Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  After only a few seconds I am back at the computer double checking that I have closed all the browser windows and cleared my search history. The action itself makes me feel even more paranoid. The last thing I want is Buckley stumbling across this stuff. If I have to tell him at some stage down the line, so be it. I’ll deal with that problem when I come to it. I have no doubt Buckley’s reaction would be one of care and concern. Yet there is also a very real possibility he may never look at me the same way again and that’s a thought I cannot stand.

  Buckley snores lightly in the bed beside me. I stare up at the roof, sleep a long way away. How to handle things with Buckley rattles around in my mind. For the first time, I begin to contemplate a future without him. This is not fair on him. He didn’t sign up for an insane girlfriend. He deserves better. I can’t drag him down like that.

  I toss and turn and close my eyes. Nothing helps. Why couldn’t that stupid doctor have given me the sleeping pills like I asked? How can I make him comprehend how long and scary the nights are? It would be so much easier to lie down and know I won’t wake for eight hours. And he was worried about me getting addicted? That’s my call surely. At this point, I believe I’d be quite happy to be addicted to painkillers or opiates or just about anything else if it would afford me a few moments of peace. If I could get a good night’s sleep. Maybe that’s all I need. One good night’s sleep. Perhaps what I think I’m seeing is just my mind shutting down from exhaustion.

  Despite my best efforts sleep simply isn’t coming. I forced myself to get up and leave Buckley to his gentle snoring. I shuffle out of the bedroom and into the corridor. Exhausted yet not sleepy. How does that work?

  It takes me a moment to realise things aren’t right. Oddly bright light seeps into the room from behind the blinds. I creep over to the window to peer out. Bright daylight assaults me, causing ill-defined colour shapes to speckle my vision. It shouldn’t be day, it’s the middle of the night. I glance about, confused. The night has completely disappeared. Vanished. There’s something wrong with the house too. The rooms are empty. Moving house empty. I check the remainder of the rooms. Everything has gone. Dust motes dance in the beams of light.

  “Buckley?”

  I hear him moving about. He is at the front end of the house. I run to try and find him. I hear the front door. Oh, no. I sprint towards it, managing to see Buckley close the door on his way out.

  “Buckley!”

  I try to follow him. The front door is locked. Pointlessly I shake and pull at the handle, trying to wrench it open with no success. I run to the window. I can see Buckley in the driveway walking towards his car. He appears upset.

  Fear and panic rip through me. I attempt to open the window. Of course, the stupid thing doesn’t want to open either.

  “Buckley!” I pound on the pane with all my might. “Buckley!… Buckley!”

  Why? He should be able to see me. He should be able to see and hear me. Why can’t he? I bang on the window again and again. “Buckley!”

  He stops and glances back at the house. My heart jumps. He stares straight through me, not seeing me. I continue pounding on the glass with both fists, even though I know it is futile. “Buckley!”

  He runs his eyes over the house one last time. There is something very final about it. He gets in his car and drives away and I am left to watch, utterly powerless. My hands shaking. Oh, God. I am stuck here. There’s no way out. There’s —

  My eyes flit open. I’m back in bed at night. A dream. I must have drifted off. I glance at the clock, hoping the sleep has shaved off a large chunk of the night. It’s disappointing to see only a few minutes have passed. Outside is still late and dark. Many hours until morning. Buckley’s light snores drift towards my ears.

  I get up and head to the bathroom. On my way back I am drawn to the kitchen. Drawn against my will and all logical thought. There is something that I have to do. I am confident I am not dreaming this time. Everything is too normal. Too real.

  I venture through the dark rooms towards the black windows out onto our backyard. There is a real danger I might chew a hole right through the inside of my cheek. I can’t stop grinding my teeth, even when the metallic taste of blood seeps through my mouth.

  Outside is pitch black. I take a moment, concentrating on getting a hold of my breathing. Staring straight into the nothing. Do I dare do this? My hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach for the light switch.

  Click.

  The backyard lights up before my eyes. And there they are. A shudder rumbles through me.

  A rowboat sits in my backyard, not far from the window. A small wooden rowboat. Paddles stick out either side. The little boat wouldn’t be out of place on a lake but has absolutely no business in my backyard.

  I take a step back. I can’t help it.

  In the boat sit three happy rabbits. Fully grown adults in identical rabbit costumes. Just like the rabbit I saw floating at the bottom of the pool. As with the boat, not what should be in my backyard.

  All three rabbits turn their heads in unison and peer straight at me. My stomach tightens into a knot.

  Oh God, is the door locked? My hand fumbles for the key. I back away. The sight of the rabbits manages to be bizarre and terrifying yet also enthralling. I am transfixed, not daring to take my eyes from them.

  The rabbits stare back at me. There is no doubt they are watching my every move. That is terrifying enough. Then one of the rabbits stands in the little boat. He’s coming for me.

  “Ellie?”

  Buckley’s face appears very close in front of mine, startling me. “What are you looking at?”

  He stands between me and the window. I have to lean around him to see outside. Buckley turns and glances out the window as well. Not surprisingly he doesn’t see anything unusual, because behind him the yard has returned to normal.

  The rabbits have disappeared.

  It occurs to me, but I am not breathing. I may not have been for some time. When I try to breathe it is in chunky gasps that sound as though I’m choking. God… How do you forget how to breathe?

  Buckley forces me into one of the kitchen chairs. “Just relax… Calm breaths.”

  He hurries over to the sink to get me a glass of water. Very good of him, but water is not going to cut it.

  Buckley observes me toss random clothes into a bag. A sort of wild, frenetic packing, more focused on whatever clothes happen to cross my eye-line rather than any careful consideration of what I might actually need. As is becoming the norm I have no real plan, I merely have to get out of here. I did my best. I tried. I can’t stay in this house right now.

  Buckley watches on, completely at a loss. “Can I at least help?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not you, Bucks. I swear it’s not. I know how it must look.”

  Actually, I don’t have the faintest idea how it must look, aside from completely insane. His face gives little away.

  “I just need to stay at Ginny’s for a while. A few days.”

  “But it’s not me.”

  The doorbell sounds and he heads off to answer it. After a moment I can hear Virginia’s voice. She and Buckley talk in hushed tones about me while I continue piling random things into my bag. Already I have no idea what I have packed.

  Virginia appears at the bedroom door. “You okay, hon?”

  I nod, without slowing down. She wraps me in her arms with a big hug, rubbing my back with her hand. I can feel her exchange a concerned look with Buckley, even if I can’t see it.

  My bag is packed to an extent. I have to get out of this house. Now. I all but run out the front door and onto the street. It takes me a moment to realise I’ve forgotten to do something.

  I spin back around and hurry back up to Buckley. I give him a firm hug and kiss him. The kiss is intended to be short but loving. Make it clear that is is not him and I still love him and I just need to sort myself out and when I do everything will be back to normal. It is just a brief kiss though. Who knows what the kiss
says to him? Maybe I need to start using words if I want to express all of those things.

  As I turn to leave he grabs my hand. I stop and look back at him.

  “Whatever this is, you need to sort it, okay?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  He holds on for a few more seconds before letting go. I hurry to Virginia’s sporty little car, fleeing my house as fast as I can.

  11

  The bus drones noisily and smells bad. A mix of petrol and garbage. When I get on I am pleased that there are enough seats for me to be able to sit down; however the cardboard-like seat is so uncomfortable that it doesn’t seem to matter that much. I haven’t done anything about my car since the accident. I am aware I need to do something, although I haven’t been especially keen to drive either. But if I keep having to take the bus, I am sure that will bring the issue to a head.

  There is no way to get comfortable, although it isn’t entirely my seat’s fault. Tension runs from the back of my neck all the way through my jaw. I’m still pissed off about Sharon dumping me and frustrated about having to start all over again with Brenda. Tell her everything. Although the annoyance is most likely stress and nerves about getting hypnotised because when I arrive at Brenda’s office, it is no problem talking to her at all. She exudes a soft warmth and appears a touch nervous herself, which makes me feel even more kindly towards her.

  I lie on a daybed, while Brenda sits beside me. Brenda’s office is distinctly feminine, with a slight hint of lavender in the air. Brenda informs me she has a daughter about my age, something I had already gleaned from the framed photos sprinkled around her desk. Her daughter doesn’t appear old enough to have children of her own, yet there are quite a few kid’s drawings stuck up around the office as well. I wonder where they might be from although I don’t bother to ask. We’re here to talk about me. I find myself being open and honest with her to the point it makes me wonder if Sharon was right. Maybe I wasn’t being entirely honest with her.

  “I just want my life back…” I tell Brenda. “It’s like… Getting up one day and none of your clothes fit anymore. That’s what my life feels like. As though it doesn’t fit.”

  “And this is all since the accident?”

  “Ummm, yes, it is… although… I don’t know. It’s since the accident but not necessarily because of the accident, if that makes sense. It’s like… the accident happened. And this is happening as well. But…” I glance up apologetically. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

  An expansive smile extends across Brenda’s lips. “You’re doing fine, Ellie. I’m sure this isn’t easy.”

  Sharon never told me I was doing fine or that this isn’t easy.

  “Everybody wants to blame the accident, which I understand. But it creates an expectation. An expectation that I should be able to just get over it. Get on with things. Get better.”

  “And you don’t feel you are getting any better?”

  “Something has changed. Irrevocably changed.” My words come out hesitant and apprehensive. I force myself to push through. “It’s the easy, day-to-day stuff. All of a sudden I can’t make that work. I lie in bed and it’s like I’ve forgotten how to sleep. Or something happens and I feel like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

  Brenda’s expression is a mixture of kindness and concern. “The feeling like you can’t breathe, the fear of familiar places, such as your home, that sounds like panic. Are you taking any medication?”

  “Vikadil. Well, I’m supposed to be.”

  “Could that be the problem?”

  I shake my head. “The Vikadil was meant to help me relax, but it actually made me feel more anxious. I’ve pretty much stopped taking it. It wasn’t helping, but it’s not the issue either.”

  Brenda waits to see if I will continue before gently prodding. “Then what? What is scaring you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you do, Ellie. You at least have some idea.”

  We’re getting to the heart of it now. I’m hesitant but we need to push through. “It sounds so stupid.”

  Brenda’s smile encourages me. “Just relax, no judgements here.”

  “I feel like I’m losing my mind. Like I am going mad.”

  “Why?”

  I fill my lungs with a deep breath.“I’ve been seeing things.”

  There I said it.

  “What sort of things?”

  “Things that can’t be there. People.” I suck in another deep, settling breath. I don’t look at Brenda, her reaction might not be something that I want to see. “At first I thought maybe my house was haunted. Or at least the backyard. Not that I believe in any of that stuff. Believed. I don’t know what I believe any more.”

  I can feel myself loosening slightly, into it now. “It’s not the house though, because I’ve been sensing them other places as well. Everywhere. More and more often. I want them to stop.”

  Brenda nods, giving nothing away.

  “So… How does this work? You swing a watch in front of my face, tell me I’m getting sleepy?”

  Brenda stares back at me. I wonder why she isn’t responding when I realise it’s because I’m still talking. Still going on about the fear. About losing my mind. About what I’m seeing. It’s the strangest thing. I’m talking yet not talking at the same time. I stand and walk across the room. Simultaneously I remain on the couch. Very peculiar, being in two places at once.

  I observe myself talking to Brenda. I must be under already.

  12

  The swing squeaks quietly. God, I haven’t been on a swing in years. We are not really swinging properly, not like I used to when I was a kid. This is just a small movement, a gentle back and forth. It’s not much of a park. Only the swings and a climbing thing with a tunnel and a slide.

  Tash takes a drink from a bottle and passes it to me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Bourbon. I swiped it from mum and dad’s cupboard.”

  “Won’t they notice?”

  “Maybe. Who cares? You like bourbon?”

  “It’s okay,” I pretend casually like I’m a regular bourbon drinker. I down a sip. It tastes like alcohol. That’s about all I can determine.

  “I love bourbon, it’s so smoooooth,” Tash informs me, making me wonder if she’s ever had bourbon before tonight. That’s the thing with Tash. It’s never easy to tell what’s real and what’s performance.

  “This party is going to be so cool!! I’m so glad you came.”

  I can’t stop shivering. I’m not sure if it’s the cold evening air or the nerves. Our choices of outfits aren’t helping, intended for our destination not the sitting in the park at night.

  We each take another drink and Tash stashes the bottle back in her bag. Time to go.

  “So, what’s the deal with this party?”

  “Right, so, last weekend I was at this other party. You know how I kissed that guy, Donnie?”

  Of course, I know she kissed Donnie. The whole universe knows she kissed Donnie. At least everybody at school does. Probably even the teachers. Tash hasn’t shut up about it. ‘He’s so handsome. He’s like 20…’

  “Anyway, Donnie was all like ‘Come to this party next weekend. It’s gonna be savage.’ And if it’s anything like last weekend’s party, you’re in for a treat, El. Cutest guys ever and all older too. Hopefully, Michael will be there.”

  Tash feigns fainting at Michael’s beauty as we walk down the city street.

  “You can’t go after Michael.”

  “Why not?”

  “Won’t Donnie get upset? Doesn’t he think you’re together?”

  Tash flashes a mysterious grin. This seems to be the entire point of her night, to make Donnie get upset. Tash loves the drama. She would love nothing more than to have two guys fight over her. Actually, scratch that. She would love nothing more than to tell everyone she had two guys fighting over her. Especially older guys.

  We pass a number of terrace houses. They all look much the same
, save for a few personalised touches. Some beaten up old couches out on the porch here, a veggie garden on a balcony there.

  I have no idea where we are or where we are going, I am following Tash. Our travel indicative of our evening.

  It’s clear we’re getting closer when we begin to pass groups of people on the street. Not doing anything, just standing about, chatting and smoking. Apprehension bubbles up inside me. We shouldn’t really be here. We’re too young. These people look so old. They must be 20 at least, probably older. All uni students. It’s one thing to play dress up with Tash, wear an outfit I wouldn’t usually wear, cover myself in makeup, lie to my parents. It’s another thing altogether to be able to fool these people that I belong here. That I am one of them.

  The house we are after is clearly distinguishable from the rest thanks to the noise emanating from within. Loud music and happy voices drifting out into the street.

  The two of us hop from foot to foot, hugging ourselves, fighting off the cold and nerves. Tash pulls out the bottle of bourbon and takes a drink, right there on the street, standing in between cars. I glance about. Nobody notices or cares, too busy caught up in their own dramas. I follow her lead. The alcohol leaks down my insides, making its way down my arms, towards my hands. Down my legs.