by Kris Calvert
“He’s in the office down the hall.”
I nodded and walked that way, trying to smooth down my ponytail and straighten my sweat pants. I’d forgotten I rushed out of the house looking like a homeless person. It wasn’t going to help me convince Dr. Nabi I was okay. In fact, on second thought I wasn’t okay.
He called to me as I slowly passed his door. “Indie.”
Backing up, I leaned my head in to make sure it was the right room. “Dr. Nabi?”
“Come in. Shut the door.”
The office was small, dark and sat at the corner of the hospital wing, providing a nice view of the reflection pool and garden below. Containing only a desk and two chairs it was a convenient place for the doctors to hang out, sign their charts and munch on any coffeecake the night nurses might’ve brought in. “You sounded anxious on the phone. What’s going on?”
I didn’t know where to begin or even if I should. I could take the easy way out and tell him I was just upset over losing Ellie. I could tell him I was worried about starting a new position with Lewis Thornbury, or I could tell him I was having nightmares, seeing things and talking to people who apparently weren’t there. I chose to start off small. “I had a bad night. I lost my last patient. An eight year old girl, Ellie.”
As I began to sob he didn’t say anything but merely passed the box of tissues over the desk and urged me to take one. We sat in silence and he waited for me to continue. I’d called him in a panic. He knew me too well. He knew there was more to the story.
“Indie?”
“Give me a minute. I’m thinking about whether I want to tell you this or not.”
“I think you should tell me. You’re obviously upset.”
I waited a beat before beginning, mustering up all that I would need to get through the ideas swirling in my head. “There’s a guy. I met him a couple of days ago in the park.”
“And?”
I dropped my head in my hands. “I talked with him and then saw him again at Cortland’s when I went for fried chicken night. And…” I paused as I looked into Dr. Nabi’s eyes. I knew if I told him there would be no going back. “He disappeared on me last night after a wreck in the town square.”
“I heard about that. Thank goodness the kids were okay. Were you there?”
“Was I there? I got knocked on my butt last night by the explosion. The EMTs thought I’d hit my head.”
“Why did they think that?” he asked as he twisted his face in confusion. “You either hit your head or you didn’t.”
“It’s because I was… it doesn’t matter. I lost the guy in the midst of the chaos and then last night I had a dream about him.”
“Okay.”
“Well,” I sighed, taking a deep breath and finally calming down. I realized as the story came from my mouth it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. “The phone woke me up, from the dream that is, and I had to go to Ellie’s house. And before I left her mother commented on my necklace.”
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I noticed it when you came in.”
“Dr. Nabi.” I placed my open hand on my chest and felt the cool gold beneath my fingertips. “I’ve never seen this necklace in my life. I mean, except in my dream.”
“I don’t understand.”
I stood and paced the small office, tracking back and forth in front of the window behind him. “I’m saying this mysterious man…”
“Does Mystery Man have a name, Indie?”
“Mike.”
He nodded and waved me on to continue.
“So in my dream, Mike slipped a necklace over my head after he kissed me and I told him I was falling in love with him.” As I told the story my pace quickened and I got even more excited. “When I woke up it was around my neck.”
I’d left out Ellie’s drawing and the fact that Burt Cortland thought I was delusional because I saw Mike rush into the burning car to rescue the boy, not to mention the fact that I thought I’d eaten dinner with him. But I thought if I started small and he believed me I could move on to bigger things.
Dr. Nabi allowed for some time to pass before saying anything. I wiped my tears and sat back in the chair hoping he was about to dispense some wisdom to ease my mind.
“How much sleep would you say you’re getting a night, Indie?”
“I don’t know.” I did a double take as something outside the window caught my eye. “Why?”
“I think you’ve been working too hard. You’re under a lot of strain with the financial burdens you’re tackling and your job.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled as I stood and walked to the window to get a better look. “But that’s all going to change.” When I saw that the courtyard below was empty I turned around and stood in front of his desk. “I’m taking a job for at least a year with GlobalTech. A new assignment.”
“No more hospice?”
“I’m taking on a private patient.” I could say anything and everything to Dr. Nabi, but after looking at the contract it was easier just to gloss over those kinds of details.
“Is it possible you put this necklace on before you went to sleep?”
“You mean like I filled the tub with water and then just drifted off? No,” I said with a condescending scoff. “What do you think I am? Crazy?”
He didn’t say anything but gave me that look over his readers. I knew he thought I could be on the threshold of a psychotic break.
“I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. I know you have a lot on your plate, but I want you to take it easy for a while. Do you want me to prescribe something to help you sleep?”
“No.”
“Come sit down and please stop pacing around the office.”
I walked around the desk and sat again in the chair. “Is that the necklace you’re referring to?”
I touched my chest and searched for it with my hand. “Yes. I know I’ve never seen it because I have no idea what it is.”
“Hamsa,” he replied.
“Whatsa?”
“Hamsa. Your necklace. Hamsa.”
“Speak English and not Turkish please,” I said with a smirk as I sank into the chair, frustrated that I didn’t feel any less crazy talking through it all.
“Not Turkish. It comes from the Hebrew word hamesh, which means five.”
I quickly sat up. “Hebrew?”
“Literally it means five, but also the five fingers of the hand—a sacred hand symbol. God’s hand on earth—it’s a symbol of holiness, healing and miracles.”
“How do you know this? You’re an atheist.”
“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t raised a Jew. It’s a talisman.”
“What? This?” I asked as I pulled at the long leather cord that held it to my body.
“It’s supposed to pull the forces of good to the bearer and protect them from unseen dangers.”
“Why do you think he gave this to me?” I asked as my breathing became shallow.
“I think you probably bought it for yourself after your brother’s death. You were wearing crystals, going to mediums—all kinds of interesting things after Jacob died. Remember?”
“Not really. It’s all kind of a blur.”
“My point exactly. Look Indie, if you’ve been seeing or hearing things that you think you should talk with me about, then do it. This is a safe space.”
“I know,” I said as my attention was brought back to the window behind his head. “I would tell you if I thought I was on the brink of a meltdown,” I lied. I knew I was dancing on the lunatic fringe.
“Would you?” he asked again.
I stood and glanced over his shoulder out the window. Below in the garden I saw Frank. The dog sniffed around and I could’ve sworn looked right at me through the window as if to say, come out and play.
“I gotta go, Dr. Nabi. I’m sorry I caused such a ruckus. I think I was just… ah…”
“Are you okay, Indie? You seem distracted.”
“No. I’m, ah…” I watched Frank run in circles and nip at the wind
with his mouth and it made me smile. I turned my full attention back to Dr. Nabi. I needed to give him a reassuring face. I didn’t want him to know what was going on in my head. “I think you’re right. I need to slow down and I will. This new job is going to give me the opportunity to make some really great money and to just…breathe.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Dr. Nabi?”
“Yes?”
“Do you see a dog in the garden below?”
“Where?” he asked as he swiveled his office chair a hundred and eighty degrees to take a look. “In the garden, you say?”
“I gotta go.”
“Indie,” he said as he quickly stood, stopping me from rushing out the door. “If you feel at all anxious or depressed, call me. You have my cell.”
I nodded and started down the hall. As I reached the end I turned and saw him standing in the door of the office as I waited to be buzzed out. “Hey, Indie,” he shouted.
“Yes?”
“Where was the dog again?”
EIGHT
I hurried out of the elevator and through the A wing of the hospital to get to the B entrance. It was where the reflecting pool and garden could be found in the inner sanctum of the hospital grounds. The small pond and statue of Jesus surrounded by children was always a beautiful and quiet place where family members who had loved ones in the hospital could take a moment to pray. In the beginning, it became a place for smokers to congregate, but the Volunteer Association pink ladies that tended to the garden put a stop to that quickly.
As I opened the double doors that led to the area excited to see Frank, I found that it was quiet and empty. If Frank and Mike had been there they’d left. The cool morning breeze had given way to the mild spring afternoon and the sun warmed my skin beneath the baggy sweats I’d been wearing since three in the morning. I sighed and sat on one of the many concrete benches in the garden. Dropping my head and closing my eyes, I nearly fell asleep sitting up. Maybe Dr. Nabi was right. Maybe I was completely exhausted. I needed coffee. Or I needed a nap. Maybe both.
I stood and found my way out of the green space and into the parking lot. I walked through the endless cars to the employee area and found my sad sack of a vehicle. In the daylight it was so much worse than the nighttime. I opened the door to the usual creak and climbed aboard. I turned the ignition and uttered a prayer, “Dear God, let it have just one more start.” It did.
I drove through Starbucks and found myself laughing wildly at the barista on the speaker for no reason whatsoever. The laughter gave way to tears as I tried to roll up my window and was unsuccessful. I needed a break. I needed to clear my head and think.
Armed with a Venti Caramel Macchiato and a muffin packed with butter and fat I drove to the park. I wanted a few moments to myself before heading home and facing the reality that all my patients were gone. I would be leaving The Path and going to work full time for Lewis Thornbury.
I pulled the car on the edge of the park and turned off the ignition. Since I’d left the house in such a rush I didn’t have my headphones or blue spiral notebook but I’d planned on de-noising just the same.
As I walked through the trees and flowers I somehow gained an extra skip in my step and began to think the caffeine was kicking in. The closer I got to the tree, the stronger the feeling of elation became and I started to wonder if maybe the barista had slipped me an extra shot of espresso. But then I saw him.
Frank ran from the tree to me and sat at my feet as I stopped twenty yards away and stared in amazement. In the distance I could see Mike standing under my tree, waiting.
“Frank,” I whispered. “Is he here for me?”
He pawed at my feet, barked and stepped back and sat down again.
As I began to walk toward the tree I reached for my necklace, stroking the hand with my fingers. I had so many questions and it was all going to begin with who the hell are you.
With each deliberate step I took toward him the less I cared about who he was. I only knew I wanted—no, I needed to be near him. I yearned for what I dreamt of last night. I ached to be inside his arms. I needed to put my lips on his and tell him I was tired and I longed to be in a world where I wasn’t alone.
The last few steps to him seemed to take a lifetime. There were so many words I wanted to say but I settled on one. “Mike.”
“Indie.”
“Am I crazy?” I asked as my voice quivered. Dropping the coffee and muffin into the grass, I put my face in my hands and parted my fingers to peek out at him. “Are you real?” I dropped my arms and closed my eyes tightly. I felt his pull and suddenly I was inside the comfort of his arms. I sighed and released all the tension in my body as I sobbed into his chest. He said nothing. There was no need. I felt comfort, I felt love, I felt an overwhelming sense of life as my tears dried and I somehow found renewed strength.
“You are real,” I said as I pulled away and felt his muscular arms beneath my fingers. “Aren’t you?”
Bending his knees, he lifted me from the ground and carried me in his arms. “Let’s get out of here. You need to eat and rest.” I felt the soft words brush against my neck as I nestled my head into his chest. I felt dizzy, delirious. Darkness overcame me.
I stretched my arms above my head and tried to pry my lids open. I’d slept so hard my eyes couldn’t adjust. The blanket on my body was soft and smelled of warm sunshine. I pulled it under my chin and sighed.
“Look who’s awake.”
I gasped and sat up, frightened and confused. Rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand I struggled to focus on what was in front of me. But then he came into view and I smiled. “Mike.”
I looked around the small room that was clean but minimalist at best. The bed, couch, kitchen and kitchen table were all in one room. The bathroom was adjacent to the area and didn’t look big enough to turn around in. Mike sat in a chair at the kitchenette wearing his t-shirt, fatigues and boots. It was always the same. “Where are we?”
“Nowhere in particular,” he replied.
“Is this where you live?” I sat up and tried to straighten myself a little. The man I was staring at across the room was a beautiful piece of work and I looked like something the cat dragged home and left on the front porch.
Mike clenched his fist and held it to his heart. “I live here.”
“Is there room in there for me?”
For the first time I saw him crack a tiny smile and nod. “Always.”
Swinging my legs over the side of the couch and pulling the blanket up to my chin, I stared at him and said nothing. I didn’t feel obligated; I didn’t feel confused or awkward. I felt more comfortable in my own skin than I ever had. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What if I need to be somewhere?”
“You’re exactly where you need to be.”
I smiled. “I’m hungry.”
“I cooked.”
“You did?”
“Surprised?”
“No…well, maybe a little. What did you make?”
“Pasta.
“You’re a pasta lover?”
He gave me one nod and a long gaze. “Would you like some wine?”
“I’d love some.”
I stood and stretched pulling down the t-shirt over the baggy sweatpants. “I’m a mess.”
He said one word without even looking at me. “Never.”
“I’m going to powder my nose and pull myself together which is going to be hard since I’m clearly scattered to the four corners of the earth today.”
Mike gestured toward the tiny bathroom.
I shut the door to the small room filled with cheap paneling and industrial plumbing. It was far from a real bathroom, but there was a light and a mirror. I took one look at myself, prepared for the worst. I was surprised. My cheeks looked rosy as if I’d been resting in the sun and my hair, although slightly tangled, seemed to fall around my shoulders casually. The clothes weren’t the best, but
Mike had seen me at my worst and hadn’t run away yet. Well, at least not today.
I washed my face and dried off with the white towel that hung over the dripping shower. I took a deep breath and gave myself a smile and permission to feel whatever I was going to feel. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t delusional. I was standing in the man’s apartment. I could smell garlic in the other room. There was no way I was dreaming any of this and I couldn’t wait to tell Burt Cortland that he was the one that was crazy.
When I opened the door Mike was waiting with two cups in his hand. I took one from him and examined it thoroughly. “What is this? A wooden glass or something?”
“Wooden glass?”
“You know what I mean,” I said as I looked at its contents.
“It’s a drinking cup and it is filled with wine.”
“Drinking cup?”
“Eat.” He pulled one of the mismatched chairs from beneath the table, ordering me to sit without asking.
I watched him work his way around me, his muscular body flexing under the t-shirt and fatigues. I took a long look at the tattoos that ran the length of his left arm. “Are you a soldier…Mike?”
“Something like that,” he answered as he put pasta and sauce on a plate and sat it in front of me.
“You look like a soldier.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” he said as he filled his plate as well and sat at the table and stared into my eyes. “Bon appétit.”
I spun the fork into the pasta, twirling it over and over before placing the first bite in my mouth. “Mmmmmm…. This is amazing. What’s in this?”
Mike shrugged his shoulders and took a bite himself.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell.”
“May I ask your name?”
“It’s Mike.”
I gave him a soft laugh. “Mike, what?”
“Mike…Divino.”
“No wonder you make excellent pasta. My last name is Italian too.”
“Yes,” he said as he stopped twirling his fork though the pasta and gave me his undivided attention. “I know.”