Chapter 2: Transfixed
When I wake, I’m on the floor. The person standing over me is our waiter—I think. He’s kind of blurry, and my head throbs with a headache. His manicured eyebrows pinch together as his mouth moves, but I can’t decipher his words. I rub my temples with my fingertips, massaging them until the sounds return.
A moment later, Ray and Maddi stand over me. Maddi snaps a picture of me with her phone. The flash temporarily blinds me, confusing me further. I pray that she won’t post the photo on the Internet, but I know she already has.
Ray looks concerned. Is this what it takes to get his attention? He grabs my arm and pulls me from the floor. He and the waiter drag me onto a chair.
“What happened?” Ray asks. My face reflects back from his glasses, and I look as confused as I feel. “What happened, Seraphina?”
“What happened?” I repeat, but more for myself as I try to remember how I blacked out and landed on the floor.
The Lady in Black. “The lady!” Launching forward to stand, I scan the restaurant, every crevice, every shadow, but she’s gone. Vanished.
“What lady?” Ray jolts, his eyes scour the faces, trying to understand.
“Calm down, Raymond.” Maddi giggles, and smoothes down the shirt on his shoulders.
Drained, I collapse back to my seat. The waiter returns with a new glass of water and offers it to me. I drink it, all of it. The hydration seems to subdue my headache. It no longer pounds out of control. When he refills my glass, I chug again.
Ray’s already forgotten about the lady, but I haven’t. Her flaming black eyes are burned into my brain. I wince, recalling the searing pain.
“Are you all right?” Ray puts an awkward hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t normally show affection toward me, so this is a breakthrough. And all this time I thought being difficult was the way to get his attention. Now I know I just have to pass out every once in a while. This revelation should make me chuckle a little, but it doesn’t because my relationship with him is a sad one. I don’t hate him for it. It’s just the way things are.
“I’m okay.” My voice sounds uncertain, even to my own ears. I exhale, trying to calm my mind. The Lady in Black is not real. What happened, didn’t happen. These are words I want to believe, but I’m still not positive.
Ray hovers for a few moments longer, but Maddi has already returned to her glass of wine on the other side of the table. She sucks icing from each of her long fingernails. Gross. I close my eyes, unable to watch.
“I think this will make you feel better.” Through squinted eyes, I see Ray walk back to Maddi. A small birthday bag appears from her handbag. He grabs it and places it on the table in front of me.
Polka-dotted tissue paper sprouts from the top of a hot pink gift bag. I know Maddi wrapped it because the closest Ray has ever come to wrapping something is leaving it in the bag he originally brought it home in.
Even still, Ray is clearly excited for me to open the bag. I can see it in his eyes. It must be the booze that’s relaxing him—the booze and Maddi.
“Thanks, Dad.” I called him Ray to his face once, and he grounded me.
“It’s something special for your sixteenth birthday.” He steps back and places a hand on Maddi’s shoulder.
What I want is keys to a car. I perk up slightly, but only because the bag is about the right size, and I’ve been dreaming about it for months.
My hand plunges in, and I fish around the tissue paper. My fingers find what they expect—cold metal. I pull the object out as fast as possible. All the protective tissue flutters to the floor.
“Uh—thanks.” My gaze drops to the gift, hiding my intense disappointment.
“It’s not just any bracelet,” Ray says with a wave of his hand. “It belonged to your mother.” He sounds pleased with himself. He sits back down and leans onto the table, gesturing toward my gift.
“Oh!” My forehead creases as I scrutinize the bracelet closer. Although unexpected, I’m thrilled to have something, anything, of Mom’s.
“Thanks, Dad—it’s perfect.” I feel slightly guilty for hoping for anything else. “I didn’t know there was anything left of Mom’s.”
“Well, your Aunt Mona borrowed it from her sometime before…before…you know. Anyway, she sent it to me last week, so you would have it for your birthday.”
I’m caught off guard with Ray’s token—a great gift—not a car, but something better. Sitting in silence for several moments, I study the bracelet, wondering about its previous owner, a person I never had the opportunity to know. Sighing, I tuck the newly cherished prize into the side pocket of my tote where it will be safe; a place where I can steal glances at it without anyone noticing.
My mind barely has time to enjoy the thought of the family heirloom before Maddi brings me back to the issue at hand. Her mouth takes off, lips racing, chatting with Ray about my fainting drama. This marathon continues all night until we exit the restaurant and wait for the valet to bring our car around.
We pile into the car and drive away. Maddi’s finally on to a new subject, but I’m not. She’s sufficiently worked me further into a paranoid frenzy. Now all I can think about is the reason for my blackout: the Lady in Black. The fire in her eyes will not leave my thoughts.
Resting my forehead against the car’s window, I attempt to focus my attention elsewhere. I watch the colorful light display from the roof of the restaurant reflect off the night sky. The neon colors mesmerize me as they switch from blue and green to hot pink and orange, and back again.
Quaint little cafés and gelaterias dot the walkways through Miami Beach. The lush, tropical landscape around them sparkles with a million white twinkling lights. Racing down Alton Road, everything streams by us in a glorious golden light display. But the lights only remind me of the fire and the Lady in Black.
Her image continues to haunt me when we get home.
Instead of sleeping, I’ve nestled myself into the corner of my window seat. I position my body in such a way that I can see both my bedroom door and the front yard, just in case she decides to visit again.
The chair railing jabs through my pillow and into my back. The cushion beneath me constantly slides off the seat and onto the floor. In the middle of the night, I manage to accidentally rip down a curtain. It’s wound tightly around my body like a blanket when I wake early in the morning. My face smashes against the window, drool drips down the glass, and I’m exhausted, stiff with cramps.
Through sleepy eyes, the bed across the room looks more reasonable than before, even though I’ll have to give up my lookout. I take one quick glance out the front window, searching for the Lady in Black before I jump into bed and under the covers. When my head hits the pillow, my muscles instantly relax. Exhausted, I close my eyes, and ever so slowly, I drift to sleep.
•
A slow ache fills my lungs, and I cough several times. When I attempt to breathe again, the tainted air, thick with smoke, forces me to cough once again. My eyes pop open. Black clouds hover in angry swirls above. The snapping and popping of flames crackle nearby. My heart stops and immediately races in one short second. I vault from my bed, realizing our house is on fire.
Darting for the door, my only thought is that I must save Ray. He’s all I have. When I grab the metal doorknob, its searing heat instantly singes my palm. I recoil, hissing, and let out a scream. That’s when a malicious laugh ricochets through my room. When I turn to find its owner, the only thing out of the ordinary is my window, which is now wide open. Smoke races toward it, funneling out into the night sky.
Coughs shudder through my lungs, and I make a run for the window. Doubling over, I heave my body over the sill, retching until my lungs clear, and I breathe fresh air.
When I glance across my front yard, the Lady in Black stands with her head thrown back, sending a wicked laugh through the air. A slight whimper escapes my lips. I know she’s come back, to finally finish me off.
“Sera!” Behind me, Ray
screams my name.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Sera, are you awake?”
I suck in an agonizing breath of air and lurch forward. In shock, I grab my bedsheets. They slip between my grasping fingers. My pajama shirt sticks to my drenched back, and sweat-soaked hair coils around my neck. My heart races as though my dream continues.
It was just a dream.
The purple walls of my bedroom come into view after I blink several times. The room is bright with sunlight, not flames. Through a blurry sideways glance, I see Ray standing at my door.
“Bad dream?” he asks.
Breathless, I look around, confirming what I know has happened. I’ve dreamed about the Lady in Black.
“You were screaming in your sleep,” Ray explains, and leans on the door frame.
“Was I?”
“Do you remember why?” He adjusts his stance and tucks the Sunday newspaper under his arm.
“No,” I mumble, even though I do. There’s no sense in alarming him. I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. My bare toes skim the carpet.
“All right. Well, I’m getting ready to run to work for a few hours. What do you have planned for the day?”
“Just hanging around.”
“Sure you’re okay?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, sure.” I look over my shoulder and smile, hoping to dismiss his concerns. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m delusional, and the Lady in Black never really existed.
“Okay, I’ll see you in a few hours.” He turns to walk away, but comes back. “Oh, I forgot. You’ve got some mail downstairs on the kitchen table—from yesterday.”
“’Kay.” I nod.
Ray taps the newspaper to the wall a few times as a gesture of good-bye and turns to walk away. His footsteps disappear down the stairs. He opens the front door and leaves.
Yawning, I stretch my arms high above my head, lengthening my muscles and tensing my hands into fists.
“Ow!” I yank my hand back down to my eyes. A circular burn mark, red and raw, the same one from my dream, covers my palm. I squint, holding my hand up in disbelief. I gently glide a fingertip over the skin to make sure it’s really there. The burn suddenly fades into a healthy pink, completely disappearing in seconds. I poke at the skin, thinking it will still hurt. But it doesn’t because the burn mark is gone.
Outside, Ray’s car door slams shut.
For some reason I decide I need to talk to him about this, show him my hand, and explain that I need psychiatric help. So I jump up from bed, rush down the hall, the stairs, and finally into the entry hall. By the time I burst through the front door, Ray is driving away. He looks over, honks his horn, and waves goodbye.
"Wait!" I yell, but he keeps driving.
I exhale with a moan, telling myself I’m not sure what I would have told him anyway. The conversation doesn’t play well in my head. By the way, Dad, I’m completely insane and see things that aren’t there. Specifically, a lady in black, combustible birthday candles, and now burn marks on my hand.
Another car drives by, and I remember I’m standing in the front yard braless and sporting rumpled pajamas. I quickly run back into the house and slam the door, turn the dead bolt, and fumble to chain the door. Next, I make my rounds through the house to verify that every door and window is locked. When I’m happy with the security of my fortress, I plant myself on the couch in the TV room. I don’t bother with the remote. I burrow under a quilt, jolting at every creak the house makes until I fall back asleep.
When I wake up, I’m happy that I managed not to dream. Or, at least if I did, I don’t remember it. I inspect my hand again, but of course, nothing is there because I'm crazy.
I stand up and head for the kitchen with the quilt wrapped around my shoulders. Its length drags on the floor behind me. I pour myself an orange juice and walk to the kitchen table to sift through the mail. There’s one envelope marked Miss Seraphina Parrish.
The envelope is weathered but the paper is a lovely, shimmering silver-gray. Beautiful navy blue calligraphy scrolls across the front. When I turn it over, there’s a wax seal with a fancy B embossed on it.
After shuffling back to the couch, I place my OJ on the coffee table and settle back into the cushions. Upon closer inspection of the envelope, the origin is impossible to make out. The stamp isn’t from the U.S., the postmark is smudged, and there’s no return address.
Flipping it over, I slide my finger under the back flap. The wax seal pops, releasing its hold. I slide out a piece of paper and unfold it, only to see that it’s blank. On top of the paper sits a photo, one that immediately transfixes me.