FEAR OF FEAR: A Psychological Thriller

by PJ Nakfoor

  It was a delightful day for a walk. Seventy-eight and sunny. Carl and Faith had gone to The Gardener’s Greenhouse last evening and brought home trays of pink and purple impatiens and lavender pansies, so after our walk I planned to spend the afternoon planting.

  Carl came downstairs dressed in casual shorts and a tee-shirt.

  “Let’s go, Viv,” he said in an upbeat tone.

  We headed outdoors to find the trees and flowers were blooming, and several neighbors were raking, mowing, and picking weeds. We waved or said hello but didn’t stop or linger. I noticed how majestic the mature trees had become in the seventeen years we had lived there. They lined both sides of the road and their fresh new leaves swayed in the warm breeze, as if they were ushering us gently along. I enjoyed sharing this time with Carl.

  “I think we should take walks like this every night after dinner, Viv. What do you think?” asked Carl.

  “I love that idea. Getting away from the TV and out for fresh spring air would be good for both of us,” I said.

  Later that afternoon, Faith joined me to plant the annuals after she finished play practice. We donned gardening gloves and got to work, laying out the still-potted plants in the areas we thought they looked best. Then Faith started digging holes with the hand trowel and I followed, gently removing each plant from the tray. One at a time, I placed each flower in its spot and packed dirt and peat moss around the roots. We worked efficiently and quietly.

  “Mom, I’m proud of you,” she said, breaking the silence.

  Although said with sweetness, her words made me feel small. Who is proud of their mother for walking around the block? But she was showing her support, so I swallowed the negative self-talk and kissed her on the head.

  When the flowers were planted, we stepped back to look at the finished job. The hues of pink, purple and lavender worked nicely together to add a colorful dimension to our yard. Finally, Faith watered them with the garden hose while I went indoors to make some lemonade and put together a plate of Triscuits, cheese and grapes.

  * * *

  The following Monday, I asked Carl if he’d called Dr. Sheffield.

  “No, I didn’t have time today. It was a busy shift,” he said sheepishly.

  “Will you please call tomorrow? Or I can make the appointment for you? Remember, Carl, your dad died of a heart attack in his fifties.”

  “I’ll take care of it tomorrow, I promise.”

  * * *

  It was time to deal with Takeoff Step Two. I was a bit anxious but having walked around the block with Carl nearly every evening for a week, I felt this was something I could accomplish easily. I made sure my phone was charged and left the house. The day was overcast but still warm. As I reached the first corner, my heart rate picked up and I had to stop and take some deep breaths before moving forward. At the second corner, I felt short of breath and nearly called Carl, but moved on instead. My confidence grew with each step, and I made it home without incident. The satisfaction I felt was amazing—like the contentment after a grand Thanksgiving dinner.

  After a few days, I decided to tackle Tricky Step Three before I could talk myself out of it. It was Saturday, and Carl was home, so I left the house right after coffee and toast. Carl and I had driven the mile route within the neighborhood, so I felt prepared. I wasn’t prepared for being chased by a neighbor’s unleashed German Shepherd, who charged at me, barking ferociously. The familiar surge of adrenaline I had become used to during my panic attacks was a fraction of what I felt now. I raced down the street yelling, “Somebody, help!” when finally, the dog’s owner whistled loudly, and the dog cowered and scampered back to its yard. I was relieved, and sure I wasn’t the first passerby to be scared shitless by its vicious chase. Once the dog was out of sight, I sat on the curb for a few minutes to catch my breath. I realized that I survived the fear, and I could do so again.

  * * *

  Faith’s play was less than a week away.

  “Are you ready?” I asked, as we emptied the dishwasher one evening.

  “I am, Mom. Yesterday I stuttered on one line, but otherwise the rehearsals this week went smoothly.”

  “What’s caked under your eyes?” I asked. The overhead kitchen light gave her cheekbones an unnatural glow.

  “Oh—I must have missed a couple of spots when I washed my face. We were in full makeup today so the lighting technician could make any adjustments.”

  “Really? How did you look?”

  “Well, my freckles resembled sprinkles instead of spatters and you could actually see my eyelashes. I looked a thousand percent better than usual. Which reminds me, I wanted to ask you if we could negotiate something. I’ll be fifteen in three months. Could I start wearing a little makeup now since I’m so close?” She sounded like three-year-old Faith in the grocery store candy aisle.

  “We’ll see. I’ll talk to your dad about it.”

  She smiled. “When you say, ‘we’ll see,’ it usually means yes.”

  Faith was correct. I couldn’t remember the last time a “we’ll see” actually ended up a “no.”

  * * *

  My reward for completing the first three steps was having Carl cook a fancy meal. We decided on grilled filet mignon, scalloped potatoes, steamed snap peas and, of course, canned peas for Carl.

  Carl pulled the grill out of the garage and rolled it to the side of the house, scraped and cleaned it and made sure there was propane in the canister. I asked if I should set the table, but he said no, he and Faith would take care of everything.

  “Sit and enjoy a magazine or a TV show. We’ll tell you when dinner is ready.”

  I was getting the royal treatment, which I wasn’t sure I deserved. There was that negative self-talk again. I shook off the shame and curled up on the couch, flipping the channel to Law and Order SVU. The voices on the television, along with the distant clanging of pans and dishes, were comforting and relaxing. Before the perpetrator was captured, I had dozed off, giving in to a scrumptious nap.

  Faith gently shook me awake.

  “Mom, dinner’s ready,” she said tenderly.

  The table was set with nice linens and the good china we had received as a wedding gift. The centerpiece was a vase brimming with spring flowers: yellow daffodils, pink tulips and purple hyacinth, reminding me of Carl’s visits when we began dating years ago.

  I inhaled their fragrances and sighed. “Gorgeous!”

  Carl served the food, waiting on me like a butler, and bowing with one hand behind his back as he set down my plate.

  “I didn’t get this much attention on Mother’s Day,” I teased.

  The meal was delicious. Carl had grilled the filet perfectly—with a light pink center—and it melted in my mouth. I don’t remember the last time I felt so loved and appreciated.

  After dinner, Faith stood and stretched.

  “Mom, I hope you saved room for dessert,” she said, as she pulled a key lime pie, my favorite, out of the fridge. Carl brewed a pot of coffee and we enjoyed the dessert at a leisurely pace. After my second cup of decaf, I stood and began clearing dishes from the table.

  Faith scolded me. “We got this, Mom. Go relax.”

  I picked up the Real Simple magazine sitting on my coffee table and flipped through the pages as I situated myself once again on the couch. The cover read, “Get it Done! Little Projects That Feel Like Major Accomplishments.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  2020

  Carl was able to take the morning off for his appointment with Dr. Sheffield. I found him in the den appraising his collection.

  “Carl? What are you doing?”

  “I decided to sell this one at an online collector’s auction. A similar one just sold for nine-hundred-dollars.” He lifted the glass container and blew off the dust. It was a train with three cars, each with a lid. “J.J. Brainard’s 1923 Train.”

  “Isn’t that one of your favorites? Why would you want to sell it?�
� I knew it was difficult for Carl to let go of any of his pieces.

  “Yeah, one of them. I think we need to start saving for Christmas. I don’t want to take any money from Faith’s college fund.”

  “Christmas? It’s only May,” I said.

  “Which means only seven months till Christmas,” he said.

  I looked at my watch. “It’s nine-thirty. You should probably get going.”

  “Yup.” He gently replaced the train.

  “Would you like me to go with you to your appointment?

  He hesitated. “If you’re comfortable coming along, I’d like that.”

  “Remember—I’m fine just about anywhere if there’s a doctor nearby.”

  I always felt less anxious when I was near a hospital or doctor’s office. They would help me if I began to fall apart.

  * * *

  We sat in the waiting room as Carl filled out his paperwork. The sage and lavender color scheme hadn’t changed an iota since I was last there. There were two other patients seated and reading worn magazines. Before long, a young nurse called Carl’s name.

  “Hello, Mr. Long. I’m Leah.” She was a curvy, strawberry-blonde dressed in dark green scrubs, which made her eyes look golden-green.

  “Is it okay if my wife comes back with me?” he asked.

  “Sure thing,” she answered, smiling my way. We followed Leah out of the waiting room.

  “First, let’s get your weight.”

  Carl stood on the scale.

  “Two-o-nine,” Leah said.

  “You mean two hundred and nine pounds?” Carl asked, looking astonished.

  “Yes, now, back to a room and I’ll take your blood pressure.”

  We walked into the sterile exam room which was tiled in green and beige and had an oak cupboard along one wall. There were glass jars on the countertop containing cotton balls, tongue blades, and some gadgets I didn’t recognize. Although a bit sparse, the room was spotless. Carl sat in a chair while Leah wrapped the cuff around his arm.

  “One-seventy over ninety-two. Do you have a history of high blood pressure?”

  “No.” Carl looked at me.

  “Do you have any concerns today or is this a routine physical exam?” she asked.

  “Well, I didn’t have concerns until you delivered all the good news,” Carl kidded, although I could see that he was upset.

  “I’ll show Dr. Sheffield your vital signs and he’ll be with you shortly. He will take great care of you,” Leah said, patting Carl’s hand.

  After she left, I told Carl I would wait in the lobby and let him have some privacy with the doctor. I was afraid he wouldn’t be honest with me sitting there.

  After about twenty-five minutes, Carl was discharged. As we walked to the car, I put my arm through his.

  “Well?”

  “I told him about the dizzy spells and my dad’s history, so he ordered lab work and did an EKG, which was normal. And he’s starting me on a mild blood pressure med. Leah’s going to call after the labs are back. I might need to see a cardiologist for a stress test.

  “You’re making me nervous, Carl.”

  “Vivian, I’ll be fine. Doc said it’s all routine.” There was an impatient edge in his voice. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. You always think the worst.”

  His words stung.

  As he opened my door and I slid into the passenger seat, he bent over and kissed me on the cheek. “Sorry to snap at you, Viv. I may have seemed calm, but the appointment was stressful.”

  “I understand.”

  “Are we good?”

  I was about to argue but held my tongue. “I guess.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  1985

  Vivi was terrified. Her heart pounded and it was hard to breathe through her nose. Where were the awful man and lady taking her? Were they going to kill her? They seemed to be driving somewhere far away. She felt the van turn quickly onto a bumpy, gravelly sounding road.

  “Did ya’ keep good watch in the parking lot? Are you sure nobody seen anything?” said the greasy, tattooed man.

  “Yeah, no one was around. All the lookie-loos were too busy staring at the ambulances and that damned broken ride. Idiots. The timing was good, cuz there was so much commotion in there,” she said, her voice miles away from sounding sweet.

  “No cops on the road?”

  She swiveled her head in all directions. “They’re probably all at the fair.”

  “Well, it still woulda’ been better to wait till dark,” he said. His voice took a menacing turn. “If this goes sideways it’s your fault.”

  “You want my help? I can quit anytime ya know. Stop your damn complaining.”

  “Go ahead, quit. You’ll be right back out on the streets,” he snarled.

  “Shut up,” she said, pointing a finger at his face.

  He raised his right fist and shook it.

  “See this? Don’t tell me to shut up.”

  They drove forever down the bumpy road and now the van was hot as an oven. They had cracked the van windows open, but only a couple of inches. Vivi was sure no one would find her now—they were far away from the main road. Her mind jumped from one scene to the next: being in a dark basement with only bread and water; Nana, Papa and Shane crying at her funeral. She remembered one evening when Nana and Papa were watching the news about a kidnapped girl who wasn’t found for years. New tears stung her swollen eyes. She forced her brain to remember their trip to Disneyworld and her summertime birthday parties, but the terrifying thoughts soon overtook the pleasant ones.

  “When are you gonna get the AC fixed in this junk heap? I’m roasting,” the lady said.

  “When I get around to it. Stop bitching,” he said.

  A few minutes later, Vivi thought she heard a siren in the distance. Could it be the police? Please, let it be the police! When the siren grew louder, the man said, “Fuck,” and then he made a sharp right turn off the road, maybe into a wooded area, because suddenly the van was in complete shade.

  He turned to Vivi and hissed, “No noise, you hear me? Remember what I said earlier.”

  She silently said a prayer.

  The siren became louder, but Vivi was afraid the police would drive right by and not see the van under the trees. But it blared louder, closer, and then suddenly stopped. She saw red and blue flashes across the ceiling of the van.

  “Not a word!” said the man, reaching back to grab a dirty blanket and tossing it over her.

  She heard a new voice. “Good afternoon, sir. Where are you going?”

  “Um, just heading home from the fair,” the man said, and Vivi noticed he was faking being polite.

  “Why are you parked here off the road?”

  “I’m embarrassed to say I had to take a leak, and couldn’t wait till we got home,” he laughed like he had let the policeman in on a joke.

  Vivi saw a hazy light skim over her and into the back of the van. A flashlight?

  “What are you hauling back there?”

  “Just some bags of dog food. We got a hungry one at home.” This time his laugh was nervous.

  Vivi couldn’t just lie there. She had to do something while she had the chance. God, please make me brave. She drew up her knees, and then slammed her feet several times against the van door. More sirens getting closer. She heard car doors open and close and loud voices. Suddenly the van door flew open, and a policeman pulled back the blanket.

  “She’s here!” he called out. He scooped her out of the van and dashed toward one of the police cars.

  The last thing Vivi heard was, “Both of you get out of the vehicle with your hands up. You’re under arrest for kidnapping.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  2020

  A couple of days after Carl’s appointment, I was in the kitchen putting together Sloppy Joes and canned corn for dinner. Faith was at practice and Carl was home from work on time. I couldn’t remember the last time that happened. He was in the den tinkering with his collectables, and I
was about to call him for dinner when his phone rang. The door was partly closed but I heard him answer. I knew I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but…

  “Hello, this is Carl Long.” His phone was on the speaker setting.

  “Hi, Mr. Long, this is Leah from Dr. Sheffield’s office.”

  “Leah, you must be calling about my lab results?”

  “Yes, I am. There is no evidence of diabetes or thyroid disease, but your cholesterol is elevated,” she said.

  “Leah, what is it with you? Every time we talk, it’s more bad news.”

  “I’m just the messenger, don’t forget.”

  “Just teasing. Sometimes sarcasm is how I deal with stress.”

  “No worries,” she said. “It’s totally understandable.”

  “So now what? Another prescription?”

  “Not just yet. Doctor wants you to see him in two or three weeks. He’ll talk to you about how you can attack the cholesterol without medications, at least, initially. Some patients can bring the numbers down with diet and exercise, and can avoid meds completely,” she said. “While I have you on the phone, why don’t we make your appointment?”

  “Didn’t he want to wait till after my stress test?”

  “That’s right, he did. When is it scheduled?”