We found lots of women’s clothes in the closet. Even though Ray’s friend wasn’t married, he shared the apartment with somebody. The size was medium and mine was small, but I tied up a blue jacket with a belt and the bagginess did change my look. I found a blue, silk scarf and hid my hair under it, and my eyes under Ray’s sunglasses. He put a green baseball hat on and we went outside looking like two morons, but it would help us get a taxi and drive to a meeting place without being chased.
We didn’t talk in the car, but held hands and constantly checked the back window, fearing we might miss a “spy”. This time, no one followed us relentlessly. I remembered about my boss, or actually, she remembered about me, and I told her I was going to miss a day. A day. That was how long I thought it was going to be. I said I had stomach problems and my head editor, Eleanor, always loud when expressing her emotions, told me how sorry she was and offered to come and bring some medication. I felt a little guilty, as often happened in situations like this, but only a little. My guilt was gone by the time we reached the meeting place.
At home, we agreed that I would stay on the same plaza, but in a coffee shop across from the meeting spot. From there, I could see the store in which Ray was going to wait for the stranger who wanted to get his phone back. I promised to stay put, without removing my glasses or the scarf, waiting for Ray to come and get me or give me a sign to join him. We entered the coffee shop together and then Ray went to the store on the opposite side of the strip. But first he kissed me and then lifted my glasses, looked into my eyes, and said that everything was going to be just fine. Also, he apologized.
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t want to destroy your life.”
“Why do you think that’s going to happen?”
He hugged me, pressed me to his chest. I noticed an older couple. The woman smiled, looking at us.
“I don’t know. I just thought that you lived your quiet life, planned your future, and here … me.”
“And here, you.” I put my head on his chest. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He kissed my head.
“Everything will be fine,” he whispered, and let me go. I didn’t want him to leave. Even here in the shop, with a bunch of strangers staring at us, I didn’t care. I wanted to chain him to myself, so he wouldn’t get lost.
I watched his receding, wide back, his slightly waddled walk, and prayed for him to return quickly. At that moment, I wasn’t interested in a person who followed me or in the phone with messages about me. I prayed for Ray to come back, that was all.
When he stopped by the door of the inside farmer’s market, I leaned on the table.
“You’re such a beautiful couple,” the older woman said.
“Thank you.” I looked out the window. Ray checked his watch, glanced in my direction, and turned away.
“Would you like something?”
“Sure.” I turned to the guy behind the coffee bar, who eagerly looked at me. “Cappuccino, please. Tall.”
“Sure. Your name?”
“Monica.”
“Okay, Monica.”
I always used Monica in coffee shops, for no particular reason. It was my mom’s name. Now I said the name automatically. I took off the sunglasses. What if I were to miss something from behind their darkness?
Ray walked back and forth by the market. People entered and exited, but I didn’t see anyone familiar. The sense of control of the situation and calmness that I’d gained in Ray’s apartment started to fade. I became nervous. Who was that person? What if Ray was in danger? I wouldn’t forgive myself. They could be dangerous; they could. Why not? How could I let him go to this meeting; and alone?
The phone rang and I pulled it from my bag, almost dumping the contents on the floor.
“Ray?”
“Who’s Ray?”
Leslie. I didn’t check the caller ID. No way was I going to talk to her about her boss, whom I’d had sex with just an hour ago, and who now was trying to identify my persecutor.
“Les, I can’t talk right now.” I looked out the window. Ray strolled by the store.
“Who’s Ray? I thought your guy’s name was Jason.”
“He is Jason. He’s my guy.”
“You weren’t talking about Bancroft, were you? Do you talk to him? You guys had a weird relationship.” I heard too much excitement in my friend’s voice. She was the one telling me that my boss had an eye for me.
Why is she talking about him now?
“Of course not,” I lied honestly.
“I just left his office. He’s out of it today. Needs to chill.”
“Who?”
“Bancroft, of course. I …”
“You mean you saw Ray?”
“That’s what I’m talking about. He …”
“Les, you couldn’t see him, because …”
“Monica! Cappuccino! Enjoy!”
A paper cup landed on the counter.
“Thank you,” I said.
“What for?”
“It’s for coffee I just got.”
“What do you mean I couldn’t see Bancroft? I just came out of his office. He’s steaming!”
I noticed my hands shaking. I felt panic approaching. It came from nowhere, without an invitation, and enveloped my mind.
“You couldn’t be in his office
with him
,” I said angrily, turning to the window.
Ray was gone.
I almost dropped my cup.
Leslie kept protesting, but I didn’t hear her words. Phrases hit against my brain like tennis balls. I disconnected the phone and squeezed it in my hand. Ray wasn’t by the farmer’s market across the plaza. He was gone.
Did I imagine the last events? Am I crazy? I wanted him so badly and finally I lost it. What was I seeing? Oh, God, am I schizophrenic? What about the followers? Did I make that up too? Did I?
The phone in my hand came to life and I threw it on the table, scared. Then I put the cup down and grabbed the phone, looked at the lighted screen. It might be Leslie again. Les was going to confirm my diagnosis and suggest seeking help.
A little letter on the top of the screen telling me that somebody had left a message. Did I really see it?
My hand shook when I opened the message.
Ray’s number.
Waiting for you behind the building.
He was not imaginary and I wasn’t crazy. Leslie was.
I rushed to the exit, trying to calm the panic that was making my legs weak. I almost knocked down a woman who was entering. She was dressed in a pink, ruffled dress and looked like an angel, but cursed me like a truck driver. I could hear her screaming at me until I skirted the corner.
There were trash cans behind the building. A red cat slept on top of one of them. No sign of Ray. Before I could turn around, a cold palm covered my mouth; a strong arm spanned my waist. At the same time, a black car with tinted windows dashed out from around the corner, tires squealed. It wasn’t the Mini that had been following me, it was a big SUV. The door of the car flew open and a strange, young man jumped out. He helped the person holding me to push me onto the backseat. The door slammed closed and the car took off.
“Who are you? What do you want from me? What do you want? Was it you who were watching me?”
I found myself between two men. I turned my head from one to the other, but they didn’t look at me and it seemed as if they didn’t hear me, either. They were both about thirty, both dressed in blue parkas. One had a big nose and thin lips, but I couldn’t see the face of the other. He bent to his knees and rustled something on the floorboard.
“Hello! Do you hear me? What’s going on? Who are you? Where’s Ray?”
The man on the left straightened up and turned to me. I shivered when I looked into his empty, brown eyes. Then I noticed a syringe.
“No! Let me go!”
The man on the right twisted my arms behind my back and the man on the left pulled up my jacket sleeve and then the sleeve on my shirt.
“What are you doing? Why? Stop it!”
The last thing I felt was a needle, penetrating my skin. I screamed, moved, but it didn’t last long. Almost immediately my body felt as if it were going under warm water, becoming weightless. My head became heavy and my neck refused to hold it steady. I sank into a fog.
Before I opened my eyes I smelled a strange scent and tried to identify what it was. Something light as a breeze, fresh as rain, and sweet as fresh cut grass.
Where am I?
My head was aching; my body seemed limp and soft like modeling clay. I lifted my arm and dropped it down right away, it was so weak. Then I opened my eyes, even though it was difficult, and my lids felt as heavy as if they were pressed with stones. My mouth was as dry as if I hadn’t drunk for a week. What had happened to me?
White ceiling and white walls, this smell, like a forest, but it wasn’t a forest. What was it?
I lifted myself, supporting on my shaking hands. White walls and no windows. I lay on a bed with a metal headboard and there was a metal table beside it. A chain extended from a leg of the table to the wall, a glass of water was on the table. I picked it up and almost dropped it; it seemed so heavy. The operation was still successful; I chugalugged the liquid and only as the last few drops poured into my mouth I realized the water had an unusual taste. There was a bitter tang in my mouth.
Where am I? What happened?
The roomed looked like a jail cell or a hospital ward. A hospital ward for nutcases who could break a bed, throw a table into a wall, and jump from a window. Could it be that I lost my mind and my mom sent me to a crazy house? Could it be that I didn’t remember it?
No, it’s not possible. I’m not crazy.
“Though all lunatics consider themselves normal, don’t you think so Mr. Holmes? Have you met a lot of lunatics, Dr. Watson? I sure have … I’m talking to myself. Out loud.”
Ray!
I jumped from the bed and hardly stood on my feet when my head spun and darkness covered my vision. I had to get back to bed, on my side. Now I remembered what had happened. We had been waiting for a person who supposedly was spying on me. Ray was by the farmer’s market with boxes of vegetables and fruit; I was in the coffee shop across the plaza. I received a message from him and ran outside, but was seized and kidnapped by three men: one behind the wheel and two on the backseat. The one who had brown eyes injected something into my arm and I disconnected with reality. They brought me here. Why? What was this place? What were they going to do with me?
I checked my clothes and discovered my shirt and jeans, but no jacket or my darn gym shoes. At least they hadn’t undressed me completely.
I felt a little better after drinking the water. The dizziness went away. When my hands stopped shaking I tried to get off the bed again, but my legs still felt mushy. I still managed to circle the small room, touching the smooth, cold walls.
What is it? Is it an apartment? No sounds, total silence … and this smell.
Could it be air freshener? It could be. Probably that’s what it was. Too artificial. I couldn’t find the door. Only after a second round I discovered an outline indicating a possible exit. I knocked on the assumed door but the sound came out muffled, as if the walls had been stuffed with sound isolating material. Just as it would be in a nuthouse.
“Hey! Somebody! Assholes! Let me out
now
!”
I’d almost damaged my voice, but there was no sound back.
“Let me out,” I whispered. I slid down to the floor beside the door, hugged my knees, and put my chin on them. I was thirsty again and my stomach called for attention in the form of food. Good thing I didn’t need to use the restroom, otherwise I’d do it on the floor. Not really honorable. I gazed at the opposite white wall, the metal bed covered with white sheets, and at the table chained to the hook in the wall. For how long were they going to keep me here? Maybe it was some sort of experiment to see how long a person could stay and not go crazy in a white room without windows, with the smell of freshly cut grass, and not go crazy. Not too long, I guarantee. I was ready to kill someone; wasn’t that a sign of madness? And why had the water tasted so weird? They must have added something to it.
Something hissed and I jerked to the side. It really was a door and it started to open upwards. I sat on the floor and waited for it to reach the top. The door was opening upwards. Either I was crazy or they
had to
have done something to the water. A door couldn’t open up. It could happen only in a movie. Then a person in a gray overall entered the room. The wide pants closed at the bottom with elastic, the sleeves were buttoned at the wrists, the collar went to the chin, and a wide black belt hugged the waist. The person was holding a bottle of Evian in his hand and he stared at the empty bed. I started to stand up and he spun toward me. Another one with brown eyes. A brown-eyed men invasion. This one had his hair parted in the middle and smoothed with gel. He had acne and a skinny mustache. Not a handsome man by any means and his glare didn’t help. He lighted up for a moment and went out like a Christmas tree.
“Who are you? Where am I? What do you want from me?” I blurted out.
The man lifted his other hand and showed me a gray device, something like a TV remote with a mass of multicolored buttons on both sides.
“Seventy watts. Can be unpleasant,” he said.
I thought that he talked with some kind of accent, but I was in such a state that I couldn’t be sure of anything. Of course, when somebody promised to electrocute you instead of saying
hello
it could slow down the intellectual process.
Can be unpleasant
. He executed his thoughts pretty laconically.
“Thank you for the information,” I said.
“It’s water,” Brown-eyes said, and put the bottle on the table. “Just water. The one you’ve gotten used to. I see you drank the neutralizer.”
“I drank
what
?”
The brown eyes looked at me.
“The drink neutralizing the tranquilizer in your bloodstream. Now you need food.”
He pressed a button on the remote. It probably had other functions besides electrocuting women who disobey. Another man entered the room. He was dressed in the same style of clothing and had a metal tray in his hands. He didn’t look at me, but walked to the table, put the tray on it, grabbed the empty glass, and left. Everything done making no eye contact with me.
“Do you need to use a bathroom facility?” Brown-eyes asked.
“You care about my needs. I’m touched.”
“Do you need a bathroom?”
“What about telling me the frigging reason I’m here? What about letting me go? Who the hell are you?”
“Do you need a bathroom?”
“Are you a robot?”
“I’m asking you for the last time …”
“Yes!”
Another button pressed and something hissed on the opposite side from the exit. The door rose up, opening a round room the size of those on planes, with a regular toilet and a sink. I went inside. The door slid down without me asking for it. There was no mirror in the room and space enough only for a turn. A plastic box with a soap bar was attached to the wall; toilet paper was where it was supposed to be. Nothing unusual. I knocked after finishing my business and the door opened.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked, as calmly as possible. Screaming, obviously didn’t work to my benefit.
Brown-eyes pressed a button on his remote, waited for the door to open; then he put the water bottle on the bedside table, and turned to the exit.
“Hey! What does it mean? Don’t go! Hey, jerk! Stop!”
I’d never talked like this to draw attention to myself, but the door went down and I was left alone.
“Am I sleeping?”
Only it wasn’t a dream. I approached the table and stared at something green on one plate and something white on another. I sat down on the bed, opened the water bottle, and drank almost half of it. I wanted to pick up one of the plates, but it was glued to the tray.
“Aha. I see. So, it is a nuthouse. It means I had some kind of mental breakdown and some kind soul took care of me. I went crazy, but didn’t know about it. It means, there was no Ray. Right? What else can all of this mean?”
I hugged my shoulders, closed my eyes, and imagined … no, I remembered his face, his eyes, his lips. He really had been with me. Why would I make it up? I hadn’t had episodes of schizophrenia. Could I not know about it though?
“Stop talking nonsense!”
I opened my eyes, bent over the plate, and sniffed the white substance. It smelled like cheese. The green stuff smelled like grass.
What is this? Astronaut food?
The spoon was on the tray, but I dipped my finger in the white and licked it. It tasted like potatoes and cheese with too much salt. I didn’t want to risk
trying the green. I didn’t want to drink either. My bladder would get full and I had no idea when they would visit me and let me use the toilet again.
I lay down on my back and stared at the ceiling.
Snow white and smooth as a china plate.
Where am I? All of this is absurd, scary, and incomprehensible.
I couldn’t even speculate as to why I was here. What was this place?
Am I a lab rat?
Maybe. Some experimental drug was going to be tested on my skin. But why me? What did they do to Ray? What if they kidnapped him too? Then he could be here also, in one of these rooms. How many rooms were there? What had I done? I shouldn’t have told him about all this stuff over the phone. What had I done really?
I turned on my side and pulled my knees to my chest. I wanted to eat, but not this greenish white porridge. When were they going to check on me again? When were they going to explain why I was here? What if they weren’t going to do that at all? If I was a lab rat, no one would tell me the plans. Lab rats didn’t have rights. They would cut its tail and ears then wait for them to grow back, writing down the results in their research files. You were nothing to them but an object for experiments, a thing.
That’s horrible.
“Ray, I’m so sorry.”
I assumed it was dangerous and I should have kept it a secret. Who would watch your every step for no reason, like there was nothing better to do?
I lay in silence, self-loathing, trying to find a purpose for being here, panicking from time to time, and finally I fell asleep.