The person was back on the balcony in the apartment building, but this time they weren’t just sitting. Even in the light of day, Sarah couldn’t make out anything identifiable about the figure, but could clearly tell from the way it stood - tall, shoulders back and chest out - that the person was staring directly at her, unwavering in its intimidating stance. Once again, she couldn’t clearly identify the clothing except that it was all black, and this time their head was covered by a hood which threw a shadow over their face. Her mind raced back to the grocery store. The shadow created by the hood was like a hole in the ground would look from a distance – you only see a small area of blackness, but you can be sure the space behind it is deep and could hold any terror imaginable. She would need to be much closer to unlock the secret of what lurked behind the black.
Please don’t ever let me see what is behind there, she thought to herself.
Her eyes were fixed on the balcony now as she leaned forward, her hands on the arm rests of the chair, almost pushing herself into a standing position. She realized the book had fallen from her hands. It now sat, closed, on the ground next to her, but she couldn’t take her eyes away from the balcony for even a second. A heavier grey cloud rolled in front of the sun for a moment, dimming the world and forcing her to strain a little to see the happenings on the balcony, but she could still see what was going on.
The figure turned slowly sideways and bent down to the ground, moving in the same deliberate way it had when she first saw it go inside. Not flustered, not panicking, almost robotic in its movement. When it straightened again, it held something in its hand. To Sarah it looked like clothing or material of some sort. Rather than shaking the material open the way a person would with damp washing, the person let part of the object fall from their hands, maintaining a grip on one side of it. Their other hand reached down to take hold of the other side, and they mechanically raised the object in front of their face, keeping it suspended there for maybe two seconds before draping it over the metal railing of the balcony.
It was a plain white shirt. Nothing sinister about that, Sarah thought. But it was the way they had held the shirt up for a moment that got her mind ticking. It wasn’t the normal way someone would hang washing over a railing to dry, and she was certain the person up there had wanted her to get a good look at the shirt before it was set in place to dry. Maybe it wasn’t wet at all, rather some obscure prop to keep her confused about what she was seeing and why she even needed to see it.
The person repeated their rigid movements to pick up another item of clothing before holding it up for Sarah to view. This one was just a plain blue rectangle. A puzzled look formed on her face until she realized what it could be. An apron like the ones worn by staff at the Everyday Grocery. Like the one worn by Jane.
The fear from a couple of minutes ago intensified, and she felt frozen. It wasn’t the same as one of her panic attacks. In those moments she felt stuck in one place, but it feels more like she is bracing herself because she knows there can be some kind of irrational, almost involuntary movement coming at any second, whether it be falling, lashing out an arm, or worst case vomiting. This wasn’t the same. Right now, she wasn’t expecting any movement at all, in fact she desperately wanted some movement to come, but it wouldn’t. She wanted to stand, to dash inside away from what she was seeing. Any kind of movement to break the invisible restraints wrapping her in place like an agitated hospital patient.
She couldn’t think clearly. The terror she felt wasn’t for herself anymore either, it was for Jane. Had this person done something to her? Was her body inside that apartment, stripped naked and lying bloodied in the bathtub while this lunatic took the inexplicable steps of washing her clothes and hanging them to dry on the railing for Sarah to see? None of that made any sense to her, and while she privately conceded her mind wasn’t always to be trusted in matters of finding reason, it still seemed ludicrous.
Before she could let her thoughts fully immerse themselves in the deep, black waters into which they had begun to wade, there was more movement on the balcony. The person had draped the blue apron next to the shirt and turned their back to Sarah. She still hadn’t taken her eyes away, and didn’t think she’d even blinked while this was happening. The person stepped towards the door and pulled it open, causing the gears in Sarah’s mind to start turning uncontrollably, trying to work out what she was going to see next.
Oh god, please don’t bring out Jane’s head. Please for the love of…
She knew she was being melodramatic, but her mind was way off course and she couldn’t control the images forming in there. Holding her breath, she tried to push all of the horrendous thoughts out of her mind. Although she would feel incredibly foolish and embarrassed for getting so worked up, she tried to imagine the only acceptable scene that could bring this to a conclusion. She pictured the person opening the door, and Jane walking out onto the balcony, waving happily as if to say ‘Hey! I got you so good!’
This image was immediately replaced however, with the darker vision of the balcony person dragging Jane onto the balcony, hands tied together in front of her, silver tape stretched across the lower half of her face to cover her screams. And all Sarah would be able to do is watch in horror as the person grabs the back of Jane’s hair, yanking her head backwards and although her face points to the sky, her terrified eyes would stay locked on Sarah, silently pleading for help. But there would be nothing she could do as the hooded balcony tormenter raised a blade to Jane’s throat, dragging it slowly across, opening a dark red slit in her pale skin.
Back in reality, away from her twisted fears, the person leaned inside the door and pulled out what looked like a large white rectangle. A big sheet of cardboard perhaps? Sarah couldn’t be sure until the person stood to face her again. The cloud had passed and sunlight spilled onto the balcony, making everything a little clearer. The sun did nothing to warm her skin this time, and she sat frozen in place, her hands squeezing tighter and tighter around the thin arm rests of her chair, knuckles growing a hard shade of white against the pinkish flesh of her fingers. The person lifted the object in front of them, confirming to Sarah it was definitely a sheet of white cardboard. While it was large – the person held it on each end and their arms were stretched to almost full span – it must not have been heavy as they showed no sign of struggle holding it up.
If she’d had any doubt the whole charade was intended for anybody but her, the doubt was ripped away like an industrial vacuum cleaner swallowing a small plastic bag. There was writing on the cardboard, and while none of this made any sense at all, she understood implicitly that a person facing straight at her, holding up signs, could not be interpreted as anything but a direct attempt to unsettle her.
The large, black letters covered the whole length of the sign so that even from her distance, she could clearly read the writing:
PHONE
A puzzled look found Sarah’s face as she read it, her eyes remaining wide and afraid. Given no time to process what was being communicated to her through the sign, she was startled by her phone vibrating on the table in front of her, and her head whipped around sharply to the glass tabletop. Until that moment, there had been no sound in Sarah’s world, as though her intense concentration on the balcony, mixed with fear, had overrun all of her other senses. There were no sounds of birds, no dogs barking, no cars moving in the streets around her, and if those things were taking place, they weren’t registering. But with the sound of her phone rattling on the glass table as it vibrated, her trance was broken. It was almost disorienting to be back in control of her body, similar to the feeling of waking from a nightmare to find you aren’t running at all, just lying there in your bed.
She didn’t recognize the number illuminated on the screen, and she hesitated to pick the phone up, even though she knew she had to answer.
“Hello,” the words came out as a stutter.
“Hey, Sarah?” A female’s voice. “It’s Jane.”
Sarah w
as confused for a brief moment – she had entered Jane’s number into her phone before going to sleep after her visit the other day, so her name should have appeared on the phone screen. She tried to zone out her fears, but the persistent thought of Jane being trapped in the apartment down the road was trying to take control.
“Jane,” more stammering, “is everything OK?” Sarah assumed everything wasn’t OK, but did her best to hide the seemingly rhetorical question.
“OK? It’s better than that!” Hearing not only the words coming from Jane’s mouth, but also no signs of distress in her voice was like a wave of cool ocean water hitting her body during a heatwave, washing over her and floating her into a sublime state of relaxation. “I’m down at work, someone found your purse in the back of the trolley bay and just handed it in.”
Talk about going from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other, thought Sarah. Minutes ago she had visions of Jane, bound and gagged in a bathtub while some sick mental patient cut her into pieces, deciding which bit they liked most as a trophy. Now she was getting news that ordinarily would have made her smile from ear to ear. Except she wasn’t smiling just yet. The feeling of confusion still hung around her like a thick, warm air. If she’d been sitting comfortably reading her book when Jane called with this news, she would have been ecstatic. But in this instance, with the call preceded by a strange, hooded figure on a balcony holding a sign up to her that read ‘PHONE’, any number of strange ideas ran through her head rather than a rush of joy.
“I hope you don’t mind, I opened it up and it doesn’t look like there is any money in there – you probably guessed that much though,” Jane continued. “I’m so sorry, but I’m sure you’ll still be happy to have everything else back.”
Sarah tried to speak but the words caught in her throat. She was indeed happy to have everything else back. She hadn’t even cancelled any of her bank cards and knew it would be near impossible to get her identification replaced considering her circumstances. Despite the nagging annoyance of her money being taken, the rational part of her brain concluded the money was specifically for the groceries she ended up getting for nothing anyway. Some words finally broke free. “That’s great news.”
But the words carried none of the appropriate emotion. It sounded like she was distracted. Confused. She glanced back over at the balcony, and the person was gone. All she saw was the door sliding closed, and the clothes had been taken from the railing. She couldn’t make any sense of it. Was the person simply predicting what was going to happen next? It sounded ridiculous but if she logically stepped it all out, she was shown some clothing that represented Jane, or at least the grocery store she worked at. Following that, the word ‘PHONE’ was shown to her, and the phone rang. Jane. There seemed to be no purpose, except to foretell what was to come.
But why?
That was the real problem. What happened was fairly clear in itself, but why?
“Are you alright? I thought you’d be happier,” Jane’s voice snapped her out of the turmoil in her head and she wasn’t sure how long she had sat silently.
Focusing on the present, Sarah created some enthusiasm in her voice, albeit false, and replied to Jane. “Oh, no, sorry, I am definitely happy! You just caught me off guard, I wasn’t expecting that news,” thinking she sounded convincing enough, she momentarily setting aside her bemusement at why a resident of a run-down apartment building was sending her predictions of her immediate future. “I’d pretty much written off any hope of seeing that purse again.”
“I guess someone took it into the parking lot, helped themselves to the cash and threw it behind the trolleys.
“Yeah, it seems that way. Well the main thing was the cards and ID anyway, I hadn’t cancelled anything so I’ll be glad to get them back.” Losing money, cancelling cards – these were all secondary concerns to Sarah at this very moment. The possibility she was finally losing her mind was of deeper concern. Surely she hadn’t imagined the person on the balcony and the whole performance this afternoon. She knew this was a possibility, and it may account for the bizarreness of it all. Swatting the idea away quickly, she realized that seeing something once could be a hallucination of some kind, but this was the second time she had shared a long-distance dance with the unfamiliar figure on the second-floor balcony of the apartment building.
“Well, I know its short notice, but did you want to do dinner tonight? I can bring the purse and anything else you need,” Jane’s offer was very welcome. Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone tonight. She had shaken off the fear that had burrowed under her skin when she’d noticed the person on the balcony watching her, however she was still uncomfortable. Not afraid, but definitely spooked by the events of the last ten minutes.
“I don’t see why not,” Sarah considered re-hashing her joke about having no plans, but realized she was at risk of sounding like a father who will make reference to the dead center of town every time he drives his family past a cemetery. “How about lasagna?”
Jane sounded enthused about the idea, and after giving her a list of grocery requirements (and a fairly lengthy alcohol list – something a little stronger than three beers might be required to take the edge off her nerves tonight), Sarah said goodbye and sat the phone back on the table. It remained there for no longer than ten seconds before she tentatively turned in the direction of the balcony again, and although there was no longer any activity taking place, another shiver ran through her body and she was no longer comfortable sitting there. Picking up her phone and the fallen book, she retreated in the back door and double checked the lock. And then checked it again.
CHAPTER 10
Sarah and Jane worked their way through half a bottle of white wine as they prepared lasagna, leaving it in the oven while they chatted. Night had fallen early and the last of the daylight had faded away by 6:30p.m. Despite the refreshing presence of the sun throughout the day, and while there was no sign of the fog which had hung over Calston in the past few days, it was still cold and the clouds weren’t going to allow the moonlight to break through tonight.
Sarah was still somewhat troubled by the events of the afternoon, understandably, however she was doing her best to keep thoughts of it at bay and enjoy the evening. She had never been a big drinker, although with the twelve Halford’s lager bottles that sat in her fridge along with the now one and a half bottles of wine, and the unopened bottle of Shambles Bourbon in the cupboard she intended to try and get rid of some nasty thoughts tonight. With what she had been through for the last ten years, and the mental battles she’d faced, she at least held some pride for never trying to self-medicate with alcohol or drugs in the way that many people do when they see no way out of their own heads. The thought had crossed her mind of course, but earlier in her illness she heeded the warnings of counsellors who cautioned her against that course of action.
Still, with Jane’s company, she was enjoying the drinks more than she intended to allow herself and it was nice to let go for a night.
Once the lasagna had been pulled from the oven and a good deal of it eaten, the two women with different dreams and at very different stages of their lives opened a second bottle of wine and continued talking and laughing together in a manner suggesting they had known each other far longer than they actually had.
Despite being so far from the world she was confined to, Sarah particularly enjoyed hearing stories of the goings on at Mixers, the bar where Jane used to work. They laughed together when Jane discussed the misadventures of patrons who had over-imbibed and done things they would live to regret, and it took Sarah back to a time before Jason, before the kids and well before her first panic attack. Although probably not so out of control as younger folks nowadays (drugs were never a prominent feature of Sarah’s party stories for one thing), she could remember countless times back in Pokona where Mel, Josie and herself had needed to save each other from becoming the reckless girls in Jane’s stories who would inevitably leave a bar minus an item of clothing and almos
t certainly minus their dignity.
Jane was the first to broach the subject Sarah knew would come up, and although she wasn’t looking forward to talking about it, she also knew she would and that it would probably make her feel better at the end of it, to get things out in the open.
“I didn’t want to pry and I noticed you seemed a bit down the other night after talking about the past,” Jane’s voice held a real concern and whether she knew it or not, it made her next words a lot easier for Sarah to hear, “but do you still see your kids at all?”
The pair held each other’s gaze briefly, but Sarah’s eyes dropped to the table. “I expected you’d ask about that at some point.”
“Sorry, if I’m being nosy just tell me, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to,” replied Jane.
“No, it’s OK. You know, you’re the first person I’ve really spoken to about them. So I suppose I don’t know how I’ll go talking about it until I start. But I do want to.”
“Well feel free to stop any time, I don’t want to upset you at all,” as Jane spoke, she figured Sarah was already upset just by the thought of talking more about her past, but couldn’t take the question back any more than she could squash her own curiosity about Sarah and her past.
Sarah got started talking and skimmed over a lot, recounting that she had finally spoken to Jason about her panic attacks a little more than twelve months after the first one, and as she should have known all along, he was wonderful about it. She’d confessed everything to him, not just the panic attacks, but her feelings around the distance growing between them and the foolish notion that she had become a bit player in their family. While talking about this, she wondered out loud whether Jason had been so good about everything because he felt like he needed to shoulder some of the blame. Perhaps he realized he’d been distant himself and the disappearance of communication between them was obviously a two-way street, not just Sarah’s fault
Sarah Before Page 7
