by Ju Ephraime
I ran a hot bath and sprinkled it liberally with Crabtree and Evelyn’s Spider Lily, a muscle-relaxant bath salt. This usually soothed me, and I thought the salts would work wonders on my body. I sat in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill up. I was so physically drained that I did not even concern myself about the whereabouts of the invisible man. Nothing he did surprised me anymore. I was no longer surprised by anything he did. One thing was certain, he seemed bent on doing the things John and I did together in our private moments.
I waited until the tub was filled all the way before getting into it. It stung at first, but the hot water and the wonderful aroma coming from the bath soon had me in a relaxed trance. I turned on the radio and opened my book
The light went off and the room plunged into darkness. I scrambled out of the tub and ran out of the bathroom naked. I did not even grab a towel, so I was dripping water all over the floor. I rushed into my bedroom, grabbed the first shirt I put my hand on in my closet. Without bothering to dry off, I raced down the stairs hysterical. I was out the door, not knowing where I was going until I realized I could not leave the house in this state of undress.
I flopped down on the couch like a deflated balloon. I didn’t know what to do, where to go. I was afraid to return to my room to finish dressing. I was afraid to remain in the house, even. I picked up the telephone and called my mother. The girls were visiting with her today, camp was over, and I needed them home as soon as possible.
“Hi, Mom, What time did you plan on returning the girls today?”
“About fourish,” she answered. “What’s the matter Syria? Are you lonesome over there all by yourself? You’re welcome to come over. We’re baking a cake for your dad.”
“Why? Is it his birthday?” I asked, trying for a joke.
“No, it’s not his birthday, silly,” she replied. “You know your dad loves his cakes, and since the girls are here, I thought it was a good a time as any. I’ll send a piece home with Johanna, unless you’re coming over.”
“I’ll think about it. I have a bit of a headache and will rest a while to see if that gets rid of it. What are you preparing for dinner?”
“I’m doing duck al la orange with pasta. Would you like me to fix you a plate?”
“Yes,” I replied. “Send enough for John’s dinner as well. I don’t believe I’ll be cooking anything today. I’m going to rest for a while because I’m exhausted. See y’all soon.”
I sat on the couch and remained in my partly undressed state for the next three hours, dozing on and off. I turned on the television, but it was difficult to keep my eyes open. When the front door alarm chimed, I did not wait to see who it was but went charging into the foyer to meet whomever it was, and there was John.
I was so happy to see him I forgot I was only wearing a shirt. As he stood there watching me, I realized that my body, with all the numerous bruises and bites, was exposed to his incredulous gaze.
“I came home early to see how you were feeling. What’s going on, Syria? Why are you in the living room, dressed like this? And what are all those spots on your legs? Are you getting sick again?”
“Whoa, one question at a time. Do you want me to answer them in order? I feel as if I’m being attacked.”
“I’m not attacking you, Syria. I’m just concerned. Something’s going on with you, and whenever I try to bring up the subject, you clam up. I need you to talk to me.”
“Well, where would you like for me to begin?”
“Why not start at the beginning. No, better yet, why don’t you start with how you came by those bruises?”
“I don’t know that they’re bruises,” I replied.
“What would you call them?” he asked.
“John, I’m telling you, I don’t know. I woke up one morning, some months ago now, and I noticed these spots on my body. They were much fewer and they had faded away, but now they’ve returned, even more of them than before. At first, I thought it was something to do with my blood, but the blood work came out negative. So, I’ve no idea what they are or how I got them.”
It was all too much for me. I broke down in tears. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, but lately I seemed to be crying or on the verge of tears quite often.
John came to me immediately and took me in his arms.
“Hush, Sweetheart, don’t cry. We’ll figure it out.”
Oh, Hon, it’s been so difficult for me,” I admitted.
“Can’t you wear any pants over it? Is it painful?”
“It doesn’t hurt much. It actually looks worse than it is, but that’s not the reason for my near nakedness in the living room. I had just stepped out of the tub when someone walked past the bathroom door. I ran into the hallway to see who it was, but there was no one there. I looked everywhere.”
“Are you certain you saw someone?”
“That’s the problem. I wasn’t certain, but by then I was too scared to return to the bathroom. So I came downstairs and was waiting for my mom to bring the girls back.”
“Sweetheart, you seek a second opinion for this thing. It’s destroying you. I’ll do some research on the Internet to see what I can find out. In the meantime, I think you should go see Dr. Wienbach today. Maybe if he sees the spots as they are today, he might be able to diagnose it.”
“I’ve already called for an appointment. I’m waiting for a call back.” I hated having to fabricate those stories to John. They weren’t the whole truth, even though there were elements of the truth buried in there somewhere.
I was just unsure of John’s reaction if I admitted to him there were sexual acts involved with these spots. For my part, I didn’t know how I would handle it if the situation were reversed, so I was left floundering in unchartered waters. No amount of training had prepared me for this, and God, was I struggling.
CHAPTER NINE
I had decided, since I would not tell John my shameful secret, I would not let him continue bombarding me about possible cures for what ailed me. I was very put out by the invisible man because he was responsible for my having to fabricate stories and create evasive tactics for my husband. I’d never had to lie to John before. This entire situation had me quite indignant. I had every reason to be indignant because I was not a willing participant in these sexual escapades.
I needed things to revert back to how they were between John and me, a week ago before the invisible had resumed his attacks on me. Unfortunately, the only thing which kept him away had been my being intimate with my husband. But on occasions such as this, had I not been in such discomfort, I would have initiated a romantic interlude with my John, knowing this would keep the invisible man away. John had never refused an invitation to fool around with me, but I knew I would not have been able to carry out such a feat. I was all wrung out. I turned away and went up the stairs, hoping John would come with me, but he kept standing in the living room, watching as I made my way up the stairs. I felt him looking at me until I reached the landing and left his sight.
This had me feeling more put upon. I needed John to be upstairs with me. I was still shaken by my ordeal; I was just putting on a brave front. I quickly brushed my hair, which had become a tangled mess, applied some light makeup, and changed into a comfortable pair of slacks and T-shirt, and headed back downstairs when I ran into John, coming upstairs to get me.
“Syria, I think we need to talk some more about your health. How long have you been suffering with this in silence? I watched you walk up the stairs, and you looked as if you were having difficulty. Do your joints hurt? I need to know exactly how this disease is affecting you. The more I know about your symptoms, the better I’ll be able to find out information on the Internet, something to take to Dr. Weinbach.”
“Honey, you shouldn’t worry yourself too much about this. It looks worse than it is, honest.”
“How can I not worry?” he asked.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ve been living with this for some time now. I believe I will soon be ov
er it. Also, it gets better when I take a bath in the Epsom Salt.”
“Syria, you can’t treat this on your own. Blood-borne illnesses are difficult to diagnose and difficult to control. I won’t rest until you’re receiving proper treatment. You should call Dr. Weinbach’s office again to see if you could get in to see him today.”
“John, I’ve called twice. I can’t keep calling. Dr. Weinbach’s secretary said he’s in surgery today. If I don’t receive a call back today, I’ll call again first thing in the morning. Is that good enough?”
“I guess so. I would suggest you see someone else, but you’ve been seeing Dr. Weinbach for as long as I’ve known you. I suppose you should start with him.”
“Can we change the subject for now?” I asked.
I felt terrible not telling John the truth, and the more concerned he got, the lower I felt. Thank God, he appeared to take my word for it and was prepared to discuss something else.
“John, I don’t think we should waste the one afternoon you are home early on this discussion. Let’s go watch a movie or something. I’ll make some popcorn. You can fix us a drink.”
“Okay, if you feel up to it,” he said with a smile.
This was his first smile since he arrived home and found me in the living room partly dressed.
“Let’s not start that again,” I said.
“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” he said, pulling me into the fold of his arms. “You know I won’t survive if anything were to happen to you. I may come across as bossy, but it scares the living daylight out of me, to think of you being sick and not knowing the cause.”
***
We went into the family room to watch television, something we very seldom did together. John turned on the television and went to fix us a drink. I was flipping through the guide looking for something interesting to watch when the television screen went blue. There on the screen was the image of a man moving in and out of the blue background. There was no sound, no music, just the image of this man floating around in the blue space of the television. He was tall, with a hawk-like appearance and sharp, aristocratic features. He appeared to be wearing an old-fashioned, Victorian-style black frock coat and hat. I couldn’t see his entire head because it was cut off by the television screen, but he appeared to be looking directly at me.
I sat there unable to believe my eyes. How could I be seeing a man in the television?
“John,” I yelled. “Come see this.”
“What is it?” he asked, walking into the room with only one drink in his hand.
“Do you see a man on the television, wearing a frock coat and hat?” I asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Can’t you see a man in the television?” I was getting flustered and irritated. “I know I’m not going crazy. I can see a man in the television. Don’t tell me you can’t see him.”
“I didn’t accuse you of going crazy, Syria,” he said. “Why would you think that? But I can’t see whatever you’re seeing on the television. Can you please select a blasted channel already and stop staring at the blank screen?”
I sensed an argument coming on, and I refused to allow that invisible man to control my life any more than already did. I tried to calm down and selected the local news as I turned to John and said, “It must have been my imagination or a bad signal. Where is your sense of humor? I was just teasing you.”
“You were just teasing? Please don’t play games, Syria. I don’t have the patience for it. It’s bad enough that you’ve been acting strange lately, sick as a dog one minute, and then fine the next. Today I come home to find you with hardly any clothes on, in the living room, and your body all battered and bruised. Then I learned you’ve been having those spots on your body for months, yet you were all nonchalant about it. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. You appear to be under a lot of stress, but there is a limit to my patience. Just be mindful of that.”
“I’m sorry, John,” I said.
“You’re sorry! How do you think I feel? I never know what to expect from one day to the next. Some days you’re a total invalid and some days you are on top of the world. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with you.”
I was about to apologize again when the front door chimed. The girls were home. Thank God. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
“Mom, Mom,” they yelled in unison.
“I’m in the family room,” I answered, “so stop the racket.”
“This is the thanks we’re getting?” Johanna asked. “We brought you and Dad dinner and dessert, which we prepared ourselves.”
“Okay girls, I thank you both for the dinner. I’m sure your father is thankful also. Where is your grandma?”
“Grandma is parking the car,” Johanna replied. “You know she has a difficult time with our narrow driveway.”
“Why doesn’t she just let Dad park the car?” I asked. “He’s with her, isn’t he?”
“Granddad is with Grandma, but you know how she gets when he tries to tell her what to do. She does the complete opposite. So he pretended to be asleep while she parked the car.”
Just then my parents entered the room. My mother looked annoyed, and my father wore a smirk on his face like a mischievous kid.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, giving him a kiss. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, darling,” he answered. “How are you keeping? The girls said you haven’t been yourself lately. What’s the matter?”
“I’m all right, Dad, just a slight virus, which has left me listless and exhausted. It’d sapped my energy.”
“Have you been to the doctor to have this checked out?” he asked.
“I’ve already been once, and I’m waiting for a call back for a follow-up visit. I’ve asked for the first opening that’s available. The problem is whatever I’m suffering from comes and goes. Every time I feel like I’m getting better, I’ll have a relapse for no apparent reason.”
“You’d better take yourself back to the doctor because you never know -- Better safe than sorry.”
“I will, Dad,” I answered. “Hi, Mom.” I was finally able to greet my mother. “How are things with you? Were you able to park the car all right?”
“Why, yes, I always do,” she replied. “Some people are impatient, but I’ve learned to take my time. Slow but sure, that’s my motto.”
“Slow,” my father made the smart remark, “but sure she is indeed. That describes her perfectly.”
“If you’re going to be funny, I’ll go home and leave you here with Syria,” Mom threatened.
“Is that so?” my father said. “And who’d keep you company tonight? You’ll spend the entire night alone in that huge house? This I’ve got to see.”
“Hi Pops, hi Mums,” John interrupted. “Would you guys like something to drink?”
Thank God John interrupted them. They could keep this going for a while. My mother and father loved to make fun of each other in this way. Their love for each other was unfailing, but it was hard to tell from listening to them go at each other.
“I’ll have a beer,” my father responded, but my mother opted for a cup of English tea.
“I’ll make the tea,” I said as I walked into the kitchen.
I needed something to do to keep occupied. My mother followed me into the kitchen, leaving my father in the family room with John. We sat in the kitchen, catching up a bit while we waited for the water to boil. We talked mostly of superficial things, the weather, the girls, the condition of my front lawn, all things that we already knew the answers to. Then it came, the third degree … the real questions.
“What’s been going on with you, Syria?” my mother asked.
“Nothing. Like I told Dad, I got a touch of the flu. I’m fine now,” I lied, but my mother was not so easily fooled.
“Come on. I want to know what’s been going on. What is it? What did Dr. Weinbach say was the matter?”
“Nothing! He did a bunch of tests, which all came back negativ
e. That’s the truth, Mom.”
“You look like hell, in spite of all the makeup, which, incidentally, you never wear when you’re at home, so you’d better come out and tell me. The girls said you aren’t yourself. You’ve complained of frequent headaches, and I believed you. However, seeing you in person now, I can tell there is more to this than simple headaches.”
“I’m okay, Mom, really,” I replied, still trying to put her off.
“No, you are not okay,” she responded. “You’d better come out with the truth because I won’t be satisfied with half-truths.”
“Okay, are you ready for this, Mom? I asked.
“I’m ready, and this had better be good,” she responded.
“I believe this house is haunted by the spirit of a man.”
My mother began to laugh. She laughed so hard my father and John came into the kitchen to find out what caused my mother’s hilarity. We hurriedly opened a magazine on the table, and pretended we had been reading it and saw something funny in it, which is what had my Mom in stitches.
I did not think this was funny, but I refused to discuss anything else with her until she’d stopped laughing. I was also thankful that my mother did not see fit to share the joke with my father and John, because I would have been in deep shit. It was bad enough that John thought I was losing it, but to hear it from my own mother would have been too much for me. So I kept quiet until the men had returned to the family room.
“Mom, you have to be discreet with what I’m going to tell you. I don’t want the girls to know what’s been going on with me because I don’t want to scare them. You have to promise this stays between the two of us, and it goes nowhere else. Let’s go outside so I can continue the story.”
“You are serious,” my mother finally acknowledged.