by Laura Briggs
****
In her bedroom, Alice sat at her dresser and unpinned the brooch from her dress. The mirror showed a tired face, pale beneath pink eye shadow and lipstick. She touched her head, feeling the hard lump.
A glint of cool white light flashed in the mirror: Warren’s engagement ring. Lowering her hand, she studied her finger. The stone’s facets twinkled in the light, a thousand reminders of the sacred vow it represented.
Next time your heart is at stake, Alice, take the time before you say “yes.” Even if it’s just two or three days, wait and think it over. A whole lifetime depends on your answer.
Her mother’s long-ago advice echoed, which brought a flood of girlish memories. Eighteen and impetuous, Alice had needed to hear those words of wisdom. They kept her grounded and saved her from rushing into a commitment with someone she’d known for a mere month.
But shouldn’t this time be different? She and Warren already had two years’ worth of dates to their credit. This fact didn’t soothe her rattled emotions.
How do you know when it’s right, Lord? I thought it was once before….but then my heart got broken. What if I mess this up the same way? That haunted her to the deepest chambers of her heart.
Taking a deep breath, she slipped the ring from her finger. She held the metal band in the palm of her hand, feeling the square stone framed by its prongs.
Placing it on the dresser, she reached to turn out the lamp. A dizzy spell swept over her as she glimpsed something in the mirror. Her mind was playing tricks on her again. Proof that she needed a good night’s sleep. For, at that moment, she could have sworn she saw Aunt Phylis smirking in the doorway.
Ghosts Of Romances Past
4
“Point!”
Liz’s voice was triumphant as Alice scrambled towards a ball that wasn’t there anymore. This was typical in any game she played with real partners, which was why Alice had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t cut out for sports.
She wiped her brow and smiled. “Great move, Liz.”
Liz rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to learn a little about defense. Come on. I know you can barely hit one over the net, but you’re impossible when it comes to returning a serve.”
During this scolding, Alice trotted across the court and retrieved the wayward ball. She glanced up into the bleachers, where a handful of children and bored patrons watched.
In the middle sat a woman in a yellow dress, her hair wound in an elegant French twist that ceased to be popular decades ago except in formal settings. A familiar sardonic smile played across her lips in a way that made Alice’s head feel dizzy again.
She stumbled towards the net. It wasn’t possible, she reminded herself. Just ignore it, and it will disappear again.
“What’s wrong?” Liz stared at her with an impatient smile. Her voice was a concrete reality.
Alice used it as an excuse to shake off the wave of dread that settled. “One serve coming right up,” she called, tossing the ball into the air and swinging. It made contact and flew over the net, bouncing out of range for Liz’s swing.
“Now that’s more like it!” Liz called.
Alice allowed herself a smile of triumph. Maybe her head injury had a few positive side effects.
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” The voice came from the other side of the court fence, where the woman in yellow stood, arms crossed in an indifferent pose.
Alice stared, open mouthed.
Thwack! The ball smacked her in the arm, then fell to the court and bounced a few steps.
“Earth to Alice! That was your shot, girl.” Liz sounded irritated. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You know you’re making a mistake, Alice,” said the woman on the other side of the fence. “If you think about your life, you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
This isn’t happening. It’s one hundred percent impossible.
Alice repeated this mentally, praying for the same clarity with which she saw this figure. But the world seemed to be spinning and she swayed to the rhythm of its merry-go-round pattern.
“Did I hurt you?” Liz dropped her racquet and hurried around the net.
Alice kept her eyes closed, afraid if she opened them the apparition would still be there. “I think I should go home,” she announced, her tone high-pitched and trembling.
“Alice, you’re pale.” Liz sounded anxious.
Alice opened her eyes again. The woman on the other side of the fence was gone. “It must be the sun. I’ll just go to the locker room and get some water.”
“Or maybe it’s your head,” Liz argued. “Didn’t you fall downstairs what…yesterday? I think maybe you should get that checked out.”
“An appointment for a bump? Don’t be silly. It’s just a little too soon for tennis, that’s all.”
Down in the locker room, she went to her open gym bag and took a long drink from the water bottle. On the bright side, the accident freed her from tennis early. Maybe she would just lie down here for a while and wait for Warren’s match to end.
“It’s childish of you to run away from this, Alice.”
The choking and coughing was all one motion as Alice caught sight of the woman leaning against the locker. Unmistakably Aunt Phylis, wearing the dress that Alice remembered best from her childhood.
If she had been dead, perhaps this would qualify as a ghost sighting. Except Alice didn’t believe in them—and Aunt Phylis was sixty-five and living in a semi-retirement community in south Florida.
“How is this possible?” Alice squeaked. “Is this…? Am I hallucinating?”
“You keep saying that,” Phylis pointed out. “On the other hand, it doesn’t do it any good, so I’d stop it if I were you.” She moved closer to Alice.
Alice stepped away with such speed that she surprised herself.
“Stay away from me.” Alice held up the tennis racquet, as if she could beat off her imagination. “You can’t be real. This is some sort of daydream or mirage...”
“We don’t have time for this kind of silly talk,” Phylis said. “You know why I’m here. This is about your heart, not your head.”
“What would you know about romance?” Alice snapped, amazed she was even having this conversation. “As I recall, the real you never had one.”
“Even an old maid can see you’re bungling God’s plan for your life. Don’t use that old excuse to ignore me.”
The phantom-that-wasn’t crossed her arms, assuming a pose that reminded Alice of a recent photo of Phylis taken in front of her Florida bungalow. Except the woman standing in front of her was elegant and somewhere around forty, the Aunt Phylis she remembered from her childhood.
“No, no, no.” Alice moaned and pressed her aching head between her hands. “I have to go home and lie down.” How many naps would it take to erase the effects of a little fall?
“Don’t you care that you’re on the verge of making a huge mistake?” Phylis regarded her with raised eyebrows. “You’re throwing away an opportunity for love and happiness—”
“I have to go home,” Alice repeated, her tone taking on a note of desperation. She refused to let this hallucination get to her. Grabbing the gym bag, she turned to go.
“You won’t get far,” Phylis warned. She was seated on a bench now, one high-heeled foot swinging from her crossed-leg pose.
“We’ll see about that,” Alice shot back. What are you doing, talking to thin air? Get a grip on yourself. She glanced from the vision of Aunt Phylis towards the locker room exit as she took swifts steps to create some distance between them.
If only she had remembered the metal post between her and the doorway.
****
The wail of the ambulance woke Alice to the rhythm of emergency in motion. She was prostrate on a stretcher, an ice pack pressed against her forehead. On one side, an EMT crouched, on the other was Liz.
“Don’t tell me,” Alice said. “Another bump.”
“A big one.” The EMT adjusted
the I.V. as it dripped something soothing through Alice’s veins. “Fortunately, we’re pretty sure you’ll be OK.” This was said with a reassuring smile, as Alice closed her eyes again.
Maybe he was sure things were OK, but she wasn’t. Even now, she half-expected Aunt Phylis to appear, perhaps inspecting her lipstick in a compact the way Alice admired a thousand times as a little girl.
“What’s Warren’s emergency number?” Liz asked, scanning Alice’s cell phone. “I keep trying his phone, but nobody answers.”
“He won’t pick up during a match,” Alice murmured. “He only answers calls from his firm when he’s playing.”
“You’re kidding right?” Liz sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell him in person that his girlfriend whacked her head and landed in the hospital.”
“I won’t be staying there long,” Alice said, as panic surged. “Will I?”
The E.M.T. shrugged his shoulders. “I think that’s up to your doctor after they run some tests.” He leaned towards the driver, letting Alice hold the ice pack in place.
The cold bit into her fingers, reviving her senses. Despite the bump, her head felt somewhat clearer. A strange sensation, given minutes ago it made impact with a metal pole.
“We’ll try calling him again from the hospital,” Liz said, closing the phone. “I can’t believe how few numbers you have under emergency contacts. I mean, your mom is eons from here.”
Alice’s mother Dolores was currently on a cruise in Alaska, part of her quest to keep active in the years following the death of Alice’s father.
“Sorry,” Alice mumbled. She felt the ambulance jolt as it rolled to a stop in front of the emergency room. The doors opened, letting in a shaft of sunlight that temporarily blinded Alice as she was lifted onto the pavement.
Inside, she closed her eyes and was lulled by the movement of the stretcher. She heard the emergency room doctor ordering some kind of scan, felt a nurse take a blood sample from her arm.
A scared Liz in tennis whites disappeared from sight as they escorted Alice to another part of the building. By the time she reappeared, Alice was sitting up in a cordoned-off exam room, her feet swinging cheerfully from the exam table.
“Well, somebody looks chipper,” Liz said.
Alice lifted her ice pack in greeting. “I actually do feel a lot better. They said I can go as soon as they look at my scan.” She breathed a silent prayer under her breath. Let the results be normal, Lord.
“Which bump are they scanning?” Liz asked, one eyebrow raised. “One knock on the head is bad luck. Two is some kind of sign. Maybe they should double the tests to make sure.”
Thus far, the best sign Alice had noticed was the complete absence of any hallucinations. No figure in yellow lurking in the background during her CT scan. No voice lecturing about her life’s mistakes.
There was a slight commotion outside of Alice’s exam room. The curtain pulled back to reveal Jamie, his brown eyes wide with concern. A nurse followed with a disapproving look.
“There you are,” Jamie said, breathing a sigh of relief. “The way Liz described it, I thought half your head was bashed in.”
“What are you talking about?” Alice asked. “How did you know I was here?”
“My fault,” Liz said. “His name was at the top of your phone list, so I called him.”
The nurse interrupted. “Excuse me, sir, but you don’t have permission to come through. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait outside.”
Alice shook her head. “It’s OK, let him through. He’s practically family.”
Jamie moved the ice pack against her forehead and inspected the bump. “It doesn’t look too bad. What on earth were you thinking, walking into a post like that?” His familiar grin signaled that he was joking.
She rolled her eyes. “It was an accident, OK? I had my head in the clouds as usual and this is what it gets me.”
“Still no answer from Warren,” Liz said, holding up the phone. “You want me to try his office number?”
“Please,” Alice said. “He’ll be upset if I didn’t get in touch with him.” For a moment, she had almost forgotten about the tumble down the staircase. What would Warren say when he heard about this one?
“All right, Miss Headley, I’ve got good news.” A doctor in scrubs entered, carrying an x-ray sheet. He stuck it on the lighted screen to reveal a scan of Alice’s head.
“No sign of clots or fracture,” he said, his finger indicating the spot where her head struck the metal pole. “Possibly a little swelling, but nothing we’re concerned about for the moment. The same for the other bump as well.”
“The other bump?” Jamie repeated, looking at her with raised eyebrows.
Alice offered a weak smile.
“I’ll schedule a second appointment so we can check your recovery and make sure nothing happens,” the doctor continued. “Just talk to the desk nurse on your way out.”
A nurse entered with two pills and a cup of water. In the hall behind her, Alice glimpsed a feminine figure in yellow. Heart pounding, she blinked and looked again. The figure was still there, but it was a teenager in a bright colored coat.
Liz grabbed her duffel bag and stretched her legs. “I’m going to get something from the vending machine,” she said. “Anybody else want something?”
“No thanks,” Alice said. “I’m not hungry right now.”
Jamie didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket and was busy texting someone. “I have a…well, I’m supposed to meet someone in thirty minutes,” he explained. “I’m trying to get them to postpone it an hour.”
“You should go,” she told him, guilt pricking her conscience. Along with a stab of curiosity as to who this someone was he had to meet. If it was work-related he would say so. A date, maybe?
“Jamie, please don’t feel you have to hang around here,” she continued. “Not that it wasn’t sweet of you to come—”
“I know, I know,” he interrupted gently. “But your mom’s not close enough, so I figured an old friend would have to do. And you can’t chase me off with phony excuses, so don’t even try.” He offered her a crooked smile, his fingers never missing a beat as they flew over the number board.
She bit her lip, uncertain what to say. Jamie’s protective nature warmed her heart, tugging her lips into a reluctant smile. But right now, she needed alone time to sort out her future and the diamond ring sitting on the dresser at home.
Tossing the ice pack onto the counter, she rubbed her aching neck. Why did everything in life have to be so dramatic? If only Warren hadn’t given her that ring last night, none of this would be happening now.
“Oh, you think so, do you?” The sound of that smoke-infused voice chilled Alice’s heart to the core. Unable to help herself, she groaned aloud.
Aunt Phylis gave her a little wave from the seat in the corner.
Ghosts Of Romances Past
5
“What is it?” Jamie followed Alice’s gaze to the exam room corner, which was empty of anything except a metal chair.
“Nothing.” Alice’s voice sounded faint in her ears. Popping the pills in her mouth, she downed the water in a single swallow. “I need to get out of here.”
Sliding off the table, she fumbled around. Her bag was still in the locker room at the tennis courts. “Great,” she said, rubbing her forehead. “My wallet and clothes are back at the club.”
Jamie took her elbow and steered her gently towards the chair. “Sit down for a moment. I’m gonna go get the doctor—”
“No!” she snapped. “I don’t need a doctor. I just need my things and then I can go home and rest. I should have cancelled the tennis match last…well, right after that first little stumble.” She pulled away from his grip and yanked open the curtain. “I have to find Liz and get a ride back.”
“I can take you,” Jamie said. “Just calm down and let me find her.” Giving Alice a concerned look, he loped off.
She knew she was acting stran
ge, but she couldn’t help it. Running fingers through her hair, she paced the hallway, waiting for him to come back. A flash of yellow caught her eye, but it was only a basket of bananas being delivered to a patient’s room.
Maybe the pain relievers were having a dire effect on her mind. No, that wasn’t it; she hadn’t taken the pills before she hallucinated. Maybe her brain was swollen, like the doctor suggested.
But didn’t people with those symptoms usually end up in a coma? She couldn’t remember, but she’d seen it once or twice in medical shows.
Jamie reappeared out of nowhere. “Liz is gonna fill out the forms here and make you a new appointment before she catches a cab. I’ll drive you back to the tennis courts so you can pick up your stuff, and then I’ll take you home.”
“I have to find Warren,” she said. “He’s still there somewhere, and he doesn’t know I left. When he hears about this, he’ll think...well, he’ll think I’m a klutz, anyway.”
“Fine. You can find Warren.” Jamie sounded irritable. “Then you need to go home and lie down for a while.”
The car ride to the tennis court was quiet. Alice drummed her fingers on the door, trying to think about anything but Aunt Phylis. You can’t have a conversation with a hallucination, she reminded herself. So you weren’t really talking about your love life with anyone. It just seemed that way.
Jamie glanced at her briefly as he wove his way through traffic on the interstate. He was tense and silent—two sides of him Alice seldom saw. That was the positive part of being friends with artists, she always said, until one saw the moody side of creativity.
He pulled into a parking space and switched off the ignition. Alice bounded from the passenger seat and went towards the entrance.
“Is Mr. Stuart still on court five?” she asked the receptionist, who checked the logs after a brief pause.