[Whispering Woods 01.0] The Waiting Booth

by Brinda Berry

  I was pulled to my feet, my hands still held behind my back with just enough pressure to disable me as we crossed the lot toward my apartment. He opened the door, which had, to my extreme dismay, been left open by whoever last left. I yelped as he shoved me down onto the sofa before backing away.

  His chest expanded with two or three deep breaths. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “Calm down and give me an opportunity to tell you why I’m here.” This was delivered in a calm, soothing tone as if he was addressing a spooked horse. I imagine that’s what I looked like. I certainly felt like an edgy mare. My hands shook with such force that clasping them together only forced the vibrations up to my teeth, which chattered in time to my racing pulse.

  Gresham stood back from me, obviously afraid to make another move. With a great deal of effort, I switched tactics. I nodded my head slowly and forced a relaxed expression. My hands only slightly shook when I placed them on my knees and scooted toward the edge of the sofa.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ve calmed down.”

  Gresham’s high cheekbones looked even more severe in his irritation, but he nonetheless stalked toward me. “Good, now, where to begi—Ooof.”

  I launched myself at him, intending to get a good shot at his eyeballs…or the other pair of balls…whatever I came in contact with. The move was naive, ill-advised. Just as I thought I was doing a fair job of attacking, he flipped me onto my back, straddled my hips, and held my hands above my head.

  “Dammit, girl.” His growl was laced with more than irritation. “Will you stop this? I just want to talk to you.” He was furious. His breath came hard and his face was dark, severe. The bulk of him towered over me, and I couldn’t see anything around his wide-set shoulders.

  “Yeah? Tell that to your pants, asshole.” I could feel his substantial erection pressing onto my pelvic bone as he sat atop me, looming over me and pinning down my arms as I fought to free myself. I should’ve known putting up a fight would turn on someone like him.

  I wondered frantically where my roommate, Lizzie, was before the harsh reality of my circumstances set in. No one was going to save me. Fear and panic were replaced by despair, and my throat swelled and convulsed with emotion. Tears welled in my eyes as I met Gresham’s gaze. Despite my nearly crippling fear, I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and with the full force of my gaze pleaded with him not to hurt me, to walk away.

  Gresham’s face fell in horror as realization dawned, and before a single tear could fall, he was off of me and across the room. The barstool scraped loudly over the aged linoleum as he drug it from its nest beneath the counter. He fell roughly onto the stool and buried his face in his hands.

  For several moments neither of us dared breathe. The tone of his voice had changed when he spoke again. It was remorseful; almost tortured. “I’m sorry, Stella,” he said. “I…there’s nothing I can say to excuse my behavior. But please try to forgive me. I assure you you were never in any danger. It’s just a physical response. I have no desire to…I would never…I’m sorry.”

  The defeated set of his shoulders and the fear and panic in his eyes told me he was completely horrified. I believed him—at least in that.

  “I can see no productive conversation can be had today,” he said. “I’ll leave. But I must speak with you, and soon. Will you meet me tomorrow morning?”

  “What, so you can kidnap me again? I don’t think so. Get the hell out of my house.”

  His face, until then contrite, flashed rage before he caught himself. “Stella, I have information on your father. And there is more I—”

  My head jerked in confusion at the mention of my father. I’d never known him, and my mother was stubbornly silent on the topic. I had tried for years to find information about him. I didn’t know the story of their courtship or my conception. As any child would, I asked why I didn’t have a daddy like the other kids at school. Mom either changed the subject or told me families come in all shapes and sizes and we were lucky to have each other. When it’s all you know, you accept your reality and move on. She never remarried; she never dated.

  “My father?” I breathed. “What could you know of my father?”

  “I know important things you don’t,” he said, his brow furrowing with the emotion behind his words. “And much that you should.”

  I worried my lip between my teeth; shook my head. Despite my attempt not to, the fact was I believed him. “I do want to know about my father,” I said. “But I also want you out of this apartment.” My head throbbed with the effort to form a plan. I wanted whatever information he claimed he had, but wasn’t comfortable being alone with him. “I’ll give you my number. You can call me later. After we’ve had a chance to calm down. You can tell me whatever’s so important then.”

  His amber eyes took on a kinder look. A gentler one. “It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s…it’s complicated. And incredible. Besides, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” I mumbled, and he shot me a censorious look.

  “Look, do you want to learn about your father or not?” he asked. He had me at a disadvantage, and he knew it. I was desperate for information. When I made no answer he continued, “Let’s meet somewhere public in the morning. Did you see the coffee shop near the accident today?”

  We agreed to meet and he let himself out, wary of getting too close and frightening me again. The moment he was gone, I engaged both the handle and deadbolt locks, then headed down the hall to my room and shut the door.

  I crashed face-first onto my fluffy down comforter and let the tears flow. I cried in release of the panic that had overwhelmed me over the last hour. I cried for my beloved car, and for my favorite handbag. I cried because I had no idea what to do next, and I cried because I always thought my life would turn out differently; that it would be epic. I cried because it was the third time I’d cried that day when I never got emotional. And I cried because my nose was running and my tissue box was empty. Next thing I knew, streaks of morning sunlight skimmed across my sleep-swollen face, warming my cheeks despite the cold dread I felt inside.

  Rare Form

  Chapter Two

  I had reason to be wary of Rowan Gresham when I saw him at the coffee shop. Crazy doesn’t always look crazy. Sometimes it looks like the most handsome and refined gentleman ever encountered in one’s short life.

  Gresham sat at a corner table for two but the confident set of his shoulders, the rigid turn of his jaw, and the indiscriminate menace in his glare occupied the space of half a dozen. The pendant light above him had blown providing a concealing shadow, and despite the prime coffee consumption hour the tables around him stood deserted. I wasn’t the only one who picked up on his threatening vibe.

  The gray counter near the register betrayed streaks of white from repeated abuse as half-conscious and completely-apathetic baristas slid hot beverages across it day after day. I ordered a large latte and added a shot of mocha at the last minute because I sure deserved it after the day I’d had.

  The air in the coffee shop was infused with the thick, robust aroma of coffee beans, and I took a fortifying breath. Blind courage was what I needed to face him again. It had gotten me this far. Just a bit further yet to go.

  I made my way to the back table and sat across from Gresham, who stood while I approached and sat again once I was seated. This unfamiliar display of chivalry pleased me, but I hastily remembered I hated him and quelled any gushy feelings.

  “Thank you for coming, Stella. I had my doubts you would. Do you care for anything besides coffee?”

  Rowan Gresham had a slight accent. Not English, exactly. Not French. I couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed to have the influence of a romance language. He rolled the “r” in ‘care.’ Sexy.

  No, Stonewall. He’s a weirdo, remember?

  His lightweight black sweater probably cost more than my entire ensemble, which that day was noth
ing to sneeze at. I’d worn my navy sheath dress, the one cut a little too low in the back and a little too high in the hemline. A patterned belt cinched my waist and defined the line of my chest. Casual ballet flats ensured the outfit still said ‘daytime.’

  “I almost didn’t.” I forced the words out and raised my chin. “But I couldn’t overcome my curiosity.” Nerves inspired me to swipe an imaginary strand of auburn hair behind my ear. “So? Let’s hear it. What do you know about my father? And just so you know,” I warned, “I asked the woman at the counter to keep an eye on our table, should you get any more ideas about throwing me over your shoulder. And three people know I’m meeting you.” A complete lie. I hadn’t even told my roommate Lizzie the truth about the meeting.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that,” he stammered uncomfortably. “But you must admit that the first time was to save your life, and the second…well, I did need you to get you into the car quickly.” To his credit, he looked abashed as his gaze shot to the floor and he licked dry lips.

  “Well, let’s get right down to it, then, Mr. Gresham.” I sat back in my seat, crossed my arms and gave him my best scowl—eyebrows pulled together in the middle and everything. “What do you want to tell me so desperately that you were willing to kidnap me?”

  He gave me a smile that was less like a smile and more like a you-were-cute-for-a-minute-but-now-shut-the-hell-up.

  “I have some information I’m afraid is going to give you a bit of a shock. There’s no real way to ease into it. The world…you…things are not what they seem.”

  He was silent for a moment and scrunched up his face, turning his head from side to side as if he was trying to work out some great mystery. He hesitated so long I thought he wouldn’t go on. But then he set his square jaw and nodded once.

  “Look, I’ll just dive right into it. Stop me if you have questions. There exists a whole other realm in which beings have varying lineages, abilities, knowledge. This world is parallel to the one you know, but it is vastly different. My world knows of yours, of course, but very few people within your world have the slightest idea about mine.”

  “Well, sure,” I said and leaned back in my chair to look over my shoulder and see if a) anyone had overheard the whackjob, and b) I could make it to the exit before he grabbed me again.

  “You will undoubtedly find this impossible to believe, and for that reason and for the sake of saving valuable time, I’ve brought a substantial token of proof of my world’s existence.”

  I was reeling from his sudden louie into Looney Land, but this profession did grab my attention. Visions of tin-foil Fedoras and Hot Pockets bearing the likeness of Baby Jesus filled my mind as I waited for him to produce his ‘proof.’

  Idly, I concluded it was surely one of life’s great travesties that such a fine specimen of a man was a raging nut-job.

  I looked up to find Gresham glancing nervously around the coffee shop. He put his hands under the table and motioned with his head and eyes that I should look down.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, great. More penis tricks. No freakin’ way.” I shook my head on a smirk. The guy was unbelievable.

  His eyes bulged and his jaws clenched in silent disapproval of my resistance. He made a jerky nod toward the floor again.

  “Oh, what the hell. Seen one, you’ve seen ’em all.” I leaned over and peeked at what he wanted so badly to show me under the table.

  What I saw under that table shelved any further sarcasm because there, plain as the smirk on my face, was the tiniest person I had ever seen. Dressed in a three-piece brown tweed suit, he looked more like an old-world attorney than a mythical creature, though he did have facial hair enough to deserve the gnome moniker. Or was that a gnomiker? The distinguished little man stood with hands on his hips and tapped a foot in impatience. Despite being the size of a large doll, he managed to look down his spectacles at me and raised a furry eyebrow in the universally understood, ‘Well, seen enough?’

  I nodded numbly in answer to his silent question. Gresham offered his own nod of thanks to the little man, and then he was gone.

  I aimed for cool and collected, but my heart raced madly and my mouth was so dry I couldn’t move my tongue. I reached for my latte, but my hand shook so that I returned it to my lap. I smoothed my dress against my legs in an attempt to rid my hands of their sudden moisture.

  No. I did not just see what I thought I saw. Not possible.

  “Since you seem to be at a loss for words—a phenomenon I don’t take lightly since in my experience you rarely have little to say—I‘ll proceed.”

  I shook my head dumbly—again—so Gresham continued.

  “My world is made of beings far different than this one. The major variant between the two is that humans on Earth evolved from primates, while the residents of Thayer evolved from many groups within the animal kingdom. Thayerians trace their ancestry from hoofed animals like deer and horses, from wolves, bears, amphibians, as well as primates.”

  My eyes lost focus as I considered his words.

  “Are you still with me?”

  “Yes,” I croaked. My brain-to-mouth function was firing at a snail’s pace.

  “Another marked difference is that Thayer is a far more magical realm. Since it’s much older, and our people have varying lineages and talents, we have developed and learned to control supernatural abilities.”

  I didn’t believe what he was saying for one minute. Another world? No. I’d know if something, somewhere else existed. Wouldn’t I? Astrophysicists and astronomers would know if worlds existed parallel to ours. Wouldn't they?

  “You expect me to believe all this? That there’s another world out there where people evolved from wolves and birds?”

  “I know it will be hard to accept,” he said.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I scoffed. “You’re trying to demolish the foundation of the very existence I’ve stood on my entire life, and you think it’ll be ‘hard to accept’?”

  “I’m sorry, Stella. This situation is unusual. I’m doing the best I can. Please try to keep an open mind.”

  “Having an open mind would mean trying bok choy or bungee jumping. What you’re asking is outrageous, Mr. Gresham. A parallel world? Come on.”

  He didn’t address my protests, but continued, “Ironically, despite having been in existence far longer than this one, ours is a world that exists now as yours once did—an age gone by, a simpler way of life, but with the benefit of modern technology and scientific knowledge. It is a world that I wish yours had turned out to be. But somewhere along the line people of your developed world began seeking fortunes and possessions forgot what the pursuit of happiness is all about.”

  I was not offended at Gresham’s negative synopsis of our culture. It was true, after all, especially in first world countries. As I pictured the world he described and imagined simpler times and hairier people, I found that his description of this ‘alternate realm’ sounded dreamy. I mean, I loved an episode of Andy Griffith as much as the next girl. Throw in magic and technology and, well, sold.

  Sadly, his description of a variegated utopia made it obvious that poor Mr. Gresham’s elevator did not go all the way to the top floor. Bless his heart, he was an eggroll short of a pu pu platter.

  On the other hand I had just seen a real-life gnome. Perhaps I was the one thisclose to converting to Scientology.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s say—hypothetically—your perfect little magic world does exist, and I really did just see with my own eyes a tiny little professor. Why did you hunt me down? Why tell me all this? What does it have to do with me? And what can you tell me about my father?”

  “Yes, well…” The sides of Gresham’s mouth pulled back and down to reveal a thin line of his bottom teeth. “This is the difficult part, isn’t it?” He shrugged and let out a long breath. “One of your parents was born in our world. You’re half Thayerian. And despite being only partially so, you already have or will inherit certain….abilities…
characteristic of your family’s lineage.”

  I sat, mouth agape, for what seemed like an eternity. I ran his last statement over and over in my head, denying its possibility outright. For fun I tried to imagine my mother as an otherworldly being. I mean, she ain’t right, but I would never have considered her ‘alien.’

  I wasn’t ready to board Gresham’s locomotive to Locotown and shook my head in an effort to clear it. What he said could not be true. But I had just seen a tiny man. Wearing a suit.

  Maybe my suspicions that magic existed were true. Sometimes I daydreamed that if I just thought hard enough; just knew the right things to think or say, I could make something magical happen. Sometimes when I looked at the stars I felt they were looking back—that they were sentient. I was drawn to them like the sailors of old, and felt their pull as sure as gravity’s.

  But there was no way people evolved from animals other than apes. Hell, it was a miracle I believed in evolution at all. Since childhood it had been ingrained in me that evolution didn’t exist. That ‘Man has always walked Earth as we do now,’ and ‘God made Adam and Eve in his own likeness’ was drilled into my head from the time I could talk. In high school my science teacher refused to teach us the subject of evolution. I’ll never forget the day he said, “Class, the next chapter is on the theory of evolution. You can read it yourselves but I won’t, as a Christian, teach it.”

  You bet I read that chapter. What’s more, I became a science major.

  I sat in stunned silence in the coffee shop; this time deep in thought. My erratic breathing had slowed, but my mind continued to race. The idea of Thayer and its people was completely enthralling. I had always been a little odd. I was the girl that drew unicorns on her notebook—the one who looked for rainbows and spun in circles on the playground. Normal girls dream of their wedding day, but not me. I always wondered who I would be, not whose bride. I never really fit in.