The Man in the Black Top Hat

by Ju Ephraime

  The girls would soon be home from school, and there I was too tired to do anything … too exhausted to prepare dinner. They would be expecting dinner, so I had to force myself to get going before they came storming through the door.

  It didn’t seem possible, but I felt worse than when I had gotten out of bed that morning. I made my way into the bathroom to take a shower. I thought a shower would do me good, revitalize me, and give me the energy I had been lacking lately. I stepped under the water and the spray of the water on my body brought a wave of discomfort. I had some fresh bruises on my body, which made putting the lotion on my skin a very unpleasant experience.

  I dressed in my old sweats and made my way downstairs into the kitchen to prepare dinner. I did not have anything out of the freezer, but I had a strong craving for steak. The craving was so strong that I used the microwave to defrost some steaks—something I never do. I made some baked potatoes with snow peas for a vegetable. The dinner came out great, and I was able to eat a rare steak without being sick.

  After dinner, I sat in the living room looking out the window to the front lawn, which was not looking as well-manicured as it usually did. I should have been out there maintaining it – the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak. I got my daughter to do the watering for me, but something was missing. I was always fanatical about my lawn. It had to be just so, with the edging done and the topiaries trimmed neatly. Now everything had an unkempt appearance. I desperately needed to return to my gardening, but my body would not allow me to go beyond the front door.

  By six o’clock, I was ready to crawl back into bed. I tried waiting up until my husband got home, but it was a losing battle. I fell asleep on the couch with the television watching me. I don’t know what woke me, but John’s voice calling my name came clearly to me.

  “Yes, honey?” I answered. When I got no answer, I called out to him again. “Hon, honey, where are you?”

  The sound of my husband’s voice was so real to me that I was convinced that he was in the house. I went from room to room searching for him, only to conclude that I must have been dreaming.

  I settled back down on the chair, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was in my home with me. On several occasions, I got the sensation of being watched, but when I turned around, there was no one there. It so unnerved me that I picked up the phone and called my husband, who informed me that he was on his way home and would be there shortly, so I settled down to wait for him.

  When the alarm chime from the front door signaled John’s arrival, I immediately burst into tears.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he asked as he took me into his arms.

  I buried my face against his neck and wouldn’t answer.

  He took his hand and brought my face up from his neck so he could look directly into my eyes. I couldn’t help smiling through my tears.

  “I’m okay, now that you’re home,” I told him.

  “You seem very jittery lately. How do you feel about going away for the weekend?” he asked.

  “Just the two of us?”

  “Yes, just the two of us.”

  “In that case, yes, yes.” I kissed him passionately on the mouth. “I’m looking forward to spending some much needed quality time with my husband. Can I ask where we’re going?”

  “I’ll let it be a surprise,” he answered. “Just arrange for the girls to go to your mom’s after school on Friday, and leave the rest to me.”

  “I love you,” I said as I gave him another hug.

  I loved those little gestures from John. He was a loving, considerate man who did everything in his power to make life comfortable for his family. However, time and time again, I was surprised by his thoughtfulness, his caring, and the way he put my comfort above all else. He was not a very demonstrative man, but he did little things that let me know he cared.

  We seldom disagreed about anything. Whatever I wanted, John went along with. Sometimes I longed for a bit more excitement. I longed for him to have a more decisive personality, but then I would remind myself that added excitement would mean a more volatile atmosphere in the home, and I was not ready for that. In my opinion, John was the perfect husband.

  I sat with John while he had his dinner and I had a glass of wine with him. We retired for the evening soon afterward. As he went into the bathroom to take a shower, I undressed and got in bed to wait for him. I was wide awake after sleeping practically all day, but no sooner had I laid my head on the pillow than I was asleep. I did not awake until he came in to kiss me goodbye before he left for work the next morning.

  I’d promised to wait up for John. We have not had any time together for several days, and I looked forward to this time with him. I did not know if my body would have been able to handle it, but I’d never gone this long without being intimate with John, and this had me worried.

  I would have to deal with this after work. I was determined to make it in today. It was Friday, and the weekend was here, so I figured I would go in and reschedule some of my appointments for the following week to free up my time on Monday in the event we returned late from our little getaway trip.

  I gave my mom a call to ask if she could take the kids for the weekend so John and I could spend some time together. Lately, we seldom had any time alone. We were either with the girls or John was too exhausted after working those long hours to do anything fun.

  My mother was always happy to keep the girls. Although she was getting on in age, she admitted to me that she valued any time she was able to spend with the girls. When I questioned her about whether they were too much of a handful for her, she would reply, “They keep me informed about what is going on in the world around me.” My mother was only seventy-two, but she and my dad hardly left the house. They’d always been home bodies.

  My dad had taken an early retirement, and my mom, who never really held down a job and had always been a full-time housewife, had continued her role and remained at home to take care of him. She kept herself busy by getting involved with activities in her church, but that was the extent of her participation in the outside world.

  My day progressed without much excitement, but I was thankful to see the end of the week. I had a full workload next week. I could only hope that my time away would give me the boost I needed to get back into the swing of things.

  I stopped at the local liquor store to pick up a couple bottles of my favorite wine to go along with the fish dinner I planned. I had taken out salmon and butterfish and could not decide on which one I wanted to serve. I would leave the final decision until I got home. I had those indecisive days sometimes, especially when it involved seafood dinners. I did not particularly like fish, but I prepared it at least twice a week because I knew it was good for my family, and John was very partial to salmon. So, the choice for dinner followed my usual pattern of vacillation when it came to fish. If I were to ask John for his preference, he would, as always, defer to me. In the end, I settled on the butterfish, which I grilled under the broiler with tomatoes and peppers. I had some polenta in the refrigerator, which I would fry to go along with the butterfish.

  The girls and I were in the kitchen preparing the polenta when the microwave came on. I had not touched it, and neither had the girls. We just stood there looking as the microwave spun around with nothing in it, the timer counting down steadily from thirty minutes. We looked at each other asking silent questions. Just as I reached up to turn it off, it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. I decided that there was a short in the electrical system in the house. I unplugged the microwave and made a note to call the electrician to inspect the wiring in the kitchen. This seemed to be where all the strange electrical activities were taking place.

  I already had to replace our blender; now I might have to replace the microwave also. They were both old, but I loved them. I would have to go to the appliance store to pick up a new blender when I returned from my weekend trip. A blender was an absolutely necessity in this household. So, I put it on m
y to-do list.

  That night was a repeat of the previous nights, with me being too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed? Dead to the world, I slept like a log. I had the same feeling of someone making passionate love to me and bringing me to orgasm several times before I finally lost consciousness. Although the sex was mind blowing and out of this world, I still felt as if I were being raped. I had no physical body to accuse, but it was taking place without my consent, and I did not know how to stop it. I knew it was not John. He had never been this passionate a lover. During our love-making sessions, I was lucky if I achieved one orgasm, let alone two. Whoever was doing this to me seemed insatiable.

  CHAPTER THREE

  John’s surprise was to take me to the Cape for the weekend. We had planned on leaving at first light, so he had packed everything and loaded the vehicle the previous night. However, we ran into a series of mishaps which delayed our leaving. We could not find the car keys. We looked everywhere, tore the house apart searching for those keys. It seemed both John’s and my keys had disappeared from the house. We had two vehicles between the two of us, and four sets of keys, which appeared to have vanished into thin air. I was almost in tears from the frustration of not being able to locate even one set. Finally, we decided to do what we had been against doing. I called my mom and asked her to bring us her spare keys, which she keeps for just such occasions.

  My mom could not believe we both had misplaced our keys, but she was a good sport and came over in less than thirty minutes with her set. We were finally on our way by 11:00 a.m. We’d missed our breakfast in our search for the keys, and now it was almost lunch time. We stopped for a quick lunch along the way, and we did not get to the Cape until 5:00 p.m., just in time to prepare for dinner. Our weekend so far was not going so well, but John had taken everything in stride. I, on the other hand, was a wreck. I was not able to discuss my strange experiences with John. I was convinced that whoever was visiting me at night did not want me to leave the house and had done everything to prevent us from going, but here we were in beautiful Cape Cod.

  On the drive up to the Cape, I had tried very hard to concentrate on the beautiful scenery of New England, and not allowed the bad feeling I had about neither one of us being able to find our keys ruin my good mood. But now that we had arrived at our destination, the events of the morning came back to me.

  I’d been scared of not being able to leave the house, but not to the point of believing I was in any physical danger. I somehow knew whoever or whatever it was, it would not harm me, because if it wanted to, it would have done so already. So, although I was scared, it was not overwhelmingly so. Call me naive.

  This entire set of events was causing me to keep secrets from my husband, which I had never done before. I debated long and hard with myself on whether or not I should discuss the matter with John. But when I examined it in the light of day, I really thought the entire thing had me sounding like a raving lunatic. So I did not tell him of my experience in the house while packing for our trip.

  I knew I could be a bit absented-minded sometimes, but it seemed as if I was constantly losing and/or misplacing the things I was putting together for our trip. It was similar to the incident we had experienced with the keys.

  I had a strong suspicion that someone or something was moving my things. As fast as I placed them in my overnight bag, they were moved and I could not find them. The first items I’d placed in my overnight bag were my undergarments. I then walked over to the closet and grabbed three outfits to take with me. When I looked into the bag, the undergarments were not there. I thought I may have misplaced them, and spent a couple of minutes searching the room. When I could not find them, I selected three different sets and placed those along with my outfits into the bag. For fear of the same thing repeating, I carried the bag around the room with me until John came in and threw his things together in no time at all.

  I had kept my thoughts to myself because I knew John would not understand. I tried very hard to be happy. I hoped I could achieve that state of mind without triggering his suspicion, and so far, I had been able to do just that.

  We checked into our hotel and made short work of getting dressed for dinner. By this time, I was almost too exhausted to do anything but crawl into bed, but I was determined to make an effort and enjoy the time away from home with John. I had hoped to be good company for him tonight. The night life on the Cape was always hopping. I wanted to blend edibles with excitement, two of the things the Cape was famous for.

  We had made a dinner reservation in Hyannis at a jazz and piano café not too far from our hotel. Turned out to be an excellent choice. The tapas were many and varied, as was the selection of music. After dinner, we danced to a couple of our favorite tunes, but were equally content to sit back and enjoy the relaxing atmosphere.

  I immersed myself in the mood of the moment and had a wonderful time. We returned to our hotel, tired but pleasantly satisfied, and that night, we had a wonderful time as we got reacquainted with each other. It was great, although I was too sore to really enjoy it. I could not explain my soreness to John, so every time I grunted in pain, he thought it was in pleasure, and I did not have the heart to disabuse him. I just went along with the charade. I had not been intimate with John in at least a week, but my body felt as if I had been actively engaged in vigorous lovemaking every night for the past week. I did not allow this to deter me, but I kept at it until John had achieved his climax. I, unfortunately, did not, but I was proud of myself. That night, I had a peaceful night’s sleep in my husband’s arms for the first time in a week.

  The next morning, we began the day with breakfast in bed, followed by more lovemaking. This go around, I was a more active participant until the end. I love to be in the top position, and John loved me to be up there too. He said I was his own personal Amazon woman. We showered together and left the hotel. If John had noticed the bruises on my body, he did not comment on them. We spent a good part of the day driving around, doing some sightseeing. We visited the Cape Cod Maritime Museum in Hyannis, and rented two bikes to go on a cycling tour in the afternoon where we had a wonderful time. We stopped at a local roadside food stand and ate hot dogs and hamburgers like tourists. We visited the beach, and although it was too cold to go swimming, we sat on the sand and talked until the sun had gone down. Then we returned our bikes and made our way back to the hotel.

  We got back in time to prepare for dinner at one of the local seafood restaurants. The Cape is famous for its lobster dinners, and we could not visit without sampling the local fare.

  The hotel staff recommended a good restaurant, which was a short distance from the hotel. Since it was not cold, we decided to walk. The restaurant evidently was a very popular spot because there was a twenty-minute wait before we were seated, but when we were finally served, it was worth the wait.

  The food was well-prepared, and the service was impeccable. It was a lot of food for John and me, who are not big eaters, so most of the food went to waste. We had left room for our favorite dessert, which we opted to have at a local ice cream shop. It had caught our eye on our way to the restaurant because it had advertised homemade ice cream, and we like nothing better.

  We returned to the hotel and sat in the bar where we had a drink before retiring to our room for the night. Our wonderful weekend was almost at an end, and I did not look forward to returning home.

  We made love, and this time, it was a lot easier on me. However, I was happy when I could finally roll over and go to sleep with my husband’s arms wrapped around me. I did not have any disturbing dreams, and neither did I have any nightmares. It was wonderful.

  I woke up the next morning full of vigor, feeling like my old self again. After a scrumptious breakfast in the hotel restaurant, we were on the road about noon on Monday, returning to Connecticut. We stopped for lunch and made good time, arriving home at 4:30 p.m.

  We did not pick the girls up when we got back. We had decided to allow them to visit with my parents for o
ne additional night. Turned out to be a good thing too; we were tired from living it up in the Cape and fighting the traffic on the drive back. We spent a quiet night, just the two of us. I prepared a dinner with some leftovers I had in the refrigerator, and relaxed in front of the television. Having the entire house to ourselves, we did a bit of cuddling on the couch before making our way upstairs to get ready for bed around 11:00 p.m.

  As I walked into the bathroom to take a shower before going to bed, I felt a cold breeze as if the window was open. I checked, and saw that it was closed. I undressed and hurriedly brushed my teeth and turned on the water for a quick shower. I had my eyes closed under the water and was soaping my body when the bathroom door opened and closed, as if someone had either entered or had just walked out. Believing it was John, I called out to him.

  “Honey, are you coming in?” No answer. I poked my head out from the shower and looked around, but he wasn’t there. A draft must have shut the door. I continued with my shower, quickly finished, and walked out of the bathroom wearing my robe. I wanted John to lotion my body to get our night together off to a good start. But he had fallen asleep in the recliner in the bedroom. I woke him up, but of course, the mood was gone. He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth while I lotioned my own body and got into bed. I was asleep, and out like a light, by the time John came into bed.

  That night, we did not have the energy to fool around, but I got up with the same fatigue symptoms of the past week. I thought I would have felt better after my weekend outing, but evidently the break was not long enough. I had not experienced this fatigue when I got out of bed at the hotel yesterday or the day before, but I could not tell with complete certainty because I had not paid too much attention to the way I felt. I just did not recall feeling this exhausted when I was away for the weekend.