Utterances

by Jo Michaels

Death.

  Those scents and the steady beeping of the heart monitor made her double over and put her hands on her knees. You can do this. You have to.

  “Are you okay, dear?” the old woman asked.

  “Yes. I just need a moment.”

  The faint hiss of a respirator sounded.

  Once Simone had better control, she straightened, smiled, and extended a hand. “Hi, Mrs. Shandy. I’m Alexandra. Dottie, from the front desk, said you might like a story today.” If one appears, that is.

  A wrinkled, jaundiced appendage was offered, and the pressure applied to her fingers was surprising. It seemed Mrs. Shandy wasn’t as frail as she appeared, though her skin felt like a piece of old parchment.

  “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “Mind if I sit in this chair?” Simone gestured to a flowery recliner in the corner.

  “Not at all.”

  It was a struggle, but she managed to get the chair pretty close to the bed. After situating herself, she extracted the book and put the bag on the floor.

  “That’s a lovely book.”

  “Thank you.” She placed one hand on top, rubbing her finger over the embossing. “Now, what kind of stories do you like?”

  “Let me see… I’m not sure of the author I used to enjoy reading, but I think they were science fiction tales. Do you have any of those in there?” Mrs. Shandy’s eyes flitted to the cover.

  “I believe I do.” Pulling the lever to extend the footrest, Simone got comfortable, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “Come on, now. I know you can do it,” she said under her breath.

  “What’s that, honey?”

  “Oh, nothing. Warming up my vocal chords.” Fingers on her left hand crossed, she used the right and gently lifted the cover. It fell on her idle hand and exposed the first page.

  It was blank.

  Incredulousness took hold, and her stomach tightened painfully. She closed her eyes and squeezed, forcing a few frustration-induced drops of moisture out. That was it—crazycakes. Completely loony. Dammit! Simone wasn’t sure what she expected to happen. There was no such thing as a magic book.

  “Are you okay?” Mrs. Shandy asked.

  With a heavy heart, Simone shook her head. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Shandy, but I’m af—” As she lifted her lids to look at the elderly woman and apologize for wasting her time, Simone caught movement out of the side of her eye. She snapped her head around.

  Beautiful script was flowing over the paper. At first, the ink was silver and sparkly, but it darkened to black and cleared up as the invisible pen moved.

  Her breath caught, and she stared at the words, elated to have verification that she didn’t belong in a nuthouse. One thing was proven: the book worked as far as producing a story when one was needed. But she needed the second measure. A cure.

  Scooching down in the chair, her heart screaming like a jetliner engine, she propped the tome on her thighs and read.

  “Chapter One – New Year’s Day 2042. ‘What were you thinking, Brit? You don’t know what that stuff’s gonna do to you!’

  “‘What I was thinking was I wanna have a special ability like everyone else.’

  “Griffin’s temper rose so high, he could feel his nostrils flare. ‘Everyone? Not me.’ His words came out with a growl, and Brittany flinched like he’d lashed at her with a knife. Tears sprang to her eyes, and he softened his tone. ‘You know how I feel about that drug. It’s not right to mess with nature.’

  “She shook her head. ‘I’ve heard what you think, and I believe you’re wrong. People that took M ten years ago are fine, and their kids have been born with an ability. I want to pass that on to my own… our kids—’”

  On and on, through four chapters, Simone read. She finally closed the book, put the footrest down, and stood, securing the old tome in her bag once again. “Thank you, Mrs. Shandy. That’s all I have time for today. If you’d like, I can come back tomorrow.”

  “That would be lovely, dear. What an exciting story! I can’t wait to hear what happens to Griffin next. That poor boy.” Mrs. Shandy wrung her hands, but the sparkle in her eyes said she wasn’t worried; she only seemed to want to hear more of the tale. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Alexandra. I’ll see you tomorrow.” After pushing the recliner back to the corner, Simone ran down the hall and out the front doors, waving to the receptionist and yelling out thanks on the way by, giving silent acknowledgement to the powers that be for putting a name tag on the girl.

  Simone was going to be late for work if she didn’t run, but in that moment, she felt like she could fly.

  Yvette left a little later than usual the next morning, and when she stepped out of her room, Simone wolf whistled. “Are you going on a date or to work? You look amazing.”

  “I’m going to work. We have a meeting with a new client today, and I want to make a good first impression.”

  “Male?”

  “Yes. Why does that matter?”

  “That’ll do the trick. He’ll be drooling all over himself. Fifty bucks says you land the account.”

  With narrowed eyes and pursed lips cocked in a half smile, Yvette glided past her daughter toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight. Behave.”

  “Always.”

  The second the door clicked, Simone was off the couch and running. She was already past the time she’d left the day before, and if she didn’t get to Shady Pines quickly, she’d be late to work for the second day in a row.

  As she jogged down the sidewalk, she set an alarm on her phone to go off an hour and a half prior to her scheduled clock-in time and texted Tristan good morning. They exchanged a few words, and he didn’t seem suspicious, so she tucked the phone away before entering the building.

  It was the same receptionist as the day before. Simone signed in with the fake name, exchanged greetings, and then headed down the hall to Mrs. Shandy’s room.

  She was sitting up, watching TV, looking as though the yellow of her skin had faded a bit, and she smiled when the girl entered.

  “Hi, Mrs. Shandy. How are you today?”

  “Oh, I’m as good as I can be. I’ve never seen you around here before. Are you new?”

  “Yes, I am. My name is Alexandra, and I’ve brought a book to read to you.” Simone knew dementia patients often forgot things, but she’d hoped it was a little better. Maybe the magic is working where I can’t see results yet; though the jaundice appears to be improving. Everything in her wanted that to be the case. The book had to work.

  “That would be lovely, dear. I do hope it’s science fiction.”

  “Don’t worry. I think you’ll like this one.” Pulling up the same chair from the previous day, she got comfortable and pulled back the cover. Same as before, the pages were blank, but she closed her eyes and waited. Something pulled at her sternum. There, on the paper, silvery lines flowed, and she read.

  Simone covered another four chapters before the alarm sounded, and Mrs. Shandy chattered on and on about what might happen next as Simone prepared to leave. She smiled and grabbed her backpack, promising to return the next day and read some more.

  As she strolled toward Buy-Right, she thought about what the proof that the book worked might mean. Who was she to say who lived and who died? Why cure one person when you could cure millions? But then it occurred to her that doing so might kill her outright. She wondered about the euphoria she felt when she saw results in her mother, and Simone was curious to see if she felt the same way if the cure worked on someone else. Mrs. Shandy was lovely, and fondness for the old woman was taking root. All the way to work, Simone stressed, and when she walked through the doors of the store, she suddenly felt exhausted.

  Everything dragged on that evening, but finally, she was able to clock out and go home.

  Lilian offered a ride. “You look like you’re worn slap out, girl.”

  “I am. I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

  “Good thing I’m around.” She laughed. “So, h
ey, I’m planning this awesome birthday party for myself, and I want you to meet some of my friends. Will you come?”

  “When is it?”

  “Oh, it’s not for a few weeks. I’m just trying to get you to commit early.”

  Simone chortled. “Yeah. I’ll come. Okay if I bring Tristan?”

  “Yes!” Lilian squealed. “I’ve been dying to meet him!”

  They arrived at the apartments, and Simone got out. “Thanks a bunch, chica. You’re awesome.”

  With a wave, Lilian drove off, bass thumping.

  Simone managed the last few steps to the door and then to bed, but she couldn’t even imagine taking a shower. Her lids dropped like weighted balloons the minute her head hit the pillow.

  On the third day, she was pleasantly surprised to find that Mrs. Shandy recalled meeting an Alexandra the day before, but the poor thing couldn’t remember what they’d done together. Simone grew hopeful the disease was being exterminated. Her dreams the previous night had revolved around judgment for what she was doing, and it was difficult for her to keep those thoughts from invading as she read.

  Five chapters later, she said her goodbyes and crossed her fingers the next day would show marked improvement.

  Work dragged on the same as before, but again, Lilian was there to give Simone a ride. She said her thanks and hoofed it inside.

  Yvette was in the living room waiting, arms crossed, eyes as narrow as her lips.

  Simone couldn’t figure out what was going on for several minutes, so she just stared, worry that she’d been found out tripping around her brain; but then, she saw the container on the end table with her name on the lid. She hadn’t eaten the night before, and her mother had noticed. Trying to come up with an excuse on the fly wasn’t happening, so Simone stood there and kept her mouth shut, waiting for Yvette to speak first.

  There was perfect silence for quite a while, and her expression would change, from the angry look she had on at first to pinched brows and pursed lips and back again, as she studied her daughter.

  “You didn’t eat last night.”

  “I wasn’t hungry.”

  “You look like a zombie—minus the blood and gore.” Yvette’s eyes watered. “Honey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you’re crash dieting or have stopped eating because of some boy, I—”

  Simone burst out laughing.

  “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

  She couldn’t stop, but she managed a few words between giggles. “I was so tired.” Cramps hit her stomach, and she doubled over, still in fits. After a deep breath, she straightened, only to find her mother’s hand over her mouth and her shoulders shaking. That made Simone start up again. It wasn’t long before they both had tears running down their faces.

  “I guess I’m pretty silly, huh?”

  Simone caught her breath and sobered up. Laughing had let loose some of the tension she’d been holding on to. “Tristan likes me the way I am. I love you for noticing, but I was just very tired last night.”

  “Are you hungry now?”

  “Starving.”

  “Come. Sit. I’ll make you a plate,” Yvette said.

  They moved to the kitchen area, and Simone plopped down in one of the new, soft, suede dining chairs. Once the plate was in the microwave, her mother sat in another seat and the two women talked. Turned out, Simone had been right the day before. Her mother not only landed the new account, she also got a date with the owner of the company. While he wasn’t the gentleman that attended the meeting, he’d run into her in the hall later and had asked her out on the spot. When asked about him, she blushed and averted her eyes.

  A ding from the microwave saved her from answering, and she scooted to the kitchen to retrieve Simone’s food.

  It was damned near a gourmet meal, and she dug in with gusto, shoveling pasta in her mouth as fast as she could chew and swallow. Along with the couple of pieces of crusty garlic bread, it was the best meal she could remember having in a long time. She was full quickly, sat back, and patted her stomach.

  “That lasagna was amazing!”

  “I finally have time, and resources, to make decent food. I was getting sick of takeout and chumming together meals from what I could find in the kitchen.” Yvette’s eyes were bright, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, elbow on the glass tabletop. “Guess what else?”

  “There’s more?”

  Sliding one hand in her pocket, she dug around a moment before pulling something out and holding it aloft. It jingled. “I bought myself a new car.”

  So many things jumbled into Simone’s head: How she wouldn’t have to walk to Shady Pines or work anymore, how she’d be able to drive and see Tristan whenever she wanted, how she could go visit Lilian, and all the things she could do with time and resources at her disposal. She leapt from her chair and threw herself into her mother’s arms, squeezing her hard.

  “Thank you, Mom. You have no idea what this means. But how can we afford it?”

  “I got a bonus for signing that account.” She chuffed as she released her daughter and held her at arm’s length. “You look exhausted. Why don’t you go take a bath and head to bed? I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

  “That sounds amazing.” Simone turned, grabbed her bag off the couch, and headed down the hall. “Love you, Mom!”

  “I love you, too. Remember what I said about that three weeks, honey.”

  How could I forget? She wanted to say the words aloud, but she bit her tongue to keep them in. It wouldn’t do to throw a smart-assed comment back. Instead, she gathered her things, went to the bathroom, and turned the faucet on. Her mouth dropped open when she looked in the mirror. What had been fine, barely noticeable, lines around her eyes had deepened. It gave her a worn-out, older gal appearance. Guess I’ll need to start wearing makeup. Resolved, she straightened and stepped into the tub.

  Tristan reported he was doing well on his midterms and only had one left. By day six, Mrs. Shandy could recall minute details of the story being read to her, was a normal color, and even remembered Simone’s fake name.

  Elation coursed through her when she was greeted and reminded of the chapters she’d already read and what the old woman was looking forward to knowing next.

  Halfway through the day’s reading, a doctor visited. He had a thick file in his hands, and he asked Simone to step out so he could examine the patient.

  “I’ll wait in the hall, Mrs. Shandy. We’ll keep going once he’s done.” Simone closed the door and slid down the wall to sit on the floor nearby. What she didn’t count on was being able to hear everything said inside. Damned doors were thin as paper.

  “Okay, Mrs. Shandy. Can you sit up for me, please?”

  “Certainly, Doctor Harrington.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You asked me to sit up. I said I can. What?”

  “You know my name?” His voice cracked on the last word.

  Simone put her hand over her mouth to keep the laugh from escaping.

  “Of course I know your name. You’ve been my doctor for over forty years.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Why are you just standing there with your jaw flapping around? Get to the exam! I was in the middle of something, and I’d like to get back to it.”

  “Uh, yes ma’am.”

  Shuffling sounds.

  “Deep breath in, please.”

  When the doc finally left, he was as white as his coat and moving fast.

  She sat on the floor and watched as the fabric billowed in the breeze.

  “Alexandra, honey?”

  “Yes ma’am! Coming!”

  Mrs. Shandy smiled. “Oh, good. I thought you’d done gone and left me!”

  “No way, no how. We have a story to finish.” Simone dropped back in the chair, opened the book to where she’d left off, and continued.

  That afternoon, she left a little early, with three chapters done, and decided to go to
Tristan’s house to surprise him. On her way to Shady Pines, she’d texted him but hadn’t said she had the evening off. After checking her makeup—a new addition to her daily ritual thanks to Mom saying how tired and old her daughter looked—in the mirror, she started the engine and shifted into reverse.

  It was twenty minutes before she got to his house, and she started to second-guess herself on the way up the driveway. He’d been off school that day, and she hadn’t pestered him to hang out. If he found out she’d been off work…

  His truck was in the driveway, so she parked behind it and got out, suddenly nervous.

  As she moved toward the door, she kicked herself for being impulsive. He was sure to ask questions she didn’t have answers to. She knocked three times and waited, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead and palms.

  He opened the door, his eyes got wide, and he stepped out, keeping hold of the handle. “Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

  “Well, I knew you were out of school and had the day off work today, so I thought I’d drop by and surprise you.” She smiled, but her hackles rose. Something about the situation wasn’t quite right, yet she couldn’t put her finger on what.

  Rather than pull her into a hug, he closed the door and grabbed her arm, guiding her off the porch toward her car. “How about I come to your house in a little while?”

  “Um, why can’t we hang out here?” It was getting weirder, and he was being pretty obvious about wanting her to leave.

  “My, uh, mom isn’t feeling well, and I wasn’t expecting company.”

  She jerked her arm out of his grasp, turned, and sprinted toward the house, throwing open the front door and rushing in, looking everywhere.

  He was half a step behind her, yelling at her to stop.

  A gorgeous, long-legged brunette with barely any clothes on was passed out on the couch, whisky bottle still in her hand. There was only one word to describe her: flawless.

  Simone stared, her mouth dropping open. Every fiber of her being went into shock, and she flew into a blind rage. Her world tinted blood red. She rounded on Tristan, spit at him, and bolted.

  Words were shouted at her, but all she could hear was the fury inside screaming at her to leave and not come back. Ever. Once in the car, she jammed the key into the ignition, turned, shoved the car in reverse, and spun around in a perfect one-eighty. Tears gathering in her eyes made the driveway blurry, but she managed, somehow, to make it to the base of the hill before she had to pull over.