by J. T. Bishop
CHAPTER FIVE
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Sarah sat at the kitchen table in her apartment, looking out the window. A gentle rain fell against the pane, making soft splatters against the glass. It was gray outside, with rain forecasted for the rest of the day. She wasn’t focused on anything in particular, even though her computer was open in front of her. It showed only a blank page, with the cursor blinking its typical monotonous rhythmic pulse. A moment later, the page winked out and a screen saver of space scenes took its place. The earth, as pictured from the moon, came into view on the screen.
She paid no attention. She’d sat this way for the last hour as her mind wandered. She would occasionally start typing, but then delete what she wrote. Her lethargy plagued her. She was normally a focused person, had her schedule planned, stayed on task, met her deadlines, never wavered from a job until it was completed. But these last few months, she’d found herself procrastinating, putting her work off till later. She would daydream, often finding that several minutes would go by without realizing it. Her lack of sleep worried her. She’d had a bad dream last night and hadn’t slept since. That, combined with the fact that he hadn’t showed yesterday, hadn’t come to see her at the bookstore as he said he would, had tipped her scales in a bad direction. She’d called in sick. She knew Arnie would be displeased and that Rachel would worry, but she didn’t care. She hated to admit it, but he’d gotten to her, and she had been hoping to see him.
She sighed and looked back at her computer. She thought she would write Aunt Gerry in hopes of getting her mind off things. She didn’t want to call, because she knew Gerry would ask too many questions that she did not want to answer. She resisted actually bringing her fingers to the keyboard, though, and eventually closed the computer in frustration. She was tired. Her eyes hurt. She was depressed. She wanted to go back to bed, but she knew that was pointless. Even though she still sat in her robe, had not showered, and her nutritional intake for the day had been only two cups of coffee, she would not throw in the towel. She had to accomplish something before she got up from the chair. She took a deep breath, opened the computer, and started typing again.
“Dear Aunt Gerry, I wanted to write and say, ‘Hi.’ Things here are…” She paused for a moment, thinking, and took her fingers off the keyboard. Her eyes wandered back to the window, back to the rain’s pitter-patter on the glass. She rested her chin in her palm. Her eyes stared off and her mind drifted, back to the quiet space she had left just moments before.
The phone rang. The noise startled her, and she jumped. Looking back at her computer, she saw pictures of stars and supernovas floating slowly across the screen. She looked at the clock on the display. Thirty-five minutes. Crap. Thirty-five minutes had passed since she’d started her letter for the umpteenth time. What was the matter with her? How could she have been sitting here for so long, staring off into space?
Her frustration escalated. The last two months had been the most unproductive of her life. Today should have been a shopping day. She had thought with her sick day that she would not sit around and feel sorry for herself. She should be at the grocery store, filling her cart with food right about now, with her shopping list in hand and her meals all planned for the week ahead. Instead, her refrigerator was almost empty because she had not bothered to shop last week. She’d believed that this was just a funk and that it would pass eventually, but days had turned into weeks and now months. She gave in and made a mental note to call her doctor.
The phone continued to ring. She leaned over and snatched it up from where it hung on the wall near the kitchen counter. It was probably Rachel, calling on her break to check up on her.
“Hello?” she said.
“Sarah? It’s Rachel. How are you?”
Sarah tried to sound upbeat. ”I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Is Arnie pissed?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it. I told him you weren’t feeling well when you left yesterday.”
“Not entirely untrue, I suppose.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah. That guy from yesterday’s a jerk. I totally thought he was the real deal. It stinks that he turned out otherwise. You’re not too bummed, are you? Is that why you called in sick?” asked Rachel.
“No,” said Sarah. “I didn’t call in sick because of him, but the situation didn’t help my insomnia any. Thought I could catch some z’s this morning, but so far, no luck.” Sarah knew she was downplaying her feelings, but she didn’t want Rachel to worry about her any more than she already was.
“That’s it, then,” said Rachel. “I’m stopping by the drug store after work today, and I’m getting something to help you sleep. I’ll come by and bring it to you. You can’t keep going on like this.”
“I’ll take a nap this afternoon. I’ll be fine,” said Sarah.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I’ll see you after work. And don’t argue with me. I’ve got to go now. Try to get some rest, and I’ll see you later.” With that, Rachel hung up. Sarah was too tired to argue anyway. She hung up the phone and resumed her mental wandering.
The phone rang again. She reached over and picked it back up. “I’m not arguing with you,” she said. “You want to stop by later, that’s fine.”
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then a masculine voice replied, “Excellent. I’ll take you up on that offer. You mind if I come by a little sooner, though?”
She was completely taken off guard. “Who is this?”
“I’m the guy you tried to take out yesterday with your coffee. Remember me?”
She froze and found herself at a loss for words.
“Hello? You there?” he asked from the other end of the line.
She finally found her voice. “How did you get my number?”
“It’s not that hard, really. I know your name, know where you work. I just did some investigating,” he replied.
“Some investigating? What are you, a cop?”
“Hardly,” he answered. “No, I’m not a cop. I just wanted to apologize for standing you up yesterday. I was hoping I could make it up to you.”
She did not miss the change in subject. “Actually,” she said with hesitation, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s probably better if we just go our separate ways.” She had to admit that she was a little unnerved by his phone call, and she was still bothered by the fact that he’d left her hanging yesterday.
He didn’t let her waywardness stop him. “I know you’re upset with me. I apologize. I got unavoidably delayed and couldn’t get back in time. How about a cup of coffee? I’ll pick you up and we’ll get you some caffeine. I know you like coffee. I’ll replace the cup you dropped on me.”
His charm dripped through the phone, and she found herself softening. Her anger flared, though, when she realized what she was doing.
“Thank you so much…um… What was your name again?”
She heard him chuckle. “That would be Ramsey, John Ramsey.”
“Yes, Ramsey. That’s right,” she said, irritated that he was laughing. “Sorry, but it’s not a good time. I’m busy. I have a lot of things planned for the day.”
“No, you don’t.” he replied.
That irritated her even more. “Excuse me? You have no idea what my plans are. I’m not available to see you right now,” she said with insistence.
“How about this?” he asked, completely ignoring her reply. “I pick you up in five minutes, we go for a quick cup, we talk, get to know each other a bit, and if you don’t want to see me any more after that, I’ll leave you alone and you’ll never see me again. How’s that sound?” He still sounded irritatingly charming.
Her nerves were just about frayed to the edge at this point. Her arguing skills were dulled by her lack of sleep, and she just didn’t have the energy for it.
“Five minutes, huh? You don’t even know where I live,” she said with satisfaction. She’d outsmarted him on that one.
A knock on the door almost scar
ed her out of her seat.
“Uh, actually, I do,” said Ramsey from the other end of the phone.
The realization dawned on her that he did know where she lived. “Is that you at my door?” It couldn’t be him, she thought.
“Turns out when I got your phone number, I got your address, too. You don’t mind, do you?”
“What are you doing outside my door?” she asked.
“I want to take you for coffee. I thought I was pretty clear on that.”
“Are you some sort of stalker?”
“No, I’m not a stalker, either. I just want to sit down and talk. That’s it. In public. With other people around. Lots of people. Many witnesses to observe us having coffee.” He was trying to be patient with her, she could tell, but this was still outside the bounds of normalcy.
She didn’t know what to do. She’d always had a knack for reading people and knowing whether she could trust them. Her mother had called her a human lie detector. Blessed with her own gifts of insight, her mom had always taught Sarah to rely on her instincts. Sarah thought of her now and tuned in to the man at the door. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Even though her mind was dulled from fatigue, she recognized the familiar vibe that told her he could be trusted. Despite the fact that he acted differently from anyone she’d met before, she decided to just wing it and let the chips fall where they may.
“Fine, “she said over the phone. “You win. There’s a coffee shop two blocks north called ‘Pat’s Coffee.’ I’ll meet you there in forty-five minutes.”
“Meet you there?” he said. “I’m right outside your door.”
“Well, then, I suggest you start walking.” And with that she hung up the phone.
“You’re not going to stand me up, are you?” said a voice from the other side of the door.
She walked up to her door and yelled, “Let me tell you one thing. If I open this door in forty minutes and you’re standing out there, the coffee date is cancelled. You got that?’
She heard that same annoying chuckle. “I hear you. I’ll see you at Pat’s in forty-five minutes, Sarah.” She looked out the peephole and saw a blurry image of the man she had met yesterday. He stood at the door, but then turned and walked away.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she decided to get up, jump into a quick shower, and go meet him. For some reason, she knew she had to do it.
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
FORTY MINUTES LATER, she ran through her apartment, hastily throwing on a pair of earrings, ruffling her still-damp hair, and putting on some lipstick.
Thinking she should have given herself an hour, she grabbed her phone, wallet, jacket, and keys and opened the door. She expected to see him despite her warning, but he was not there. She wondered if she would have actually cancelled if he had been waiting for her. She decided that since it hadn’t happened, she didn’t have to think about it. She went down two flights of stairs and headed out the front of the building and out onto the street. The day was cool and crisp, with bright sunlight shining down on her. At some point, the clouds had cleared and it had become a beautiful day. So much for the forecast, she thought. The damp streets were slowly drying in the bright sunshine. She turned left and headed to the corner.
“Nice day, isn’t it?” said a voice behind her.
She whirled around to see him standing on the curb. He wore casual black pants and a long-sleeved fitted brown cotton shirt. He looked good standing there as a slight breeze tossed his hair, and she made an effort not to appear that she noticed.
“I guess I should not be surprised,” she said. “Waiting in the coffee shop was too much to ask?”
He rewarded her with a crooked grin. “I suppose I felt like there could be a slight chance you may not come. I didn’t want to waste the trip if you changed your mind.” He gave her an appraising look as she stood before him in slim jeans and a collared button-down green shirt. Her hair was still damp but already in waves, and she could smell the perfume she’d sprayed on her skin.
“Sure,” she said, not buying a word. “Five minutes more and you’d have been back at my door, right?”
His grin grew. “More likely three minutes. You’re late as it is.”
“Don’t take no for an answer?”
“Not when it’s important to me, I don’t.” They continued to stand on the street as the conversation paused.
She thought for a moment before continuing. “Then let’s go have you buy me that coffee.” She turned and headed down the sidewalk.
“Would you rather have lunch? It’s close to noon. I haven’t eaten yet. Have you?”
She stopped and looked at him. “You said just coffee.”
“I did. But now I’m asking about lunch. Just thought you might be hungry.” As Ramsey watched her consider his offer, he stayed relaxed, even though he felt the uncertainty from her. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he suspected she had not been eating much lately, and she needed to keep up some strength. She would need it. Plus it might give him some more time with her.
She hesitated for a moment, but as if on cue, her stomach growled. “I guess I could eat something.”
“Terrific. How about the sandwich shop down the street? Sound good?”
Suddenly, she felt ravenous. “Sure, why not? We can go there.”
They turned and headed down the street, and when they got to the corner, turned left. They spoke little, other than the usual pleasantries. He kept his eyes open to the surroundings, looking for anything unusual, as he kept up the light conversation. She just hoped her eye concealer was hiding the circles under her eyes, and she wondered if the restaurant had a dark corner they could sit in.
Three minutes later, they walked into “The Little Sandwich Shop.” The doorbell chimed as they walked in, and a young girl approached them. She wore big jewelry, heavy make-up, chunky sandals, and a tight t-shirt with the “The Little Sandwich Shop” emblazoned on it.
“How many?” she asked, eyeing Ramsey with more than casual interest.
“Two, please,” said Ramsey.
“Booth or table?”
“Booth?” said Ramsey, looking at Sarah.
“In the corner, please,” said Sarah, pointing at the back of the restaurant. At least she had some luck in finding a fairly dark place to sit.
Ramsey liked it too. It was away from the windows and situated in a place where he could see the shop. They walked back and sat down. The hostess handed them their menus and headed back to her post. Sarah opened hers and began to study it. Ramsey smiled to himself, scanned the shop, opened his menu, and did the same. Now that he had actually gotten her here, he sat back and relaxed.
Their lunch proceeded smoothly. They kept the conversation light, with neither one of them getting too specific about their lives. She found it hard to focus anyway, because her mind was muddled, and thinking seemed overly stressful. She didn’t want to talk about her depressing existence the last few months anyway and assumed he’d run for the doors the moment she did.
As they finished their sandwiches, she started to feel a bit better, with some fuel in her, and he decided it might be a good time to probe a bit deeper and test the waters.
“How are you feeling?” he asked with as much innocence as he could put on his face.
She gave him an uneasy look. “I feel great,” she lied. “Why?” She projected as much confidence as she could into the question, but now her inner voice chimed in, telling her she looked terrible, that she should never have left her apartment, and that he was kicking himself for coming to see her.
“How have you been sleeping?” Ramsey decided to be a little more direct. Skirting around the issue would only draw this out, and he didn’t have the time. If he thought he could get away with a few more dates with her and get to know her a bit more, he would. But after lunch, and feeling her fogginess during the meal, he knew he would have to act faster than he had planned to. He clung to the hope that she would listen and cooperate long
enough for him to explain everything.
She reacted to the question with surprise. “Why do you ask? Do I look that bad?” She felt like crying. God, what was the matter with her?
“Sarah,” he said, trying to go slow, “I might have some insight as to why you are not sleeping well.” He paused. “But you might also have a hard time understanding it.”
She stared back at him. “What are you talking about? It’s just insomnia. Everybody goes through it. It will pass. And how do you know I’m not sleeping?”
“Sarah…” He felt her hesitation and thought for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “It’s sort of what I do. I recognize certain symptoms in a person and can assist in helping someone get through this phase.” He didn’t know how else to put it. He’d never been in this position before.
“Phase? What are you, a doctor? Do you think I’m sick?” Her body posture tensed and he knew she was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.
He searched for the right words. He could sense her energy fire up and her increasing discomfort, but he kept talking. “I’m not a doctor, Sarah. Just consider me a trained…um…what should I say here…trained professional. I recognize symptoms in you that I have dealt with before and that you will need help with as they get worse.”
As soon as he’d said it, he knew he’d chosen the wrong word. Her eyes narrowed, and her body language changed. She stiffened and sat up straighter.
He tried to fix it. “Sorry, not worse. Bad word. Progress. Better word. Progress.”
Sarah’s alarm bells sounded as Ramsey continued to talk to her. “Who the hell are you?” she asked. “Symptoms? What symptoms? Have you been watching me? I thought you were just a guy I met in a bookstore.”
Ramsey was losing her fast, and he knew it. “Well, I am botching this. Let me try again. Don’t get mad, please. Just give me a chance to explain.”