Meet Me in the Garden

by Rosa Sophia

  “Oh, yes,” Ian said. “And I wanted to offer to keep you company tomorrow. You’re going to the doctor, right?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t called yet, but I did send Joy a text message this morning, and she thinks Doctor Lee will be able to see me on short notice since it’s serious.”

  “Good. Is it okay if I drive you?”

  “Ian, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. Can I, please?”

  “Are you worried about me?” Amalie asked as she turned the corner onto Hummingbird.

  “Yes. Why do you seem disbelieving? Can’t I worry about you?”

  “Of course you can. I’m just…just not used to it, that’s all.”

  “Well, you’d better get used to it. I like you, Amalie. I respect you and I think you’re a great girl. So, yes, I’m worried about you. It’s about time somebody worried about you. I have to go because I’m driving now, but I’m going to call you tomorrow morning, okay?”

  “Okay,” Amalie agreed, smiling into the phone.

  “Good. That settles it then.”

  “Ian—” Amalie looked at the screen and realized he’d hung up. She slipped the phone back into the holder on her wrist, wishing he’d given her a chance to say thank you.

  ***

  Ian was waiting for her in the parking lot at nine the next morning. Luckily for Amalie, Doctor Lee had a cancellation and was able to schedule an appointment for nine forty-five. She dressed in jeans, black strap sandals, and a baby blue tank top. She pulled her hair away from her blue agate earrings as she stepped down the stairs, into the lot, and walked up to Ian’s car. He was standing by the car with his feet slightly apart, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his khaki pants. The wind ruffled the crisp white sleeves of his dress shirt, and he flashed a bright smile in Amalie’s direction.

  “You look great,” he said.

  “Well, I feel a lot better.” Heat rose in her cheeks.

  He opened the door for her and ushered her inside. “I wasn’t really talking about what happened the other day, I just meant…” He leaned down and caught her gaze. “You look beautiful.” Without waiting for a response, he shut the door and moved around to the driver’s side.

  When he got in, Amalie was laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m wearing jeans and a tank top, it’s not exactly—”

  “Can’t you take a compliment?”

  “No,” she said shyly.

  “Well, you should learn. Because there’s a lot more where that came from. I promise.”

  Doctor Lee’s office was in West Palm, and Ian took I-95 to get there. Amalie marveled at how quickly they arrived. Ian’s car was a lot faster than her twenty-year-old clunker. They chatted the whole way, talking about everything from the weather to the books they both liked to read.

  When they reached the office and stepped out of the car, a wave of heat assaulted Amalie. A slight breeze broke through the humidity and swept her ponytail away from her shoulder. The building was a sterile white, but it was a small family practice just as Joy had promised. Tastefully pruned shrubs lined the front of the building, and palm trees swayed around the outer perimeter.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Amalie grumbled. She looked at Ian and added, “Thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

  As they walked up to the building, she dreaded the visit with the doctor. A sudden insurmountable grief assuaged her as Ian opened the glass door and ushered her inside.

  “Are you okay?” He extended a hand and touched her back. It was gentle, but with just enough pressure to send shivers down her spine.

  “Um, I’m fine,” Amalie hazarded.

  “Your mom?”

  She looked up and caught his gaze for a split second—long enough to make her think Ian could read her mind, as if he knew exactly what was bothering her.

  “Yes.”

  Before they stepped out of the lobby and into the main waiting area, Ian squeezed her hand gently.

  “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose your mom at such a young age. But I hope you’re not thinking that because she had cancer, you’ll get it too.” Ian slipped off his prescription sunglasses and hung them on the front of his shirt. “This could be nothing, Am.”

  “I know.” She pushed through the next door and into the waiting room. “But it could be something, too.”

  ***

  In the examination room, her ears perked up at voices in the hall. Then the door opened and a woman walked in. She looked to be in her early to mid-forties, and had long black hair and wide brown eyes. Her white lab coat hung over a lean frame, white cotton pants, and a light purple blouse. Like everyone in the office, she seemed to walk everywhere with a clipboard in hand.

  “Hello, Amalie, I’m Doctor Lee.” A bright smile lit her face, making Amalie feel a bit more comfortable. “So, I’m told you have an unusual pain in your face?” Doctor Lee began asking questions as she took a small light and peered into Amalie’s eyes. “When did this start?”

  “I don’t know really. It’s been my whole life, but then it didn’t happen for a long time. It started up again a few months ago. It wasn’t bad at first, but it’s gotten worse. It’s definitely worse than it was when I was a kid.” Amalie followed Doctor Lee’s instructions to take a deep breath as she listened to her heart. “And the other day, I fell. I passed out.”

  Doctor Lee stepped back and raised one graceful eyebrow. “Hmm. Did you go to the hospital?”

  “No, I didn’t want to.”

  Doctor Lee cocked her head, then shrugged. “Well, tell me how you felt.”

  “My face hurt suddenly, and the pain was so intense I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. It only happens on the left side. I was on a date, and Ian helped me. He drove me home and took care of me.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a very conscientious boyfriend.”

  Amalie felt her face flush. “I don’t know if he’s my boyfriend, we’ve only been out a couple of times.”

  Doctor Lee’s warm laughter was almost infectious. Amalie wanted to laugh, too.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how bad can the pain be?”

  “It can be worse than a ten. I mean, I remember a time when I was in high school and it was so bad I was sobbing and shrieking for two hours. It was like someone was stabbing me in the face, and I just wanted to die. Do you think it could be my sinuses?”

  “I’m not sure, but we’ll figure it out. The pain sounds more severe than sinus pain. Have you been under a lot of stress, Amalie?” Doctor Lee sat down across from her.

  “Yes, but that would be an understatement. I work a lot at the magazine, but I freelance on the side. I make just enough to pay the bills and the rent.”

  “Joy told me about you. She did say you’re the best editor and writer the magazine has.”

  “Well, I don’t know if that’s true. She might be biased.” Amalie leaned back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap. “My mom died when I was little, and Joy lost a daughter who was my age. We have a mother-daughter kind of friendship.”

  “It’s wonderful that you have each other. But how are you otherwise?”

  “You’re asking me a lot of questions, Doctor.”

  “That’s because sometimes the problems we’re going through in our lives can make our physical ailments worse. It might not be an issue in this case, but I like to ask. I like to get to know my patients.”

  “And how much does that cost me?”

  “I’ll put it on your therapy bill,” Doctor Lee said with a playful wink. “How do you sleep?”

  Amalie knew she looked exasperated. She took a deep breath and enjoyed the feeling of the soft cushion behind her back.

  “Not well. I…I have dreams and they mess up my sleep. Sometimes I don’t sleep at all, but I see myself there. I wake up exhausted. They’re always the same and they’ve been the same for months, maybe even a year. I dream about these people
I’ve never seen before, and I’m one of them. But I look different and I’m in a totally different place. It’s so vivid I remember everything.” Amalie looked up at the doctor. “This is going to sound ridiculous, but…the worst pain I’ve had happens right after I have one of those experiences. I mean, I’m not always asleep when it happens. It’s scary.”

  Doctor Lee frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t mean to write off your dreams, Amalie—I do think they can mean something from time to time—but I think you have insomnia and it’s getting the better of you. Not getting enough sleep can certainly worsen pain. I’m going to prescribe a sleeping pill.” She picked up a pad and began to jot something down. “I want you to try it and see if it helps. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Amalie said quietly.

  “The pain you’re experiencing could also be migraines, plain and simple, so I’ll give you a prescription for Fioricet, which is a migraine medication. It won’t bother your stomach, it’s just a pain killer, but it should help.

  “Now, let’s concentrate on your symptoms so we can figure out what’s going on with you. Tell me more about the pain,” Doctor Lee urged. “What does it feel like?”

  “Well, it can be the stabbing pain I mentioned, but sometimes it’s just a dull ache. Other times it’s bad enough to make me pass out, I guess. Or maybe I just can’t handle it. I’m not sure if I’d call it passing out. It’s hard to explain. I know I’m going back on what I said. I’m just not sure what’s happening to me.”

  “It’s okay, we’re going to figure it out.” She gave her a reassuring pat on the knee. “I’m going to order a CAT scan. If we don’t find anything in the scan, I’m going to recommend you see a specialist.”

  “What kind of specialist?”

  “I’d rather see the CAT scan first. I don’t want to give you information that might not be correct,” the doctor said hesitantly. “Is that okay?”

  “Yes.” What she was thinking was no, but she had to find out why this was happening—and she had to stop it. Ian wouldn’t always be there when she fell.

  Chapter 13

  The waiting room was cold and smelled like antibacterial hand sanitizer. Ian leafed through a magazine for a minute or two, wishing he’d brought a book. He knew he had an old Stephen King paperback in the car, but he’d read it so many times it was falling apart. With everything he had on his mind, he knew it wouldn’t distract him.

  Ian had never been so contented around anyone before, and this perplexed him. He’d never met a woman like Amalie. On the way to the doctor’s office, they’d talked about their writing. He’d told her about his childhood and the pains he used to get, the headaches that forced the words out; the pain wouldn’t go away until he wrote. To his recollection, he’d never told anyone about that except his mother.

  She told him what it was like on Cliff Island, how she’d spent hours writing, lost in her own world just to escape the tumultuousness of her father’s mood swings. Ian had both his parents, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in Amalie’s shoes. She’d told him if she ever left Florida, she’d have little to go home to. Her family was scattered across the United States, and although she knew a number of cousins and other relations on her mother’s side, she wasn’t close with them. They weren’t people she could visit on a whim. When Amalie talked about her parents, there was a lot of pain in her voice. Ian had a great deal of compassion for her, but he knew that compassion was developing into something more.

  When she emerged from the back and stopped at the desk to speak with the receptionist, he watched her. She was small and lithe, with a classic beauty full of depth and mystery. She was so familiar to him, as though he’d seen her somewhere before. He wondered if he’d spotted her at other events in Palm Beach, or caught a brief glimpse of her during one of his many visits to Island Time to meet with Joy. He wondered why they’d never been introduced before meeting at The Breakers.

  She left the front desk and walked over to him. “Ready? Sorry you had to wait so long.”

  “Oh, it’s okay,” Ian said as he quickly collected his thoughts. They stepped outside and crossed the lot to the car. “What’s the verdict?”

  Once they were inside and the air conditioning was on, Amalie referred to the sheet of paper she had in her hands and peered at a small bag which held medication.

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “What about when you passed out on the beach?”

  “She’s not sure it has anything to do with the pain. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, it could be something as minor as low blood pressure. So, I have to go for a CAT scan to see if the pain has something to do with my sinuses. She said the area I’m describing is the same spot as the maxillary sinus cavity.

  “If that doesn’t show anything, I’ll have to see a specialist. I’d better tell Joy about the appointment and let her know I won’t be able to work all day Wednesday. In the meantime, I have this migraine medication, but I just don’t think I’m getting migraines. I’m so frustrated.”

  “Try to take it easy, okay?” While they were at a traffic light, Ian eyed the bag on her lap. “What’s in there?”

  “She prescribed me sleeping pills too.”

  “You’re not getting enough sleep, huh?” The light turned green and Ian piloted through the intersection and turned left on Anchorage Drive.

  “No. I have a lot of strange dreams. You’ll probably think I’m crazy if I tell you this. I told her and she just thought…I don’t know what she thought.”

  “What? I won’t think you’re crazy, I promise. No crazier than me anyway,” Ian said, adding a playful smile he hoped would comfort her in some small way.

  “Most of the time, the pain comes after I have some weird dream, I mean after a night of vivid dreams, or sometimes it happens when I’m awake.”

  “Like a vision?”

  “I was trying to avoid that word. I mentioned it to Doctor Lee twice, and she said there’s no way dreams can have any impact. Now that I say it that way, it does sound pretty silly. She thinks I’m just stressed out and the stress is causing me to get less sleep and making the pain worse.”

  “She thought of the way you were associating it and gave you the sleeping pills?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I can’t tell you how frustrating my nights are, Ian. It’s not like I have a problem getting to sleep, but I don’t sleep well. I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m half-awake the whole time and I’m experiencing someone else’s life. That’s how the dreams feel, like I’m watching someone else live. They’re so detailed. When I wake up in the morning, I’m exhausted, like I was awake the whole time, only somewhere else.” From the corner of his eye, Ian saw her watching him, waiting for a reaction. Finally, she said, “Oh God, you think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

  “Relax, I don’t think you’re nuts.” Ian reached over and took her hand. “You can tell me anything—really.”

  “But I just met you,” Amalie said, sounding almost incredulous.

  “I know. And I don’t think that matters anymore. What do you think?”

  “I…I want to tell you. I don’t know why. I’m not sure I would even tell Joy this stuff, and I tell her practically everything. What’s this mean?”

  “I don’t know, Am. Rather than try to interpret it, why don’t we just enjoy it?”

  He felt her fingers move around his and she squeezed his hand gently.

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  The air in North Palm Beach smelled of summer flowers. Gardenias were in full bloom across the street from the apartment building and the heady scent drifted to Ian as he climbed out of the car. One of Amalie’s neighbors was washing his car—a tricked out 1979 Trans Am—in the parking lot. He was completely oblivious to them as Latin music blasted from the car’s speakers and out the open windows. A cacophony of sound permeated the humid air. The music combined with the sound of a tree being cut down on the far corner of the street, and some kids yelled to each other as they ran through the neig
hboring parking lot with a basketball.

  Ian watched as Amalie tucked her bag under her arm and folded her paperwork.

  “Want to come upstairs for a little while?” she asked.

  “Sure.” Ian reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a lighter. “Do you mind if I have a smoke first?”

  “A what?”

  Ian’s first thought was that Amalie was against smoking—maybe in the worst way possible. Mentally, he prepared himself for the inevitable. Maybe she would continue to date him, but he would have to give up his occasional cigar smoking. Usually he only had a few per day, if that. He had pictured himself building a relationship with her, but now he wondered if she was so disgusted with his habit that she wouldn’t want to see him anymore. The whole time he was thinking, his fingers were working around the pack, pulling out a cigar, poising it between his lips. He didn’t even notice his actions until she was standing there on the other side of the car, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

  “Oh, shit. You don’t like smokers. I’m sorry.” He took the cigar away from his mouth and started to tuck it back into the pack.

  “No.” Amalie’s voice was quiet, then she repeated herself, this time louder so he would hear her over the music and the sawing. She stepped over to his side of the car and watched him, cocking her head. “Light it.”

  “It’s okay, really, I don’t have to. They’re little cigars, no big deal. I don’t smoke cigarettes.”

  “Light it, please? I have to know what it smells like. I’ll explain after.”

  Hesitantly, Ian did as she asked. He took a puff on the cigar and watched the smoke rise into the thick air. “Amalie, I—”

  “Cloves.”

  “Yeah. Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

  “Sure, of course. Just finish your smoke and come upstairs. We can talk where it’s quieter.”

  Unease crept over him. He realized it was worry—worry for her.

  Chapter 14

  The scent of cloves was something that haunted her dreams. Every so often, she would smell it as she was drifting to sleep. Or she would stretch out in bed in the dark, roll onto her side, and see a figure standing in the shadows. The smell would permeate the apartment. She would demand to know who was there, speaking in a hoarse whisper, only to be met with silence.