Today would be a memorable step toward freedom, and there was one last thing she had to do before it would be complete. When she had first been admitted, the staff had stripped her of any writing implements for fear that she’d use them against herself as a weapon. Apparently crazy people did that sometimes, Haley later realized when one girl on her floor unsuccessfully tried to use her sheets to hang herself. But Haley wasn’t crazy. She had been in love. And when her treatments verified that she wasn’t suicidal, they started giving her perks, like pens and paper.
Four months into her stay at the hospital, her counselor encouraged her to get involved in creative forms of communicating her feelings through writing. Of course, writing was Haley’s second love, so she immediately got on board with the therapy. Each day she had turned over her journals and creative writing to her psychiatrist, yet there was one little secret she kept to herself, well-hidden and highly confidential. She could never let them find it.
Haley went over to her bedside table and lifted it up. While one hand tilted the table upward, the other hand reached around underneath it, feeling for the paper that was tucked into the wooden joints. Then she felt it. She pried the stack of white college-ruled paper from where she had shoved it in place and pulled it down. It was a film script of all the thoughts and feelings she experienced since meeting Marc—her own form of self-therapy. It contained the events that never happened, except within her mind, and was the only way to get the thoughts out. It was the only way she could relive the memories with Marc. Though her therapists tried to erase them, they would always remain. They were a part of her, a part that would never die.
During her quiet moments, she would close her eyes and see him, breathe him, and love him. She endured the separation for him—for their future together. And her heart knew he was waiting for her as well, for the day she’d come home at last. She had planned the ending to their story together for the past several months, and the time had finally come to write it down, every last detail.
With one more thing needing to happen to secure her and Marc’s future, she was ready to execute it and bring it to fruition. It was time to finish the story. She got up from the bed and walked softly to the door to her room. Peering around the doorframe, the hallway was completely vacant. She’d have just enough time before the nurse came with her clothes and other personal effects that had been confiscated upon arrival.
She turned off the light switch and dug a long index fingernail into the single screw that held the switch plate on. The screw was a little loose, loose enough to work out quickly. Her pinkie nail unscrewed it, and she pulled off the plate. Hidden in the work box was a hoard of pills—at least a month’s worth. She stuffed the pills into her bra and quickly replaced the switch plate. No point leaving evidence behind that she hadn’t been taking her meds.
Guessing she’d have about an hour to work, she bounced back to her bed and inhaled one long sweet breath. She grabbed her pen and paper and began writing what would be the conclusion to everything, the finale to a year’s longing:
FADE IN:
EXT: OUTSIDE RESTAURANT BAR
It is early evening, and HALEY MONTGOMERY stands outside the front door leaning against the wall.
HALEY: (talking to self) Tonight’s our night, Marc. Tonight we’ll finally be together at last. I will spend my life making you happy. I promise. I just hope you understand why I have to do this for us to be together. (she inhales deeply, then turns to go inside)
CUT TO:
INT. RESTAURANT BAR
Haley discreetly meanders through the dimly lit restaurant to the bar in the corner. She sits on a stool at the bar. She’s wearing a baseball cap, facing a table where MARC VINCETTI and JULIE CARTER are sitting across the room. Soft Italian opera music is playing in the background and several couples dot the dance floor dancing slowly to the music.
MARC: (looking at Julie’s full plate) Aren’t you hungry, honey?
JULIE: (wincing) No, not really. I don’t know why, but for some reason I’m not feeling too well today. My stomach’s been acting up today. Something’s not right.
MARC: Do you want something to drink? Maybe you should order a ginger ale or something.
JULIE: Yeah, that might help. Thanks, hon.
Marc signals for a waiter, who quickly approaches their table.
WAITER: What can I get for you?
MARC: A ginger ale for the lady, please.
WAITER: I’ll be right back with that for you.
MARC: Thanks. JULIE: Thanks.
The waiter leaves and Marc and Julie sit in silence listening to the music.
MARC: (looking about the room) Are you feeling well enough to dance?
JULIE: (considering) Are you serious? Right now?
MARC: (gesturing with his hand) Sure. C’mon. I want to dance with you.
He stands up and holds out his hand. Julie giggles and covers her mouth, then accepts his hand and follows him to the dance floor. While they are dancing, the waiter returns with Julie’s ginger ale. He leaves it in front of Julie’s empty seat. Suddenly, Haley bolts from her seat at the bar and runs to the empty table. She pulls from her pocket a bag.
HALEY: (keeping her eye on Marc and Julie dancing) You should have thought before you went after another woman’s man, Julie.
She looks to make sure no one is watching, then dumps the contents of the bag—a heap of ground up powdered pills—into the drink and stirs it with Julie’s spoon until it dissolves.
HALEY: You’ll be sleeping well tonight—and forever. Enjoy your last night on earth, Julie.
Haley stuffs the empty bag in her pocket and rushes back to her seat at the bar. Her eyes are fixed on Marc and Julie dancing.
MARC: (brushing his fingers against Julie’s cheek) Y’know, something tells me that tonight is going to be a special night.
JULIE: (leaning her face into his touch) Hmmm… I think you might be right.
The music slows, then fades. Marc and Julie walk hand-in-hand back to their table and sit down. Haley watches intently from her seat at the bar. She pulls the brim of her ball cap down a little more to shadow her face.
MARC: (grabs Julie’s hands from across the table) I have something I’ve been wanting to ask you.
The flicker of the candlelight illuminates Julie’s face.
JULIE: (smiling shyly) Oh really? Now I’m curious.
Julie lets go of Marc’s hand and absentmindedly reaches for her drink—the spiked ginger ale—and pulls it closer to her. She holds it with both hands and pulls it up to her lips. Yet she pauses and holds the glass there, hovering just below her mouth.
MARC: Well, you know I’m always full of surprises. (he laughs)
JULIE: (joins in laughter) That’s true. So what do you want to ask me?
Haley is still intently watching, mumbling something inaudible to herself.
MARC: (fumbles through the inside pocket of his blazer) I want to ask you…
While Marc reaches into his jacket pocket, Julie takes a sip of her drink. Haley smiles wide as she watches from afar.
HALEY: (to herself) Goodnight, Julie.
Marc pulls out a black box and sets it on the table. Julie’s eyes widen with surprise. He opens the velvet lid, revealing a diamond ring. The table candlelight sparkles against the stone.
MARC: Will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest man for the rest of our lives?
JULIE: Yes! Yes I will marry you! This is the happiest day of my life.
HALEY: (whispers) And the last.
DISSOLVE OUT
“Haley, are you ready to go?” The nurse’s voice startled Haley, and she whipped her head up and quickly spun her hand and the papers behind her, and sat on them.
The nurse carried a bag and dumped the contents beside where Haley sat. A sweater, jeans, tennis shoes, and a matching ring and necklace tumbled out of the bag onto the bed.
“Does this look like everything?”
“Yep, I think that’s everything,” Ha
ley answered sweetly. She was getting better and better at the act every day. But today it started weighing on her. Guilt. She sensed it near.
“Well, then you can go ahead and get dressed and they’ve arranged for transportation for you. Your mom has been notified, but you can call her from the desk downstairs if you want to talk to her before you leave. Any questions?”
“No, none that I can think of. But I do want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Without the staff here, I wouldn’t have been able to get better and be going home right now.”
A warm, beaming smile etched across the nurse’s face and she pulled Haley into a bear hug.
“You are so sweet, Haley. I know you’ll be just fine out there.”
“Yeah, I think so too.”
“Just remember—one day at a time,” the nurse said as she let go and walked to the door. Haley nodded affirmatively and watched her disappear around the corner and out of sight. When the soft tread of footsteps dwindled in the distance, Haley grabbed the jeans the nurse had dropped off and reached into the back pocket to see if it was still there. She felt the crinkled paper. Yep, it was still there. She pulled it out and unfolded it.
Marc’s handsome face looked back at her. It was one of her favorite pictures because usually his gaze looked past the camera. Rarely could she get a direct front-face shot. But this particular picture captured everything she loved so much about him—from the sparkle in his eyes to the crease of his mouth. She turned the photo over.
Always and forever.
“Don’t worry, baby,” her voice strained, nearly scratching over the words before pocketing the picture. “I’ll be coming for you soon. We’ll be together once again.”
She needed her happily ever after.
Chapter 48
Sure enough, the letter the receptionist held out to Haley had her name on it. As Haley dropped her bag to the floor to wish her final farewell to Suzie at the front desk, the sweet black receptionist with perfect white teeth practically glowing beneath fire-engine red lipstick dropped an envelope in Haley’s open hand.
“This be addressed to you, sweetheart,” Suzie said with her likable southern drawl. “And I cancelled the cab since your mom wants to pick you up instead.”
“Thanks, Suzie.” Haley saw no familiarity in the handwriting; it wasn’t from her mother—the only person who had written her since first being admitted. And it was postmarked from Westfield, so it couldn’t have been her own handwriting disguised.
With a distracted wave good-bye, Haley grabbed her belongings and headed for an empty chair in the open lobby area where her mother was to pick her up. She wriggled into the seat and let her fingers drape over the edge of the envelope. Something within her warned her—or perhaps not so much a warning but a promise—that this letter would change her life.
Her fingers hesitated before slipping under the crease, and with a smooth movement she tore an opening in the fold. A college-width lined piece of paper was folded into thirds, and even before opening it she could tell the whole page had been taken up with inked handwriting. She unfolded the paper, then read:
Dear Haley:
I hope this letter doesn’t come too late, but I’ve had plenty of time to think about what I wanted to say to you if given the opportunity, so here goes.
Everyone needs forgiveness. Everyone has struggles. Maybe we’re all mental in one way or another… some of us just hide it better than others. But we all seek the same thing: love. A love that knows no conditions, a love that accepts us in our broken, frail humanity. That’s why you picked me, isn’t it? You wanted love.
It’s a need we’re born with. You’re not crazy for wanting it; you just went about it all the wrong way. So I’ve written you to share with you the right way. While I can’t offer you my love, I can offer you the only real source of it, and He’s the one who created you. He’s the one who can wipe the slate clean for all the dark things you’ve done, all the dark thoughts you’ve entertained. I’m sure you’ve heard it before—God is love. That’s not just a catchphrase, Haley. It’s real. I learned it the hard way too, and it’s something I’ll never let go of. So, you’re not alone, Haley. Just accept the free gift that only true love can give: forgiveness. I forgive you for what you’ve done to me, and I hope you’ll forgive yourself and let God heal you… and love you. I promise that if you stop trying to find it everywhere else, you’ll find it in Him.
Marc
Tears threatened. Her throat tightened. As Haley laid the open letter on her lap, a drop fell from her eye, rolled down her cheek, splattered on the paper.
Accept it, something told her. Someone, rather. Her head turned in search of the voice, but no one was near. Was it God? Was He really speaking to her?
Accept the gift—forgiveness.
But I’m not worthy of forgiveness, she pleaded with the voice. “It’s too late for me,” the words audibly came out.
It’s never too late.
Marc offered to let it all go. No twisted repeat performances. No more nightmares. No more blackouts. No more searching for a love that didn’t exist. There was a promise right in front of her—a promise to start over. Accept it, or reject it. That was the choice.
Accept it, again came the soft whisper.
Haley reached into her jeans’ back pocket where her past, present, and future was tucked behind the fold of fabric. The picture of Marc. She examined it more carefully. It was just a face of a man, a man she hardly knew. A man who didn’t love her. Was this really what she had been fighting for?
Let me love you, the voice spoke with more urgency this time, in a way that Marc can’t.
She gazed at Marc’s face—yet the picture grew fuzzy with the onslaught of tears. Her fingers grabbed the photo paper, then tore it in half. And in half again and again until it was nothing but a pile of unrecognizable shreds. Her body crumpled to a mass at the floor, but no one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. And she was glad. She wanted no comfort except that of the only One who could comfort her.
No faking this time as she laid bare her soul before her Maker on the grime-crusted lobby floor as white-smocked nurses ambled by.
It was real this time as she surrendered her make-believe world for the real one. Finally it was finished. She could move on… in the realest sense of the word.
Epilogue
Haley’s foot touched the brake, then eased off as she turned into her gravel driveway. The familiar crunch of rock beneath her tires welcomed her home. She’d spent the drive home with her mother catching up on all the latest Westfield gossip—Blake Hendricks finally proposed to Brenda (it only took him a decade!), Katrina Hodgins was pregnant after four years of trying, and Jeannie Coswell got her tongue pierced to complement her latest tattoo rebellion.
WHAM 1180’s news radio compensated for any lack of conversational fodder, though with Haley drilling Gabrielle about everything and everyone, there was rarely a dull moment.
Except for this particular moment.
Haley relished a moment of nostalgia as they approached her home, where she belonged and where she would help her mother pick up the pieces of their old life and rebuild. That was her focus now; love and Hollywood could wait.
As her eyes scanned the knee-high weeds lining the driveway, something on the radio begged for her attention.
“A verdict in the Susan Michaels murder case has been reached today,” the news anchor said.
Haley reached for the volume knob and turned it up.
“Sorry, Mom, but I gotta hear this,” Haley said.
The car jolted to a stop, humming in the background.
“After the latest evidence exonerated her husband, Allen Michaels, investigators have found producer Brett Copper guilty of all charges. When his alibi was debunked as to his whereabouts during the murder, investigators researched cell phone records that showed Susan’s last call before her death was to Copper. Furthermore, DNA showed her pregnant with his child.”
“Oh my go
odness,” Gabrielle muttered.
“During the trial,” the news anchor continued, “the jury felt the motive and evidence were sufficient to put Copper behind the murder. More about the case can be found on our website. Allen Michaels, in true Hollywood flair, has already sold the rights to his memoir chronicling the details of the events, titled A Fatal Affair: The Allen Michaels Story.”
Haley turned off the radio as the anchorwoman moved on to less interesting news. As the car drifted forward again, she glanced at her mom. “Well, I guess I know what I’ll be reading next.”
Author’s Note
Erotomania (i-rō-tƏ-mā-nē-Ə); noun: a psychological disorder marked by the delusional belief that one is the object of another person's love or sexual desire.
In February of 2006, I met a real-life erotomaniac. In fact, I was his obsession. One never would have guessed he was anything but normal, despite a few eccentricities. For several months after a terrible ordeal involving a night of terror, followed by police intervention, a job change, as well as a move, I struggled to forget it, let it go. But it persisted to haunt me. There was only one way to relinquish the pain of the memory: forgive.
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