| |
SUSAN WOKE FROM RESTLESS sleep. She had no memory of dreams, good or bad. After only four hours of sleep she was weary, and her eyes felt grainy like sandpaper.
Although she had an appointment scheduled for nine o’clock with Dr. Vatsadze, she would have enjoyed the luxury of the soft bed for another hour or more but when she reached over and felt the empty side where David should have been laying, she swung her feet over the side and sat up.
The room was gray and shadowy; the drapes were drawn tightly over the windows allowing very little light to enter the sleeping chambers. On the opposite side of the bed she could see the light depression on the wrinkled sheets where he slept last night.
Stretching, she rose from bed and ambled over to the windows. Pulling the cord, she opened the heavy curtains and winced as the bright sunlight poured into the room, immediately extinguishing any remaining shadows. She turned away from the windows, squinting, and shuffled into the master bathroom to rinse her dry, coppery tasting mouth. As she brushed her teeth she stared at her pale face in the vanity. Her skin was very white, and her eyes were red and grainy. Her hair was tangled, as if she had been tossing and turning during her sleep.
Can you blame yourself for tossing and turning all night?
Instead of answering herself, she glanced once more at her own pale face staring back at her from the mirror. She rinsed her mouth out with cold water and removed her bra, leaving on only her panties.
For several minutes Susan studied her small, firm breasts, caressing them, not only feeling for any type of malignancy, but also searching for any evidence that could explain what had happened to her last night.
Of course, she found no marks on her breasts or stomach. There were no tell-tale marks, no fresh and tender wounds, and no angry scars. If she hadn’t known any better, she would have believed that she had imagined everything. Although she wished no harm on herself, she was upset and a little disappointed that there was not some mark or scar; it would not have fully explained the strange thing that had happened, but it would have at least been confirmation that she had not imagined it.
She sighed at her reflection in the mirror then turned away. She did not want to dwell on last night’s terrifying events. Turning her mind away from the paranormal was the only way she knew how to deal with her abilities. She was determined not to let the increasingly gruesome visions or dreams take hold of her life.
She turned the shower on, skinned off her panties, and gingerly stepped into the hot water. It felt good against her skin, refreshing and invigorating. She lathered with soap and rinsed it away. The memory of last night was still fresh in her mind, but she was a very willful person. She was determined not to let it affect the day ahead of her.
After toweling off, she went to the bedroom to dress. She pulled on fresh underwear and thigh-high stockings. From the closet she chose a gray blazer and skirt that stopped well above her knee and a pale lavender shirt and dressed.
For some reason she could not explain, the simple act of dressing seemed to be immensely satisfying. Although she experienced no premonition, she knew that today would be a day that things happened, whether good or bad she did not know. It would be a day of revelations. She felt extremely alive and motivated to meet the day head on.
Had David been there that moment she might have found herself removing the clothes she had just put on. In the hall she paused outside of his office and laid her ear against the door to listen for the tapping of the keyboard, but the room was silent. She was about to knock on the door thinking that he had fallen asleep at his desk when she heard kitchen sounds; the rattling of pots and pans and running water.
As she made her way through the small maze of short corridors and navigated her way through the condo, the wonderful aroma of bacon and maple syrup among others greeted her. Her stomach grumbled, and she was surprised for she rarely had an appetite for anything more than toast and coffee in the morning. She realized she was more than just hungry; she was famished.
She entered the kitchen through the swinging door where the aroma of delicious food overwhelmed her. Standing in front of the stove wearing pajamas and an apron, David stood flipping a pancake in a large non-stick frying pan. He was singing a song under his breath—” Lodi” by Credence Clearwater Revival—and Susan thought he looked as irresistible as the pancakes that he was cooking.
He still had not noticed her until he turned to lay the pancakes on a plate on the table. When he saw her, he grinned. She always thought he looked cutest when he grinned. When he smiled, he was just downright charming.
“Good morning,” he said, putting the frying pan back down on the burner. He removed the oven mitt from his right hand and pulled her close to him. He hugged her tightly and kissed her lips.
She said, “Good morning, honey.”
He held her out at arm’s length to look at her.
“You look absolutely wonderful.”
“So, do you,” she said and laughed.
“What? These are just some old pajamas I’ve had since my bachelor days.”
“Very handsome,” she said playfully.
“If you want to see something handsome, look at these pancakes. I made one that looks like Hilary Clinton, and here, the one with the big ears that look like a car driving with the doors open, that’s Barack Obama.”
“You’re such a silly man,” she said. She giggled and kissed his cheek. “It’s your most endearing quality.”
He grinned.
“What can I do?” she asked, wiping a smear of red lipstick from his face with her finger. She moved around him and started for the stove, but he halted her by grasping her arm.
“Sit and eat,” he said, indicating the chair closest to the window. It was her favorite place to sit because she could look out into the community garden.
“I want to help,” she replied.
“No.” He was adamant. “I know how to handle myself in the kitchen and I like to finish what I started. Now sit.”
“But—”
“No buts, just put your sweet little one in the chair,” he said, motioning to the table, and glaring at her in mock anger.
She sat in the chair nearest the window but did not look outside to see the morning. She stared, instead, at him. She watched as he cooked a wonderfully large breakfast wearing his pajamas. He prepared toast, eggs, bacon and sausage and pancakes. He laid out prepared croissants, cream cheese and fresh orange juice. Apple and strawberry jams already waited on the table.
Everything tasted as wonderful as it smelled.
Her egg was laid over a piece of toast that was smothered with strawberry jam and she took a huge bite out of it first. She loaded her plate with stacks of fabulous pancakes topped with lots of maple syrup. She had four pieces of bacon and three sausage links.
He sat at the table opposite her with his fork poised in the air, a piece of egg dangled from its pronged end. He stared wide-eyed at her as she stuffed her face full of the breakfast he had prepared. She never ate that much. When he woke this morning and felt the urge to cook the meal, he had expected to feed some to Phoenix, and throw the rest away because of her small appetite. Now he found himself wondering if there would be enough. Her appetite was insatiable.
“How did you sleep last night?” he asked.
She said, “Sleep? Like a baby, I think. When I woke, I had the feeling that I’d dreamt but I couldn’t recall. I guess what I don’t know won’t hurt.”
He shrugged his shoulders. He said, “Do you think you dreamt about last night’s vision? Maybe something else came to you while you slept?”
“I don’t think so.”
He set down his fork and drank some orange juice.
He said, “Everything okay with you, Sue?”
“Yes, of course, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Sure.”
She stared at him for a moment and then said, “That didn’t sound convincing.”
After a slight pause: “Yes but neither did yours.”
She got up from her seat and walked over to him. She sat in his lap.
“I love you, David, you know that.”
“I love you, too, with all of my heart.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him gently on his lips.
“You’re right, though. Something is bothering me, and I know it’s bothering you, too. What happened to me last night—and with Timothy—is rare. Most of my life the dreams and the visions never seemed so vivid, so lively. And certainly, never so gruesome. These latest visions are something entirely new and it scares the hell out of me.”
“I’m definitely worried about this, Sue.”
“But I don’t think we should be afraid of this. I have a meeting with Dr. V this morning and I’d like to find out what he has to say about this. I think he’s going to be very interested to know that this is happening again.”
“It’s good you have a session scheduled today.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I hope we can talk after your session. It might help if we work this out between us. We could figure out what this sudden affliction is all about. With your degree and your knowledge of the subject—”
“Yes, of course,” she said. Everyone seemed to think that her credentials qualified her for self-psychoanalysis. She got up from his lap and smoothed her skirt. “But I’m really not in the mood right now and I don’t want to spoil the wonderful breakfast you made for me.”
Nodding, he got up from his chair and pulled her close again, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you. Meet me for lunch?”
“Call me and tell me where.”
They kissed softly.
Some of her fear abated with that kiss but it would not all go away like the passing storm. She knew in her mind that the storm was just beginning for her, and the worst was yet to come.