by Mark Lukens
Phil had fallen asleep before her, practically knocked unconscious by his four glasses of whiskey. But sleep hadn’t come so easily for her. She had tossed and turned a little, falling in and out of sleep. At some point in the night she’d heard Phil moaning. He was on his back, his face a little sweaty, his features scrunched up in . . . in what? Fear? Anguish? Anger? And then he had whispered the woman’s name—Dolores. He’d said it only once, but she’d heard it clearly. She had thought about waking him up, but he had fallen into a deep sleep again, beginning to snore. She’d finally fallen asleep for a while, but then Phil woke her up later when he was calling the police and peeking out the bedroom window.
She hadn’t told Phil that she’d heard him say the woman’s name. And why say anything about it? It probably didn’t mean anything. He could’ve been dreaming about anything. He might have a patient named Dolores. Phil rarely spoke to her about his patients, and she understood that aspect of his job. She was sure there were times when he would love to unload the pressures built up from the day, but he had no one to talk to about them because of the doctor/patient confidentiality he was sworn to uphold. So maybe it was natural that the problems he worked through might come out in his dreams.
This was the first time that she could remember hearing Phil talk in his sleep, the first time she’d seen him thrash around from a nightmare.
Maybe she was being unreasonable. Phil had been somewhat traumatized by the man who had followed them home—she was sure of that. And she had to admit that it had rocked her, too. Maybe they were each dealing with it in their own ways.
And one way Phil seemed to be dealing with it was by drinking. She couldn’t believe he had started drinking again. He’d definitely had a problem with his drinking when they’d first met, but they had been in college at the time, and she had overlooked it. But a few years later, when Cathy found out she was pregnant with Megan, Phil admitted that he’d been drinking too much and he quit. Just like that. No AA, no support groups, he just quit. And in these last fifteen years Phil had been pretty much abstinent; he’d only had the occasional cocktail at a party or holiday gathering, almost like he needed to prove to himself that he had conquered his urges, that he could have only one drink without it triggering his obsession with it, that he had total control over his addiction. But last night Phil had really knocked them back.
But maybe she shouldn’t worry about it; maybe it was just a one-time thing.
As her shopping day with Megan went on, Cathy still couldn’t help thinking about Phil talking in his sleep. She knew it was silly, but she couldn’t help fearing that Dolores was someone Phil was close to, someone he knew well, someone Phil might be seeing. After what had happened to Emma and Sheldon, a couple that Cathy never thought would be unfaithful to each other, it seemed like it could happen to anyone. She even thought about calling Emma up and talking to her about Phil’s nocturnal mutterings.
But she wasn’t going to do that. It wouldn’t be fair to Phil to go gossiping behind his back, practically accusing him with so little proof. And what would Emma suggest? Emma seemed ready to accuse any man of cheating these days. Cathy didn’t need Emma putting those kinds of thoughts in her head right now and fueling her already out-of-control suspicions.
No, she would just file this away as one strange weekend, and hopefully it was over. Hopefully that man had had his fun and he’d “taught them a lesson” for honking their horn and flashing their brights at him.
Of course there was always the possibility that Phil had really seen that truck out there last night for a moment. There was always the possibility that the man in the pickup truck had come back.
That was a scary thought that Cathy didn’t want to face. But if that was true, if Phil had really seen the truck again last night, then what could they do that they hadn’t already done? They had notified the police, and now they would just have to be careful. They would just have to be ready to call the police if they saw the truck again.
“You ready to go?” Cathy asked Megan. They were on their fifth store now. But Cathy didn’t mind—this was part of her birthday presents to Megan. Megan was getting too old now to surprise her with gifts; Cathy would rather just take her out and let her pick out what she really wanted.
“Yeah,” she said smiling. “I love everything I got today,” she said, giving Cathy a quick hug. “Thanks for my birthday presents.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
They walked to the car. “Mom? Have you thought about what I asked you yesterday? Going with Arianna to the movies on Tuesday?”
Cathy didn’t answer for a moment; she just kept on walking to her SUV with the plastic shopping bags in her hands.
“Please, Mom.”
“It’s a school night.”
“I know, but we won’t be out that late.”
“You know I don’t like you staying over there on a school night.”
“I’ll get up for school on time,” Megan said, already knowing the fears Cathy was going to express. “I promise. And Arianna’s mom can take me to school. I just want . . . I really want to go with her to the movies.”
Cathy couldn’t help wondering if Megan and Arianna were planning something else for that night, but she hoped they were still too young for that kind of deviousness. But maybe not. If she let Megan go, then she would have to double check with Arianna’s mother about their plans for the night.
“Let me talk it over with your father.”
Megan frowned. “He’s probably not going to let me go.”
“Why do you say that?” Phil was the one who usually gave in to Megan all the time.
She shrugged. “He’s just been acting a little weird lately.”
“He was just frightened last night,” Cathy said, jumping right to Phil’s defense. “So was I. It was really scary.”
Megan nodded, but Cathy knew that her daughter meant that Phil had been acting a little weird even before the crazy man in the pickup had followed them home. She tried to think back over the last few weeks, trying to pinpoint examples of that “weirdness,” as Megan called it, but she didn’t want to put in the effort of singling out memories right now. And maybe there weren’t any particular things that Phil had done, but Cathy couldn’t deny feeling the same way Megan did, that Phil had been acting a little strange lately. And maybe that was the whole reason behind her suspicions of him cheating on her.
Stop it, she told herself. She’d already promised herself that she wasn’t going to dwell on that anymore.
Cathy gave her daughter a quick hug, feeling her daughter (who was nearly as tall as she was now) pull away. “I’ll get your father to say yes,” she said.
Megan brightened at that.
• • •
Phil was eating a sandwich when Cathy and Megan got home. He helped them haul in the multiple shopping bags with expensive department store names and logos on them.
“Successful shopping adventure, I presume,” Phil said when they were all inside the house.
“Yes,” Megan answered, practically dancing on her toes. “So many deals out there.” She dropped her bags on the kitchen table and rummaged through one of them. She pulled out the bright pink knit hoodie with tags hanging off the sleeves. It looked a little too small and tight to Cathy, but at least Phil didn’t say anything.
“See this?” Megan asked Phil, holding the hoodie up to herself. “Half price.”
Phil nodded. “You’re a shrewd shopper.” He picked up the other half of his sandwich and took a bite.
Megan turned to Cathy. “I’m going to try everything on again.” She collected her bags and was off to her bedroom.
Cathy took her three bags to their bedroom.
Phil followed her, still eating his sandwich.
“You feeling better?” Cathy asked him as she set her bags on the end of the bed.
“Yeah.”
“What time did you wake up?”
“Around ten.”
“We tried to
be quiet when we left so we wouldn’t wake you. Were you up all night?”
Phil shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t really remember falling asleep. I drank another glass of whiskey . . . and then, I don’t know, I guess I fell asleep.”
She watched him as he popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth, chewing. He did look better now. Maybe some more sleep had helped him. “Phil, I know what happened last night is probably still bothering you, but I think it’s over now. I don’t think that guy’s coming back. I think he had his fun with us, and he’s not coming back.”
“I know,” Phil said and he gave her a peck on the cheek, and then on the lips. “Sorry I overreacted a little. Thanks for understanding.”
“I was scared, too. Who wouldn’t be?”
Phil gave her a tight smile and looked at the shopping bags on the end of the bed. “So what did you get today?” It seemed like he was trying to change the subject.
And that was fine with her. She pulled the items out of the bags: a pair of black slacks, two tops, and a pair of sandals.
Just then the phone rang. Phil walked over to the bedside table and picked up the cordless phone without even looking at the little screen to see who was calling. “Hello?”
Phil stood there, listening, scrunching his face in confusion. “Hello? Who is this? Is anyone there?”
“Just hang up,” Cathy told him.
Phil didn’t hang up. He listened to the phone with an intense focus now, as if someone was talking to him.
Cathy watched him, suddenly concerned. “Is someone there?”
Phil didn’t answer her. He hurried over to his briefcase on top of the antique desk in the corner of their bedroom. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a leather-bound notebook and a pen.
“Is someone there?” Phil yelled into the phone. “Answer me.”
Chills ran up and down Cathy’s arms as she watched Phil pull the phone away from his ear as if he’d just heard something offensive.
“What?” Cathy asked him.
“He hung up.”
He, Cathy thought. A wrong number and Phil automatically assumed it was their stalker in the pickup truck.
Phil pushed the SELECT button on the phone to scroll back to find the number that had just called, ready to jot down that number onto a page in his notebook. “I’m giving this number to the police.”
“Phil . . . I’m not so sure a wrong number is really a lead in this case.”
He stopped and stared at her.
She realized how sarcastic what she’d just said must’ve sounded. She tried her best to keep her sarcasm down to a dull roar most of the time, but sometimes it just slipped out.
He looked back at the phone, his face scrunched up in confusion.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The number’s restricted,” he said. He closed his notebook in defeat.
“It’s just a wrong number,” she said. “That’s all.” She’d softened her voice, trying to make up for her earlier tone.
Phil stuffed his notebook back into his briefcase. “You’re right,” he said.
SEVEN
Cathy
Cathy really wanted to do some touchups on her paintings for the upcoming art show, but she was wiped out from her day of shopping with Megan, and she wanted to spend some time with Phil. She rented a movie on the TV. The lights were off in the living room, the only lights coming from the kitchen.
Phil was already on his third drink of the night.
She wasn’t happy about that, but she didn’t say anything.
“Megan doesn’t want to watch the movie?” Phil asked.
“She’s skyping with Arianna,” Cathy told him. Megan was at the age where she didn’t want to do a lot of things with them now. She was becoming more independent, beginning to pull away from them, in a hurry to become an adult. And that was probably part of the reason she wanted to go out to the movies with no parents on Tuesday night, to prove her maturity.
Phil just nodded and took another sip of his drink. The clinking ice cubes were beginning to annoy her a little.
“You know,” Cathy said after Phil set his drink down on the coaster, “Megan really wants to go to the movies on Tuesday with Arianna.”
He nodded. “I know. We’ll talk about it.”
“I’m trying to talk about it right now.”
Phil was quiet for a moment. “I just . . . I don’t know . . .”
She sighed. “Why don’t you know?”
He stared at her. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“You’re worried about that guy coming back?”
Phil didn’t answer.
“He’s not coming back. It’s over. We can get back to our normal lives now.” She hoped he was picking up on her hint about his drinking.
Phil was still quiet.
“We can’t punish Megan just because we’re scared,” Cathy said in a low voice.
That seemed to hurt Phil a little. “I know,” he said. “I guess it’ll be alright if she goes with Arianna.”
Cathy snuggled up closer to her husband. “She’s going to be okay, Phil.”
“I know,” he said, giving her a kiss.
The movie was beginning to start. Phil got up and took his nearly empty drink to the kitchen with him to make another one.
Phil had given in about Megan, but Cathy knew something was still bothering him. Of course she knew part of it was the man in the pickup truck, but she couldn’t help thinking that there was something else on his mind.
Dolores.
She pushed that thought away.
“I’ll go see if Megan wants to watch the movie with us,” Phil said on his way to the kitchen.
“I already asked her,” Cathy told him.
Phil turned around and looked at her with his empty glass in his hand. “I feel like I should apologize to her for snapping at her last night.”
“She’s fine,” Cathy said. “She shouldn’t have gone outside by herself. She knows the rules.”
Phil still hesitated, frozen with indecision.
The movie was already beginning. “You want me to pause the movie?”
“No,” he said, and he went into the kitchen. “I’ll just be a few seconds.”
Cathy paused the movie anyway. She watched the entrance to the kitchen, the soft yellowish light pouring out of the room. She heard Phil making his drink, the ice clinking in his glass. Then she heard him checking the door that led out to the garage. He opened it, probably turned on the light in the garage, checking to see if everything was okay. He’d even engaged the locks on the garage doors, something they hardly ever did unless they were going on a trip somewhere. He closed the door, then rattled the handle, making sure it was secure.
He came out of the kitchen and walked past the dining area to the sliding glass doors that led out to the pool and deck area in the backyard. He pulled the vertical blinds back a little and tested the sliding door to make sure it was locked. He had placed the security bar in place earlier. And he had locked the screen doors that led out from the pool area, and also locked both gates to their fenced-in backyard.
He came back into the living room.
“Making your rounds?” she asked, hoping it came off as a joke.
“Just checking,” he said as he went to the front door and made sure it was locked. He looked at the keypad alarm—the little display was green in the darkness. He walked over to the windows that looked out onto the front porch, a couch they hardly ever used sat a few feet in front of the windows. He peeked out through the blinds, staring outside for a moment, the fresh drink in his hand.
“You going to be okay in the morning?” she asked. “You’ve had a lot to drink. You might feel a little rough.”
He came back to the couch and sat down beside her. “I’ll be fine,” he said, sipping his drink then setting it on the coaster next to Cathy’s bowl of popcorn.
Cathy started the movie again.
EIGHT
&nb
sp; Phil
Monday
Phil did indeed feel rough the next morning as Cathy had predicted. He’d had a little too much to drink, and Cathy had pointed that out to him again this morning. And now he had a thumper of a headache that was pulsating at the back of his head and traveling down his neck. Even though he knew it wasn’t true, it felt like his veins were bulging in his head, throbbing with each pulse.
He arrived at his office, which was at the end of a strip plaza of other medical offices. His receptionist, Renee, was already seated behind the window in the wall that separated the lobby from her receptionist area and the rest of the office. The waiting room was neat as usual, kept tidy by Renee. The magazines were fanned out on two tables next to the chairs, the brochures and pamphlets organized in the cubbies on the wall, the TV turned on, airing a local all-news channel.
“Morning, Renee,” Phil said as he entered the receptionist area through the door from the hall.
“Morning, Dr. Stanton.”
“How was your weekend?”
She shrugged. “Boring.”
Wish I could say the same, Phil thought. He made a cup of coffee. Renee always had coffee ready for him. She was a dream receptionist, always on time, never complained, always thinking ahead. He’d really lucked out when she came to work for him. But she was in the middle of working her way through college, and she wouldn’t be here forever. After she was gone, the search for another receptionist would begin.
“You have that new patient I told you about,” Renee said, a folder already in her hand. “The man who insisted on seeing you.”
Phil vaguely remembered. “Was he a doctor referral?”
“No. Came in on his own. Name’s Carlos.”
The name rang a bell in Phil’s throbbing head. He was going to ask Renee why this guy sought him out specifically, but he didn’t feel much like talking right now, and as if Renee sensed that, she didn’t offer any additional information. It would all be in the folder, in the forms Carlos had filled out. Phil would glance at the papers before Carlos came in. “When is he scheduled?”
“One o’clock,” she told him. “Right after lunch.”