by Ju Ephraime
We got up and made our way into the bathroom together. I was much more comfortable in the bathroom with John than without him, so I was quite content to share. Even though I felt better, I’d decided against going back to work until I had my follow-up appointment from my doctor.
I was in luck. My doctor gave me a 10:30 a.m. appointment for that day. The only problem was I had to find something to keep busy until 10:00. I was so stressed out about remaining in the house I took my bag and sat outside on the patio until it was time to leave for my appointment.
I knew the doctor would diagnose me with stress, but I was determined to get a clean bill of health. I did not have any actual ailment, and now that I was sleeping with my husband again, I felt fine. So of course, I passed with flying colors and set up an appointment for a final follow-up in two weeks. If things continued as they were, I did not anticipate a problem keeping that appointment.
I was happy the effect of my ghostly visitor did not create permanent physical damage on my body. The bruises had faded in a matter of days. Come to think about it, they had begun to fade from the trip to Manhattan. It was just bad when it was happening every night, but now that I had found a way to keep him or it away, I was almost back to normal.
On my way from my doctor’s appointment, I stopped at work and met with my boss. Everyone was happy to see me back, but they were all concerned at the amount of weight I had lost. I assured them that I was doing better, and that my doctor had released me back to work. I talked for a while with my boss and gave him my release note. He was happy to hear I would be back at work the next day.
I went shopping in the mall to kill some time, arriving home ten minutes before the girls would get off the bus. I sat in the living room going through the mail when the front door chime announced their arrival.
They were happy to see me up and about, and we walked upstairs together. I hurriedly changed into my sweats and went downstairs to the kitchen to prepare dinner. We were having the last of the barbecue leftovers tonight, so there was very little preparation. I turned on the oven before putting the steaks in to heat up.
The girls walked in just as I was trying to decide what to fix to accompany the leftovers.
“Mama, can we have cornbread with dinner tonight?” Johanna asked.
“For sure,” I answered, glad to have the decision taken away from me.
Johanna was a good baker. She loved the process, so I didn’t have to ask her to prepare the cornbread. She got out all the ingredients and, in no time, the cornbread was in the oven.
I put on the last of the coffee supply. I would have to make a note to ask John to pick up a fresh supply. At the rate I had been drinking coffee, I was surprised I had not run out before. When I mentioned it to Johanna, she told me her father had brought in a fresh supply twice already. I was not even aware of that. This was one of the reasons I loved John. He always anticipated what I needed and just took care of it. More often than not, I did not have to ask him.
John came home at his usual time that night, and I waited up for him in the living room. I had not ventured upstairs. I could tell by his reaction when he saw me sitting on the couch, almost asleep, that he was beginning to worry about me again, but he did not push me to confide in him. I wondered if the ghost was messing with his head. Although John was usually a very easy-going man, these past months had to have been a trial for him, but he had yet to confront me.
I had a glass of wine with him, as had become my custom lately, while he had his dinner. We spent a couple of hours in the living room talking about his day at work. I told him about my visit to the doctor, that I had been released to work, and about my stopping at the office to tell them the news and to give the release to my boss.
He seemed pleased I would return to work. I was happy about it myself. I was not someone who could remain idle for any length of time, and the inactivity of the past three months was out of character for me.
***
It was about 11:30 before we went upstairs. I took my shower with John, and we went to bed. We cuddled together before we turned off the light and settled down to sleep. I made certain I remained within John’s arms the entire night. I was so anxious that, with the slightest move he made, I pushed my body back into him.
I had a good night’s sleep and was up before John. I woke him, and we again went into the bathroom together to prepare for work. I grabbed a change of clothes on my way out the door. I was excited to be returning to work and happy I felt better. I was not up to one hundred percent, but I was getting there.
We had our usual morning coffee. Still no breakfast for me. My stomach was not one hundred percent yet. I looked forward to the day when my routine would be back to normal, including enjoying my morning breakfast.
I arrived at work a little early. I was one of the first to arrive besides my boss. I was thankful for that because I needed the time to get caught up. Soon I was back in the swing of things as if I had never left. My day went by quickly just returning phone calls and sorting through paperwork.
When I returned home, I changed into my old sweats and T-shirt. I had brought them down before I left the house in the morning so I would not have to go upstairs to change out of my work clothes. I did not want John to realize that I had not gone upstairs all day, and he would know if he saw me wearing my work clothes at home, something I never do. I did not want him questioning me about my reluctance to go upstairs, particularly as neither he nor the girls seemed to have any problem doing so. I could not explain to him what I could not understand myself, so I found a way to avoid having the discussion.
I was so proud of myself that I went into the yard and mowed my lawn and trimmed the hedges, humming a tune. I felt so good after this that I rewarded myself with a nice chilled glass of wine before I settled down to fix dinner. The girls came in to help me, and we spent a great deal of time discussing some function taking place at camp. They wanted to attend. I promised to discuss it with their father when he came home, and we left it at that.
I followed the same routine of the previous nights. I waited for John, and we went upstairs together. I purposely initiated a heavy petting session with him. We spent time kissing and loving on each other. John played with my breasts, paying special attention to them. He knew I liked that. It was wonderful to be loved this way by my husband, even if we did not take it to the next level, but I felt better knowing John had put his scent all over me.
The night was again uneventful. I relaxed, thinking maybe my invisible visitor had gotten the message and had left. I was hoping, but I did not want to put my theory to the test.
The next morning I overslept, and I had to rush because I was running late. There was only time for a quick shower. John had already left the house, and I did not want to linger, so I was practically running out of the house while finishing buttoning my shirt. I was finally able to breathe freely when I drove my car out onto the main road. I had not realized I was holding my breath.
I strolled into work and went straight to the coffee machine because I had rushed out of the house without my usual cup. Like the previous day, my time at work went very quickly. I had two showings, and because one of them looked like a definite sales possibility, I was on top of the world the entire day.
I drove home with the same euphoric feeling, changed into my sweats, and went outside to put in some work outside. Today I would spend some time in my herb garden. It needed weeding. I loved using my hands in the soil. It had always been therapeutic for me, and I’d looked forward to this all day. This was a time-consuming, tedious task, but I didn’t mind; it kept me out of the house. I also needed to trim the topiaries in front of the house, but I decided to leave that for the next day.
***
I was tired, thirsty, and dirty by the time I finished in the herb garden, but everything looked beautiful. The plants were thriving; the tomatoes still had some late buds on the vine. I walked into the house quite pleased with myself. I had just sat down at the kitchen tabl
e when, with a loud pop, an object rolled down by the stairs. I walked into the hallway to check on the source of the noise, and there, lying at the bottom of the landing, was my exercise ball. I had not used that ball in months. I didn’t have a clue how it got on the landing. I always kept that ball in my bedroom. I had not used it in several months, so there was no possibility of it being left where it could have rolled off. The ball hit the landing with such force that it immediately deflated. It lay in a flat heap on the landing, at the foot of the stairs.
I was so scared, I began to shiver as I stood there looking at the heap of vinyl that was once my ball, too petrified to move. Then something in me snapped. I picked up the ball and threw it back up the stairs. In the silent house, the sound of a man’s laughter floated down the stairs. It was a sinister laugh that sent chills down my body. In my anger, I already had my feet on the second step. I intended to confront the entity in my home when the laugh came again. I stopped and looked up, and could have sworn I saw a movement, and the shadow of a man wearing a hat against the far wall. I looked again to make certain, but there was nothing there.
So many thoughts raced through my mind … leave the house and run … take the ball and have an argument with the invisible man …
But he was not invisible. I’d definitely seen his outline or shadow. As I stood there, I recalled John asking me about a man, saying he thought he saw a man wearing a hat in the solarium. I became so distraught that my legs shook, and I feared I would collapse right there at the bottom of the stairs. So in the end, I chose to ignore the ball and walked out of the house to sit on the patio. As angry and scared as I was, I was lucid enough to know that man had tried to get me to climb the stairs. I was proud of myself when I thought how close I’d been to climbing those stairs. Thank God, I had not fallen for that trap. I remained on the patio until the girls came home. That’s where they found me.
I should have known this would make the invisible man angry. He did not like to be ignored, and deflating my ball was his way of trying to gain my attention. But he had made a mistake. I refused to be intimidated by someone I could not see. Let him do his worst.
I didn’t know if I should credit the invisible man with so much power, but John called to say that he was running late. He had an emergency at work and had to stay late to take care of it. I thought that would only delay him thirty minutes, an hour tops. I was wrong.
I’d fallen asleep on the couch while I waited for John. I woke up two and a half hours into my wait, miserable and uncomfortable and John was still not home. The couch was not made for comfortable sleeping, and I desperately needed to make use of the bathroom. I needed to take a bath as well, but I was too scared to use my own bathroom. After waiting and waiting and not being able to hold out any longer, I finally decided to chance it. As I walked upstairs, my first time since the morning, I purposely avoided looking at the ball, which was still in the same where I’d thrown it. I quickly undressed and stepped into the shower for a quick wash.
I was in and out in record time. I did not even shampoo my hair, which I usually did after a day in the yard. I was exhausted from trying to remain awake while I waited for John. I thought he should be home any minute now.
John was four hours late getting home. By the time he had finally made it home, I was in bed, dozing in and out of sleep. I was aware of John talking to me, as he explained that after he had taken care of the problem at work and left to come home, he had a flat tire on the highway and had to wait for AAA to come to his assistance. I must have responded because I heard him walk out of the bedroom and the bathroom door closed after him. I relaxed and gave myself up to sleep, John was home!
During the course of the night, I was aware of John coming to bed and reaching for me. I went to him gladly. I was half asleep, not fully asleep and not quite awake, but before long, I was caught up in one of my intense sexual episodes. This time, I was wide awake; I could feel everything that was being done to me. I looked across the bed at John asleep, next to me. I hoped he would wake up and reach for me to break the spell I was under. I looked at him so intently that when he was removed from the bed, I opened my mouth and screamed.
One minute John was there, and the next, he was gone, pushed off the bed as if by an invisible hand. By this time, I was in the throes of my third orgasm and almost exhausted by the intensity of each experience. After the fifth one, I lost count and passed out. I came to when John shook me awake. He was leaving for work. It was 8:30 in the morning.
I panicked. If I didn’t hurry, I would be late for work, but I could not get myself to move quickly. I felt terrible again. I was so sick, I could not even bring myself to look at John. I must have answered him, because he walked out of the room, and the door closed after him. I was again unable to make it to work.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I slept the entire morning. I dragged myself out of bed at 2:30 in the afternoon. I was in so much pain I could not even walk properly, but I thought a really hot shower would do the trick. I stripped out of my nightgown and was shocked to see the bruises. No part of my body had been spared. They were not deep enough to puncture the skin, but I had love bites over every inch of my body. I looked in the mirror to see if my back was in the same condition, and sure enough, it was. But, by far, the worst areas were my breasts and stomach.
Despair and rage vied for control of my emotions. Despair because in one night, all the progress I had made getting things back on track with John had been destroyed. And rage because it was being done by this man who seemed to think he had free reign over my body, without my consent, in my own home, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
How would I explain this to John? Whoever the invisible man was, he had made it so that I could not allow John to see my body until these spots disappeared. He had again affected my relationship with my husband.
If John were to see these, he would have a difficult time accepting my explanation. He might even accuse me of cheating on him, and he would be correct, even though I was being attacked against my will. Yes, I was involved with someone sexually, but he was abusing my body in the worst possible manner.
What was I to do? I did not have any girlfriends, no one to talk to about this. My one girlfriend had moved away, and we did not speak but now and then, and mostly about our children. When Marta had moved away six years ago, I did not seek anyone to replace her. I had always been a loner at heart. I did not crave the company of other women, as some women do. When I needed to talk with someone, I talked with John or one of our daughters, depending on the subject. I did not visit other people’s homes. My life revolved around my family. Even my relationship with my parents was not that emotional. My mother was not a very demonstrative individual, and I took after her. My father had been a bit more open, but by the time I became a teenager, his show of affection had ceased.
From the beginning of our relationship, John had always been my best friend, and when he became my husband, it had been enough for me. But now I needed the counsel of another woman, and the only one I had was my mother. How does one discuss this matter with one’s mother? Just thinking about it caused me to blush and my face to get overheated.
The girls had left me a note in the kitchen. They had gone to visit with my parents, who were taking them shopping for some school supplies, so I was alone in the house. I put on some fresh coffee, and while waiting for it to finish brewing, I sat down to read the morning paper. I could not concentrate on the news because I kept trying to figure out who was in my home and how I could get rid of him.
In the family room, I powered up the computer to do a search on Google about invisible men and ghosts. There was a wealth of information on the subject of ghosts. According to the information, a ghost could do any number of things, and what I had been experiencing was one of them. I was still unclear as to how I could have a ghost in my home when I had been living there for nineteen years with no problem. What made a ghost come into my home all of a sudden?
Th
at night, I was no closer to solving my problem, but I did not wait up for John, because, for one thing, I did not think my body could handle any fooling around. For another, I did not want him to question me about the love bites all over my body.
Unfortunately, my invisible man did not allow me to sleep uninterrupted. No sooner had John gotten into bed than the nightmare began.
It was a repeat of other nights, but this time the experience was not painful like some of the earlier encounters. Some of the previous episodes were all centered on him bringing me to orgasm. There were hardly anything but repeat orgasms. On this occasion, he had me floating on a sea of bliss. I got the impression the invisible man was showing me what he could do, trying to mimic my times with John, and trying to show he could do a better job than John. There was neither an end nor beginning to the sensations that invaded my body. I was screaming from pure ecstasy. I could hear myself, but apparently no one else could.
John was again off the bed, and I was alone with this invisible man and, boy, did he let me have it. I could not close my mouth for one second. The sensation was so powerful and overwhelming. I just gave up. There was no denying it—it was otherworldly.
Friday morning, I woke but was unable to get out of bed. I claimed a headache and remained in bed for the entire day. John brought me some coffee, which I drank lying in bed, and then went right back to sleep. I missed a second day of work after I had just returned. I was too ashamed to call in. John must have done it for me, because my supervisor called to wish me well.
When I got up for the second time, I looked at the clock on the nightstand. John’s picture was once again face down. I began to hyperventilate because I could no longer ignore the very clear message—John was not welcome in our bedroom. I did not want to think nor imagine what would happen if I continued to have sexual relations with my husband. The invisible man was laying his claim to me, and I did not have a clue how to stop it. I needed a hot bath and invisible man or no, I had to take one. Otherwise, I would not be able to do much for myself today. I was just one big ball of pain.
