Holly and Her Naughty eReader

by Julianne Spencer

  “Yes, but it was awful, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “And now, the memories of that awful scene and the breakup that followed still in your mind, you came back to your hometown, hoping to find some sort of peace and solace in a bit of nostalgia, right?”

  “I….don’t…what are you getting at, Viv?”

  “I’m telling you that these visions you’re having are more than hallucinations, and I don’t think they have anything to do with the mojo we smoked.”

  “Yes, I know that now,” I said. “That’s actually why I called. I was thinking maybe I could show you my Kindle, see what you--”

  “Holly, you’re in such desperate need for escape that your brain is changing the books you read into some kind of alternate reality.”

  Vivan was speaking to me the way a doctor speaks to a patient. It was a little annoying.

  “Yes, an alternate reality—that’s what’s happening--but I don’t know that I need an escape from anything,” I said.

  “Of course you need an escape. Who wouldn’t need to escape from your life right now?”

  Yikes, was my life really that bad? Now I was starting to wonder.

  “Vivian, I think there is more going on here than--”

  “Come see me. You need someone to talk to, and it’s quiet here at the office.”

  “Yes, good. That’s actually why I was calling.”

  “I’m downtown in the Chase Building. Just park on the street. Nobody checks the meters this late in the afternoon.”

  “Some human contact might be good,” I muttered. Was it possible that Vivian was right, and my breakup with Derek had made me go bonkers?

  “Call me when you’re in the lobby. I’ll come get you.”

  I hung up feeling like this was a good choice. I’d spent all this time in my Kindle and didn’t really know what was real and what was fake anymore. I considered leaving the Kindle behind and having a talk to Vivian on her terms. She wanted to play guidance counselor for me. Perhaps I should let her.There was no doubt in my mind now that the Kindle was trouble. What I had seen inside Christoph’s head, what I had experienced in his memories…

  You can’t unlive moments like that.

  Even more unsettling was my lingering attraction to him. Having seen all that baggage he carried around, I should have run away screaming. But a part of me wanted to race back inside, to go to him and provide him comfort.

  “Jesus Christ, Holly,” I said. “You even fall for the wrong guys in fiction. And you’re talking to yourself again.”

  I grabbed the Kindle, threw it in my purse, and headed out the door.

  Chapter 11

  Black marble floors, a gurgling fountain, high ceilings, huge oil paintings on the walls—who would have thought that little Moongirl, the class mystic, would have ended up here?

  As instructed, I called Vivian from the lobby. She came down to find me staring at the list of names engraved on a gold panel in the wall.

  “Do you think your name will be up here some day?” I asked her.

  “Hell no,” she said. “The minute I have enough money to get my name on the wall of some building downtown, I’m retiring and moving the family to Acapulco.”

  “But do you know any of these folks?” I asked. “Do you work with them?”

  Vivian gave me a weird look.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re lonely, aren’t you, Holly?”

  “Oh Good Lord,” I said. “Let’s just go up to your office. I brought something I want you to look at.”

  “What is it?” said Vivian.

  I cracked open my purse so she could see the Kindle hiding inside.

  “Oh. I see,” she said.

  It was clear from her voice that Vivian was convinced I had lost it. And maybe she was right. Maybe the stress of the breakup and the reunion combined with an already overactive imagination and many tens of thousands of hours spent reading—maybe it all had melded together and I was officially cracked. It was a possibility I had warmed up to the minute Vivian suggested it on the phone.

  Which was why I brought the Kindle. This would be a good test. I was going to read a passage while she watched me. If I fell all the way into the story world, I would have an observer watch what happens to me while I’m there. And then I would hand the Kindle to her and we’d see what happened.

  Vivian worked for the law office of Crackhow, Shoenberg, and Shinko, on the eleventh floor of the Chase tower downtown. We stepped out of the elevator into a mostly quiet office space and she led me through a maze of empty cubicles.

  “Where is everybody?” I said.

  “It’s six-thirty at night, Holly. Everybody’s gone home.”

  “Oh,” I said, realizing that I hadn’t paid any attention to the time of day. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know what day it was. I remembered waking up in my room at the Wyndam once, maybe twice, since the reunion. But I also remembered waking up on the grass of Lothloriath in the arms of Blair the Werewolf, and in the satin sheets of Christoph Green’s bed. It was all a jumble. Reality and fantasy were mixing together in my mind, and it wasn’t easy to tell them apart.

  Vivian had a big office with a window facing south. She had a steel bookcase on one wall holding rows of hardback law volumes. On the other walls were prints of famous paintings by Dali and Picasso. Walking inside, you’d never expect this was a woman who smoked hallucinogenic herbs in her basement.

  She closed the door behind me and we sat together at a round table at the front of her office.

  “Alright, spill it,” Vivian said. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “What I’m feeling? Actually, Viv, what I wanted to do was show you--”

  “I know you want to show me your Kindle and we can get to that, Sweetie, but I think we should talk about your feelings first. You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks and I wonder if you’ve ever had the chance to just take a break and consider what you’re feeling.”

  “My feelings are complicated,” I said as I reached into my purse.

  Vivian put her hand on mine before I could lift out the Kindle. “Tell me why they’re complicated,” she said.

  I sighed, and decided to give her the abbreviated version.

  “On the one hand, I feel deceived and misused, of course,” I said. “My fiancée was cheating on me. On the other hand, though, I can see that we needed to break up, and I’m glad it happened before the wedding.”

  “You’re glad?” Vivian said. “Is that really the right word for how you feel?”

  “You know what I mean. Listen, this Kindle--”

  “Holly, this Kindle is perfectly normal,” Vivian said, now reaching into my purse and retrieving it herself. As I watched her hand pull it out I felt like I was watching someone run off with my children.

  Not that I had any children. Not that I had a storybook life like my sister and Michelle and the rest of my friends. Not that it was normal to feel so attached to a Kindle that you cringe when someone else touches it.

  But that’s what I was doing. Vivian was holding it in her lap now, and it was all I could do not to go Gollum on her and hiss “My precious!” as I snatched it away.

  “You’re under a lot of stress,” Vivian continued, gently placing my Kindle on the table. “And you are desperate for an escape from it all. But what you need right now isn’t to run and hide from your problems. You need to face them. You need to take ownership of them.”

  With the speed of a striking snake, I snatched my Kindle off the table and turned it on.

  “Holly, really? Can you see that you have a problem?”

  I swiped the yellow arrow across the screen to bring up the carousel of books, then I clicked on the cover for His Golden Shackles.

  “Read this,” I said, pushing the Kindle across the table.

  Vivian looked at me with pity in her eyes.

  “Just one screen. Read it and when you’re done I’ll talk about my feelings.”<
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  She shook her head. “Negotiating. You still have a long way to go to get through this.”

  “Just read it!”

  “Okay, okay,” Vivian said. “But remember your promise. I read. You talk.”

  “Yes, that’s the deal,” I said.

  Vivian picked up the Kindle with two hands and began to read. She sat very still as she read. She was quiet. Her breathing was normal.

  Nothing was happening.

  So it is me, I thought. It’s all in my mind. I’ve lost it.

  The thoughts were both frightening and a comfort. I was almost eager to accept the idea that I was crazy. At least it was an explanation that made sense.

  And so what if I was nuts? I could still function in normal society, couldn’t I? Holly Pritchett, High School English Teacher by Day; Nutty Psycho Who Can’t Tell Reality From Fantasy by Night. I imagined myself waking up in the morning, going to school, teaching classes, grading assignments, coming home, and disappearing into the land of books every night. Was it any different than my life right now? All that had changed was my books were more vivid. No longer were they words on a page creating a scene in my mind. Now they were immersive worlds where I could get lost in the characters, living my life in their minds, changing things as I saw fit.

  I was already comparing myself to other crazy people who did alright by themselves: Van Gogh, Rain Man, Russel Crowe in A Beautiful Mind, when Vivian took a huge gasp of air and practically jumped out of her seat.

  “Oh my God,” she said. “That was the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “What?” I said. “What happened?”

  She was breathing heavy, like she’d just run a race. “It was like you said. I was in the book!”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “What did you see? Tell me what happened.”

  “I was Annabelle Stone,” she said. “I was in Christophe’s room, his Den of Decadence. I was wearing big rubber boots and nothing else. He was tying me up to a wooden X on his wall.”

  “The St. Andrew’s cross,” I said, feeling a wee bit jealous.

  “Yes, and he was about to have his way with me,” Vivian said. “I wanted it. I wanted it so bad I almost let it happen, but then I got scared. I freaked. It was too much, and I knew you were right here and it wasn’t real. But it felt so real! Holly, what is this thing?”

  I saw the same mix of shock and excitement in her face that I felt the first time I went in the book. It was thrilling to have all your fantasies come true before your eyes. But it was also a bit scary.

  “I wanted out,” Vivian said, “and it let me out. Is that how it works?”

  “That’s how it works,” I said. “When you’re in the book, the real world completely melts away. I’ve come out to find that my phone was ringing, that day has turned to night, that my foot’s asleep, and I’ve never noticed. The book becomes reality. But the minute you decide you want out, it’s like…”

  “Like changing the channel on a TV,” Vivian said. “That’s what it felt like to me. Like my life was something you could click on and off. What happened to me? What did I do while I was reading?”

  “You just sat there,” I said.

  “Really? Did I say anything? Did I shiver with excitement when he tickled me with that whip?”

  I shook my head.

  “Oh Holly. That was unbelievable! He had like a riding crop or something, and he ran it across my chest and--”

  “Over your nipples,” I said, remembering the scene well. “Christoph knows exactly how to touch you when you’re Annabelle.”

  “All the nerve endings in my body,” Vivian said, her breathing getting more rapid as she spoke. “It was like they were singing! Why didn’t I stay in the book?”

  “Maybe it was too much for you,” I said, reaching for the Kindle.

  Vivian pulled the Kindle to her chest, out of my reach.

  “I want to go back,” she said.

  “No, I don’t know if--”

  “Why not, Holly?”

  “Well, I…”

  “You don’t want me to go back, do you? You want to have Christoph all to yourself.”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  But it was.

  “Then I’ll just start reading again,” Vivian said. “I need to see more.”

  “Vivian, this Kindle….it can be…you have to be careful because it can change you.”

  “Holly, I’m not taking no for an answer,” Vivian said. “A few more minutes inside and then you can have it back.”

  “Okay, but you have to read a different book,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Because, that’s a better test,” I said. “And there are lots of books just as hot as His Golden Shackles. Here, let me find you another good one.”

  I reached for the Kindle and Vivian turned away.

  “I can find another good one myself. Just tell me the title,” she said.

  “Try Mane of the Werewolf,” I said.

  “Okay, I can do that.”

  “So….go ahead.”

  “I’d like you to step out for a minute first,” Vivian said.

  “How come?”

  “Holly, if I’m about to get my freak on with--”

  “It’s all in your mind.”

  “I don’t care if it’s all in my mind! A girl’s got to have some privacy! Just give me fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay fine. Fifteen minutes, then I’m coming back.”

  I watched to make sure Vivian flipped to a different book, then I walked out of the office, closing the door behind me.

  Chapter 12

  After I have my seniors read Wuthering Heights, I’ll often move on to The Time Machine by HG Wells. It’s a nice contrast, I think, and gives us a chance to talk about themes in literature, as both Wuthering Heights and The Time Machine tackle the challenging issue of class in society.

  In The Time Machine, Wells has his main character visit the future to find the earth populated by two races of people. There are the peaceful Eloi who live a quiet, idyllic life on the surface, and there are the ape-like Morlocks who live underground, slaving away to allow the Eloi to enjoy a life of leisure.

  As I roamed through Vivian’s office while she spent some private time with my Kindle, it was clear to me that she and the other lawyers were the Eloi in this world, and the cubicles dwellers were the grunting Morlocks, slaving away in the dark to keep the place afloat.

  I pulled out a chair at someone’s desk and sat. Vivian’s experience with the Kindle made clear that what was happening wasn’t in my mind. But what, then, was happening? I had very vague memories of a ridiculous ceremony in Vivian’s basement, with Vivian reciting bad poetry and me singing the theme song to Mr. Ed. Could it be that Vivian’s witchcraft had worked? Could my Kindle have crossed over into the realm of the supernatural, acting as some gateway to the great beyond?

  Or might this still be some sort of strange hallucination brought about by Vivian’s unique mix of herbs?

  As I listened to my own thoughts, I pondered the tack Vivian was trying to take with me before she discovered the truth of my Kindle for herself. At first, she thought I had cracked. She thought I was in such need of escape from real life that I had imagined the fantasy worlds on my eReader as reality.

  Her own sojourn into His Golden Shackles was proof that whatever was happening was more than my need for escape. Still, Vivian had a point when she was lecturing me about how I wasn’t dealing with my feelings. Derek’s decision to get busy with a nineteen-year-old had thrown my whole life up in the air, and maybe I had been in denial of what it meant for me. Rather than try to face my feelings, I’d been saying to myself, over and over again, that all of this was for the best, that even though it hurt, it was better that it happened now.

  He’s an asshole. That had been my mantra with my girlfriends and my own thoughts. I’m too good for him and I deserve better. As painful as it is, that nineteen-year-old slut has done me a favor.
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  I said these things over the phone and over coffee and at the bar and with a glass of wine in my hand. I said them to the other teachers in the lounge, to my sister, to my boss, and to my best friends. And every time I spoke the words, I was rewarded. Yes, Holly. That’s exactly right. You are too good for him. He is an asshole.

  But was that really what I was feeling? Walking alone through the cubicles of Crackhow, Shoenberg, and Shinko, with no students to teach or papers to grade or music to jam out to or Kindle to read, I had the luxury of thinking more deeply on what had happened to me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had been deceiving myself.

  Yes, Derek is an asshole, but I loved him. I cried tears of joy when he got down on one knee and proposed to me.

  Yes, I am too good for him, but I hadn’t felt that way ever since I caught him with another woman. Funny how that works. When the man you love, the man you think loves you, is sleeping with someone else, you don’t feel like you’re better than him. You feel like he was too good for you and that’s why he strayed.

  Yes, that nineteen-year-old slut has done me a favor, but I still wanted to bash her face with a sledgehammer.

  It was getting dark outside. I decided Vivian had been with my Kindle for long enough. I went to her office, opened the door, and found her in exactly the position I’d left her. She was hunched over in the chair at the table, staring at the Kindle.

  “Vivian,” I said. “Vivian, come out.”

  Nothing from her.

  “Vivian,” I said louder.

  I went up to her and shook her shoulder a bit. She didn’t respond. I got right next to her face and said, “Vivian, it’s me, Holly. I want you to come back now.”

  Still nothing. This was going to be tricky.

  I tugged on her hair. Nothing.

  I blew on her face. Nothing.

  I poked her on the cheek. Nothing.

  I poked her on the other cheek. I don’t know why I did that.

  I tried putting my hand between her face and the Kindle. She didn’t notice. Instead of staring at the Kindle, she just stared at my hand. Then I put both of my hands over her eyes. I was like someone standing behind her getting ready to say, ‘Guess who?’