Tucker had been right, she was beginning to feel increasingly detached from the person she used to be.
It was surprising how easily Tucker was adapting to their new life. When she and Tucker were together as a couple she had always felt intellectually superior to him. She had been the thinker who came up with solutions to their problems, but ever since the accident had thrown them into a state of limbo, Tucker had become the smart one, figuring out ways to happily exist in the bewildering reality of their new life. He seemed to be flourishing while Mila struggled to make sense of how her life was supposed to work.
It was time to have another talk with Tucker and get pointers on how to navigate in a world where she was an invisible person.
Feeling helpless as she watched her parents grieve, Mila decided that there was nothing she could do to relieve their pain, and therefore, there was no point in sticking around. In the midst of her funeral service, Mila drifted over to the white casket and gazed long and hard at the person she used to be. After a while, she leaned over and kissed herself goodbye.
CHAPTER 9
In the four years that Imani had been employed by City Memorial Hospital, she’d never taken an unscheduled day off, but after two nights without sleep, she was too delirious to be productive at work and was forced to take a sick day. Jittery from lack of sleep, she didn’t trust herself to make the twenty minute drive from her apartment to the downtown sports club where she was scheduled to meet up with Hope.
After forty-eight hours without sleep, she was desperate for something that would help her sleep. She couldn’t ask her primary care physician to write a prescription for Ambien or any other addictive sleep aid, and she wouldn’t have dared to ask any of the doctors that she worked with at the hospital. Although she could have sought the services of a reputable psychiatrist, she had no idea how long it would take to get an appointment. Also, there was no guarantee that the psychiatrist would give her anything for insomnia on her first visit.
In a state of distress, she called Hope and pleaded with her to ask her husband to write her a prescription for Ambien, Lunesta, Sonata, or anything that would knock her out and give her at least six hours of sleep. It was humiliating to have to turn to Hope in desperation, and it was even more humiliating to ask Hope to involve her husband.
As it turned out, Hope didn’t have to involve Dr. Lowell. She told Imani that she had access to dozens of drug samples that were on hand at her husband’s surgery center. Also, due to Hope’s numerous surgeries, she said that she had her own massive stash of pain killers, sedatives, and sleep aids.
“What’s preventing you from sleeping?” Hope inquired.
“Well, uh….” Imani hesitated, wary of divulging the peculiar circumstances that had affected her ability to sleep.
“Look, it’s none of my business, but as someone who suffers from occasional insomnia, I should warn you that sleep aids can leave you feeling sluggish in the morning. Since you’re most likely dealing with anxiety, your best bet would be to take a drug like Xanax or Klonopin. Something that will calm you down enough so you can go to sleep.”
“I’ll take whatever you think is best.”
“I’m actually about to leave work for a few hours and head over to the club. You can meet me there after my workout if you’d like. I’ll throw some Xanax in my gym bag.”
“Thank you, Hope, you’re a lifesaver. What time should I get there?”
“I should be finished between three and three-fifteen.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.”
At two-thirty, Imani ordered an Uber and ten minutes later her ride arrived.
As she hurried to the front door, she stopped in the hallway and surveyed three pieces of Caribbean art that had mysteriously fallen from the wall two nights ago when she’d gotten home from the date she’d abruptly ended with Logan.
That night had had been terrifying, and in hindsight she should have invited Logan inside when he dropped her off. Perhaps his company would have distracted her from letting her mind play tricks on her.
Once she was inside her apartment, the night had gone from bad to worse. First, the pictures had fallen off the wall and when she got ready to rehang them, dishes rattled loudly in the kitchen cabinets, and there was a knocking sound inside the walls that scared her so badly, she fled the hallway in a panic.
In her bedroom, there was a light tapping sound on the window pane, and then a bottle of perfume and a jewelry box clattered from the top of the dresser to the floor for no apparent reason. Plagued by fleeting shadows, cold drafts, ghostly whispers, and the constant sound of knocking on windows and inside of walls, Imani didn’t get a wink of sleep. Although she told herself that it was all in her mind and that she was suffering from delusions, it all seemed very real.
Hiding her tired eyes behind a pair of sunglasses, she turned away from the fallen pictures and hurried out of the apartment. She got into the Uber and sat slouched in the back seat of the car. Thankfully the driver wasn’t chatty and drove straight to her destination without a word. Upon arrival at the sports club with its posh gym, luxurious spa, in-house smoothie bar, and a fancy restaurant, she took in the elegant environment, but was too exhausted to be overly impressed.
“Hello, I’m Heidi,” said the receptionist who could have easily passed for a model.
Imani forced a weary smile. “Hi, my name is Imani Pollard; I’m here to see Hope Lowell.”
“Hello Ms. Pollard, Mrs. Lowell is expecting you.” Heidi glanced at the wall clock. “But I’m afraid she’ll be with her trainer for another ten minutes. You can wait for her in the smoothie bar if you’d like.”
“Sure,” Imani replied.
Heidi escorted Imani to the smoothie bar and after Imani settled into a booth, Heidi offered her a menu. “Get whatever you’d like, compliments of Mrs. Lowell,” she said with a pleasant smile and then returned to her station.
Imani selected a pineapple and kale smoothie, and after a few sips of the healthy drink she felt a little less on edge. She was immensely grateful for the way Hope had come through for her and she decided that she would work harder to improve their friendship.
While waiting for Hope to finish with her trainer, Imani reflected on her date with Logan. She groaned as she recalled how crazy she had acted—frantically asking him if he’d seen someone standing behind her and then insisting on leaving. Imani wasn’t sure what was worse, believing that she was losing her mind or believing that she was being haunted. After weighing the options she decided that believing she was being haunted was the worst of the two. There were doctors available to help if she was going insane, but who could she turn to for help in getting rid of a spirit?
The ghostly activity had frazzled her nerves and robbed her of sleep for two nights in a row. It seemed that each time she drifted off to sleep, she was jolted awake by yet another strange disturbance. At one point, she was awakened by the sound of a cat’s frantic screams beneath the living room window. Although the screams were loud and annoying, it wasn’t unusual to hear a cat crying, but when the cat began to screech the distinct sound of Imani’s name, her stomach knotted up in fear.
She had been so terrified that she called her mother and pretended that she was calling to check on her. Any mention of the eerie cat sound or the other paranormal activity that was surrounding her would cause her mom to think that she was losing her grip on reality—just like her father had. Feeling comforted by the sound of a human voice, she stayed on the phone with her mother for two hours and patiently listened to her complaints about her next door neighbor’s tree that was dropping branches onto her driveway, her co-workers who refused to clean the microwave in the lunch room, and her church friend who never paid for gas when she drove her to choir rehearsal.
As Imani sat deep in thought, idly stirring the thick smoothie with a straw, Hope pranced into the room. Covered in sweat, she dabbed at her face and shoulders with a towel that hung around her neck.
Hope leaned in, givin
g Imani air kisses. “Hey, girl. Sorry that I can’t sit down and have a quick visit with you. My trainer just tried to kill me for the past two hours, and I’m such a masochist, I agreed to another half-hour of stretching.”
“No problem. I know you’re busy, and I’m so exhausted, I doubt if I could hold up my end of the conversation,” Imani said resignedly.
“Well, let’s get you squared away so you can get some sleep.” Hope unzipped her Chanel fanny pack and discreetly handed Imani a bottle of pills. “They’re ten-milligram Xanax. Take one before bedtime. But if you feel anxious during the day, you should only take a quarter of a pill. More than that might make it hard to function at work, so be careful with the dosage during the day.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you, Hope,” Imani said with sincerity as she tucked the bottle of pills inside her purse.
A tall figure suddenly appeared in the doorframe of the smoothie bar and Hope said with laughter, “I thought I could take a break for a few minutes, but my trainer has tracked me down.”
“So, this is where you hide out,” the trainer said. He looked like a chocolate Adonis with broad shoulders , a V-waist, and bulging calf muscles.
Hope introduced the trainer as Demetri, and the way that Hope fussed with her hair and the way that the two of them looked at each other spoke of something more than a professional relationship. But Imani dismissed the thought. It wasn’t any of her business if Hope had started cheating so soon in her marriage.
*****
The next morning Imani rolled out of bed feeling renewed. The pill had given her eleven hours of peaceful, dreamless sleep. Ravenous after not eating for several days she headed to the kitchen. She paused briefly in the hallway and blinked at the framed art that was propped against the floorboards, an unwelcome reminder of the haunting and the terrible state of her life. She wanted to hang them back up but was afraid they’d inexplicably fall again.
Maybe I imagined it all. People tend to hallucinate when they’re sleep deprived, and maybe I took the pictures down myself while I was delirious, she reasoned as she examined the contents of the fridge. She took out a frozen breakfast burrito and popped it the microwave.
Emboldened by the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window, she decided to search for signs of paranormal activity that might have occurred while she’d slept. She checked the kitchen cabinets and was relieved that all the dishes were intact. She returned to her bedroom and surveyed the dresser and was satisfied that no items had been flung to the floor. A quick perusal of each room of the apartment assured her that everything was in its rightful place.
Maybe the spirit had grown bored and moved on.
Or maybe, as she had suspected, she was going insane. As real as the haunting seemed, it was most likely invented by her delusional mind. After all, delusions and hallucinations were classic symptoms of schizophrenia. She groaned at the idea of being crazy, but there was no other explanation. There was a stigma attached to schizophrenia, and even with meds, life wouldn’t be easy. She’d read that the side effects of certain medications could be brutal, which was why so many mentally ill people stopped taking them. One particular medication caused a disorder called tardive dyskinesia, which could potentially cause a person’s facial, tongue, and neck muscles to move uncontrollably, making them seem unhinged.
Overwhelming gloom washed over her as it sunk in that being on or off meds didn’t matter, being schizophrenic was a lose-lose situation.
Back in the kitchen, she at the island and munched on the breakfast burrito, wondering whether she should abruptly end things with Logan or allow the relationship to dissolve on its own. She had no doubt in her mind that he would drop her like a hot potato after he realized she was batshit crazy.
She swallowed the last bite of the burrito and padded back to the bedroom. Her phone on the nightstand lit up with a text from Logan. Only a few days ago, every text from him had made her heart flutter, but now she dreaded reading his most recent message. During the previous forty-eight hours she’d been too frazzled to read or respond to his texts, but now that she was fully alert, she scrolled through the messages and responded to each one, assuring him that she was doing okay and apologizing once again for ruining their date
She was such a fake. Pretending that everything was good when it wasn’t was dishonest. But what could she do? She couldn’t tell Logan the truth—not if she wanted him to stick around. And she wasn’t quite ready to let him go.
So, when he hit her with another text, asking if she wanted to go out for dinner on her next day off from work, she texted back and stated that she’d love to.
As she showered and dressed for work she found herself humming the melody of a song she couldn’t identify. She wondered why she was humming a song that she didn’t know the title of or any of the lyrics. She convinced herself that the band at the beer festival had played it and now the song was stuck in her head.
Still humming the melody, she drove to work.
It was a typically busy day in the Emergency Room with heart attack and stroke victims, burn victims, stabbing and shooting victims, and patients suffering from seizures. But the worst case of the day was a four-year-old boy who had been mauled by his family’s Pit Bull and left disfigured by the brutal attack
“I need a strong cup of coffee after dealing with that case,” said Imani as she and Niles strolled into the hospital’s cafeteria.
“Coffee won’t do it for me; I could use a stiff drink.” Niles brushed his curly black hair away from his face. “I will never understand why people keep vicious dogs as pets, and then act all shocked when the animals turn on them or their children. I think the parents need to be arrested for what they let happen to that innocent child.”
“I don’t agree, Niles. You saw how distraught those parents were. They believed that the dog was their son’s protector.”
“Their stupid asses allowed that beast to sleep in the room with the child with the door closed,” Niles scoffed. “That little boy didn’t stand a change. He was trapped inside the room when the dog turned on him. It was as if those two negligent parents locked their kid inside a cage with a ravenous wolf and hoped for the best.”
Imani shook her head. “The little guy’s face, though…”
“There’s not much left of his face,” Niles said solemnly. “That kid’s life has been ruined before it even got started—and the parents need to be held accountable.”
“The parents will suffer from guilt for the rest of their lives. Don’t you think that’s enough punishment?”
“No! Suffering from guilt doesn’t begin to compare from the physical and emotional suffering that their son will have to deal with for the rest of his life.”
“Yeah, you’re right. That child is gonna need years of reconstructive surgery to look halfway normal again,” Imani said in a lowered tone, suddenly aware of the people nearby as they stood in line to buy coffee.
Hospital personnel were not supposed to engage in indiscreet conversations regarding patient care while inside elevators or anywhere else that could result in a breach of confidentiality. Unfortunately, many members of the medical team, including doctors, often discussed patients, and Imani and Niles were no different. After dealing with the adrenaline rush of trying to save a child’s life, it was somewhat therapeutic to talk about the disturbing case.
When Imani and Niles reached the front of the line they both ordered black coffee, and Niles added a corn muffin and three strips of bacon to his order. They looked around the crowded cafeteria and located an empty table in the rear. After a few sips of coffee, Niles brightened perceptibly. “Enough of this dreary conversation about work, tell me about your date. Did y’all smash? How was Logan in bed? Is he packing?”
A flush of crimson blossomed on Imani’s cheeks. “Whoa! You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Niles?”
“Look at the way you’re blushing,” Niles teased. “He must have cracked your back real good!”
“Stop being
crude,” Imani said, giggling.
“Crude is my middle name, chile. Niles Crude Menzo,” he joked as he munched on a bacon strip. “So tell me, does Logan have some bomb dick or what?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking around uncomfortably. “We’re at work, Niles, so could you at least try to behave like a professional?”
“No one can hear me,” he said. He leaned back in his seat and eyed Imani skeptically. “Girl, you haven’t had any dick in months, and you mean to tell me you didn’t give that man any booty?”
Imani chuckled uneasily.
“So, what happened? Tell me, girl. I’m all ears,” he prompted.
“There’s nothing to tell. Logan and I have an unspoken agreement to take things slow. We’re both looking for something meaningful, and we don’t need to jump into bed right away.”
“Boring,” Niles announced, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.
“However,” she said with a mysterious smile. “When we go out to dinner next week, the gloves come off. Or should I say, the clothes come off.”
“Now you’re talking like you have some sense. By the way, did you find out if Niles has a cute friend or a hot cousin?”
“I forgot to ask, but I’ll find out.” Imani finished her coffee and stood up. “Time to get back to work.”
Niles followed suit and also stood.
Imani wanted so badly to confide in Niles. Unburden herself and pour her heart out about her suspicions of being haunted by the girl from the car crash. Maybe Niles could add some insight that might set her mind at ease. But as close as she and Niles had become, she wasn’t ready to trust him with such sensitive information. She couldn’t risk him giving her the side eye and gossiping about her to their other coworkers.
Fortunately, she hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual so far today, but there was no telling what the night would bring. She desperately wanted the voices and the hallucinations to stop, and it was time to make an appointment to see a shrink. It was time to find out about the medication that was available for her particular illness.
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