office romances.
I tried to avoid the break room as much as possible. It allowed for too much conversation, and conversation could lead to me digging up my awful past. I usually only allowed myself a quick break during lunch to grab yet another mega-sized latte and then straight back to work. I liked it that way. It kept most people at a distance and my past out of sight
I walked into my large but dull corner office. It simply held a desk and a chair. My desk held no family photos or sentimental items. I paused as I peered down at the soft gray oriental rug beneath my feet. It had red and black paisley designs to it. It had belonged to Grandma May. Try as I might to rid myself of home, I just couldn’t bear to throw away her favorite rug. My office only had a few organizers filled with forms needed for work, a black cylinder of pens, a phone, and my computer. The walls held framed displays of my diplomas from the University and a few other academic awards that I had received over the years.
I made my way over to my chair and glanced at today’s schedule. Busy and double-booked, just the way that I liked it. It assured me I would have little time to think. My colleague, Dr. Brown, was an older man and the owner of a majority of our practice, and he made certain everyone knew it. His office held an enormous cherry desk and a large black leather chair. He had on display, for everyone to see, photos from his numerous elaborate vacations, trophies won from golfing, and a hand full of academic achievement awards. On his desk was a picture of him and Heidi, a runway model from Sweden. Heidi was his latest arm candy. Dr. Brown was in his fifties, tall, and average looking. To say that he was arrogant was an understatement. Most of the employees hated him, and he was a favorite topic in the break room. Strangely, Dr. Brown seemed to like me. I guess it was because I mostly remained unconcerned with his affairs. I was considered by others to be his favorite, although that didn’t mean he took into consideration anything I had to say. For him, his opinions were non-negotiable. Our relationship had developed into one where I did most of the work, and he did most of the boasting. However, he paid me well, and I felt it to be a fair exchange.
My days were filled with back to back appointments until late evenings. Today was no different. I finished up with my last patient and made my way out the door before locking it up behind me. It was well after 9 p.m. and had begun to rain again, so I opted for a taxi.
I sat in the back of the taxi as I mulled over my busy day in my head. Today was Friday. I always worked late on Fridays because it meant the weekend would be a little shorter.
A few minutes later, I arrived at my door and was greeted by Tiny as she barked wildly and wagged her tail and ran circles around my leg. I picked her up and held her in my arms and hugged her tightly as I petted her soft fur. I carried her in my arms and fell backward onto my couch to rest.
After a few minutes passed, I made my way over to my desk filled with every kind of magazine possible. I would read just about anything to keep my mind busy. I flipped through the pages of Cosmo magazine and glanced over an article on how to improve your sex life. Not like I had one, I laughed to myself. Sure, I had a few boyfriends over the years, but every time they wanted to get close, I ran. Running was the only thing I knew how to do. I preferred to keep relationships light. I made sure never to let them spend the night. I would always find an excuse.
I placed the magazine down and opened my computer to check my email. I read a few memos from work and a few ads from local stores and then shut it off. I glanced over at the pile of mail as I thought of the letter from t
he law firm. I felt a huge knot in my stomach. I knew that I would have to read it eventually. I picked it up and held it in my hand and contemplated opening it. I stared at it a few minutes as I looked intently at the name Jackson Roderick Attorney at Law. For a moment, my heart skipped a beat as I was reminded of my childhood crush, Jackson Roderick. He had always been so kind to me, but like everyone else, Jackson had left me, too, soon after Jordy had died.
I hadn’t been home since Daddy had died. The funeral ended up with Mama and Roy getting into an argument because he had been drinking, and Uncle Bobby and Roy getting into a fistfight because Roy had punched one of my cousins. Roy controlled Mama, and she didn’t do anything without his permission. Roy appeared to be another version of my father, but Roy was much worse. He had been in and out of jail more times than I could count, and Mama seemed to need a lot more of her anti-anxiety cocktails to tolerate him. I had tried talking to her while there to convince her to leave Roy and get her life together, but our conversation ended with her defending Roy and being upset with me.
Since then, I told myself that I had stopped caring about what happened back home. Sure, there was Aunt Georgia from time to time that I missed, but she was too busy trying to keep Jimmy out of jail and helping my cousin Julie by taking when she wasn’t pulling double shifts.
I glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was after 5 a.m., and I was exhausted. I thought about getting up to pour myself another cup of coffee but decided to just rest my eyes at my desk for a few minutes before dozing off to sleep.
It’s dark. I am running in the woods. My heart pounds and almost rips through my chest with each forced breath. The barren trees sway back and forth violently. The wind howls and screams. Frantic, my hands shake as I stare into the darkness. Alone.
I scream as I now stand over a massive hole in the woods. I try to run, to move, but I freeze with my feet stuck to the ground. Suddenly, the dirt begins to sink, and I fall further and further into the hole. I jerk as I feel Jordy’s hand on my shoulder, as she floats alongside my sinking body. “Why didn’t you save me, Em? Why did you leave me? Why are you trying to run away from me?” she cries.
I sink further and further into the ground that now has me trapped. I cough and spit as the dirt is now pouring into my mouth. I fight, but it is no use. Everything goes dark. I see a glowing light and Grandma May.
She looks at me and smiles. “It is time, Honey. You must go,” she says before disappearing.
I try to reach for her, but she’s gone.
I jolted awake to the sound of a loud crack of thunder vibrating off the window. I looked frantically around my loft, trying to orient myself.
I walked across the loft, now illuminated by the lighting, and poured myself a cup of coffee. The sound echoed again and again, but not like back home where the thunder cracked so hard it seemed for sure that God himself was speaking to you.
It was a bad omen. I felt it deep in my bones. Like it or not, it was time to read that letter.
CHAPTER 5- THE LETTER
I arose from the chair and slowly made my way towards the coffee pot. I yawned and rubbed my watery eyes. I wasn't about to let sleep sneak up on me again. I remember a time when I slept so soundly that my sleeping world was much better than my waking world. In my dreams, I often met loved ones who had passed. Grandpa Warren would visit me regularly. I would tell Grandma May about these dreams, and she would reassure me that they were nothing to concern myself with, and only from time to time would she hint to their importance.
I forced myself to keep awake as I desperately fought the sleep that tried to overtake me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the stack of mail piled up on the desk. I stared down at the letter as I contemplated what it might say. I wondered which cousin might be in trouble now. I wondered if Mama was in jail or worse had overdosed. God, I hadn't heard from her in years. Still, after our last encounter at Daddy's funeral with Roy's drunken antics and Mama yelling at me in front of everyone for leaving home in the first place, I thought it best that I didn't return. I never liked Roy. I had a bad feeling about him from the first time I met him. He would stare at me way too long and always comment on how I was a prettier and younger version of my mother. I shivered at the thought of Roy as my body tensed up. I was thrown back into a time when I was still a young girl, and Roy came into our lives.
Slowly, I poured my coffee as I tried to switch my thoughts from Roy. I didn't feel so well. Just the thought of Roy made me physically ill. Even though I had fought to keep him out of my mind, it was as though my body hadn't forgotten him.
It was amazing how much home had affected me. I hadn't even been there in so long, yet I was feeling its power over me. I walked over to where the letter lay.
My hands shook as I picked up the letter and nervously held it in my hand. My body began to sweat, my stomach was in knots, and my heart seemed as though it was going to explode in my chest. Merely holding the letter brought back flashes of Jordy and me hiding in a closet with me holding her close. I cringed as I recalled the loud sound of Roy drunk, cursing and stumbling through the house as we heard booms and cracks and Mama screaming. I can’t do it, I thought, as I moved my hand towards the small trash can beside the desk and stopped.
I sighed and took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I told myself I was a woman now and no longer the vulnerable young girl I used to be. I took another deep breath and prayed for strength to put my past behind me. I ran my fingers along the backside of the crisp white envelope as I felt the smoothness of the letter and the subtle feel of glue at my fingertips. It was now or never. I knew that if I didn't read it, Grandma May wouldn’t stop sending me these messages. She had been very tenacious in her waking life and now seemed even more determined in her afterlife.
Grandma May was a woman known not to take no for an answer. She was the matriarch of our family and had more strength than any superhero I had seen on television growing up. The only difference was superheroes could fly, break down walls and move at super speeds. Although, she never embodied those physical traits, she was still powerful, just the same. Her voice was firm, but consoling. Her calloused hands indicated she had grown up working from a young age. Her penetrating eyes could cut through lies. Yet, those same piercing blue eyes that looked much like my own held a kindness when I looked at her, and that comforted me.
I remember once when I was young, Daddy had gotten loud with Mama. His drinking wasn't as severe when Grandma was around, mostly because I think Daddy was afraid of her. She was a strong woman who kept her word and believed in protecting her family. I had only ever known Grandma to try to help people. People often confided in her and entrusted in her messages no matter how unconventional her ways may have seemed to them. I guess the fact that Grandma had the sight, as some referred to it, also kept people from messing with her.
I often wondered if other people thought she was just plain crazy the way that she would talk about the dead visiting her and giving messages to folks in town who had lost their loved ones. I remembered in first grade how the other kids teased me, calling Grandma Crazy Mazy. They called her Devil and told me I had the Devil's blood in me, too. I went home after school that day, crying to Grandma May. She wrapped me tight with her strong arms, and my tears poured onto her shoulder, soiling her duster. She softly patted my blonde hair as she gently kissed the top of my head. "My Sweet Pea. There is no devil in you. What we have is a gift. One day you will see that, dear, and you will understand," she said.
My sobbing slowly decreased to a sniffling. "I- I don't want this gift. Jordy can have it, or give it to Cousin Jimmy," I said defiantly back to her.
Grandma smiled and let go of the embrace as she gave me a warm, comforting smile and spoke.
"We don't choose the gift, dear. It chooses us," she replied.
"Then why didn't Mama get it?" I asked.
"Oh, your Mama has the gift. She just tries to convince herself she doesn't have it. She runs from it," Grandma May said.
<
br /> "Then I will run from it, too. I don't want it!" I exclaimed, shaking my head no to protest.
Grandma got quiet and looked at me with warm eyes.
"Like when you see Grandpa Warren in your dreams?" she exclaimed.
I looked at her with confusion.
"Did he tell you that he visits me?" I asked.
"Yes, dear. I see him often, too," she said with a fond grin.
"But how is it a gift when you couldn't save him from the accident?" I asked.
"You're right, I couldn't save him, but because of the gift, I still see him, so we never truly lost him, you see," Grandma May said.
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud siren blaring from the streets below. I wrapped my arms around myself as I felt a cold rush of air fill the room and heard the words, "Open the letter, dear."
The letter still in my hand, I made my way over to my desk and sat down. I glanced at my computer as a new email notification popped up on the screen. At this point, I was eager to do just about anything but read that letter. I thought to myself that Grandma would just have to wait. Waiting, she could do. She could wait things out with the best of them, but to give in and forget about getting me to read the letter was a different story entirely.
The email was from Dr. Brown. It said that my licensure had expired. I wondered how that was even possible. I guess I had gotten so busy with work that I had forgotten about it. I blamed him for his constant changing of secretaries, each leaving one after another, unable to deal with his childish demands. Work was my life. I panicked. Further down the page, the email read that it would only take about a week to clear up. A week! What on earth would I do for the next seven days while Dr. Brown tried to straighten it out? I had no friends and I hated vacations. Although I had never truly taken one.
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