Buried in Sunshine

by Matthew Fish

  “I’m supposed to be on medication?” Emma asks, she thinks back—she remembers having to take pills for anxiety. However, lately, she has not had the anxiety so she has forgotten completely.

  “You should really have cut down instead of gone cold turkey,” Dr. Riley says as she shakes her head and looks sternly at Emma for a moment, then returns to her smiling demeanor. “I suppose though you are doing fine—just next time, if you are on any medication that you feel you don’t need any more—cut down, do not just stop.”

  “It’s strange,” Emma says as she nods. “I just forgot.”

  “Well it looks like no harm has been done,” Dr. Riley says reassuringly. “Are there any other issues you’d like to discuss? I would say that your improvements outweigh any of the concerns you have—even if they are sad revelations about your mother. I’m sure that will work out alright.”

  “That picture in the lobby, with the trees and the winding road and fog…”

  “Yes?”

  “Where was that taken?”

  “I’m not completely sure,” Dr. Riley says as she cocks her head sideways and thinks about it for a moment. “When I was younger I saw a lot of roads like that in the rural parts of Missouri. There’s also a lot of nice wooded road up north near Door County. Why do you ask?”

  “I’d like to go somewhere like that,” Emma says as she takes a mental note of the places mentioned.

  “So you think you are able to travel?”

  “I have the urge to do so—“

  “You’ve got the means to do so,” Dr. Riley says as she tilts her head back and forth and smiles. “You really are a new you… aren’t you?”

  “A whole bunch of them,” Emma says.

  “And you still have that off sense of humor.”

  “It seems to be, and hopefully is, the only thing I’ve carried over from my time being that depressed girl,” Emma says as she stretches her arms out in front of her and lets out a short yawn. “I think I could travel, soon.”

  “I would love to see you do that,” Dr. Riley says as she gets to her feet. “Good luck with your date tonight.”

  “I’ll give you the details in a few days,” Emma says.

  “Don’t stay outdoors too long,” Dr. Riley warns as Emma heads out of the room. “It’s pretty miserable out there today.”

  *

  As Emma exists the building the oppressive heat is so strong in nearly takes her breath away. She briskly walks to her car and turns the air conditioning on high. A lot of What Dr. Riley said made a lot of sense—however it did not explain this heat. Perhaps, it is just coincidence?

  Emma starts the car and begins to drive home.

  *

  As Emma enters her house she follows the hallway and rounds the corner that leads into the kitchen. Upon the table, Elizabeth is sitting—her head buried in her hands.

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Emma?” Elizabeth asks as she attempts to raise her head.

  “Are you alright?” Emma asks as she comes close to Elizabeth. Emma places a hand upon Elizabeth’s shoulder; her skin is clammy to the touch.

  “Are you alright?” Elizabeth repeats mindlessly.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Emma asks as she attempts to gain Elizabeth’s attention.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Elizabeth says as she pushes Emma away.

  A strange, sickening feeling begins to grow in Emma’s stomach. She feels as though she is about to be ill. She takes a few steps back as her head grows dizzy and he heart pounds like a relentless drum in her chest. Sweat drips from her forehead as she attempts to wipe it away with her hand she feels herself forehead—it is burning up.

  Emma can feel herself falling backwards to the floor. Her legs have given out and she is falling to the ground like a displaced house of cards.

  “Emma…” Elizabeth whispers as she suddenly turns her attention and reaches a hand out. “Stop…”

  Despite Elizabeth’s command, Emma does not stop. She continues her descent to the floor. She looks up to the ceiling as everything begins to grow dim. Elizabeth gets to her feet and stands above her, she kneels beside Emma.

  “What’s happening to me?” Emma asks. Elizabeth looks strange—almost as though Emma is viewing the world through a fish-eye lens.

  “Emma?” Elizabeth asks as she places her hand upon Emma’s forehead. “You’re burning.”

  Emma’s vision goes black.

  *

  7/25/12

  3:45-7:31 p.m.

  MISSING TIME

  *

  Emma’s eyes slowly adjust to the soft subdued light of evening. She reaches up and pulls a cool washcloth from her head.

  “Emma?” Elizabeth asks from the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” Emma says as she slowly pulls herself to an upright position. “What happened?”

  “You just kind of…passed out,” Elizabeth says with a tone of relief in her voice as though she has been deeply worried. “I didn’t know what to do—I couldn’t exactly call the ambulance. I knew you’d be alright. I think I did anyway…it’s not time yet.”

  “What was up with you when I got home?”

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth says embarrassedly. “I kind of felt like I was slipping away mentally… Until you fell, that snapped me out of it.”

  “Thank you for taking care of me,” Emma says as she crawls out of bed. She looks out the window—the last rays of sunlight are visible over the tree-line in the distance. “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to get ready for your date,” Elizabeth whispers sadly as she looks away from both Emma and the window that serves as her ticking clock.

  “I’m sorry Elizabeth,” Emma apologizes.

  “Do you think I’ll be back tomorrow?”

  “I know you will,” Emma says reassuringly as she places her arms around Elizabeth. It is a strange thing, Emma thinks, to be friends with one’s own self. However, in a way, Elizabeth is different—so it kind of makes sense to her. “I’ll need you tomorrow.”

  “I’m just glad you feel better,” Elizabeth says as a painful look washes over her face. Darkness fills the room as Elizabeth tears away into burning stray ashes. The final pieces of her glow off into the air and disappear completely into the ether.

  “Be well, Elizabeth,” Emma whispers as she leaves the bedroom. She wonders if she should still go on this date—given the situation. Between passing out without explanation, and the knowledge that Emma’s Mother and was having a very long affair with Ethan’s father—her apprehension at the idea of dinner seems more like a logical one rather than an irrational fear based decision. However, she wants to see him. Despite the fact that it has only been one day—she misses him.

  Emma stands in front of her closet. She pulls out a playful short yellow dress with a plunging neckline. It has been a long time since she has worn a dress, especially one that shows off a bit of her assets. She strips down and climbs into the dress. She finds a pair of yellow open toed shoes with daisies painted on the sides and slips them over her bare feet. Emma then, carefully, descends the stairs and looks at herself in the mirror. She puts on a bit of pink lipstick. She pulls her long hair to the side and fixes it in place with a barrette.

  A knock on the door comes from down below.

  Emma rushes down the stairs, careful not to trip in her shoes—and opens the door.

  “Holy shit,” Ethan says as he looks at Emma. “I’m sorry—I mean good evening. I just, I’ve just seen you in jeans and a t-shirt.”

  “Holy shit to you too,” Emma replies playfully. Ethan looks handsome. He is wearing a grey button up shirt and tight fitting blue jeans. It is nice to see him in something that isn’t covered in dirt. His hair is spiked up in the front and his rough face has been cleaned up a bit—but not too much. Emma likes the rough, ruggedness of his features.

  *

  Ethan escorts Emma into a dimly lit Chinese restaurant. The décor is simple, plain wooden booths
line white walls with large-brushstroke paintings of mountains, trees, and plants that are hung above each seating. A large white beckoning neko sits on a large shelf against the back wall along with a golden Buddha and a small bamboo plant. Save for Ethan and Emma, the restaurant in completely vacant.

  “Is this booth good?” Ethan asks as he leads Emma to a small recessed corner.

  “This is perfect,” Emma says as she sits down against the cushion of unidentifiable origin and crosses her legs so that her toes touch the edge of pole holding the table up—something she does out of comfort and instinct. “Do you come here often?”

  Ethan laughs, “That’s supposed to be my line isn’t it?”

  Emma looks away as she hides a small embarrassed laugh with her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I got ya,” Ethan says as he nods. “I like to come here after work. Life gets terribly noisy sometimes… during the week, if you come an hour before they close you have the place all to yourself. It is quite peaceful really.”

  “I’ve never even heard of this place,” Emma says as she looks around her. The only thing that makes her feel slightly uneasy is the lack of windows.

  “It’s pretty small, family owned,” Ethan says as he hands a menu to Emma. “Plus it’s far from the lake so it doesn’t get a lot of tourist traffic.”

  A woman approaches the dimly lit restaurant with a pad of paper in hand.

  “Ah, Ethan—will you have the usual again tonight?”

  Emma looks up to the woman and instantly turns away. The waitress looks exactly like one of her clones—the blonde hair, the blue eyes, and the familiar features. She could be any of them by appearance, Elizabeth, Alexis…or even a new one.”

  “Yes,” Ethan says. “Emma, are you good or do you need a moment.”

  “Vegetable fried rice,” Emma quickly spouts out as she continues to look away. “A coke… that should be all. Thanks.”

  “Thank you,” the waitress replies as she begins to leave.

  Emma turns to watch and sees a woman with dark hair walking away.

  “Are you alright?” Ethan asks as he looks to Emma with a concerned look upon his face. “Do you know her?”

  “Oh,” Emma says as she attempts to concoct a reasonable sounding excuse. “I’m just not good with… new people. Or really, I mean, more than one person. I prefer one on one interaction, anything more than that, and it kind of frazzles me out a bit—sorry.”

  “It is what it is,” Ethan says as he places his hands together and attempts to change the subject. “Crazy how hot it is, even at night—right?”

  “It’s definitely,” Emma begins; she pauses as she attempts to make sense of sensory overload that her mind has placed upon itself. Her mind goes back to her therapist—these visions, these clones, are they not real? Are they just her mind trying to fix itself? Could the weather be a coincidence? None of it made sense—if they were not real, who was cooking her meals?

  “Unusual?”

  “Unusual,” Emma repeats as she snaps back to reality. She realizes that she is probably making for terrible company. She hopes that Ethan is not beginning to regret his decision to take her to dinner. “That’s the word…I was looking for.”

  “It’s okay,” Ethan says as plates are set out in front on him. “The heat makes it hard to think.”

  Emma looks away for fear that she will see herself—she knows that she probably would not, after all, it is nighttime. Instead, she keeps her eyes fixed to table and whispers, “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Ann,” Ethan says as the woman walks away.

  “I’m sorry,” Emma says sadly as she feels an overwhelming sense of worthlessness inside of her. For all of her success, it seems as though she is marred with just as much difficulty. “I’m probably a terrible date.”

  Ethan nearly chokes as he takes a sip of his soda. “I didn’t know that you actually considered this a date—I’m flattered.”

  “Well it’s…” Emma begins, and then realizes she has no idea how to finish. “It is if you want it to be. It was your idea,” Emma adds in an almost accusatory tone.

  “No, I’m happy that you even would consider it as such,” Ethan says as he smiles. “As for the rest, don’t worry about it at all—you’re fine.”

  “I’m really not.”

  “I mean,” Ethan says as he backtracks. “I know what you’ve been through—I mean, I’m sure I don’t know everything that there is to know about you, I’d like to, I just…I know what my father has told me about your life. I know that it has not been a kind one.”

  Emma gulps painfully at the mention of ‘father,’ she thinks back to the love letter addressed to her mother—part of her wants to say something, however, she knows that this would be a very bad idea. She remembers back to what Elizabeth had said, ‘just because you are in pain does it mean you should bring it to others?’

  “So how is your father? Have you seen him?”

  “We meet once a week for lunch and talk—other than that he is pretty busy. I’ll come by the house and visit him and my mother, Brenna, every now and then when I’m not busy,” Ethan says as he pokes at his noodle dish and places a spoonful of it into his mouth.

  “I’ve never met your mother,” Emma admits. She did not remember seeing her at her mother’s funeral, or anytime at the office for that matter.

  Ethan swallows his food and allows himself a moment before he says, “She’s mostly at home. She’s actually wheelchair bound, has been that way ever since I was very little. She was in a car accident a long time ago.”

  This bit of information makes Emma feel even worse about the affair that her mother and Ethan’s father was conducting. Not only did Brian Metcalfe plan on leaving a son, but a disabled wife as well—this made him seem all the more a monster to her, and the more of a monster he became the more scared Emma was of ultimately confronting him. Then, her mind flashed back to an early conversation—when that clone version of herself led her back into his office, he mentioned wanting to leave early because he had dinner plans with his wife two hours north… “Does she ever get out?”

  “She sits in the garden—my father made her a beautiful garden. It has a waterfall and all these amazing climbing ivy plants that cover parts of a concrete walkway that he built himself for her. Although with the heat, she hasn’t been out there—but yeah, that is about the extent of her getting out of the house. She does not like to travel or be in a car at all.”

  “I can understand the feeling,” Emma whispers, as she adds this bit of information to the growing pile of things that she does not understand—does this mean Ethan’s father is having another affair? Was this just who he was—was that why Emma’s mother never got together with him. Perhaps she was just one of many… “I have spent a lot of time in the house. When I was depressed, it was all I would do.”

  “She definitely has some… depression issues,” Ethan says as he set down his fork and placed a hand over his eyes as he let out a heavy sigh. “It wasn’t really an accident. She was driving down south in Illinois, I think to visit friends—she ended up crossing over the median on the highway and hitting a car head on, killing two people—she was drunk at the time. I don’t remember it much, but she went away for a while when I really little. I don’t think she’s ever really recovered—not that what she did was something she should forget. I just, feel bad for her sometimes.”

  “I think…” Emma begins; she remembers the flash of memory of erratic lights and her ex-boyfriend being struck from behind as he is jogging. “My ex was killed by a drunk driver.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan says as he shakes his head. “I wanted to just say, accident—I mean always do. I’m always covering for her. Although, not for her sake. I guess I’m just kind of ashamed. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

  “It’s okay,” Emma says as she attempts to shrug off the unpleasant feeling that the memory brings to her. “I mean, it was a little over three years ago. I don’t really remember i
t much. I think I have kind of nearly completely blocked it out.”

  “That’s when you stopped going out of the house?” Ethan asks and then pauses. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. Is that what caused you to be…?”

  “Become what I am now?”

  “I don’t mean anything negative. I think I’d just like to understand my mother better,” Ethan says as he nods. “I like who you are—from what I know about you. I mean I don’t know a lot. However, I like what I do know.”

  “Even with me being kind of crazy?” Emma asks with a laugh.

  “You’re not crazy,” Ethan says. “Everyone’s just a little unique.”

  “Do you or your father hold anything against your mother—for doing what she did?” Emma asks. Perhaps this was part of the puzzle for the reason why Ethan’s father was having an affair, and possibly still is having one.

  “She beats herself up enough over it,” Ethan says as his lips narrow and he begins to nod his head slowly as though the thought has crossed his mind many times. “Plus with her being wheelchair bound, she’ll never walk again—I know that her actions destroyed two lives, so I don’t know that it’s a fair trade off. I don’t know what fair is really. I guess the short answer is no, for my part. My father, he doesn’t bring it up…ever. He takes care of her though, so there has to be love there, right? I mean, otherwise he would have left her.”

  “Yeah…” Emma replies quietly, although; she has information to the contrary. Brian Metcalfe becomes a little less monster and a little more human in her mind—however, still overly intimidating. However, the idea that he would just abandon his son to linger in the burden of his mother’s depression is still sickening to Emma. “It was that loss that pushed me into becoming someone else for a while—then one day I woke up, and I didn’t have to be that depressed person anymore.”