What Happened to Anna?

by Jennifer Robins

  He kept a level head, even though he was getting more than a little disturbed with her. “I’ll be leaving here in a few minutes. Why don’t you think about it? You can decide when I get home. See you soon.”

  She hung up. She no longer had any desire to leave the house. She preferred staying home, and most of all she preferred being alone. Then she could think of her dream lover. Visions came and went constantly, but she was no longer afraid of them.

  ****

  John arrived home at four-thirty. He called out, “Andrea? Hellooo, I’m home.” He set his briefcase on the floor in the foyer and wandered back to the kitchen, where he found her looking out the door. “Well, are we going out to dinner or what? I don’t see that you fixed anything for us here.”

  Andrea looked up at him in contempt. “No, I’m not going. It you want to go, please do so.” Then she turned away from him and continued to gaze out the open door.

  John started to smooth the hair at the side of his head. “All right, Andrea, I’m going upstairs to change. If it’s possible, maybe you can make me something to eat. If not, I’ll have to come down and fix something for myself.”

  The look on her face didn’t change. She continued to look straight ahead as though he wasn’t even there. He worried over her strange behavior, and hated the way she looked away from him whenever he talked to her. He turned and stormed upstairs to change.

  He didn’t know how to make much besides scrambled eggs and toast, so this fine meal ended up being his dinner. Andrea wanted nothing. She just left him at the table and strolled out.

  After eating, John sat in his recliner attempting to read the newspaper. But his mind kept wandering back to the problem at hand, and the big question—what to do about Andrea.

  Upstairs in the bedroom, Andrea sat by the window and gazed out at the yard below. After a short time, John came up. The sun had gone down, and the room had darkened. He turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to the bed. Quietly, he undressed then got into bed.

  “Andrea,” he said softly. She didn’t answer him. Once again he called out to her, only this time much louder. “Hey, babe, why don’t you come over here and get in bed with me?” Without a flinch, not even a lift of her eyebrow, she continued to sit motionless.

  He sat up in bed and leaned his elbows on his knees, arms folded. “Don’t sit in front of that window all night, Andrea. Come here and at least sit on the bed. I want you near me. I’d like to talk to you.”

  Slowly she rose from the chair and strolled over to the bed. He reached up for her as she approached. “Come on, babe.” He took her hand and gently pulled her down next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and moved to kiss her, but she turned away.

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Andrea.” His voice had gone cold. “I thought maybe we could make love, but if that’s the way you want it, fine.” He got out of the bed and walked to the dresser. As he took a shirt out of the drawer, he glanced over at her lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He shook his head, then put the shirt on and left the room.

  She could hear him go down the stairs, followed by the front door slamming. He’d left, and she didn’t care. She only felt relieved he was gone. A short time had passed when she heard someone coming up the stairs. She listened and waited. Could it be her dream lover? She hoped so.

  John entered the bedroom, looking upset. He hadn’t left the house after all. “I closed the house up for the night. I’m going to bed now.” His feelings were reflected in his voice. “If you want to get up and sit around by yourself all night, be my guest.”

  Saying nothing to him, she went back to the chair by the window and sat down. He tossed and turned for a while before he fell asleep. She knew she’d hurt him and felt a little guilty, but not much. The only thing that mattered to her was to sleep and dream those wonderful dreams of her lover.

  Moonlight filtered in through the window, making shadowy objects appear as if a mystical aura encircled them. Quietly, Andrea went back to the bed and got in. She began to doze. As she started to drift off, her thoughts wandered to her dream lover, and she fell into a pleasant sleep.

  Soon she was back in the grand ballroom, her lover at her side. He held her arm as they walked out onto the dance floor. The long blue silk dress she wore swung around her legs as they glided across the floor. His green eyes sparkled in the light of the crystal chandelier hanging above them. Beautiful music played in the near distance, but she couldn’t see any musicians. It was only the two of them. They circled around the floor, stopping only long enough for him to lavish her with kisses.

  They danced for a long time. She grew tired, but they continued on while he held her close. Her legs grew weak, but she kept going, holding tightly to his shoulder. Over and over the floor they went. Her steps began to slow, until she could hardly keep up with him. She begged him to stop, but he only laughed.

  “I love you, Andrea.”

  “Please stop,” she pleaded.

  He looked into her face, then picked her up in his arms and held her like a baby as he continued around the floor.

  A shadow darkened the archway in front of them, the silhouette of a woman. As her dark form moved back into the shadows, Andrea called out to her. “Wait… who are you?”

  Her strong, handsome partner stared at the figure in the shadows and laughed. Still holding Andrea in his arms, he continued to dance around the floor. The faceless person stayed back from the archway, but Andrea could see her. Suddenly, she heard her, the familiar sorrowful sobs.

  In the next moment, Andrea woke in her bed, looking around the room. She could still hear the woman whimpering off in the distance. She pulled the blanket up over her head and wished she didn’t have to listen to that mournful cry anymore. John lay next to her, undisturbed. The faraway crying continued.

  Andrea slipped out of bed and went out into the hallway. Only the light of moonbeams from the long window lit her way. As she walked toward the staircase, the crying faded. Stepping backward, she edged back to the bedroom. In the restored silence, her thoughts turned to her dream once again. She laid back down in bed, wanting to go back to sleep and resume the dance.

  She could see the sky through the bedroom window. Clouds moved across the large moon, casting shadows in the room. The curtains danced back and forth in a rapid motion. She began to think of Anna and the photograph. The closet on the other side of the room beckoned, drawing her to it. She opened the door and bent down to retrieve the photograph from the old wooden box.

  Photograph in hand, she went to the window and sat in the chair. Holding it up to the soft moonlight, she gazed at it. Many thoughts went through her mind as she looked into the face imprinted on the old cardboard-like paper. She thought about Anna’s husband Joseph and their children. If she only knew what had happened to them.

  As her thoughts wandered, she became sleepy again. Her eyes burned with tears as she yawned. So much had happened in so little time. It all had her bewildered. Could she ever get back to the life she’d once known? Did she even want to?

  Right now, all she wanted was to get back to sleep. Careful not to wake John, she put the photograph back in the closet and went to the bed. Once she lay down, it took only a few moments before she was fast asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The alarm woke them from a peaceful sleep. John reached over and pushed the button on the clock. He couldn’t help remembering how Andrea had rejected him the night before. She’d never done that, and it dug deeply. He looked over at her and said, “You don’t have to get up. I can make the coffee.” He stood up and waited for her to say something, but she simply turned around and rolled over onto her stomach.

  John went down to the kitchen. His feelings were still tainted with hurt and wonder. As he went about the task of making coffee, he tried to rationalize why Andrea had been acting so strangely. It had to be the stress of all that had happened in the house. He thought he might be making a little too much out of it, but his concer
n ran deep.

  Determined to make things right again with her, he returned to the bedroom with a cup of coffee to help lighten the mood. A half-smile on his face, he walked over to the bed and looked at her with only one thought in his mind — How can I make her understand that we have to get out of this house? “Here, babe, I brought you a peace offering.” He held the cup out in front of him. She turned and glanced up at him. He could see the drawn look on her face, but tried to ignore it.

  “You know, you look good this morning.” He hesitated. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you how you are.”

  Even though the moment presented an opportunity for them to make up, Andrea said nothing. He wanted desperately to talk to her about the apartment but knew this wasn’t the time for that. “Well… I guess you want to get more rest, and I have to get to the office early this morning.” He stood looking at her for a moment, then set the cup down and left the room.

  He was so frustrated with the situation, he was ready to take the apartment and tell her about it later. Maybe force her hand. Surely she wouldn’t let me move out without her? Somehow she had to come around to his way of thinking and give up the idea of staying in the house. Before leaving, John stood in the foyer for a long time, struggling with the thought of going back upstairs to tell Andrea he’d be going to take the apartment regardless of what she said, but his better instincts told him not to.

  Upstairs in the bedroom, Andrea heard the front door shut and the car drive off. She glanced at the cup of coffee on the nightstand and stood up. She felt weak and dizzy. The room spun, and she fell back down on the bed. The ceiling above her circled like a top. She kept blinking in hopes it would stop, but it didn’t.

  The light faded, and a darkness black as midnight came upon her, enclosed her. For a moment, she thought she’d lost her sight. Then out of nowhere came a beam of light that seemed to be hidden in a tunnel. Bitter, icy air generated from the opening of this strange tunnel. She wanted to scream, but nothing came from her mouth.

  The light grew dim, and in an instant it was nothing more than a small flashlight beam. The cold air came rushing at her and gave her a tremendous chill. She hugged herself for warmth. Frightened and trembling, she forced a yell from deep within her. “No… help me! Someone help me!”

  As suddenly as the tunnel had appeared, it vanished before her very eyes. The chilling cold died away. Turning her face into the pillow, she pleaded, “No more. Please, no more.” It was as though she had regained some sanity into her thoughts. The dreams were no longer of any importance. She only wanted it all to stop. Confusion and despair held her prisoner.

  As she tried to compose herself, she got up and went down to the living room. Still shaking, she lay on the sofa, tucking a small pillow under her head. She closed her eyes for several minutes and became relaxed. To her surprise, a tranquil feeling took hold and soon she fell asleep.

  Immediately, her dream lover appeared. This time they stood in the front yard, next to a large willow tree. He embraced her with both arms, kissed her on the neck, and then on her bare shoulders. Gently, he slipped the straps of her gown down her arms. She shivered with excitement.

  With his strong arms around her waist, he held her close and led her up the stone steps to the front door. As they entered the house, she could hear that woman crying upstairs. “No!” she yelled. “Go away! I don’t want to hear you anymore.”

  Angry about the interruption, she rushed over to the staircase, ready to yell once more. When she turned her head to look for her lover, he was gone. Hysterical, she ran outside to look for him, but he was nowhere in sight. She hurried back into the house and shouted, “Where are you?”

  Once again, everything started to go around in circles. Her head swam, and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, she lay on the sofa in the living room. She felt weak as she sat up. Struggling to her feet, she tried to look around the room, but her vision blurred and everything looked hazy. At least the spinning had stopped.

  In a trance-like state, she managed to reach the kitchen for a cold glass of water, which had seemed like a good idea but didn’t help. She held tight to the back of a kitchen chair as she eased herself down onto the seat. She spread her arms out on the table and lowered her head to rest gently on the tabletop between them.

  After a short time the spell began to pass, but it never left her completely. For the rest of the day she walked through the house aimlessly, sitting and then getting up to walk around again. She would feel tired and lie on the sofa from time to time, only to start dreaming all over again. Each time, she dreamed of him—some scenes vivid, while others were muddled and scrambled. It didn’t matter to her if the dream came to her clearly or not, just as long as she could dream about him. The only thing she had eaten all day was a bit of toast that John had left on the counter.

  Many times that day, Andrea wandered up to the attic for no reason other than to be there. She would stand in the middle of the floor, staring into space for several minutes at a time. After that, she would go to the bedroom and change clothes, dressing in mismatched outfits consisting of clashing colors and things she hardly ever wore.

  When John came home, he found her sleeping on the sofa. He placed his hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. She opened her eyes but said nothing. As her eyes began to close again he said, “Hey, Andrea, come on, wake up.” He tried to sound happy, so he could try to talk to her once more about the apartment. “Come on, Andrea, I want you to know that I love you. I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. Please get up and talk to me.”

  She opened her eyes wide and stared up at the ceiling.

  John leaned over her and sniffed. The notion she had been drinking crossed his mind, but he detected no smell of alcohol. “I wish I knew what the heck was wrong with you,” he told her as he sat down on the sofa next to her. “I’m trying so hard to understand, but it doesn’t make any sense. We’re living a nightmare in this house, yet you don’t even want to talk about moving. Look what it’s doing to you, and to me.”

  With much effort, she rose from the sofa, then walked out into the foyer and on to the kitchen. John followed her, keeping his eyes on her every move. She looked like she was sleepwalking. He had never seen her like this. It was so unlike her to completely ignore him.

  The back door in the kitchen was open. A soft breeze came in, and the sounds of the birds outside had captured Andrea’s attention. She turned one of the kitchen chairs around to face the open door, and then sat in it.

  “Andrea, did you take something today? What I mean is…a drug, or something like that?”

  She continued to ignore him and sat there like he didn’t exist. John thought she looked like a statue made of stone. Anxiety ripped at him as he tried to speak to her. “I want to know, Andrea. Are you on something? Are you using some kind of drug?” He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed tightly enough to get her attention.

  “Nothing, John,” she mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m not taking anything. I wish you would leave me alone.”

  “Then why are you acting this way?” John blasted back. “Do you realize how you have been lately? You’re not talking, you’re not eating, and you’re not you.”

  Andrea repeated, “It’s nothing. Leave me alone.”

  “Andrea. I need to talk to you without you shutting me out.”

  She stared right past him. “You are talking to me. What more do you want?”

  There was no point in continuing his pursuit of a two-way conversation with her, so he gave up, left the kitchen and went upstairs. He saw the mess in the bedroom and could hardly believe his eyes. The bed hadn’t been made, and clothes had been scattered all over the floor. The closet door stood wide open, with the wooden box sitting out in the room. Andrea had always been such a neat housekeeper — the appearance of the room shocked him.

  Another hot summer day had come in full force, the humidity high and everything outside crying for rain. John put on a body shir
t and shorts. As he dressed, he wondered if Andrea might have developed some mental problem after the move. Maybe the upheaval and all the strange things happening in the house had been too much for her. Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown.

  He tried to stay pleasant as he came back down to the kitchen. “How about if I fix dinner tonight?” he suggested with a smile on his face. “I’m not a good cook, but I can make some scrambled eggs and sausage. How does that sound?”

  She nodded, never turning her gaze from the back yard. “That would be fine.”

  He proceeded to make the meager dinner as he’d promised and set the dishes on the table. “Come on, babe. Here it is.”

  It was something to watch Andrea slowly turn her chair around, as though she were half asleep. As she sat at the table looking straight ahead, she picked up her fork and started to eat. It didn’t seem as though she was very interested in the food. John watched her as she took tiny nibbles, but to his disappointment, she only brought the fork to her mouth three times, and then pushed the plate away.

  He tried to encourage her to eat more, but she refused. She stood up and started to leave, but he caught her by her arm. “Andrea, I want to talk to you.” She pulled away from him and kept right on going.

  “Wait, Andrea!” John followed her down the hall and up the stairs to the bedroom, pleading with her all the way. “Andrea, please. We need to talk. You know I love you. You can talk to me.”

  Andrea sat in the chair by the window, her favorite place in the bedroom, while John paced back and forth in a nervous frenzy. “About that apartment. It’s really nice, Andrea. I know you would like it if you would only go with me to see it. I think this would be good for us. We don’t need all of this work here, with this big old house for you to clean every day and the yard for me to take care of when I need time to relax after a hard day at the office. You could be involved with community groups again, like you did back in Chicago. You know…the church, the hospital, that kind of thing.”