by Dan Hawley
It had been no good, though. He had ended up just singing along.
Jason had tried everything; the Bluetooth speaker playing music, and headphones playing soft nature sounds that promised sleep would be achieved in only minutes. Some other offerings used hypnosis to lull you to sleep. Jason didn’t like the idea of being programmed, so he had vetoed that idea. He had also tried earplugs, but he couldn’t get comfortable with them in. They blocked the air in and put pressure on his eardrums, making his head feel full and heavy.
The only thing that worked, a little, was running a fan. The fan created a white noise that hid the hum just enough that Jason wouldn’t focus on it so much. The hum hadn’t gone away, though; it was ever-present. Constant and relentless, like a freight train. The fan would sometimes distract him long enough to fall asleep, but mostly he would lie there, feeling the hum through the fan’s white noise. The vibration would tickle at his insides at first, then grow louder as it moved into his ears. Louder and louder, up, into his mind, into a great crescendo!
Then he would wake up somewhere and not know how he got there, or discover he had moved things, or his body would ache as if he had been lifting weights or jogging in his sleep.
The gentle sound of the shower mixed with some slow jam playing on the speaker continued. Samantha was humming along; what a pleasant sound. Not like the other one, no, this hum was nice and soft and warm.
Jason rolled his head over and looked at the nightstand. Below his lamp lay all the things that liked to move around at night, gathered around the lamp like they were relaxing under a tree on a warm, summer day. Fuck it, he thought. Move around if you want; I don’t care anymore. His heavy eyelids blinked lazily and finally closed, Samantha’s sweet hum in his mind.
* * *
Jason blinked again. The room was bright. He squinted against the light and rolled over. Samantha was lying beside him. As his eyes rested upon her face, she opened her eyes, shards of obsidian staring back at him.
“Good morning,” she said as she cozied into her pillow. Jason stared a moment.
“Hey there.”
Jason yawned and stretched, kicking the comforter off his right leg.
“Damn! I guess I passed out hard, huh?” he said, lying on his back.
Samantha inched closer, ran her hand along his naked torso, and rested it on his chest, running her fingernails through his short chest hair.
“You were out cold when I came to bed. You looked so peaceful.”
Samantha smiled and cozied in closer to Jason. He looked over at his nightstand, expecting to have to fish everything out of the drawer again. Instead, everything was exactly where it had been the night before—lying under the lamp-tree, taking shade from the hot, summer sun.
“I haven’t slept that well in forever!” Jason reached over, put his arm around Sam, and hugged her tight. “I guess talking to the doctor really did help,” Sam said.
Jason kissed her cheek.
“I definitely felt lighter after the appointment. It took the edge off, I guess. Looking forward to tonight. Hopefully we can learn something.” Jason’s eyes were clear and bright, and his dimples showed through his beard.
“You hungry?”
* * *
“Chef Jason’s famous French toast!” Jason announced as he lifted the golden-brown bread from the pan onto their plates.
“Mmm!” Samantha exclaimed as she took a sip of orange juice. Jason’s mouth watered from the aroma of toasted wheat and egg mixed with vanilla and cinnamon.
He sat down, and they dug in.
CHAPTER 20
“Got everything?” Samantha asked. Jason checked over his bag and took a mental inventory. The day had moved slowly for the couple as they waited in anticipation for the night to come. The all-important test on which so much depended. They had watched some tv after breakfast. It had been more of the same—huge numbers of infected, disturbing numbers dead, no vaccine in sight. The president promised late fall, but most critics said that was impossible. Once they got their morbid fill, the couple decided to get some air.
They waved to Chester as they passed the concierge desk. He seemed to be training another new concierge. Samantha and Jason exited the doors and headed out onto the street. It was cool but pleasant outside, with a light, briny breeze coming in off the harbor. They strolled down to the seawall and across the section where the speeding cyclist had struck Jason. Jason rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly and called the cyclist a blind twit as the couple discussed what had happened that day.
No one’s fault, really. Just bad luck.
They continued down the walkway, wandering through the city in a wide loop. Building after building was closed and shuttered. After about an hour, they arrived back near their apartment. They stopped at one of the restaurants that had reopened for takeout and delivery only. Jason asked for two orders of fish and chips through the intercom at the front window. The masked person inside wrote down the order with gloved hands and then replied, “It’ll be about ten minutes.”
After fifteen minutes, the couple received their order and hurried back to their apartment, leaving a mouth-watering trail of deep-fried food aromas in their wake.
Jason commented, as he did every time they ate fish out west that, “They just couldn’t get fresh fish like this back home.”
The afternoon consisted of more tv, some sudoku, and researching sleep disorders on the internet. The day crawled by as Jason checked the time every ten minutes or so, a pattern that was broken up by dinner and packing. At 8:30 p.m., Jason stood in front of Samantha.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
“I think so,” Jason said as he looked into Sam’s sad but hopeful eyes.
“You gonna be ok here all alone?”
“I think so,” Samantha said.
They smiled, and Jason grabbed her waist and pulled her close.
“I’ll text you later if I can.”
He kissed her cheek, grabbed his duffle, and opened the apartment door.
“Love you,” he said as he paused and looked back. “Ditto.”
* * *
It was dark and the sky was clear when Jason pulled his SUV out into the street. He looked up through his glasses and sunroof and thought he saw a few faded stars behind the city’s light pollution. Jason turned the radio on with a push of a button, and Bob Marley started singing from the speakers, telling Jason not to worry about a thing.
“If you say so, Bob. You’re the boss!”
Jason tapped along to the music and smiled while driving happily over to the sleep clinic.
He pulled into the same spot he had the previous day and shifted into park. There were several other cars there, and as Jason looked up the old building’s brown brick walls, he wondered how many sleep test rooms there were inside.
Three floors, he thought. The main floor is the waiting room and offices, and the second and third floors were the test rooms maybe. Four rooms per floor. Eight rooms? He would soon find out. But why hadn’t he gone in yet?
He remained sitting in his car, staring up at the building; bright lights shone from the windows on the second and third floors. Jason suddenly had a terrible thought—what if the test shows something is really wrong in my head? What if my brain is so fucked up, I’ll be doing weird shit in my sleep for the rest of my life? Would Sam even put up with that?
His thoughts quickened.
What if they find a tumor or cancer or something in there? What if I’m dying and going crazy along the way?
Jason shifted in his seat as he stared at the entrance.
Or, he thought somberly, what if they find nothing at all? What if good ol’ Doctor Luu can’t find anything wrong at all. That would be worse, wouldn’t it? Jason sat a minute longer, blank faced and statuesque. Finally, the realization that he would be late sparked his body to move.
Almost automatically, he grabbed his phone and wallet from the middle console, his duffle from the passenger seat, and went inside.
> “Good evening Mr. Steele,” the receptionist greeted. She eyed him as his shoes clicked on the black and white linoleum.
“Hello.”
“Nine o’clock appointment, is it?”
Jason nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
He scanned the waiting room, thinking he might see the strange boy and haggard woman staring at him again. He did not.
“I’ll have you fill out this questionnaire and sign a waiver before we head up, please.”
The receptionist handed Jason a clipboard from her chair behind the desk.
“A waiver, huh?” Jason joked, “should I be worried?”
His hidden smile faded against her lack of humor. The receptionist simply held the clipboard out with a flat, emotionless expression. Jason cleared his throat, nodded, and took the board.
Once Jason had answered the questions and signed the waiver, the receptionist led him up the stairs to the second floor. Long hardwood boards passed underfoot as they walked down the corridor. The first door on the left was closed. Jason peered into the first room on his right. It wasn’t nosiness; at least, not entirely. There is a certain natural tendency to look in a doorway as one passes.
In his mind, leading up to his appointment, Jason had pictured the sleep clinic test rooms similar to hospital rooms. He expected hospital beds with sterile white sheets and stainless-steel instruments sitting on stainless-steel trays. He pictured it all under cold fluorescent lights with the smell of antiseptic in the air.
Instead, the room he saw as he passed was very much like a regular bedroom. It was warm and inviting, illuminated by soft, yellow light. A cozy bed with a headboard was against the wall, and a boy was lying under the brown and forest green blankets. The boy’s face turned to the door as Jason passed. Their tired eyes met briefly. It sent a shiver down Jason’s spine.
Was that the same boy from yesterday? he wondered. It was hard to tell without the old school clothes and the odd lady who had hovered over the boy before. The receptionist’s voice broke through Jason’s thoughts.
“On the right, Mr. Steele.”
Jason shook the thoughts from his head and turned into the room.
His room appeared different than the little boy’s. It was more similar to the hospital room he had envisioned. There was a hospital bed with white sheets and a light-blue blanket. A machine was beside it, wires coming out of it like a mechanical octopus. The fluorescent light was bright and made Jason squint in the contrast of the comparatively dim hallway.
Jason walked over and put his bag down on the bed. He slipped his light jacket off and hung it on the hook provided. Jason noticed three cameras mounted to the ceiling and a small half bathroom with a toilet and sink in the far corner.
“Please make yourself comfortable; Dr. Luu will be in shortly to see you.”
“Thanks,” Jason said, wondering if getting comfortable was going to be possible here.
He put his phone down on the side table and noticed there was no drawer.
Probably for the best, he thought as he made his way to the bathroom.
He didn’t hear Dr. Luu enter his room while he was washing his hands, so Jason jumped back an inch when he turned around again.
“Shit!” Jason’s heart thumped twice in his chest. “Scared the hell outta me, doc.”
“Sorry about that, Jason. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, holding a tablet against his chest.
“Shall we begin?”
* * *
Bubbles fizzed and popped against Samantha’s soft skin. Gentle music was playing softly in the background as she breathed in the calming aroma of lavender and chamomile. The water was warm and soothing to her tense muscles.
She often enjoyed a nice bath after an evening yoga session, but it had been some time since she practiced. Too many distractions, she thought. Not in the right headspace. Ironically, part of doing yoga was getting you and keeping you in a positive headspace.
But we don’t always do what’s best for us, do we? No, she agreed with herself.
Sam sank herself deeper into the soapy water. Her dark hair was tied up with the only piece of fabric that she wore. White froth hugged against the parts of her body that would not be drowned below the surface. Her breasts floated like two desert islands upon which any pirate would gladly strangle his own mother to be stranded.
She tried to relax.
It worked, to an extent, but her thoughts kept dwelling on Jason and how the test was going. She thought he would have texted her when he got there, but he hadn’t. She still hoped for a text before he went to bed. Maybe he would. She sat up, reached over and tapped her phone to check the time, then took a sip of tea. She slid back down the smooth tub until most of her body was submerged again.
Samantha wondered if Jason would be able to sleep there, in some foreign bed. She wondered if she would sleep herself. It had been so long since she slept alone. She usually didn’t like it, finding it cold and lonely, but she was looking forward to this evening, hoping that without Jason and his disturbances, she would finally get a good night’s rest.
She slipped further down and let her head enter the warm water. Her head floated with her ears just below the surface, the liquid muffling the apartment’s sound.
One could rent a sensory deprivation chamber here in the city, Sam thought. One of those where you just float in water inside a small room. The lack of sound and light, with the feeling of floating, is meant to deprive your mind of stimuli, which does interesting and strange things to it.
People have reported having full hallucinations or communions with nature or God.
Sam wouldn’t mind that here, in her bathtub. To talk to God and ask why it’s so necessary for people to suffer. Samantha floated, mesmerized by the sound of water lapping against her body and the walls of the tub. She lay there until the water became still and another sound broke through. It wasn’t the sound she had hoped for, though. Instead of God, all she could hear was the hum.
* * *
“So you’re gonna hook me up to the Kraken are ya?”
Jason eyed the large machine that sat ominously beside his bed. Dr. Luu laughed sincerely, “Oh, no, Jason, that machine is quite old and a little outdated. It would work, but for your specific circumstances, we will use the wireless probes. Please, have a seat.”
Jason sat down on the side of the bed, and Dr. Luu took a seat in the short, blue chair across from him.
“Basically, Jason, we’re going to monitor your brain with our sensors while you sleep and hopefully catch any abnormalities that may be causing the disturbances. We will also monitor you physically by way of the cameras on the ceiling.”
Jason looked up at the cameras and suddenly wondered if they could see him in the bathroom. Better remember to close the door next time, he thought.
“Sounds good, Doc.”
“Do you normally wear pajamas to bed?”
“Actually, I usually sleep naked.”
Dr. Luu raised an eyebrow.
“Well, you’ll have to wear at least the shorts we asked you to bring.”
“No problem, Doc.”
“So, if you will kindly change, a nurse will be in shortly to attach the probes.”
Jason stood up and grabbed his bag.
“Just…one more thing Jason, if you would.”
Jason stopped, waiting for the doctor to continue. “Please remain in this room now and until you are dismissed in the morning.”
Jason frowned, curious.
“It’s for your safety and the safety of our other patients and, of course, the staff.”
“Sure, Doc, no worries.”
Jason turned to go to the bathroom to change but paused and looked back at Dr. Luu.
“What if I sleepwalk out into the hall?”
“Well, that’s a whole other thing entirely, Jason.” With a nod, Dr. Luu turned and left, leaving Jason standing in the doorway of the bathroom, wondering w
hat the hell the doctor meant by that.
Jason had thought the nurse would be in right away to attach the probes to his head. Instead, he was sitting shirtless in bed, looking down at his blue gym shorts. The waist fit more snugly than the last time he had worn them. He hadn’t been to the gym in months, and it showed. His normally flat abdomen had piled on a layer of fat and hung lazily over his waistband. His chest sagged and looked unhappy from above. “Ok, it’s friggin’ gym time tomorrow. This is getting out of control.”
Jason poked and squeezed at his chubby pecs and belly, but he suddenly stopped when he remembered the cameras. His eyes shot up to one of the dark, ever-seeing lenses—its dim, red light sitting sentry as it stared at him. Unblinking, always watching.
Could they hear him?
Jason pictured some lab coat on the other end of the camera feed, smiling and laughing at the fat boy spectacle. What kind of creepy bastard watches other people sleep anyway?
Jason got up from the bed and went to his bag. It opened with a loud ziiiiiiip. He removed a plain, white t-shirt and pulled it over his head.
Peep show’s over, creeper, he thought and walked over to the window.
The large single-pane window was old. Not as old as the building, but every time the wind picked up, Jason could hear a quiet whistle as the air pushed through cracks.
He looked down at his SUV. The reliable machine that had delivered them safely all the way across the country. Over the plains and through the mountains. Who drives across the country in the middle of winter anyway? Jason mused as he eyed his vehicle with a smile. He pulled his phone from his pocket to text Sam.
