Leonard removed his sunglasses, placed them on the seat between them. “Take your garbage with you and dump it in the trash can.” He aimed his chin to the sandwich bag on the floor by Kevin’s feet.
Silently, Kevin gathered his trash and exited the car, grinning and shaking his head.
Leonard peered into the rearview mirror, eyeing his age with disappointment. The lines around his eyes, the bags they carried, the thinning hair beneath his police hat. Why does life have to be so stressful? he wondered, straightening his hat, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. He tried to convince himself that he really didn’t know what real stress was all about, that people without families, those suffering from sickness and loss were the ones who could effortlessly reveal daunting tales of stress and anxiety. He loved being a police officer in Fairview. He loved his wife. He loved his son. So then why am I feeling so...so bored, so tired?
By his own admission, Leonard had considered his recent ‘blues’ to be a mild case of clinical depression. Lately he’d been spending much of his free time by himself, tinkering with the only things that brought him joy: old movies, old books, both rich with content that intrigued the mind and sparked the imagination. Classic Science Fiction cinema like Forbidden Planet and Invasion of the Body Snatchers offered him as much escapism as classic novels by Arthur C. Clarke and HG Wells. More recently he moved on to audiobooks, falling asleep every night listening to James Mason reading from Jules Verne’s Journey To The Center Of The Earth. He was only happy when he escaped his home life, when he had something exciting to appreciate. And as he drifted further and further away from reality, his family’s devotion and adoration began to stray. Here, Leonard began having feelings of guilt.
Janice Moldofsky urged him to seek professional help, explained to him that finding an objective listener could help him understand why he lost his drive to laugh, to sing, to partake in family activities. Not even sex interested him anymore. He’d explained to Janice that it wasn’t anything personal, that he still loved her and Greg with all his heart and worked every day in order to provide for them. That when he looked into Janice’s chocolate eyes he still saw the young Bette Davis look-alike that he fell in love with and married thirty-two years ago. He also made her understand that he knew, implicitly, that Janice still loved him and wanted only the best for him and their relationship.
All he asked for was time. Time to figure out exactly what it was that bothered him, and how he could go about fixing it on his own. He hoped that she would be willing to give him as much time as he needed. To not speak bluntly of her feelings, to allow him to find progress in small, easy steps. He compared his personal healing to a budding relationship: it needed exploration from within, a savoring of each and every thread in the steadily strengthening bond between two people. We are those two people in need of obligation, and the assurance that we will work and grow together just as we did thirty-two years ago. Although Leonard’s own words made sense to himself, he wasn’t positive that Janice fully understood. Regardless, she smiled and hugged him and allowed him to work out his own personal demons, given he talk to her on a regular basis, update him on his soul-searching progress. He agreed, and did. So far, it hadn’t helped him toward any degree of success, but it appeased Janice for the time being.
Leonard stepped from the car, shut the door behind him. He felt the warm speckled glow of the sun against the skin of his arms as it broke through the jostling leaves of the huge elm. It felt good, made his skin tingle. He stretched his body, arms over head, the bones in his back popping like snapping fingers. He let out a groan, and realized suddenly that for most of today an unfamiliar frame of mind toyed with his senses, bringing back memories of what it felt like to be excited. He sensed the beginnings of exhilaration, all because he had something to look forward to.
Courtesy of Richard Sparke.
“You coming, Len?”
Leonard looked over at Kevin, nodded. Young. Good-looking guy. No wife, no kids. Spends his free time hanging out in bars hunting down dates for the weekend. Is that what I really want? He reminded himself that the grass is always greener on the other side, and that happiness is what you really make of it. So be happy with what you have. I am happy with everything I have, except my age, he thought, and realized with sadness that with retirement looming, he’d no longer have his career.
He walked beside Kevin. “We’ll check out the emergency room first, then the front desk, just in case she admitted herself.”
They entered the emergency room entrance through a motion-sensitive door that slid open nearly fifteen feet before they reached it. Leonard hadn’t realized it wasn’t them who’d set it off until an attractive tan-skinned woman with bleach-blonde hair made an exit, placing sunglasses on before walking past them. Kevin smiled in her direction, but she mostly ignored him, taking only his uniform into account. They both turned to gaze further, Kevin presumably to admire her backroad curves, Leonard because there was something vaguely familiar about her. Something he just couldn’t place.
“Len...c’mon.”
Leonard shook away the thoughts and entered the hospital. A broad pale gray corridor greeted them, a similarly-colored tile floor leading the way inside. Two doors had been propped open, allowing them entrance into a waiting room where a white-uniformed attendant sat at a desk in an alcove on the right. She was busily punching away at a computer keypad, eyes transfixed to a monitor on her left. They approached the alcove where the air smelled vaguely of antiseptics. To the left of the alcove a door led into the emergency area, where a small window allowed Leonard to see a few doctors and nurses slowly standing and moving and talking beneath the glare of a fluorescent light. Not too many emergencies in Fairview today, it seemed.
“Can I help you?” The woman looked up, slightly embarrassed that two uniformed police officers had come into the waiting room, expecting her attention. Her curt tone changed--now light, fair, and apologetic. “Oh...what can I help you with?”
The woman had a pleasing look, small boned, a complexion the shade of nutmeg whose dark eyes held traces of gold that seemed to glow as if tiny fires roared behind them. The pin she wore said ‘Dolly’, a name no less gentle than her appearance.
“Hello, Dolly,” Leonard said. Kevin giggled but Leonard didn’t get it.
“I get that all the time,” Dolly said. “Imagine what all us ‘Dollys’ in the world have to go through.”
Leonard grinned, unamused. At that moment a nurse opened the door leading into the emergency area. She smiled at the cops, then nodded toward one of two men seated in the emergency waiting room. Wearing jeans and sneakers, a twenty-something man held the side of his head as if the mother of all migraines had paid him an unexpected visit. He and the nurse disappeared behind the door.
Leonard looked back at Dolly. “We were wondering if a woman had come by today. Last name Bergin, first name Pamela.”
Dolly went to her computer. She shook her head. “No...no one in emergency. Let me check surgery.”
“She would have come in late this morning, about two hours ago.”
“If that’s the case, then the name would be in my records, unless it was a life-threatening situation. A heart-attack, car accident. I haven’t seen anything like that in a few days though. No, nothing in surgery either. I’m afraid there’s no one here by that name.”
Leonard’s hunch seemed correct. “Thank you for your help anyway. Much appreciated.”
“Sorry.”
Kevin tipped his hat as they walked away. Leonard stopped, thinking about...
He turned and walked back to the desk. “Dolly?”
“Yes?”
“Who was that woman that walked out of here a few minutes ago? We passed her walking in.”
Dolly creased her brows in thought.
“Platinum blonde, sunglasses. Tan skin.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, she didn’t come through emergency--I think I would’ve remembered that look.” She smiled. “Yo
u can ask at the front desk for check-out information. There’ll be records. Unless she was a visitor, of course. Visitors don’t have to check in.”
Leonard smiled. “Thank you for all your help.”
Exiting the emergency room, Kevin gave Leonard a shit-eating grin. “Looking for a little spice in your life, partner?”
“Stuff it, Kevin.”
“C’mon, I saw the way you looked at her when we walked in. Your eyes were falling out of your head.”
“Stop it, will you?”
“You thought she was attractive, no?”
“The blonde?”
“Yes, the blonde. I mean, she was hot, but more my speed. Too young for you, old man. Nothing personal, of course.”
“I’m married, Kevin. And I’m not interested in her. I just thought she looked familiar, that’s all.”
“Okay, okay. No need to get so defensive.”
“I’m not being defensive. I’m being serious. Doing my job.”
They reached the car. The sun had shifted slightly in the sky, a few beams now escaping the edges of the elm’s canopy, illuminating the passenger door. “So that’s why you asked about her? Because you thought she looked familiar?”
Leonard remained silent, thinking, thinking. Where have I seen that face before?
They got in the car. He placed the keys in the ignition, but didn’t start it. “It’s strange, but her face...I saw it only for a second, but it’s sticking with me. She looked so damn familiar...”
“If I’d ever crossed paths with a lady that looked like that, I’d remember her. Especially with that hair.”
Leonard cleared his mind. “I have to agree with you on that, Kevin. I must be imagining things.” Yeah, especially with that hair...
A few moments of silence passed, then Kevin said, “Ain’t getting much at home, eh partner?”
“Shutup.” He started the car. That hair...
Then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.
“Holy shit Kevin! That wasn’t her hair. That was a wig!”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that woman we passed was Samantha Sparke! Richard Sparke’s ex-wife!”
Hypnosis
As instructed, Richard lay on his back, the soft leather couch molding to the contours of his body. The dark brown upholstery squeaked slightly as he shifted into the most comfortable position possible. He gently relaxed himself, hands folded across his waist, belly-breathing, in...out...in...out...taking over the more tensed-up inhalation of his chest.
“Are you ready, Richard?” Delaney turned off the solitary lamp in the office, using only his reading light as he sat crossed-legged in his chair. On his lap was a different notebook, a black ribbon bookmark dangling from the open sheaf like a pony tail. The tiny bulb from the reading light sent a pallid beam to the notebook page which reflected it into an aura-like glow that eerily lit up the doctor’s face like a mask. It looked as if a different man had taken over.
Again Delaney changed the tape, sat back and instructed Richard to do the same. “Imagine yourself in a special place, Richard, a place that only you know about, a place where you can relax with no possibility of disturbance. Can you do that for me?”
At once Richard tried to create thoughts of the place his mother told him about, where the grass is always green and the trees are full of color. Here in this place there is no pain, only the pleasures of life...
In his mind he heard Julia Sparke’s voice telling him of this magical land. He tried to picture what it must be like but soon lost his inner sight and felt his mind going sluggish. Once he realized that picturing this place would be impossible since he’d never actually seen it before…
Or have you Richard? You really don’t remember ever being there before?
...so he imagined himself on a lakeside beach, the same beach he and Samantha enjoyed on their honeymoon not too long ago. Only this time, he elected to be alone.
“Are you there, Richard? Have you found your place?” Delaney’s voice was soft, and unobtrusive.
Richard nodded.
“Good. Now I’m going to ask you a series of questions. I would like you to answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” His lips had become very heavy, and he sensed a small pool of saliva forming in his mouth.
“That’s great, Richard. Now, soon you will hear a tone. A soft, low resonating sound. I want you to focus on the tone, find the pulse within it, let it enter your mind and settle there. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.”
Without any other noise accompanying it, Richard heard the tone emerge from the bookshelf behind the couch. Delaney must have a stereo there; he hadn’t noticed it in the past.
“Can you hear the tone?”
“Yes.”
“Can you hear the pulse within it?”
Indeed, as he concentrated on the tone, he was able to distinguish a distant thrump that grew louder and louder as he continued to listen. It sounded like a piece of heavy machinery pounding out its progress far off the shore of the beach he mentally fixed himself on.
“Yes.”
As the pulse grew more intense, Richard had an almost psychic awareness of wind leaping up from the gentle crash of the ocean waves, cascading across his slightly burned skin like soft, massaging fingers. And when it grew louder still, he felt as if he were suddenly ensconced amidst the cool chamber of a bubble suspended just beyond the reality of his waking world, floating lazily out to sea. He could see the waves below, dolphins crashing through the foamy surface, their noses gently prodding the skin of the bubble as if it were a beach ball, sending it higher and higher, further away from the beach, way above into the wispy white clouds.
“Are you still with me, Richard?”
Delaney’s voice sounded as if it came from the heavens, as if he were an omnipotent being watching over him. All his life, Richard could never remember feeling so relaxed. Perhaps this idea of hypnosis had other benefits other than trying to find out what’s wrong?
“Do you still hear the tone?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to be fully aware of what’s happening, Richard. The tone, comprised of Theta waves, is massaging your cerebral cortex, the pleasure center in your brain. I’d imagine you’re feeling quite comfortable right now.
“Yes.”
“Good...and you’re still in your special place?”
At first Richard wasn’t sure if he should mention to Delaney that he’d left his special place behind for a ride in the clear, floating bubble. He decided it wasn’t important. “Yes.”
“That’s very good. We’re going to continue now. Now, I’d like for you isolate your thoughts, think only of falling asleep. It’s perfectly fine to remain in your place and feel all the textures and semblances of the environment you’ve chosen. But I want you to allow yourself to drift into a deep sleep. Imagine the climate around you and all its ambiences embracing your body, first your arms, then your legs, a warm feeling of goodness racing through your blood, into your head, your face, your chest. You’re breathing easily, calmly, you feel all the pressures of the day escaping your lungs in multitudes, cool clean relaxing breaths coming in to take their place. And as I count from ten to one, you will grow sleepy...ten...your lids are heavy, impossible to open, you’ve lost all ability to move...nine...and all you can do is relax, your fingers and toes are numb and fully relaxed...eight...your body, your chest, your back, your arms and legs, are loose and limp and lazy. Your mind is utterly devoid of all thoughts other than the effortless will to sleep...seven...and you see only darkness now, the special place you exist in carrying you towards the sympathetic embrace of darkness...six...your world of relaxation, that holds you in the darkness, has fallen asleep and you, Richard, follow suit...five...as your body and mind drifts deeper and deeper and deeper into the world of sleep...four...you will hear only the gentle beckon of my voice as it asks you questions...three...and you will answer those quest
ions as truthfully and as honestly as you are able, as the ability to lie is not within you, only the power to reveal the truths that lay dormant in your mind...two...and as you fall asleep you will feel only calm pleasures and nothing more as you unearth the life that is you, Richard Sparke, and as I say the number ‘one’, you will be completely asleep... and...one.
“Richard, you are now completely asleep.”
Interview
“I can’t believe how different she looks,” Leonard said. “Her hair used to be thin, almost brittle I’d say, probably from the stress. She’d had no make-up on, at least during the few times I’d seen her. Even the clothes she’d worn told the story of her personality. Simple, drab, featureless.” Leonard started the car and backed out of the hospital parking spot.
Kevin cracked the passenger window, took a deep breath. The sounds of chirping birds filtered into the car. “She’s made some hefty changes, I’d say.”
“Big time. The wig, her clothes, even her body looks different.”
“Why do you suppose she was at the hospital?”
“My guess is as good as yours. Any number of reasons, I suppose.”
“Plastic surgery?” Kevin guessed.
Leonard raised an eyebrow, nodded. “Quite possible.”
“She might be trying to change her appearance for some reason. Of course we can easily assume that she’s making an attempt to start her life over again, a woman in her mid-thirties attempting to recapture her youth. But what if--now think about this for a second--what if she’s changing her look in an attempt to hide from someone. Because she doesn’t want to be recognized.”
Under ordinary circumstances, Leonard would’ve assumed that Kevin had been watching too many late-night detective movies; it seemed a bit too far-fetched to think along those lines. Yet, still, since the very beginning, Richard Sparke’s life had been surrounded by an air of mystery that Leonard could never get a good read on.
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