FEAR OF FEAR: A Psychological Thriller

by PJ Nakfoor

2001

  Shane lived at the house for a year after the loss of their grandparents. Vivi had to admit this made her feel safe and less lonely. He had moved from the University radio station to a local Classic Rock station and usually worked the day shift, leaving Vivi to spend her days alone reading, watching television, and writing in her journal. She barely left the house and as a result, and her anxiety was steadily low-grade, but never gone. She enjoyed trying new recipes and found that vacuuming, cleaning out closets, and scrubbing down the kitchen and bathrooms allowed her to focus on the tasks instead of how small her world had become.

  Six months after Papa died, Vivi’s grief and loneliness leapt to a new level. She missed her grandparents terribly and still cried herself to sleep some nights.

  One day, while sorting out a closet, Vivi found a box of family photos that she hadn’t seen in years and she couldn’t wait to share them with Shane. When she heard his car pull into the driveway, she greeted him at the door.

  “Hey, Viv.”

  “Hi. You’re home early.”

  “Yeah, I had a remote event today. It was the grand opening of the new brew pub near the university.”

  “Epic Brewery?”

  “Mm-hmm. It’s a cool place. Whoever designed the place used a lot of imagination.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yup. Exposed brick walls, retro-looking chairs and tables, and even a small wading pool in the middle of the floor. Pretty cool.”

  “A wading pool? That’s crazy. How did things go?”

  “Really well. Lots of students milling around looking for free swag.”

  “I want to show you what I found today.” Vivi nodded at the box of photos on the coffee table.

  “Let me get changed and I’ll be right back.”

  For the following hour, they sat on the living room couch going through photos. Nana had always intended to put them in albums, but that never happened. Most of them were at least in envelopes with dates scrawled on them. They dug in the box for pictures of their early years when their parents were still alive. The enveloped labeled “Lake Minnow” held photos taken when they had been on summer vacation at a cabin in northern Michigan.

  “Look how pretty Mom was,” said Vivi. She was suntanned and wearing a hot pink bikini. She had long brown hair pulled up in a ponytail and a white smile made iridescent by her bronzed skin. Vivi and Shane were on either side of her. Vivi was smiling pretty for the camera but Shane was trying to escape, as he did often when being forced to pose for a photo.

  “I remember hating having to stand there with a fake smile.” He laughed. “Remember my school picture from sixth grade, when I crossed my eyes?”

  “And Papa cussed you out for being disrespectful? I sure do.”

  Next, they found some photos of their parents’ wedding.

  “I don’t remember seeing these,” said Shane.

  “Really? I’ve gone through them a couple of times, and I never get tired of them. Dad looks nervous, doesn’t he?” Vivi pulled out her favorite. Their mom wore a “tea length” ivory dress with a lace overlay and a stylish matching hat. The camera caught her at the perfect moment. Their dad was tall, with dark curly hair and ears that stuck out just a little. He was smiling stiffly. The next was a family photo taken during the reception.

  “Look how young Nana and Papa were!” Vivi said.

  “They’re actually dancing.”

  They looked through several more envelopes and then decided to eat “breakfast for dinner,” which included banana pancakes, scrambled eggs made with ground sausage and red pepper flakes. During dinner Shane told Vivi that the station’s music director had been arrested for gambling and was terminated.

  “Bad news for him, but good news for me,” Shane said.

  “Why?” asked Vivi, before realizing Shane must have gotten a promotion.

  “My next goal will be landing a program director position somewhere, hopefully, a big city like Chicago or Atlanta. I’m ready.”

  The news came as a surprise. “Congrats. I’m really happy for you, bro.” But her happiness was tempered by the dread of being left behind.

  * * *

  Vivi and Carl became friends during their weekly visits, which transformed into Communion and a cup of tea or a quick sandwich. When Carl was ill on a couple of Sundays and another Eucharistic Minister came to Vivi’s during that time. She was pleasant but brief: in and out in five minutes. Vivi realized she had come to rely on seeing Carl every Sunday—in fact, it was the highlight of her week.

  After two months of their Sunday visits and a month after their home-movie date, Carl asked Vivi if he could take her out for dinner. She wasn’t surprised, but the thought of leaving the comfort of her living room scared her. Couldn’t they go on forever just like this? Of course not. If a serious relationship were to develop, she would have to become a part of society once again. She had become far too comfortable staying home, especially in light of the fact that she met someone she really liked without having to step out of her comfort zone.

  One wintry Friday evening, Vivi felt a kaleidoscope of emotions as she dressed for her first real date with Carl—anticipation, excitement and even a bit of dizziness. Sitting at Nana’s vanity—which brought her enormous serenity—she carefully applied make-up, going a little heavier than she did on Sunday mornings. She powdered her face and applied a rosy blush to her cheekbones. Then, some smoky eye shadow and liner and an extra layer of mascara, and finally, a slash of watermelon pink lipstick. Her layered brown hair was nearly shoulder length now. She used a curling iron to add some waves, and then tousled her hair and added a light spritz of hairspray. Wow. She looked good! She had been so consumed with her grief and anxiety that she had completely forgotten that she was a young, single, attractive woman, and that she deserved to live a normal life like all the other young women in the world.

  She dressed in gray, wool trousers with a matching blazer, and wore a cream-colored camisole beneath the blazer, instead of the typical button-down blouse. When she walked downstairs, Shane sat open-mouthed, not knowing what to say. This made her giggle, which added to her giddiness.

  Carl looked astonished when Vivi opened the front door.

  “You look beautiful, Vivi.”

  Vivi felt herself blush from inside out.

  Carl stepped into the living room and strode over to Shane with his right strand outstretched. “Good to see you again, Shane.” He firmly shook Shane’s hand and made small talk for a few minutes.

  They arrived at the Downtown Steakhouse, and Vivi didn’t feel the least bit nervous. Carl seemed to be a buffer between her and her anxiety. They had a two-hour meal of surf and turf, whipped potatoes, crunchy green beans, and red wine. They saved room to share a crème-filled éclair drizzled with melted milk chocolate, and coffee.

  Vivi had never been so happy.

  * * *

  After six months of dating, Carl proposed to Vivi. He was ten years older than she and never married. His quiet strength and old-fashioned gentlemanly ways were two of Vivi’s favorite traits. He seemed to understand her agoraphobia, was patient and offered safety and security. Initially the physical part of their relationship faltered. Although Carl was nothing like Jesse, Vivi’s visceral response to Carl’s intimate touch had been guarded and she found herself tensing up or pulling away. But unlike Jesse, Carl respected her boundaries and followed her lead. He wisely and gradually let Vivi become the initiator. Their passion smoldered and sparked a small flame, and when their sexual relationship finally developed, it was sweet and tender. Vivi thanked God for putting Carl into her life.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  2020

  I stood still and looked up to see a helicopter hovering overhead. I began to wave my arms frantically, then picked up my walking stick and swung it in circles like a windmill, praying that the crew would see me. The chopper circled around a small area several times and hovered but didn’t appear to attempt a landing. I didn’t see a clearing nearby, so
maybe the pilot was scoping out the area to find an open spot. The fact that he didn’t leave the locale was a good sign. After several minutes of this clumsy pseudo-communication, a bright search light flashed over and around me for a few moments, and this dance was repeated—circle, hover, light, circle, hover, light. Because the actions were systematic, I became certain this was the air crew’s way of telling me they had seen me and to stay put. Maybe they were in communication with a boat or ground unit and were leading them to my location.

  Sure enough, fifteen or twenty minutes later, a jet ski bounded from upstream, then slowed down abruptly to cruise the riverbank.

  “Help! I’m over here! Help!” I screamed over and over as I waved my arms.

  The ski pulled ashore and a uniformed officer with closely cropped blonde hair jumped off and ran toward me.

  “Ma’am, are you hurt?”

  I pointed to my swollen ankle.

  “I can’t put weight on it, but otherwise I think I’m okay. Thank you, thank you.” I began to sob. The summation of the last two days plowed through my brain like an attacking bull.

  “I’m Officer London from the marine division of the County Sheriff’s Office. You are—Vivian?”

  “Yes! Yes!” I wept with relief, pain, and grief. “My husband, Carl, died and his body is a few miles upstream.”

  “I’m very sorry, Ma’am. I’ll radio the others in the division and relay that information. Now I need to quickly look you over to see which type of transport we need.”

  “What? Can’t I just go back with you on the jet ski?” Don’t leave me.” I knew I sounded pathetic, but didn’t care.

  “I’m not leaving you, but we need a larger watercraft to transport you back, especially by the look of that ankle.” He nodded toward my now blue and purple lower leg and ankle.

  “Do you have any other injuries?”

  “No.”

  “Is it okay if I check you over?”

  “Yes, anything to get me back quicker.”

  “Can you please open your mouth?”

  I pried it open and said, “Ahh,” while he looked inside with a penlight.

  “You are really dehydrated. And your skin!” he said almost scoldingly, as he inspected my bitten, scabbed, red and raw arms and legs, now using a flashlight.

  “No kidding,” I said. “Between the mosquitoes, the sunburn and all the pokes and scratches, I’m a mess. Thank God that snake didn’t get me.”

  “Snake?”

  “Yup, a rattler.”

  He gently palpated my head, neck and back, then my ribs and my arms and left leg.

  Apparently satisfied, Officer London pulled the radio off his belt and requested an inflatable watercraft and stretcher. Hearing the distorted conversation sounded like a harmony to me. People were communicating with one another to get me back to safety. Thank you, God!

  “A man by the name of Frank is at the Sheriff’s Department, along with your daughter,” he said after the radio call.

  “Faith’s here? Is she okay?”

  “She is now. The helicopter crew contacted Sheriff Anderson back at the department to tell him they located you. She and… Mr. Ashe, is it?” Vivi nodded. “They were pretty upset when they arrived. Apparently, your daughter called the Sheriff’s Department this afternoon after she tried several times to reach you and your husband.”

  “Do they know about Carl?”

  “That, I don’t know. I would assume not if he hasn’t been located yet.”

  Just as the sun began to slip behind the treetops, we heard the motor and saw a raft approaching from upstream. There were two uniformed men aboard, and they stepped out carrying a stretcher. Before I knew it, I was carefully loaded onto the boat, and despite the heat and humidity, I began to shiver uncontrollably, and one officer placed a foil warming blanket over me. I don’t remember much of the ride back, just the whir of the motor and the vision of the cloudless sky, racing above me, and becoming a dusky blue.

  * * *

  An ambulance was waiting on a narrow dirt road one or two hundred feet from the watercraft’s landing spot, which consisted of a few yards of shoreline devoid of vegetation and crisscrossed by tire tracks. It appeared to be used as a boat launch. Two paramedics rolled a stretcher to the riverbank and carefully lifted me onto it, while they introduced themselves. They were my angels. The older one noticed my shivering and put two thin blankets over the foil one.

  “Where’s Faith?” I asked, expecting her to be waiting for me.

  “She and Mr. Ashe are at the sheriff’s office but will meet you at the hospital. We didn’t want to waste time traveling on the water when you needed urgent medical care,” explained Officer London. “It’s almost forty miles to the nearest hospital.”

  The paramedics checked my vital signs and quickly assessed me head to toe. The younger, acne-scarred medic winced when he gently examined my leg.

  The older one said, “Ma’am, we’ll contact the ER at the County Medical Hospital and get an order for some pain medication. We’ll need to put a splint on your leg, and it won’t be comfortable.” He asked his partner to start an IV and give me a quick infusion of fluid while he walked back to the ambulance to make the call.

  Officer London’s radio squawked, and a broken voice said, “We found a middle-aged male, deceased, about two miles downstream from Eagle Rock.”

  “They found Carl?” The officer caught my eye and nodded sympathetically. When he was off the radio, he said, “Ma’am, they’re transporting your husband to the hospital morgue. They will need someone to ID him, but I don’t want you to worry about that right now.”

  By now, I had received a dose of morphine and I welcomed its flow through my body. It allowed me to doze off during the ride to the hospital.

  * * *

  Faith’s face displayed shock when she saw me lying on the ER gurney. I must have looked awful. My skin was a disaster, and my right ankle and foot were in a splint encased with ice packs. I was a bit groggy from the pain meds but was strong enough to reach up and pull my beautiful daughter to my chest. We didn’t speak—I clutched her like a skydiving student grabbing his instructor after jumping out of a plane.

  The following morning, I had surgery. My ankle was in three pieces and needed to be screwed and pinned back together. The doctor said the healing process would be lengthy because of all the swelling, but that eventually I would be able to do everything I once had. I wanted to correct him and say that I’d be able to do everything that I never had, because that’s how I felt. Even as I lay there in the hospital bed, my ankle and foot elevated on several pillows, IVs in both arms, bags of medications and fluids hanging from poles, and a cardiac monitor attached to my chest, I felt truly free for the first time in my life.

  Neither Faith nor I wanted to view Carl in the morgue. I had already said my goodbyes to him on the riverbank. I wondered about Faith’s ability to have closure without seeing him one final time, but she insisted that it would be too upsetting. Frank was gracious enough to spare us the grisly task and do the formal ID himself.

  Faith stayed at the hospital with me until my discharge three days later. A nurse had brought in a recliner and some blankets so she could sleep there. My private room was small, with a white board on the wall bearing the names of my healthcare staff. Frank had sent me a bouquet of colorful summer lilies, which added a cheery touch to the plain room.

  I told her Faith that we had enjoyed the trip right up until Carl’s death, and how elated I’d been about my progress. This brought tears to her eyes.

  “Mom, how will you handle the fact that dad died when you were making so much progress with your CBT? Is it wrong of me to even ask?"

  “Of course not. It was horrible, but my progress can’t be erased, that’s what Dr. Buhari said. He also said to expect ups and downs, and all of this work has given me the tools to face them.”

  Next, we discussed how our pleasant time on the river abruptly changed, and about my getting lost and surviving
long enough for help to arrive. I shared the obstacles I’d encountered, and she was both horrified and in awe as she listened, wide-eyed.

  “Mom, you sound like Wonder Woman!”

  I hated having to tell her the nerve-wracking details. She had too much to process already. She broke into tears every time I mentioned Carl’s name.

  “Honey, we can talk more about the canoe trip later. Remember when I told you silly bedtime stories when you were little? Why don’t you hold my hand and tell me one?”

  She scooted a stool beside the bed and took my hand in hers. As she told me a tale about a neon yellow rabbit who couldn’t find his mother, we shared some tears and even some chuckles.

  The pain of grief is difficult to imagine until you are personally swallowed up by it. Faith and I had a rough path ahead and we would trudge along it as a team.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  2002

  Vivi asked Astrid to accompany her shopping for a bridal dress. After her engagement, Vivi had been in closer touch with her old friends. Both Astrid and Bethany would share the role of maid-of-honor. It felt good to be reunited, and Vivi wondered why she’d let them go so easily years ago.

  Astrid picked Vivi up and they drove to a local bridal shop. There were larger, more prestigious boutiques in Grand Rapids or Detroit, but Vivi knew that even driving downtown with Astrid was going to be dire enough.

  Both were animated and excited to catch up with each other. Vivi felt like they had never been apart.

  “So, Vivi, how come you asked me to go shopping, but not your other maid-of-honor?” Astrid asked in a teasing voice.

  “Are you kidding? Don’t you remember how bossy she was when we shopped for prom dresses? She basically forced me to buy that dress. I loved it at the time, but when I see Papa’s pictures, I looked like a daffodil. So much yellow!

  Both girls roared with laughter.

  “Do you still have it?”

  “Hell, no! I threw it away because every time I saw it hanging in the closet, it made me think of Jesse, then I’d have to run to the bathroom and puke.”