by Flora Lanoux
Up until the age of twenty-eight, I had done without the world of men altogether; now it seems to be closing in on me.
After a long shower, I collapse into bed. Nathaniel appears in my dreams. He’s dead and his spirit is wandering in the woods. I’m still Sarah, but I’m in my twenties. Walking in the woods, I catch a glimpse of him now and again, and there is some comfort there.
Chapter 15
When I wake up, I have trouble remembering what day it is. It takes me a couple of minutes to realize that it’s Tuesday and that my alarm didn’t go off.
Getting to work fifteen minutes late, I’m the last to arrive. Even Shane has beaten me.
“Hi, Rachel,” Lucy says. “Mike’s out back talking with Shane. Shane’s upset about the police asking him questions about the break-ins.”
In the treatment room, Albert fixes his gaze on me. Seeing an empty syringe on the counter, I find the urge overwhelming. Shane walks in as I’m squirting water into Albert’s cage.
“Got you too, did he?”
“Yup, and he’s a she.”
“What?”
“She laid an egg the day after she took a piece out of me.”
“No shit.”
“No shit,” I tell him. “Sorry to hear the police are giving you a hard time.”
“I couldn’t remember where I was on the nights of the break-ins. Plus there’s my police record. No big deal. I’m used to them bugging me.”
“I don’t think anyone could get used to that.”
He frowns. “You don’t think I’m stealing from the clinic, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
The day passes problem free. When I get to the car, I realize that I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, and drive off.
After a lazy dinner at home, I head off to my self-defence course. In the changing room, Sondra approaches me.
“So?” she says.
“So what?”
“Fess up, Rach.”
“Sorry, Sondra. The only sex Bryan and I are having is in your imagination.”
“Hmmm,” she says, and walks off.
In the gym, Sergeant McMahon blows his whistle, and we take our places. “Before we start,” he says, “I have some business I’d like to attend to.” He marks a line on the floor and puts on a vest. “Cadet Wiley, advance to the line.”
Surprised, I do as I’m told.
He gives me a direct look. “On my cue, advance and hit me in the abdomen. Go.”
I advance to hit him, but stop short. I can’t believe it.
“Cadet Wiley, return to the line. On my cue. Go.”
I hit him hard.
Sheena gets it on the first try.
Sergeant McMahon takes off his vest and gets down to business. “Tonight, cadets, you will review falling, destabilizing your opponent, kicking and punching. Then you will learn how to use large parts of your body against smaller parts of your opponent’s body to cause surprise and injury. This will give you the chance to escape a violent confrontation. You will be broken up into groups to practice these moves.”
As the evening progresses, we learn how to thrust a palm into an aggressor’s nose, how to ram an elbow into an aggressor’s stomach, and how to properly kick and knee someone in the genitals. We’re also shown how to break various holds an attacker may use by using momentum and a large part of our body, such as our arm, against a smaller part of an aggressor’s body, such as his hand. The effectiveness of the techniques surprises me.
After class, we go to The Lookout. Having decided to go easy on the drinking, I’m on my third ginger ale when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Craig Finemore, a guy from my vet class. He’s absolutely gorgeous, but without the morals to match.
“I wasn’t sure it was you, Rach. You look different.”
All the women are quiet as I introduce the Adonis.
“Do you want to join us?” I ask Craig.
“I was hoping you’d join me at my table.”
“Sure,” I tell him.
As we catch up on news, he keeps telling me how great I look and orders me a glass of wine. Just as I’m thinking what an unctuous ass he is, Bryan and Dave walk in and stop by our table.
“Hi, Rach. I wondered whether you’d be here,” Bryan says.
I smile. “Hi, Bryan. This is Craig from my vet class. Craig, this is Michelle Lin’s brother.”
“What’s your last name, Craig?” Bryan asks.
“Finemore.”
“Right. Rachel, could I talk to you for a minute?”
We go to the bar, where Bryan orders a drink. Looking at me, he says, “Craig’s bad news, Rach. He came on really strong with Michelle once and scared her.”
“Really?” I say. “Gosh, I always knew he was slimy, but I didn’t know he was that slimy.”
Bryan frowns. “If you knew Craig was slimy, why are you off by yourself with him?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I guess because he came over to my table and asked me to.”
Looking tense, he says, “Rach, you have to be careful with guys like him. You’ve got to cut them off at the start, before they get revved up.”
Feeling like an idiot, I promise Bryan that I’ll take care of it. Walking by Craig’s table, I tell him that I’m going to sit with my friends. He asks me for my phone number, but I don’t give it to him.
“Tell us more about that fresh piece of meat,” Sondra says as I sit down.
“He’s bad news and big trouble.”
“What a shame,” Rhoda says. “Such a cute package.”
The rest of my night is carefree and a lot of fun.
At the end of the evening when Bryan walks me to my car, a cool breeze kicks up and swirls around us, and I feel like everything will be okay -- like life will be okay.
“I’m on the night shift for the next two nights,” Bryan says, “Why don’t you drop by my place after work tomorrow for a few minutes?”
Chapter 16
There are two messages spray painted in red on the outside of the clinic when I get to work: “Death to all traitors! Let them reap what they sow!” Red scrawls glisten on brown brick: a weeping wound. Mike pulls up in his truck.
“What the hell’s going on?” he says. “Who could be doing this stuff?”
He notifies the police of the new development and pays someone double the going rate to start on the clean up right away. Haunted by someone or something we don’t understand, we all go through the day subdued.
Clinic ends late, so by the time I get to Bryan’s place, he’s already outside loading equipment into his jeep.
“I thought you forgot,” he says.
I tell him about the spray painted message and surprise myself by crying.
Bryan puts his arms around me.
“I can’t take it anymore, Bryan. I want out of this nightmare. The whole thing has me spooked.”
“I’ll call work and tell them I’ll be late.”
I pull away. “No. Don’t be crazy. I’ll be fine. I’ll call Michelle if I need someone to talk to.”
He touches my cheek. “I hate leaving you right now.”
“I’ll be fine. Drop by in the morning.”
Later, as I pull into the parking area of my apartment building, a dark feeling overtakes me. I whisper Nathaniel’s name and glimpse a shadow in the distance, and I know it’s him.
Several times through the night, I have the same dark feeling. Whispering Nathaniel’s name, I instantly feel better.
Around midnight, I finally finish the Texas conference material. Ecstatic, I take a celebratory shower and blissfully fall into bed.
In the wee hours, a loud ringing jolts me awake. It’s the phone. Checking my clock radio, I see that it’s five o’clock. I pick up the phone.
“Rachel, it’s me,” Mike says. “There’s been a car accident. Two German shepherds are badly injured. I’m at the clinic. Can you come in?”
“Of course,” I tell him. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
“Hi, Rach,” Tim says, when I get to the clinic. “What a bloody mess.”
Both dogs need surgery for broken bones, and one of them needs his jaw wired. By eight o’clock, both dogs are in stable condition and the three of us are exhausted -- more from the non-stop adrenaline rush than the physical work. Surgery is like that. If it’s going well, it’s boring; if there are problems, it’s incredibly stressful.
Lucy and Shane arrive, closely followed by morning clients. By three thirty, I’m wrecked, but decide to keep my appointment at Northcliff. Before I leave, Mike calls me into the front office. After he sits in his chair, I lean on the door jamb.
“I wanted to talk to you about the Texas conference, Rachel. I don’t feel I can go. I couldn’t leave the locum to deal with all the stuff going on around here. You don’t know how much I really want to go, but it’s just not possible. Would you mind going on your own? You’re fully capable of giving the whole talk.”
“Gosh, Mike. That doesn’t seem right. It’s your paper. I can stay if you like.”
He shakes his head. “No, I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you to deal with this mess. It only makes sense that you go.”
“I don’t mind going on my own.”
“Good.” Leaning back in his chair, he stretches his back. “So, how do you feel about things?”
“The spray painting thing has me spooked.”
“Yeah, well there’s nothing else the creep can do. He was probably frustrated at not being able to get at the money.”
“I hope you’re right.” Looking at his wall clock, I say, “I’d better go, Mike, or I’ll be late.”
He gets to his feet. “Okay. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”
I want to say no, but feel committed; it’s part of what Michelle calls my masochistic reliability. In truth, it’s a desperate attempt to be as different from my parents as possible.
“We’re still on,” I tell him.
He smiles. “I was thinking of taking off after lunch tomorrow, to get an early start on things.”
I nod. “Okay.”
When I get to Northcliff, Liz is waiting for me in Verna’s room.
“Oh, Rachel!” she says. “I’ve been so worried. I had a dream about you Tuesday night. There were tarot cards lying everywhere, and they were covered in blood. Someone really wished you harm that night. Then I heard a voice say, ‘It’s okay, her guardian angel is with her.’”
I tell Verna and Liz about my guardian angel, about Mike, about Bryan, and about what’s been going on at the clinic.
Liz takes my hands. “Rachel, you’re starting to go on the right path; but you see, he’s still out there. The incidents at the clinic are directed at you. He’s making a visible statement about his hatred for you. It’s a blessing you’re traveling to Texas on Sunday. It’ll give things a chance to calm down.”
“A break is just what you need,” Verna says. “I always feel like a new person when I return from a trip.”
Desperately needing a small nap before my self-defence course, I end our visit early. When I phone Bryan, he makes plans to drop by the following morning.
Later that night, when I get to the gym, Sondra saunters over to me.
I shake my head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Sondra, but we’re still platonic. I haven’t even seen him.”
She frowns. “What’s your problem? You’re both crazy about each other. The stress is killing me.”
I laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
She scowls. “I’m going to look that up when I get home.”
In the gym, a policewoman is standing alongside Sergeant McMahon.
“Tonight, cadets, we are privileged to have Sergeant Hughes, who will help us with the behavior modification part of the course: psychology designed to alter what’s between your ears. Most of you know Sergeant Hughes from your professional ethics course. Before we start, I have some business to attend to.”
Sondra looks at me and winks.
“Cadet Wiley, advance to the line.”
I do as I’m told.
He puts on a vest. “On my cue. Go.”
I nail him.
“Sergeant Hughes will now address you.”
“Hello, cadets,” she says in an authoritative voice. “My job tonight is to get you to view the world differently. To do this, I need you to think of Earth as a giant rat cage filled with humans, with your role being that of a psychologist, observing how the humans communicate. Throughout the evening, as we role-play, I want you to think about how you could change certain behaviors to achieve different outcomes.
“I once interviewed a rapist and asked him how he chose his victims. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘I study women from a distance. I look at their posture and how much they stand up for themselves. If they talk loudly and make a lot of eye contact, or if they’re really outgoing, I know they’ll give me a hard time. So I look for the ones that are shy and quiet, the loners, the polite ones.’
“He impressed me with his psychological observations. I want you to put time and energy into making observations about your own behavior and about the behavior of the people around you.
“We must all make choices in all aspects of our lives, and this should include our human interactions. Always ask yourself, ‘What is the outcome I want here?’ Only then can you take control of a situation and direct what happens. Otherwise you’re dealing with someone else’s agenda; you’ll be acting defensively, like a victim. Life should be about making active choices.”
Much of our night is spent enacting potentially harmful situations: dates, con-artist ploys, police arrests. At the end of the class, Sergeant Hughes talks about the precautions needed when walking into unknown or possibly dangerous places, stressing the importance of scanning escape routes and of not going into an area where you can be trapped.
At the end of the night, she says, “From experience, I can tell you that the strategies we’ve discussed here tonight don’t always work, especially in heated situations. It’s a learning process, and you’ll all learn your own techniques. Just think of yourselves as works in progress.”
By the end of the night, I feel liberated from a dangerous way of thinking and feel embarrassed about how submissive I was with Craig and Reynaldo. Why hadn’t I recognized and embraced my own power before this night? Maybe because early on in my life too many lines had been crossed and there was no possibility of safety. Getting out in the world and seeing how civilized people act, I find myself having to learn a new set of rules. In my family, making it through the day without getting a kick or a slap was quite a coup, forget about aspiring to anything greater. Miraculously, I’ve been thrown a life preserver, quickly followed by a toss of the gauntlet. I’m being asked to become a woman with my own power, with my own circle of influence, and I find the prospect exhilarating.
In the changing room, everyone is in a party mood but me. Rhoda calls out, “Hey, Rach, are you up for another night of boozing?”
“I wish I was. I had a five o’clock surgery this morning. I have to get home before I pass out.”
“See you on Tuesday,” Sondra says.
“Oh crap!” I say. “I almost forgot. I’m not going to be in town next week. I’d better go see McMahon.”
“Good luck,” she says. “He hates no-shows.”
Sergeant McMahon is still in the gym.
“Could I talk to you for a moment, sir?” I ask.
“Go ahead, Cadet Wiley.”
“I’ll be at a conference in Texas next week, sir, so I’ll have to miss two classes.”
“I don’t tolerate anyone falling behind, Cadet Wiley. You’ll have to make an effort to get caught up. I’ll get the DVDs for the two classes you’re going to miss, and I’ll leave them at the front desk at the station. I suggest you pair up with one of the other cadets when you get back to get some practice.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” As I’m walking away, he says, “Have a nice trip, Cadet Wiley.”
I’m beginning to understand Bryan’s people -- his tribe. Tough, fun-loving, hard-living, inexhaustible, good-hearted, and thick-skinned by necessity, they’ll gladly take you into their circle if you’re one of the good-guys; but I know I’m only an honorary member. I could never keep up with them, even if I wanted to.
Chapter 17
Anxious thoughts about Mike poke, prod, and stir me awake. I know he loves me, that’s what makes what I have to do so difficult. If you asked most people if their boyfriends loved them, they’d say, “Yeah, I think he does. I’m pretty sure he does. Of course.” But I know for a fact that Mike loves me. I got the proof on a winter night a few months after we started dating. He and I had spent the weekend together in Detroit and were driving back late at night through an alternating rain and ice storm. Going up one side of a huge hill it was raining, going down the other side the road was a sheet of ice. Traveling at sixty miles an hour, the car threw itself into circles, spinning us from one side of the road to the other, steep gullies lying on either side. I surprised myself by screaming, “I don’t want to die!”, and as we flew over the edge of the roadway, Mike let go of the steering wheel and threw himself over me. That’s how I know.
Friday morning, as I’m getting ready for work, I hear a knock on the door. The instant I see Bryan’s face, my troubles melt away.
“Feel like some breakfast?” I ask.
He smiles. “I’m starving.”
While I make pancakes, Bryan tells me work stories, and I have a funny thought: Bryan and I are acting like an old married couple.
Later, as we’re heading out, I kneel down in the entryway to tie my sneakers and feel Bryan touch my hair. When I stand up, he places his hands on my shoulders. As he starts to say something, a knock sounds on the door. When I open it, I see Myra.