Whitney’s mouth was gaping open. I’m sure I surprised her; I had never acted like this before. I was the quiet friend who never acted out. Whitney was the loud one who was never scared to voice her opinion.
But today my world had turned upside down and I needed help. I didn’t have time for someone who was angry and jealous. I had to solve this problem.
I stormed off to my room, slamming the door. It felt good to physically let off some anger. I flopped onto my bed, lying on my stomach.
Pulling out the page, I examined the message again. A coma for five years? There’s no way this is possible. I had no explanation for why nobody else could see the note, though. Of course, I had only showed two people. And I couldn’t be sure one of them had even read it. I rolled my eyes.
A few minutes later there was a knock on my door. Whitney popped her head in, looking contrite. “Can I come in?”
I sighed and sat up. “Yeah, sure.”
Whitney came in and sat on my desk chair, twiddling her fingers. She must be nervous, I thought.
She combed her hair back behind her ears and cleared her throat. “I thought about what you said,” she started, her eyes darting around. “It’s not fair to treat you this way over some guy I don’t even know.” She finally looked me in the eyes. “You were right. I was jealous.” She gave me a small smile. “I guess since I wanted him, I just assumed he would want me too. It never occurred to me that he might be interested in you instead.”
I let out a huff, annoyed. “Just because you don’t get what you want, you can’t take it out on me.”
Whitney nodded. “I know. I’m really sorry.”
There was the apology I was looking for. “Apology accepted.” I felt a little better now.
“Maybe I could take another look at your paper? I promise to really read it this time.” Whitney looked at me hopefully.
I handed it to her and watched as she read it. I could feel my hope deflating as I saw her pass the spot I knew the message to be at.
Whitney shook her head. “I don’t see anything. What is it that’s scaring you?”
I took the page back. Where did I even begin? I recounted my story of what had happened, what the note said, and how Whitney was now the second person who didn’t even see it at all.
Whitney’s mouth was wide open by the end of my story. I couldn’t tell if she believed me or not.
“Um, what? How is this even possible? I mean, surely it’s someone’s idea of a joke!” she said, incredulous.
“Yeah, but how am I going to get anyone to believe me if nobody else can see what I see? A coma? No way! Right? I mean, I remember my whole life!” By this time, I was up, pacing around my room.
Whitney quietly said, “I believe you.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “Really? You do?” Hope surged through me.
“Of course, I do. You’re my best friend. I’m always here for you.” She held out her hand to me and I took it.
“Thank you,” I whispered. It felt good to have my friend back.
Whitney inhaled, fanning her eyes. “Okay! Now let’s figure this out, so I won’t start crying.” She let out a laugh.
I laughed too, since I had wanted to cry myself. “I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted.
Whitney thought for a minute. “Well, the note says five years, right? Where were you five years ago?”
Five years? “I was still in college.” I thought back to that time in my life. “The only thing I can think of is that’s when my migraines started.”
Whitney frowned. “Really? No idea of the cause?”
I shook my head. “No. They just started one day. Medicine doesn’t really help. And it’s always on one side of my head.” I pointed to the middle of the left side of my head.
“Hmmm. Interesting, but a lot of people get migraines,” Whitney pointed out. “I’m not sure if that’s important or not.”
“I’m not sure either.” I really had no idea what could help me.
Whitney got up. “It’s getting late. I’m going to order pizza for dinner. Sound good?”
I nodded absentmindedly. I needed some time to process all of this.
By the time the pizza arrived, I was having zero luck. No new ideas had come to me. I joined Whitney in the kitchen, eating some pizza and drinking a few beers. Whitney was drinking wine.
“What if this is some big joke your boss is playing on you?” Whitney asked while chewing on a bite.
“No, that doesn’t make sense.” I shook my head. “You can’t see the note either. I have a feeling nobody but me can see it.”
I was starting to feel despair. What was I supposed to do now? Suddenly, my appetite was completely gone. I felt like I was going to choke if I tried to eat anymore. Nobody could help me. I was on my own.
I stood up from the table, too anxious to sit still anymore. “I need to get some air.” I was starting to feel frantic. The air itself was smothering me.
Heading to my room, I quickly changed out of my work clothes and put on jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. I grabbed my purse and left the room.
Whitney was standing in the hallway, a concerned look on her face. “What’s going on, Abigail? Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, stay here. I need fresh air and to walk around and think.” I couldn’t stay here in this place right now. I felt like I could barely breathe.
I practically raced out and headed toward the elevator. Realizing it would be too slow for my needs, I turned instead for the stairs. By this time, I was trying to suck in air, imagining that there was no oxygen left for me.
And why not? I thought, making my way outside. Apparently, this isn’t real. I’m not real. Why should I need to breathe then?
In the back of my head, where rationality ruled, I knew I could breathe fine. I could feel my chest rising and falling, my heart beating fast. Somehow, I kept putting one foot in front of the other, not paying attention to where I was going, just knowing that I had to go go go.
A squeal of tires and a car horn blaring brought me back to reality. I had stepped into the street and now a car was swerving to avoid me, the horn warning me of danger. I could see the driver inside, anger and panic on his face, his arm waving around while he yelled at me, presumably.
I gasped and jumped back to the corner to safety. What was I doing? What is wrong with me? I wondered. Nothing has changed. You’re still you. Abigail Hendricks. Twenty-five years old. Editor. College graduate. Daughter of Ed and Sherry Hendricks.
I backed up to the store that was on the corner and slid down the wall. I hadn’t realized I was crying until I tried to take my phone out of my purse and could barely see. My hands were shaking as I tried to dial my mom’s number.
Pick up, I pleaded silently. Please, pick up, please. But the ringing never stopped. I never heard my mom’s voice telling me hello until the voicemail picked up.
“Mommy? Please call me.” I was bawling into the phone now, and my nose was running. “I really need to talk to you. Please.” I hung up, unsure of what else I could do.
I hung my head in my hands, trying to calm myself down. I couldn’t do anything if I couldn’t get control of myself.
“Miss, are you okay?” I heard a man asking.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said loudly, not bothering to lift my head.
I thought I could hear a woman pleading with him, and then I saw a hand putting a few dollar bills by my feet. I snorted. I guess they think I’m homeless. I felt wrung out and ready to go home.
“Abby?”
I froze, still looking down. This was not happening. Of all the people to see me like this!
I looked up and saw Lane standing over me. My night got worse, I thought sarcastically.
As soon as I looked up, I saw his expression change from curiosity to concern. He took in my red and blotchy face, which I could feel was slightly swollen. His eyes raked over my appearance and breathlessness.
He slowly knelt in front of me.
“Abby?” he repeated. “What happened? Are you okay?” He took one of my hands in his. It felt a lot better than I thought it should have.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I just had a really rough night and I needed to get out.”
Lane rubbed his thumb against my hand. “Must have been some night to have you out here like this. Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about what I had seen with anyone else. People who saw what nobody else could see got sent straight to the looney bin. Plus, I didn’t want to scare Lane off. A small thrill had run through me at seeing him again.
“Can I walk you home then? That is, if you were wanting to go there,” Lane offered.
I nodded. “Yes, please, that would be great.”
He tightened his grip on my hand and stood up, helping to pull me up after him. He put his other hand on my arm, steadying me. He peered into my eyes, and the concern I saw there made them well again.
Lane scrunched his eyebrows together and pulled me in, holding me tightly. “Hey, it’ll be okay. Whatever’s going on, I can help you.”
I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling his hand rub my back soothingly. This felt nice. I didn’t want to move. In fact, I didn’t think I could move. My head was starting to get dizzy and a familiar throbbing had begun in the left side of my head, shimmering spots flaring in my vision.
“Oh, no,” I said, stepping back from Lane. “Please hurry and help me home.”
Noticing the change in my tone of voice, Lane searched my face, but didn’t say anything. He grabbed my purse from me, put his right arm around my waist and with the other, held onto my left arm to support me.
We had only gone half a block when the pain burst through my head, causing me to gasp and stumble.
“Ahhh!” I cried out and held out a hand to break my fall.
But I didn’t fall. Lane was holding me close, supporting me. He moved me to the side of the building and lifted my face to his. Even that tiny bit of movement made fire flash through the left side of my head repeatedly.
“Stop, stop, stop,” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s just a migraine. I need to get home. Oh, God, please get me home.”
Lane was sounding extremely worried when he answered. “Okay, Abby. Here, just slide down so you can sit and I’ll call a cab so you don’t have to walk. Can you do that?”
I couldn’t even nod a yes to him. I was frozen in the grip of my migraine, and all I could do was let it run its course. I felt Lane helping me back down to the ground, where I slumped over, my cheek pressed to the cool concrete.
When I opened my eyes, I was alone. And it was daylight. I sat up. That jerk just left me here? I thought furiously. Okay, not calling him, ever! I am throwing away his note when I get home!
I stood up, realizing I didn’t know where I was. Panicking, I looked around, turning in place. I saw no cars, no people. Just streets, buildings, and a payphone across the street.
Where am I? I wondered.
“Hello?” I called out. “Hello! Anybody here?” I was going to throttle Lane for dumping me here if I ever saw him again. Which I wouldn’t. Because I was never going to call him.
Speaking of calls. “I may as well call Whitney to come get me,” I grumbled, as I walked to the corner to cross it. Then we could get drunk and complain about Lane together.
I neared the payphone and stopped before I entered. I didn’t have my purse. Which probably didn’t mean anything as I never carried cash on me, anyway.
“Shit,” I said, kicking the booth that the phone was in. I turned around and yelled as loudly as I could, “Hello! Where is everybody?”
The phone rang, causing me to scream and jump around. I just stared at it, unsure of what to do. Slowly, I made my way to the door and looked at it. A minute passed by, and still it rang.
This wasn’t normal. I turned in a circle again, wondering where I was.
And still, the phone rang.
I sighed and went inside of the booth. I had to summon the courage to lift the receiver to my ear.
“Hello?” I said quietly.
If I was expecting to hear Lane or Whitney, then I was way off. All I heard was beeping.
“If this is someone’s idea of a joke, then you lose! Ha, ha! This isn’t funny!” I shouted into the phone.
I heard the beeping go faster. What was this, a countdown to something? I was no fool, I had seen movies. I searched the inside of the phone booth but saw nothing that looked like a bomb.
I let out the breath I was holding and heard the beeping speed up as I inhaled again. What? I was so confused. I held my breath and the beeping slowed down. I started to feel my heartbeat in my chest. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump.
Why was the beeping on the phone matching my heartbeat? This was getting too weird. I hung up the phone and exited the booth. Looking around, I still had no idea where I was. I might as well pick a direction and stick with it and hope that I found someone for help.
The sun was ahead of me, seeming to be on the way to setting. Why couldn’t I have been stranded with sunglasses? I thought, shielding my eyes against the glare.
The light was so dazzling that it seemed to be draining the color out of everything else. Wait. The color was leaving everything. I was being left in a world that was shades of white and gray, with the sun blinding me. All I could do was cover my eyes and try to move forward.
Soon enough, that proved to be too much to do. The sun seemed to have grown. It covered the sky in front of me, blinding me. I tried to find shade in a doorway and sat down, covering my face with my hands.
“Abigail? Can you hear me?”
I tried to look beyond my hands, but the light was too bright. I groaned loudly at the piercing pain in my head that it was causing.
I heard someone in front of me. “Turn that light over there off. I bet it’s hurting her head.”
Somehow the sun got darker. I peered between my fingers and saw part of Whitney’s face. I felt like crying. She found me!
“Whitney!” My voice sounded garbled, like I hadn’t used it in months. “You found me!” I closed my eyes again, relieved.
“What is she talking about?” I heard Whitney ask.
“I have no idea.”
Wait, was that Lane? The jerk who abandoned me?
“Go away, Lane! You left me in nowhere and I had to answer the phone and find my own way back.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying. I just knew I had to tell Lane off and put him in his place.
“What?” asked Whitney.
“I have no idea what she’s talking about,” said Lane. “I helped her to sit down and she passed out. We took a cab here and you know the rest.”
I waved my hand in his direction. “Liar,” I slurred. “You left me. I was alone. There was nobody else but me. Why did you leave me, Lane?” I felt a few tears squeeze out, which I tried to stop.
“Oh, Abby.” I felt Lane take my hand. “I would never leave you if you needed me.”
“Good,” I whispered, too tired to try to talk normally. “I was really sad when I thought you left me.”
I tried opening my eyes again and saw Lane in front of me. His brown eyes were staring into mine. His hand was holding onto mine and the other was brushing my hair back. I leaned into the hand on my face and sighed.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “How out of it was I?”
Lane cracked a smile at me, making my heart stutter. “Well, you scared me a little. You passed out on the street and didn’t come around until just now. You were saying some pretty weird things.” His hand brushed my cheek again.
I turned my head to find Whitney and felt nausea rising up my throat. I groaned, “I need Whitney. A girl. Not you. Go away.”
Lane laughed and moved away, Whitney taking his place beside me. She wiped my face off with a damp washcloth. That made me feel better.
I looked at her again. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”
“I’
m not leaving you, Abigail,” she promised. “I’m right here, not going anywhere.”
“Okay, good. Because I think I am about to throw up.” My stomach was not obeying my commands to settle down. I leaned forward, my stomach starting to heave on its own.
Fortunately, Whitney was prepared with a trash can for me. I leaned into it, emptying my stomach’s contents. My stomach convulsed until there was nothing left for it to bring up. I was left hanging over the trash can, spitting out the saliva that kept gathering in my mouth.
“Whitney?” I whispered, still leaning forward.
“Yeah? What do you need?” Whitney replied.
“Is Lane still here? Did he see me vomit?”
Silence. I felt Whitney shifting on the seat beside me. “Yeah, Abigail, he’s still here.”
Kill me. I couldn’t believe he just saw me like that. Great. At least my head wasn’t pounding anymore.
I could sit up on my own now. We were in our living room. I was sitting on the couch. Whitney sat next to me and Lane was in the recliner to our left. The trash can was in front of me. I put the lid on it before its contents could offend anybody’s nose.
Whitney stood up, wiping her hands on her pants. “I’m going to take the trash out and get you some water, Abigail. I’ll be right back.” She patted me on the shoulder and grabbed the trash can before heading back into the kitchen.
I was feeling so self-conscious that I could barely look at Lane. Luckily for me, he was the one to make a move. He stood up and took Whitney’s spot beside me on the couch.
“How are you?” he asked.
I exhaled loudly, leaning on my side to be able to look at him. “I’m feeling like I went through the ringer.” I didn’t even want to think about what made me run out tonight, let alone the crazy vision I had while I was apparently passed out.
Lane picked up one of my hands in-between both of his. “Whatever happened, I’m here.”
I just looked at him, perplexed. “Why?”
Lane got a surprised look on his face. “What do you mean, why?”
“Like, why? Why do you care, why do you want to help, why do you want to be here?” It was so exhausting trying to keep up with Lane’s motives.
Invisible Future Page 3
