Chapter 22
After an hour, I slid the covers from me and quietly got out of bed. The panic that I had felt had not subsided, but continued to build deep within me. I knew that if I did not escape the room, the situation could quickly get out of hand. I found my clothes in the dark and began to dress. Mitch should sleep well, and with luck he would never know that I left. But the metallic hiss of my zipper roused him slightly.
“Deirdre?” Mitch’s sleepy whisper made me jump guiltily and spin around.
“Go back to sleep, my love.” My voice was soft and reassuring. “I’m just going out for a little air. I’ll be back soon.”
“Why’re you always leaving?” His petulant question only heightened my desire to leave.
“Hush, Mitch, and sleep. After all”—I walked back to the bed and smoothed his hair—“I promised. And I always come back.”
By the time I finished dressing, his breathing was deep and regular again. Silently, I slid through the apartment and out the door into the night streets.
Two blocks down I found a taxi and gave the driver the address of Mitch’s hospital.
A quick survey of the parking lot revealed Sam’s foreign sports car, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know whether he could help me or not, but I decided it was worth trying. I couldn’t live my life as it was now, torn between two men, one dead and one living, but both central to my existence. And, I thought with a sarcastic smile, he would be more than pleased with the opportunity to delve into my unusual psyche.
With my customary shudder I entered the front doors of the hospital and walked to the nurses’ station. When I saw that Jean was on duty, I almost turned around and left, but she looked up from her papers and her face darkened in recognition, her expression a challenge. Formidable as she is, I thought, she’s still no match for me. I smiled my sweetest smile and was rewarded by her most hateful glare.
“Good evening, Jean,” I said courteously. “I wonder if I might talk to Dr. Samuels.”
“Not in,” she muttered. “I’ll leave him a message.”
“Oh, but Jean, I saw his car in the lot. And I’m sure he would be happy to talk with me. Be a dear and tell him I’m here.”
She bristled at my tone, as I had expected. “And who exactly are you?”
Suddenly I grew tired of her games and reached over the counter, grabbing her chin in my hand and pulling her up to eye level. “You know damn well who I am,” I said through clenched teeth. “Just call him—now.”
Jean’s eyes held their defiant stare for a few seconds, then dropped in failure. As her hand went for the phone, I loosened my grasp on her. “Dr. Samuels”—her voice admitted defeat—“Miss Griffin is here to see you.”
“Great.” I could hear the response from his office. “Send her right down.”
“Thank you, Jean,” I said in a softer tone. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I walked past her, but she reached a hand out to touch my arm. “Miss Griffin?” I felt her fingers tremble slightly. “How is Mitch?”
Behind her still-obvious dislike of me I could see tears glistening in her eyes and some of my animosity toward her dissipated. “He’s doing well, Jean.” I smiled honestly and her expression lightened, making her seem younger, prettier. “I’ll be sure to tell him you asked.”
“Thank you.”
I patted the hand still resting on my arm. She held it there for a minute, then moved away from me and back to her desk. Shaking my head in disbelief—it was hard to imagine that Jean had a softer side—I entered Sam’s office.
“How’s the shoulder?” He got up from the desk and took my hand briefly. “No complications, I trust?”
“It’s fine, thank you so much.” I sat down and looked around doubtfully. Now that I was there, I was reluctant to talk about my problem, not so sure now that Sam could help me.
“And how’s Mitch?”
“Mitch is fine too. I left him sleeping peacefully.”
Sam nodded, walked back to his desk, and sat down. He smiled at me, exhibiting just a slight bit of uneasiness. “Then what on earth are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you.” I paused, not knowing how to proceed. I had already pushed the limits of Sam’s beliefs; my next admission would probably be going too far for him.
He went into his top drawer and pulled out the cigarettes. I took one, lit it, and inhaled deeply. Closing my eyes, I leaned back in the chair and nervously licked my lips. When I raised my head, I saw that he was watching me patiently, tapping his lighter gently on the desktop.
“Do you believe in possession?” As I blurted out the question, my voice sounded light, as if I were making a joke.
But Sam knew me better than that; he glanced at me in concern. He got up, looked out into the hall, then closed the door. Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, he leaned back against the wall and gave a small, humorless laugh.
“Three days ago I didn’t believe in vampires. Now I don’t know what I believe anymore. Do you mean by possession the taking over of one person’s body and mind by a hostile spirit?”
“Yes.”
“And that person is you?”
“I think so.” I looked down at the cigarette in my hand, took one last drag, and stubbed it out in the ashtray. “I know you can hardly be an expert on the subject, but I had nowhere else to go, no one else to confide in.”
“What about Mitch? Did you talk to him about this?”
“I tried to, Sam. But he seems to think it’s all an evasion on my part to avoid making a commitment to our relationship. And that is in itself another totally different problem.”
“Your relationship?” Sam walked back to his desk and took a cigarette for himself. “You and Mitch are having problems?”
I threw my head back and laughed, then looked him directly in the face. “What do you think? How could we have anything but problems?” I got up from my chair and went to look out the window. “Damn,” I said softly. “I was a fool to return. And I was an even bigger fool to promise to stay.”
“But you love him and he loves you. I know that’s true. I see it in him and in you.” Sam’s voice acquired a sharp edge, almost accusatory in tone. “You can’t leave him again. You do him so much good.”
I felt a surge of anger but repressed it as much as I could. “But that’s not why I’m here. I don’t mean to involve you in my relationship with Mitch. It’ll work out or it won’t. Either way, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Sorry.” He accepted my rebuke politely, professionally. “So, why don’t you tell me why you think you’re possessed?”
“Max.” I whispered the name as I brushed the condensation from the windowpane. “He never died. Max Hunter still lives.”
“But you said that Mitch killed him. A stake through the heart, the only thing that works with vampires. How could he be alive?”
I walked back to my chair and sat down again. “I don’t know, Sam, but I know it’s true.” Reaching over, I removed another cigarette from his pack but didn’t light it. “And he’s with me, inside me. I see him, I hear him, I feel him. I dream of his past life; I know things about him I could never know otherwise: his real name, how he became a vampire, the sound of his mother’s voice. I’m afraid to sleep, afraid to do anything that might draw him out.”
Sam looked over at me, his expression concerned but detached. “And you feel he represents a danger to you?”
The question seemed such a complacent textbook response that suddenly the rage I had been suppressing broke loose. I rose to my feet and leaned over him, looking him full in the face. “Don’t humor me, Sam. Why will no one take this situation seriously? No, he is no danger to me, he’s already done his worst to me.” I closed my fist over the cigarette I had been holding and crushed it, sprinkling the shreds of tobacco and paper over his desk. “But he’s a danger to everyone else I meet. Why don’t you understand? Max Hunter was, or is, a bloodthirsty murderer and he can control me. I’ve been walking the line between reason and insanity for these past two years. And . . .” I turned my back to him. My voice trembled as I felt tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay.”
“Deirdre.” I felt Sam move up behind me and lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“No,” I said, spinning around to confront him. “Don’t touch me. I have to go now. I can’t stay any longer. You’re not safe with me here and alone. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Sam backed away from me. “Deirdre, don’t go yet. I’ll try to help you if I can. But I’ll need more details to get anywhere.” He sat back at his desk and opened his drawer, removing a file folder. “I could hypnotize you, maybe talk to this presence you feel. Find out why this has happened, give you some control over it.”
“What is that?” I pointed at the file. “Is that about me?”
“Deirdre, calm down. All my files are kept in strictest confidence, no one but me has any access to them.”
“Destroy it,” I hissed at him, going to the door. I turned the knob, opened the door, and saw the patient of the other night shuffling down the hall, past the nurses’ station and into the recreational area. “Jesus,” I swore to myself. “Oh, not now, not again.” Panicked, I slammed the door and leaned up against it, breathing hard.
Sam was staring at me, his expression a mixture of fear and hurt. I sighed, regretting my brutal treatment of him. He had done nothing to deserve it, and I had gone there looking for help, not enemies. “I’m sorry, Sam,” I said with a trace of a smile, pushing back my hair from my face. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Walk me out?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, “if you have to go.”
“I do.” I stood back while he opened the door and escorted me out. “But I can come back. Some other night perhaps.”
“Tomorrow?” He sounded strangely eager for my return visit.
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Well, I’ll have some time for a little research, then.” He laughed. “Though God knows where I’ll find anything remotely concerning all this. As I said the first time I met you, you’re a strange case, Deirdre. But I’ll do what I can.”
We walked down the hall and stood for a moment in the waiting room inside the front doors. He extended his hand to me, and I took it carefully. “Good night,” I said softly. “And thank you.” An awkward silence ensued, broken finally by raucous laughter from the recreation room. Sam looked embarrassed but kept my hand in his.
“Time for me to get to work, I suppose. Sometimes, I wonder how any of us manage to hold on to our sanity. It’s a crazy world.”
I nodded in response to his statement and he gave me a searching look. “Are you feeling a little bit better, having talked this out with someone?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so.”
“Good, that’s what I’m here for.” He hesitated, still holding on to my hand, and cleared his throat. A smile crossed his face briefly. “Now,” Sam said, meeting my eyes, “you say you came here for my help. Will you accept it even if you don’t like what I say, even if my opinion doesn’t coincide with yours?”
“Try me.”
“Okay, here goes nothing. I think that your basic problem is the fact that you spend too much time running from your problems, running from commitment. This feeling you have of being possessed may stem from your denial of life. You’re alone and you try to avoid loving people because you’re afraid you might harm them. Your relationship with Max was the closest you ever allowed yourself until you met Mitch. And when Max died, you left immediately so you wouldn’t hurt Mitch.”
I pulled my hand from his. “I suppose from one point of view all that is true, Sam, but . . .”
He gave me an exasperated glance. “Don’t interrupt the doctor, Deirdre. The human mind is capable of going to almost any length of self-deception.” He looked around us to see if anyone was near, then lowered his voice slightly. “A good part of you is still human despite your denial of that fact. And humans aren’t meant to be alone, so you’ve manufactured a companion, a conscience almost, to be with you. You need someone, so you take the safe way out and fall back on your unhealthy relationship with Max. The fact that he is dead and appears only periodically works out even better. But it’s all gotten out of hand. Your conscious mind is no longer in control of your fantasies.”
“Then I am actually crazy?”
“No, I didn’t say that. Surely you know by now that insanity is a relative term. You being what you are”—he looked away for a minute—“who’s to say what’s the normal psyche for a vampire? The bottom line is that you must begin to live the life you’ve been given. And Mitch has offered to share that life with you.”
“But it’ll never work.” My voice trembled slightly. Sam’s common-sense approach and rational explanations upset me more than I wanted to admit, because I could see that he might be right.
“You asked for my advice. That’s a dangerous thing if you don’t want to follow through with it.” Sam reached over and took both my hands into his. “Deirdre, work it out with Mitch no matter what. If any two people are good together, you two are. We can talk through more of this later, but don’t throw away what works.”
I nodded and pulled my hands away, then delicately grabbed his shoulders, reaching up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.
He put his hand up and touched the place I had kissed with a shy, pleased expression on his face. “Good night, then, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you.” I turned my back on him and hurried out into the night.
“Well, where to, lady? The meter’s running.”
I had flagged a cab and gotten in but did not give the driver any destination; instead, I sat silently in the backseat. His question finally pulled me out of my brooding. “You know,” I said, almost thinking out loud, “if I were smart, I would go straight to the airport.”
“The airport? You sure?” The driver seemed confused by my ambivalence.
I laughed softly to myself; why should he be any different from the rest of us? “No, I’m not sure. Just drive around for a while and let me think.”
“It’s your call.” He shrugged and moved the cab from the curb into the street. “As for me, I don’t much care. I’m on all night and it’s your money.”
Although I was watching out the window, I became aware that he was studying me covertly in the rearview mirror. When our eyes met, he showed no embarrassment, just curiosity. I gave him a small smile, the encouragement he was waiting for.
“You visiting someone in that hospital?”
“Well, you might say that. I know one of the doctors.”
“Your boyfriend? You two have a fight?”
“No, no, nothing like that. It’s more complicated than I could explain, even if we drove around all night.”
“Suits me. You’re better looking than most of my fares. Probably safer too. This city is getting crazier every day.”
I said nothing, but he continued. “You meet all types in this job. You probably wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve seen from up here. But I can tell you’re sad about something. And it seems a shame that a pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be happy. Why, you should be living in a nice house in the suburbs, with three or four little ones running around, happily married, not cruising this city with an old, worn-out cab driver.”
I looked at his license. “Are you married, Bill?”
“Was. Almost fifty years, but she died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” He stretched his neck up so that I could see his smile in the mirror. “Probably a lot sorrier than you. When she died I was devastated. Didn’t hardly know what to do with myself. It’s been three years now, and I still miss her like it was yesterday.”
He fell silent and I went back to the window. He stopped at a traffic light and turned around. “You decide where you want to go yet?”
“No, just keep driving. But do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure, goes with the territory, you know?”
I nodded and leaned forward in my seat. “When you were married, did you and your wife ever have differences of opinion, things that you couldn’t reconcile between the two of you?”
He snorted a bit. “Hell, yeah. Women and men couldn’t be more different if they were two different breeds. So things that seemed real important to her didn’t matter to me. And vice versa.”
“But you still stayed together.”
“Yep. It’s a nasty world out there if you don’t have someone to love.”
“Then here’s another question for you. If you had known, when you first met your wife fifty years ago, that she would die before you, would you still have set yourself up for it?”
“The loss, you mean?”
“Yes, would you have married her regardless?”
His reply was so quick, I knew that he had put no thought into what I had asked. “Of course,” he said in an injured tone, “I loved her. And how could you ever know for sure?”
“But let’s say, as a hypothetical situation, you had known for a certainty that you would have only, oh, fifteen years with her and not fifty. And that when she went, you would have nothing. That you knew you would never find another like her no matter how long you lived.”
“Hypothetically?”
“Of course.”
He thought about it this time; I could see his eyes narrow in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, it would’ve been hard to deal with that certainty, but I would’ve married her even if I knew we had only one year.” He paused for a minute. “Your boyfriend sick or something?”
“Yes, I suppose you could say that. I know for a fact that I’ll outlive him by quite a few years. But that doesn’t seem to bother him.”
“And it bothers you?”
“Yes, it does. I’ve already lost one husband; I have no desire to lose another.”
He gave a low whistle and a chuckle. “At the risk of sounding sarcastic, lady, I gotta tell you it’s a tough life. You got to take chances or you’re nowhere. Marry him. You might be surprised how it’ll turn out.”
I sighed and settled back into the seat again, smiling to myself, watching the passing pedestrians, studying the buildings, the shops, the bars. It was the same city as ever, but suddenly, as if my eyes had been cleared, as if the city and I had been washed clean, everything changed. I realized with a deep conviction that I had a home, not just a room, but a place where I belonged, where I was wanted, loved. Like all revelations, it seemed so simple, so true, that I wanted to laugh with joy. Instead, I tapped Bill gently on the shoulder. “I know where I want to go now. Thank you.” I gave him Mitch’s address. “And hurry, please. I’d like to get there before dawn.”