The Man in the Black Top Hat

by Ju Ephraime

  Anyway, it was Tuesday morning and back to the drawing board. I went in to work and spent a hectic day because I had an extra workload from not being in on Monday. I had three properties to show and a closing in the afternoon, so when I finally got home, I was well past exhausted—I was truly beat.

  I cast a harried glance at my lawn as I walked up the driveway from the garage. The grass looked even more neglected. I would have to do something about it before it got any more overgrown. I promised myself that I would take care of it the following afternoon.

  Around 5:30 p.m., my mom brought the girls home. It was good to see them. I’d missed them while I was away. She did not stay long. She explained she had to return home to prepare dinner. The girls and I set about being creative for dinner. I had Johanna fix a tuna salad, while I made Spanish rice from an old recipe I had. John loves Spanish rice.

  I had three Cornish hens marinating to put in the oven, which was heating up, when the oven door opened in anticipation of my needing it. That latch had been there for years, but today, it somehow came unhooked and the door opened. By then, the girls thought it was funny how things seemed to be moving and turning on by themselves in our kitchen.

  “Mama, I believe we have a ghost,” Kelsey said, laughing.

  I did not join her because I did not think the idea of a ghost in our home was the least bit funny. But then, what could I say? I maintained my sanity by pretending all the strange occurrences were all figments of my imagination. If I were to accept the fact that there was a ghost in my home, doing strange things to me, moving things around, playing with my appliances, and violating me at nights, I would run screaming from this house. So I just continued preparing dinner without saying one word either way.

  We sat down to dinner around 7:30 p.m., and later we went through our usual routine of hand-washing the dishes, drying them and putting them away. I was grateful nothing else happened in the kitchen that night. I left John’s dinner on the warmer and went into the living room as the girls went upstairs to their rooms.

  As had become usual for me, I was not able to remain awake to wait for John. I remained in the family room as long as I could. I tried to time my going upstairs to synchronize it with John’s arrival from work, but it was not meant to be. In the end, I made the trip upstairs alone. I was adamant; however, I would not take a shower this night.

  I had gone through a hurried cleaning and sat at my dressing table brushing my hair. Between brush strokes, I thought I heard John coming up the stairs. I quickly glanced at the clock on the nightstand to confirm that it was indeed John climbing the stairs, then called out to him, excited that I had timed it just right.

  “Honey? Hon, is that you? You’re home on time tonight,” I said as I waited for him to come through the bedroom door.

  There was no answer, but I stopped brushing my hair and listened very closely; I heard nothing. I waited for a good five minutes, and when John still did not appear, I got up and opened the door. Once again, no one was there. I began to seriously believe I was going out of my mind. I tried to explain it away by trying to convince myself that it was only the house settling, but I did not really believe this. But what else could it be? I made my way to the girls’ rooms to check up on them. Johanna was on her computer doing her homework.

  “Did you want something, Mom?” Johanna asked when she saw me.

  “No, Sweetheart,” I replied. “I was just checking to see if you were still awake. I’ll check in on Kelsey.” I walked the short distance to Kelsey’s room.

  “You okay, baby?” I said.

  “I’m okay, Mama. I heard you asking Johanna. We’re okay. Are you okay?” she asked, coming toward me.

  “I’m all right now that I’ve made certain two of my favorite people in the whole entire world are okay.” I laughed, trying to make light of the matter as I walked back into my room and got into bed.

  The dream-like state started almost immediately. Someone was making love to me, touching me all over. I became very aroused and kept trying to have a conversation with him, but I was not able to open my mouth. Even when he used his finger to prepare my body to accept him, I lay helpless as he entered me, pushing his way into my body. He turned me onto my stomach as he again entered me from behind. This went on for the entire night. I reached orgasm numerous times, and still he kept at it. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I had no control over my body or my vocal cords. I was frustrated that I could not reach out with my hands, to actually feel this person who played with my body as if it was his personal plaything.

  I must have lost consciousness from being so-o-o overly stimulated. When I came to, in the predawn hour, John occupied his usual spot next to me. I tried to move my hand toward him and found that I could reach over and touch him now. Whatever it was that had prevented me from moving before had evidently released me, but John was sound asleep. I curled up behind him and tried counting sheep to make myself fall back asleep, but for some reason, sleep eluded me that night … or morning. I had lost track of time.

  My mind was active, trying to make sense of what had happened to me earlier. I told myself it was a dream. But if it were a dream, why was I having these repeated sexual dreams? Why couldn’t I wake myself from these dreams? It didn’t make any sense to me. I couldn’t explain it to myself. I wanted to discuss it with John, but I was ashamed of my role in the entire thing. They said dreams were part of your conscious thoughts while you are awake. Was I having these erotic thoughts that I am somehow not aware of? I desperately needed to talk with someone. Maybe I’ll call Marta. It had to be Marta or John, and much as I would opt for John over Marta, this was too close to home and made me uncomfortable to even contemplate discussing this with him. But maybe I should give John the benefit of the doubt and discuss it with him first before talking to Marta about it.

  Unfortunately, that conversation would have to take place another time. I wasn’t able to get out of bed the next morning. To begin with, I overslept, and my body ached something terrible. I did not know what to do with myself. No matter how I positioned myself, I was uncomfortable. I called out from work again, because there was no way I would have been able to sit at a desk all day. I felt as if I had been pounded repeatedly between my thighs, and my breasts were sore from the hard sucking and love bites that I’d been subjected to the night before.

  The more I thought about the activities of the previous night, and compared it to the previous occasions, the dream-like quality was definitely stronger on the other occasions. This time around, there was nothing dream-like about it. I was aware of movement as he entered my body, every touch on my breasts, every bite, and every suck. I felt it all so vividly. Also, John had not been lying next to me as had happened on the other occasions. Where was John while I was being violated in our bed? Where did he spend the better part of the night?

  I did not even attempt to take a shower. I had become paranoid about my situation. It interfered with my ability to carry on my usual activities. I had been so looking forward to working in the yard that afternoon when I came home from work, but I felt even worse than I had before I went away for the weekend. I had to remain in bed the whole day, which is where my daughters found me when they came home from school.

  “Mama, are you not feeling well again?” Kelsey inquired as she climbed into bed beside me.

  “I really don’t know what’s going on with me, Kelsey. I must have caught a virus. Do you think you and your sister could prepare something simple for dinner? I really don’t feel up to going downstairs.”

  “Are we really going to be in charge of dinner?” she asked.

  “I believe so,” I answered. “Please don’t prepare anything extravagant. Do a simple dinner that you girls would enjoy, and don’t forget your father. Now go get your sister.”

  She ran from the room calling for her older sister to tell her that the two of them were in charge of dinner tonight. They loved nothing better than to play at cooking. I would’ve liked to be present to supervis
e the dinner, but I really could not make it down those stairs.

  Johanna came into the room, looking at me with careful consideration. “Are you not feeling well again, Mama?” she asked in her solemn manner.

  “I’ll be okay once I’ve had some rest. Did your sister tell you that you two are responsible for dinner this evening?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  “Are you okay with this?”

  “Yes, I’ll try to fix something simple after I’ve looked to see what’s in the refrigerator.”

  In no time, they were back to inform me that they would be making hot dogs and hamburgers. I agreed that was a good choice and remained in bed feeling listless and out of it, as if something were sapping the energy out of me. This was where my husband found me when he arrived home from work that night. I had only left the bed to visit the bathroom.

  I became aware of John entering the room between bouts of sleeping and waking. When I was able to remain awake long enough to carry on a conversation with him, I was ecstatic. Finally I’d get an opportunity to ask him about last night.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted me. “I’m happy to see you’re awake. What’s been going on with you? I scarcely get to talk with you when I get home now. It looked like you have the sleeping disease. I’d thought going to the Cape would have done you some good, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect.”

  “I have no idea what’s wrong with me,” I answered. “I seem to be quite the sleepyhead lately, but I’m awake now. I’ll see you after your shower. I do want to talk with you.”

  He walked into the bathroom. I heard the water running in the shower, but I was asleep before he came out. It was comical how I always saw him enter the bathroom, but I never saw him come out.

  I was suddenly jarred awake sometime later when I felt my nightgown being removed from my body. Whoever it was did not talk to me, but kept his arm firmly around my waist and his other hand cupped my breast. His thumb flicked my hardened nipple. He slid his hand from my breast and boldly massaged my clit. When he was satisfied that I was ready for him, he kneeled on the bed and brought me to him, with my legs over his arm as he entered me with one thrust of his hips. The sex was just as intense as the previous night. Again, I lost consciousness. When I came to, John was lying next to me, peacefully asleep. I found the entire thing quite unsettling.

  I could no longer bury my head in the sand. Something was most definitely going on in my home. But what puzzled me the most was the whereabouts of my husband when these activities were taking place in our bed. Wouldn’t John know if something or someone was in the bed with us? How could someone do those things to me with John sleeping next to me?

  I was able to make it in to work the next morning. Maybe I had gotten used to the assaults on my body. I could not tell. I was feeling bad, but not as bad as the previous night, so I was able to crawl into the office. I knew I looked terrible. I had dark circles underneath my eyes which no amount of makeup could hide.

  My deterioration was so obvious that one of my co-workers commented on it. I made some silly excuse for my appearance and walked into my office. I remained there the entire day, catching up on my sleep.

  I was determined to take care of the lawn when I got home. The power naps in my office had revitalized me a bit, so I had enough energy to mow both front and back, but I did not manage the edging. I had to leave it for another day.

  I prepared a spaghetti dinner for my family and made some garlic bread to go along with it. I made the bread from scratch and was about to put it in the oven. As I turned to say something to the girls, who were sitting at the kitchen table putting together a garden salad, the oven door opened all by itself in a repeat of the week before.

  Surely that oven did not just open by itself again. Someone had to have opened it. I kept looking at my daughters, and they were looking at me. Finally, we decided that the latch on the oven door was defective. We could not throw the oven away, so I placed a note on the refrigerator’s door to remind myself to discuss it with John when he came home.

  That night, even though I was very tired, I did not retire to bed, but remained downstairs until John arrived home from work. I sat with him at the dinner table, and we went upstairs to our bedroom together. I was looking for an opening to broach the subject that had been plaguing me for two days now. I had a difficult time bringing it up. It just did not seem appropriate to me, but more than anything, I was scared. What if he professed to have no knowledge of what I was talking about? What then?

  I followed him everywhere he went. I was reluctant to let him out of my sight. It got so bad that I sat on the closed toilet and waited while he took a shower. I did not want to be in our bedroom alone. John thought I was behaving oddly, but I could not explain to him that I believed someone or something was in our home. He would think I was definitely certifiable because whoever or whatever it was had targeted me, and only me, to torment. No one else saw or heard anything. A part of me was thankful. I could not bear the thought of anyone violating my girls the way I was being violated. I much preferred it be me at the receiving end of this unwanted sexual attention.

  I could not get into bed without, at the very least, making an attempt to broach the subject. So I dove right in.

  “John,” I began, “I know I asked you before, but have you been sleeping all right lately?”

  “Oh, yes. I always wake up well-rested. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just curious, that’s all, because I tried to stay awake to wait for you to come home to make passionate love to me,” I said, tongue in cheek.

  “Sorry about that, sweetheart. I will make it up to you tonight.”

  “I’m not in the mood tonight, but I’ll be sure to leave you a note the next time I’m feeling horny,” I said with a laugh.

  I followed him from the bathroom to our bedroom, and we got into bed together. I was in the process of adjusting my pillows when I glanced over at the nightstand on my side of the bed. The picture of John that I had always kept on that nightstand, next to my pillow, had been turned face down. I did not say anything to John but quickly righted it up before cuddling with him to go to sleep. I made certain that I remained the entire night almost underneath John. Twice he woke me to ask if he was squishing me, and both times I answered in the negative. I was determined to spend the night underneath him, even if there was no sex involved. For whatever the reason, I felt safe there.

  The strangest dreams troubled me that night. A tall man chased me through a meadow. The faster I ran, the more the man gained ground on me. No matter how fast I ran, each time I looked back, he was closer. I couldn’t make out his face, blurred through the fog of the dream, but the legs of his trousers seemed to be the only solid thing about him.

  I gave up; there was no way I could out-run this man. He reached out his hand to grab me. I took my last deep breath, and woke up to John shaking me awake.

  “Syria, Syria, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

  It took me a while to reorient myself to my room. The dream had been so vivid, and it seemed so real. I could not get back to sleep. I lay there listening to John snoring beside me for the rest of the night, but I kept my body wrapped around him, even though his snoring kept me awake most of the night.

  The first feeble light of predawn streamed in through the open windows as I lay huddled underneath the covers. I could tell it was going to be one of those gloomy days I hated. The gloomy weather always affected my mood. I was awake. I had not been able to get back to sleep, and now the dawn was approaching. I closed my eyes but immediately opened them again at a strange sound, a sound that I’d never heard at this time of the night in my home. I strained my ears. I was certain there were footsteps going down the stairs, but who could be up so early in the morning? The steps definitely sounded too heavy to be one of the girls, and John was still asleep next to me.

  Strange thoughts about burglars and robbers came to my mind. I was petrified. I put the covers over my head and lay stil
l, hardly daring to breathe. Finally, not able to stand the suspense any longer, I got out of bed, pulled on my robe, and made my way down the stairs to investigate. No one was there, but I knew what I’d heard.

  I walked back to the bedroom and got back into bed, still worried by the mysterious sound. I got out of bed again, but this time I went to check on the girls. They were both fast asleep. I returned to my room and crawled in front of John so he had to wrap his arms around me to bring me into the fold of his body. I spent the remaining hours in this position, spoon fashion. Although I did not go back to sleep, having John’s arms around me always gave me a sense of peace and comfort.

  That morning, I got up with John. We had breakfast together, and I felt better than I had the previous mornings. I was so elated to be feeling better that I went in to work earlier than usual, and got quite a lot of work done. I did not allow any of my disgruntled clients to upset me. I just kept right on smiling like an idiot no matter the situation. I thought I had defeated whatever was messing with my life.

  When I got home that afternoon, I told the girls we were going to do some barbecue chicken on the grill. I prepared the chicken and left it in the refrigerator to marinate. I changed into my old sweats and a tee, brought out the edger and trimmed the lawn. I even planted a couple of hydrangeas in the pot next to the front step. With all the stress from my nightly visitor, I had almost missed the growing season.

  That night I again waited up for John and followed the same pattern I had the night before. John was beginning to think something was unquestionably wrong with me, but at this point, I was not concerned about that. I was not going to lie in that bed alone any more. Not if I could help it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Everything was almost back to normal. That is, if I disregarded footsteps in my home but not seeing anyone as normal. I had lived in my house for nineteen years, and I was not going to let some footsteps run me from my home. So I ignored the presence and did not venture up the stairs without John there. If I kept that up, I was fine. But I had to use my bathroom; there was no getting around it. I used to love soaking in my tub before going to bed. I had not had that luxury for two weeks. Still, I had been back at work every day this week. I was also able to spend time in my yard. In general, things were looking up. This continued on for a next couple of weeks, four weeks of the bizarre occurrences in my home. I was okay now that I seemed to have taken care of the problem – or so I foolishly thought.