Doyle wakes me by asking why every light in the house is on and why the TV is turned up so loud.
It’s easy to explain. See, Doc, I've been seeing shadows and listening to some old lady's disembodied voice wonk wonk wonk all night so rather than call you and make a fool of myself; I came up with this solution. I'll just leave all the lights on. Kinda hard to have shadows when your house is brighter than the surface of the sun. Oh, the TV? Well, the TV doesn't stop the wonk wonk wonking it just drowns her out. Yeah. I'd like to say that but I don't. I just tell him it was a little lonely without him and he smiles.
I get the feeling its best to make the good doctor think he's the center of the world.
I ask him if he is hungry and he replies by kissing me.
"Ravenously.” He purrs and my heart knocks against my chest and he runs his hand up my thigh.
"That wasn't what I meant." I tell him but he scoops me into his arms and carries me into the bedroom.
"You are all the sustenance I need." He tells me. "I will dine on you alone." I wonder if it’s just me or if any one else would have found that a little creepy as well.
I sleep for hours; a paralyzed, dreamless sleep. When I wake its almost dark. He tells me again that it was wonderful but urges me to "give myself fully." I have no idea what that means. He tells me that I'm "holding back." which in my head means “you could do better” but to be honest, I don’t really remember much about the act. Completely unremarkable, yep, that’s me. I think to myself. I crawl out of bed and feel like I've been hit by a car.
Again.
If this is what it feels like to "hold back" I wonder if I can survive "giving fully".
I try to remember what we did that would make me so sore. My joints hurt. Pain shoots through my arms and legs. I'm burning up one minute, freezing the next. My stomach does flip- flops. But try as I might... I don't remember being intimate with him. I remember him kissing me and carrying me to the bedroom then saying that creepy thing about me being sustenance for him.
I get chills and I wonder if I'm losing my mind.
Tonight he looks up from his News Free Press and tells me I "look under the weather."
I stare at the mug shot of the homeless man whose body was found mutilated and bloodless in Red Bank and a wave of nausea sweeps over me.
“Perhaps you need to rest.” He says and asks if I’ve eaten.
I tear my eyes away from the front page and tell him that I haven't eaten all day. Every time I think of food I get nauseated.
We were together once that I remember- after our second date which was… Gee whiz…last night. How could I possibly...be pregnant?
I ask him if he feels queasy, just to cover the bases. He says no, feels my forehead, pulls my eyelids back, makes me say "ahhhh" and rubs under my neck with his fingertips.
"It’s probably just a stomach thing." He says nonchalantly. "Perhaps you got some bad bison."
I want to gag at the mere mention of it.
"Besides. I'd know if it were anything serious."
I wonder how he knows that. Doctor’s intuition? I have no idea.
Now time for that uncomfortable question. “Doyle. Do you think…I could be… Pregnant?”
He looks up at me like I’m a five year old asking where babies come from. “Honey. It was only last night.”
“No. I mean from before.” I mean I’m sure we did it… before the accident, even if I can’t remember it.
He looks down at the paper. “No. We don’t have children.”
I look at him and let that last statement soak in. “We don’t have children?” I think to myself and I have to get away for a few minutes.
“No. We don’t have children.”
That is possibly the weirdest thing I’ve heard since I awoke and I don’t know why. It seems downright… bizarre… to say that sentence. Rational Andrea says he meant to say ‘can’t and it’s a translation thing. Un-rational Andrea screams that my house is haunted, my dog is possessed and I am married to the undead … I need to leave… now!
Rational Andrea wins this argument because there’s just no way that any of this could be true. There’s no such thing as ghosts, my dog needs therapy and my husband is poor at word choice. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill and I send un-rational Andrea to the corner to pout.
The good doctor prescribes me something with a name ten miles long. We magically have them in our house… the perks of being married to a doctor I suppose. He kisses my forehead before he leaves and tells me when I get ready for bed to take two. I watch him back out the driveway. I walk back up the three steps and feel like I've climbed a mountain.
Devil dog is in the kitchen. I try to change my approach and pretend to act upbeat. "Hey! You wanna watch some TV?” I offer in an overly perky voice that sounds like I just asked a little kid if they want to go to the circus. Surely he won't turn me down.
He snorts and walks into the other room.
"Yeah. Well. You too." I grumble and wait to hear the wonk wonk wonk again.
To my surprise I don't hear Wonk-Wonk Lady (that's what I named her) tonight. All the same with me. I flip through a few channels and find of course- A horror movie. It’s almost Halloween after all. What did I expect? I know I can’t watch it without going off the deep end so I dig in the book cabinet for my romance books.
I choose one about Vikings mostly because the cover artist drew a guy who resembled my husband. He has bodacious abs and long curly Blonde hair and the woman in the illustration is hardly wearing any clothes and her dark hair is fanned out in the salt air breeze. Behind the two lovers is a sunset with lots of red and orange hues reflecting off the water. A Vikings ship with a sea serpent head stands behind them. I suppose just in case you couldn't read the title and understand this is a Viking romance. I flip it over and read the back and squirm a little. I think this must be pornography but I open it anyway under the excuse that Doyle isn't exactly happy with my performance in the bedroom and maybe this could give me some pointers. I imagine Doyle's face on the hero. That's easy. Now I don't feel like I'm cheating on him; so I begin to read.
There are several times I laugh out loud. It’s like the invasion of the friendly Vikings. I think a teenage girl must have written this from the over exaggerated descriptions of the male physique. Ah, but its fantasy, right? It certainly won't rank up there with Steinbeck or ...crap... what was that author who lived in Key West? The one with all the cats...you know who I'm thinking about... I know. I'm not stupid. It's in there somewhere... oh... I'll remember it when I'm not trying... anyway. It’s no Steinbeck or... that other guy... but it’s easy to read and its fun.
And I was right about getting a few pointers. By chapter three they were doing... things... that I didn't even know you could do...I need to take notes. I think to myself and the grown up me tells myself it’s ridiculous but the dirty minded teenager in me wins the argument and keeps reading. I get so into the Viking romance that I almost don't notice it.
Not Wonk-Wonk Lady because she scares the crap out of me; but the Super Mario brothers theme song. That was our first video game…the thought flashes across my consciousness. I've just remembered something! I almost jump up off the couch in celebration! I wish there were someone here- I’d give them a high five but it’s only me… and devil dog and he’s not very supportive.
Our first video game. I feel like I’ve just figured out the meaning to life! Now, the question is - did I really hear the music or was it just a memory in my head? I wait to see if I hear it again. I don't. I write it down and go back to my book.
Hemingway. There. Told you it would come when I wasn't looking.
I read to chapter 7 and I hear it again and out of the blue a name comes to me:
Jesse.
I swallow hard as the video game music plays. I wonder if it’s in my memory or if I’m really hearing it.
/> I look around the room again and the name comes to me, almost like a prayer.
Jesse.
What the heck, what will it hurt?
"Jesse? Could you stop that please?" I ask an empty room. It does no good to feel embarrassed since there’s no one here but me.
To my surprise- It stops.
And so does my heart for a second.
Maybe there are ghosts here! Maybe I'm psychic. I think that happens sometimes when people have near death experiences. Don't they?
I hear a quick wonk wonk wonk in rather a scolding tone. But the voice is different.
This one sounds like a man.
Goodness! How many people are here?
About three too many. I decide and pop two of Doyle's pills in my mouth. I turn the TV to a preschool channel (because I know I won't wake up to a scary movie) and make sure all the lights are on. Oh. I also tuck the butcher knife under the couch.