An empty waiting room separated her and the voices. She slipped in, dropped into one of the plush lounge chairs, and tried to blend into the emptiness. The voices came into her hall, then drifted away as the couple continued the opposite direction from her. Aimee leaned back and watched the two; a tall and slender man with long blonde hair and a shorter, slim woman, with strawberry blonde hair pulled up high in a ponytail, walking together side-by-side, totally engrossed in a conversation. Her sixth sense told Aimee they were the key to her mission. She needed to see where they were going.
Like a penny ante sleuth on the tail of a cheating husband, Aimee trailed them keeping her distance so she wouldn’t be detected. A short, dark haired gentleman with a white lab coat and a stethoscope hanging around his neck, sauntered pass, nodded towards her, then suddenly snatched a second look before continuing down the hall. Aimee nodded and kept her eyes ahead on the couple in front of her, now gaining distance. A trickle of liquid reached her top lip. She wiped with the tissue she found in the waiting room. It had more fresh blood on it. That’s what the doctor musta been gawking at, Aimee figured.
Aimee couldn’t see the couple’s faces, but their voices sounded like they were discussing something of dire importance. The man’s voice sounded distraught, almost on the edge of total despair. Perhaps a loved one was sick, or worse, dying. Finally after a few minutes of ambling swiftly through the sparsely filled halls, they came to an entry and pushed through one of the double doors. Aimee looked at the sign on the side of the doors. It read Nursery. She poked open one of the doors and with one eye peeked into the dimly lit hall. At the end of the hall was a large window with curtains pulled back. The couple stood looking into the room on the other side of the window. A nurse scurried around behind the glass. The couple was quiet for the first time since Aimee had started following them. She didn’t dare go through the doors into the hall so she kept the door cracked open just enough so she could hear.
Finally, the man spoke. His voice cracked as he started. “Jesus Christ…oh God…geez, Lauren. She is so incredibly beautiful…” Aimee heard him sniffle, and then silence. He started again, his voice now calmer. “I mean, thank God, she looks just like her mother, the most beautiful person I have ever seen.” Again there was a pause and Aimee heard the woman trying to console him.
“I know, Mike. I know. She is gorgeous. So tiny, but even now, it’s amazing how much she looks like Marie…”
Like someone had taken a knife and jabbed it straight into her chest, Aimee felt her heart being ripped open. She doubled over and let go of the door. This wasn’t a random mission she had been sent on. She had been sent back in time to her birth!
If that was her behind the glass partition, and her dad and Aunt Lauren looking at her, then this had to be November 22, 1987, the day she was born. And, the day that her mother died. Omigod, Aimee suddenly thought, somewhere in this hospital is my mother…dead…or…or…omigod, could she…could she be alive?! And then in the next second it dawned on her. “Oooomigod, she’s the person I was sent to help!” whispered Aimee.
Aimee took a couple deep gulps of fresh air and noticed the pain subsided. She raised back up and eased the door back open an inch. The curtains were pulled across the window. Her dad and Aunt Lauren were now sitting in a couple of chairs along the wall. He sat hung over his lap with his hands cradling his face to prop up his head. Aunt Lauren was sitting sideways with her back towards Aimee. She was patting her dad’s shoulder trying to comfort him.
Aimee strained to listen to their conversation. Finally, her dad’s muffled crying stopped and he spoke in a soft, but anxious voice.
“I don’t know, Lauren. It’s just not right. I know…” he paused, wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve, then continued. “I know she said this baby isn’t mine. And I can’t see any evidence of me, but that doesn’t matter. She is as much ours, Marie’s and mine, as James is.”
Aunt Lauren just listened and rubbed her dad’s shoulder slowly. He continued, his voice now stronger and steady. “Crap, Lauren, I don’t feel good about this. I mean, I love Marie so much. I don’t think I can live without her. I don’t care if she is…” he stopped again. Finally, the words slid out, “I don’t care if she is crazy. I just don’t think I can lock her away like some mad animal.”
“Mike, listen to me. You don’t know what she is like. Marie’s been ill for years,” Aunt Lauren shared in a hushed, but convincing voice, “but this is the worse I have ever seen her. I mean she is completely delusional. All this nonsense about being a time traveler, and how she got pregnant by the man she met and fell in love with while on one of her…what does she call them?...” she paused for a second, then continued, “...uh, journeys, yeah that’s the word. Geez, Mike, she’s really lost it. I’m like you, though. I don’t want to see my sister locked away, but what choice do we have? She needs help, and she can’t take care of that beautiful, little girl,” Aunt Lauren paused as she pointed towards the nursery window, then added, “not unless she gets well.”
Dad kept his head hung low shaking it. Finally he sat up, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. He sounded defeated, drained of all life. “Uh…I…uh…” he sighed heavily, “maybe you’re right. That sweet, little baby needs me. James needs me, too. I guess I’ll sign the papers…” Aunt Lauren placed her hand over Dad’s hand and nodded. “But first…” Dad peered over at his sister-in-law, “…but first I want to see Marie.”
Her aunt grabbed her dad’s arm. “Mike, I don’t think that’s wise. You know how bad the doctor said she was after the delivery. She had completely flipped. They had to knock her out to keep her from tearing out the IV and running off with the baby. She was screaming about how the father was coming to take them away, and the medical staff was gonna kill them both, and…”
Dad suddenly interrupted, “I know, Lauren. I don’t need to hear it again. Just shut up...”
“Okay…okay. I’m sorry.” After a long moment of silence, Aunt Lauren said, “You know, Mike, Marie’s my favorite sister. I love her, too.”
“I know,” her dad answered emotionless.
“This isn’t easy for anyone. But…”
“But what?” her dad finally asked after Aunt Lauren failed to finish.
“But Marie won’t remember any of this. Never. This time I seriously doubt she will get better, and your children don’t need to know what happened. So, for the sake of that child…” Aunt Lauren cleared her throat, and then lowered her voice. Aimee pressed her ear as close to the opening as possible without falling through the doors. In a whisper, she heard Aunt Lauren say, “Marie just died.”
“Lauren, what are you saying?” Dad nervously asked and stared at Aunt Lauren with his eyebrows knitted together in a tight line.
“I think it would be…well, prudent…if your kids grow up…” she paused, cleared her throat, then finished, “…thinking their mother died today while she gave birth.”
“What the fu…?!” Mike blurted out, then immediately began to jump to his feet.
“Shhh…shhhh…” Aunt Lauren butted in while she grabbed him by his forearm and pulled him back into his seat. She glanced around tensely, and then looked with narrowed eyes into Mike’s wide eyes. “It’s what’s best. No one but us knows yet about the birth. I’m sure Molly will agree to this. I know she will because she’s had to live with this nightmare for so long. You just don’t know what it’s been like. I think Momma died because she couldn’t take it anymore, and she just gave up instead of watching her child fall deeper and deeper into the darkness. And for once, it’s a blessing your parents are gone, and you’re an only child.”
Dad continued to shake his head. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can,” Lauren commanded, “and you will!”
Aimee's dad looked up at Aunt Lauren. His face no longer resembled the young, handsome face captured in the black and white photo. He had aged a century. He studied his sister-in-law forever. Finally, he sighed
wearily and nodded as he dropped his head down and stared at his feet. Aunt Lauren sighed, too, and then replied, “Good…”
“But,” her dad interrupted. Aunt Lauren snapped her eyes back to Dad’s face. “I want to see Marie before I agree to anything.”
“Mike, no,” Aunt Lauren pleaded.
“Not negotiable. I want to tell her good-bye before they take her away.”
“Okay. But wait until tomorrow at least. The doctor said they knocked her out. I imagine she is really gone right now. They want to move her as soon as she stabilizes.”
Her dad nodded once, then got up and walked back to the window. He stood silently peering into the dark, draped glass. Aunt Lauren raised up slowly and leaned against the wall staring into space. Aimee let the door slip from her fingers. Every cell in her body felt numb. She wanted to throw up at the same time she wanted to punch the wall, or Dad, or Aunt Lauren, or all three. But she didn’t have time to puke or vent. There wasn’t a second to waste. She had to find her mother and get her out of here. The adrenaline quickly kicked in and she jumped into action. Where to start, Aimee thought looking around quickly for something to tell her where everything was in the hospital. Information can tell me where Mom is. She needed to find a Pink Lady.
Locating her mother’s room was simple. Aimee told the sweet, gray haired lady at the front desk she was Marie Schmidt’s sister, and she had to see Marie before she would sign the commitment papers. Within minutes, Aimee was racing to the surgical recovery floor where they had Mom hidden away. No one looked up when she entered the wing. All of the nurses had their heads stuck deep in their charts busily scribbling notes. Aimee floated by invisible.
Aimee stopped at room 428. A sign was plastered on the door - No Visitors Allowed. She glanced back at the nurses’ station. Their heads were still buried in their paperwork. Stealthily, Aimee pushed open the door and slid through. The room was dark except for the dim light coming from around the corner. She leaned against the closed door and sucked in a massive breath. Every few seconds, a soft moan, then some imperceptible mumbling, came from the person lying in the bed. Like worms, Aimee’s legs wiggled, but she couldn’t wait. She had to move.
She slowly edged around the corner and stopped abruptly. The breath stuck in her throat. Lying supine in the bed, every limb tied to the rails, was the woman from the black and white photo, and the same woman, but much younger looking, who had visited her a few weeks earlier. Joyful tears immediately poured down Aimee's cheeks as she bolted towards her mother. She rapidly started to tug at the bindings around her legs. Her mother didn’t stir. Her eyes were clamped shut. Aimee looked from her face to her arm where an IV dripping clear fluid was attached, then she noticed a tube running from under the blanket down by her hips to a bag holding yellow fluid hanging from the frame of the bed. Aimee winced.
“Mom,” Aimee whispered while she worked her way from a leg to an arm struggling to untie the tightly bound straps. Her mother never opened her eyes. Aimee paused for a moment, then let go of the knotted strap she had been struggling with on her wrist and moved up next to her head. Gently, as if her mother was a china doll, Aimee leaned over and cradled her hands on both sides of her mother's face and eased her lips to her mom's forehead. Delicately, Aimee kissed her and drew in her scent. It was the sweet smell of a mother. Aimee laid her head on her mom’s chest and felt her heart beating. Soft sobs erupted from Aimee and disappeared into the room. After a few minutes she looked up and peered into her mother's face. Her mother's eyes were open. She looked straight at Aimee. A smile spread across her mother’s lips.
“Mom?! Mom?!” repeated Aimee. Her mother's lips suddenly dropped downward and a blank expression took over.
“Mom, I’m gonna get you out of here!” Aimee exclaimed.
Without warning, a man's voice filtered through from the other side of the door and Aimee heard a low squeak as the door began to open. She dove for the bathroom and slithered in just as the person pushed open the door and entered. The bathroom door was ajar just enough for Aimee to see a short, portly man with gray hair stroll by. A young nurse with a chart in her hand followed right behind him. They disappeared into the room. Their voices were low, but audible.
“I understand the husband will be signing the papers tomorrow. After he commits, and she’s had a couple days to recover from surgery, we’ll get Mrs. Schmidt transported to the facility. For some reason they are moving her out-of-state.”
“Dr. Walsh,” the woman started, “do you want to order another sedative for this evening? When the last dose started to wane, she got extremely agitated. She almost tore loose of her bindings.”
“I’ll up the dosage in her IV. We’ll just keep her sedated and let her rest tonight and see how well she responds in the morning. It looks like Dr. Rudolph saw her a few minutes ago. Everything looks good with the surgical site. Blood pressure is stable. Nothing concerning noted. I believe she should do well tonight.”
“Sounds good, Dr. Walsh,” the nurse agreed. The two suddenly reappeared from around the corner and hastily stepped out into the hall. The door swung shut. After a few seconds, Aimee slowly opened the bathroom door, then she darted back to her mother’s side. Time was running out. She had to get her mother untethered and somehow get her out of here, but the bindings wouldn’t budge. Aimee pulled and yanked and twisted. Nothing would loosen its grip. She dug through the drawers next to the bed, but they were empty except for some latex tape, gauze, and a Bible.
Just then, without any warning, the same young nurse returned. She quickly pushed through the door and dashed into the room. Aimee wheeled around. Their eyes met for only a second.
“Hey!” she exclaimed. “No one is allowed in here. What are you doing?” she asked in an authoritative tone. “You have to leave!”
Frozen in place, her hand glued to her mother’s arm, Aimee just shook her head and stared boldly into the nurse’s eyes. The nurse turned and bolted for the door. “Well then, I’ll let security remove you.”
Just as the nurse's hand reached the door handle, Aimee lurched towards her, leaped on her back, and squeezed her long, muscular legs around the nurse's waist. The woman started to scream, but Aimee covered her hands over the lady's mouth. Like a small, wild animal being attacked by a monstrous beast, the nurse fought to get free. She wasn’t going down easy. During their tussle she lost her balance and they both fell against the wall, but Aimee held on and tightened her limbs around the woman's frame like a steel clamp. The nurse continued to screech and claw at Aimee's arms. Her hand reached backwards flaying madly and grazed Aimee's sore nose with a gliding punch. The pain shot straight up through Aimee's brain and blinded her. Aimee dropped instantly like an anchor into the sea.
But she didn’t hit the floor. She didn’t hit anything as she fell. Nothing was there to catch her. Nothing existed but dark, empty space below her, above her, and around her. The familiar icy space of the black tunnel seized her. Aimee closed her eyes and felt the frigid nothingness swirl around her and seep into every pore. ....
…“Dad, she’s okay. I found her in her car.”
Aimee's eyes were still shut, but she could hear a voice; James’s voice. He was talking on his cell phone. Slowly, she opened her eyelids and stared out the front window. She was sitting in her car. It was still parked in the grocery store’s parking lot. Aimee glanced over at James. He was sitting in the passenger seat with a worried look on his face. She continued her glance over her shoulder. Sacha sat on the edge of the seat in the back, and was leaning over the console looking first at Aimee, and then at James with a fretful look on her face.
“Dad, I’ll call you back in a couple minutes. She’s coming around.” James quickly ended the call and asked, “Geez, Aimee. Whathahell happened?” He handed her a wadded napkin for her nose. “Here,” he continued, “your nose is bloody. What did you do, pass out and hit your face?”
Sacha reached over the seat and delicately touched Aimee's shoulder. “James, give her a seco
nd. She doesn’t look so good.” Sacha twisted the top off, then handed Aimee the bottle of water that she dropped into the passenger seat when she fell into the car. “Here, Aimee, try to take a sip of this.”
Aimee just shook her head and looked out her side window. After a few seconds, Aimee turned back to James. Both he and Sacha were anxiously studying her, waiting for an answer to her odd behavior. James couldn’t wait. “Aimee, do I need to take you to the hospital?”
Finally Aimee spoke. “No. I just wanna go home. I’m fine now.”
“Well, like hell,” James argued. His usual jovial tone was missing. “You’re not driving by yourself anywhere. So what the fu…”
“James!” Sacha interrupted, cutting James short with a if looks could kill stare.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be terse, but Aimee, this is becoming a routine thing for you. Every time you get into your car you seem to zone out and something happens. Hey...” he paused for a second, his eyes narrowed, “you aren’t high, are you?”
Aimee whipped her face around and threw darts at him with her eyes.
“I guess not,” James resigned. “It’s just that…well…you have been acting really weird the past couple of months, and strange things keep happening to you. You have Dad worried sick...”
At the mention of Dad’s name, Aimee's whole body went rigid. James noticed.
“…and Dylan. Shit, he’s been burning up my phone for the past fifteen minutes trying to find you. If it wasn’t for you telling him where you were stopping, we wouldn’t have found you so fast. Man, the dude’s totally freaked out over you, Aimee.”
Her body got even harder at the mention of how frazzled Dylan was over her brief disappearance from the radar. Aimee took a long breath, then spoke, “I’m sorry I worried everyone. I know you all care…a lot…about me. I don’t know what happened. I musta blacked out from not eating and busted my nose on the steering wheel, or something…”
The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted Page 35
