Chapter 3

Superpowers people. Superpowers!

At one forty the next day, I sat in the waiting room of Ms. Axford’s office. Her secretary Mrs. Harris had already tried to ply me with a cup of tea, but I’d embarrassed myself by snapping at her. She now sat behind her little glass enclosure, typing away primly, and I imagined, miffed.

Ms. Axford opened her door promptly at 2:00, smiling out at the waiting room like visiting royalty. A young boy with a Rockies cap sulked out behind her and met his parents, who were sitting in the corner by themselves. She shook their hands and whispered quietly to them. As soon as they left, the bell on the door chiming softly, she turned to me.

“Ms. Boss. Good to see you. Come on in.” She held the door for me as I walked into the dark of her office. A small water fountain gurgled on the window sill and Enya played from some unseen speaker. All the light came from small lamps scattered throughout the room, and gauze drapes muted the sounds from the street. She sat in her customary red chair, and I sat across from her. The chair was comfortable. But I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be lulled. Ms. Axford crossed her legs and set her clipboard on the side table. She always did like starting with social nonsense.

“So how are you? I was a bit surprised to get your text.” She smiled at me. Her teeth were perfectly white and perfectly straight. She was young too. She had manicured nails and straight brown hair dyed blonde on the ends, and a low-cut blouse. I always wondered if she did well with parents because mothers found her well-spoken and dads found her hot. Either way, I tried not to think about it.

“Yeah. Well, I’m fine, I guess. I mean things are going ok. I got a job.” Her eyes lit up like she was truly interested.

“Oh yeah? How’s that going?”

“Fine. It’s just a small editing job…”

“You do like to write.”

“I…do, yeah, it’s not quite like that but…yeah.” I didn’t like talking about myself. But that was hardly appropriate when you were in therapy. Though Axford had a usually serene, unflappable expression, I caught something out of the ordinary as I looked at her. I squinted, suddenly curious. “Ms. Axford, you…” my glance dropped to her hand. “You got married?” She dropped her gaze to the thin silver band and substantial rock that rested on her left hand. She seemed startled, then suddenly very pleased.

“Oh, yes, I did! Two months ago. It’s been awhile since you’ve come to see me.” She looked up again, and her face seemed more hidden. “So…why did you come in today? You said you were upset?”

I looked down at my hands. My nails were chipped. I’d tried to break myself from biting for years.

“Yeah, I…” I tried to pull up the feelings of fear and confusion I’d had not 24 hours before, but the man’s face kept pushing its way into my thinking. Why did he want me to listen? Listen to what?

“Sidney?” Ms. Axford’s voice dismantled my thoughts. Her voice had a way of doing that. “You okay? You seem very scattered today.”

“Sorry, I think I am.” I dropped my gaze again. I really did sound like a crazy person today.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” with that, she picked up her clipboard and fished a pencil out of her hair. I took a deep breath, and, feeling guilty, told her about the man.

After I’d completed my story, which sounded crazy even to me, today, Ms. Axford put her clipboard in her lap and glanced across at me. Her eyes were thoughtful. Concerned.

“So what do you think triggered this event? Had you been sleeping well? Eating well?” I shrugged.

“Mostly. I’ve been a little tired…”

“Tired enough that you could have maybe…” she laughed softly, “fallen asleep on your feet? I’m glad you weren’t driving yesterday.” I looked up at her. Her eyes were merry.

“I know what happened. A homeless guy crashed into me when I was running. I didn’t fall asleep.” She smiled at me again.

“Well maybe he did. I can’t say for sure either way. But you did have a nasty fall.” she gestured towards my bandages. “What I’m more concerned about though, is the…voices, you’re hearing. I think this new job is keeping you up at strange hours and your brain isn’t having time to adjust. That, and you might be becoming resistant to your medication.” her smile faded and it was replaced with a more serious expression. “You are keeping up on your meds, right? Taking them consistently?” I nodded, lying. “Good. Now I’m glad you came to talk to me today. That was very responsible of you. But I think we need to get back on a more set, steady meeting time. Alright? Maybe once every two weeks. It’ll help you get through this rough patch you’re having. She smiled her glaring white smile again. “That, and I want to try a new medication. We’ve had a lot of success with it in your age group, and I think a new dose will help curtail this little bit of paranoia you’re having. Alright?” she wrote a prescription and handed it to me.

Out in the waiting area, another kid was waiting to go it. He had a hoodie on, with the hood up and over his head, despite the heat. Ms. Axford told me to tell my parents hi, and that she’d see me soon. I drove to the pharmacy to fill my prescription, not feeling entirely better.

 

Small town living has its perks. For one, little traffic. I could drive from one side of the city to the other and back again within an hour. But living in a small town also meant that people tended to get into each other’s business. I’d moved to Colorado for school, (my parents lived in Washington State, bless their little picket-fenced hearts), and I hadn’t had any real trouble with people who lived here. On the flip side of that, some of my neighbors and coworkers who’d lived here all their lives wanted to know “what is was like” out of state. So for the most part, I tried to keep quiet about where I’d come from. That, and because of the seemingly endless cash flow I had coming to me. I knew my parents worried I wasn’t getting by, and they weren’t hurting any, owning a string of motel chains back home, so they let me chase of dream of writing. They’d come to visit on my birthday and ordered plane tickets for me to fly home at Christmas, but other than that tried to leave me be. I think they feared a relapse and so tried to parent from afar. Either way, I still received a weekly call from my mother, who always called just to check in.

“When did you meet with Emily? Did you get the package we sent? Honey you really should try and call me more often. You said you’d call Tuesday.”

I dug through the refrigerator, trying to find the pudding I was sure I’d stashed there.

“I’m sorry mom. Work’s been busy.”

“Ooh honey, tell me all about it.” I heard her lean back from the phone and call my dad. There was a click and my father joined the line.

“Hey sweetheart.”

“Hi dad. How do you guys still have a landline?”

“Honey we’re not getting rid of that. What if there was a break in?” my mom talked to my dad through the phone, as if he wasn’t currently in the very same room. “Sid met with Emily today, Richard, and she’s on a new medication.”

“Is that right honey?”

I sighed, giving up on the pudding.

“Why is this exciting? It’s not a big deal.”

“You’ve been taking your pills? Like you’re supposed to? You know you have to take those. And with food! Are you eating all right?”

“Mom. It’s fine. It’s all good.” I thought about fibbing. I went for it. “Ms. Axford is actually quite impressed with me. Just so you know.”

“That’s great sweetheart, what did she say?”

“Did you know she got married?”

“Did she really? Wow. Time flies. Doesn’t time fly Rich?”

“It does.”

I cleared my throat.

“So…I have some stuff to do. I need to go to the store and the bank…” I shook my head. That was my thought. But also…not quite mine.

“Of course babe. We’ll let you go. Love you!” she made kissy noises into the phone.

“Bye mom. Bye dad. Love you.”

I ended the call. I loved that my parents loved me. But if they could love me just a little less, I think I would benefit from it.

As I usually did when I felt guilty, I cleaned the kitchen. I was busy scrubbing the grout between the sink and the counter when something made me glance out the kitchen window. Mrs. DuPont’s front yard was vacant, but that shouldn’t have been strange. Her miniature red windmill turned cheerily in the breeze and her garden gnome stood frozen, one pudgy hand raised in a wave. She would have already watered her flowers for the day. Maybe she was inside enjoying the air conditioning. Maybe her grandchildren had extended their visit and gone to the zoo. I couldn’t possibly know. And why would I care anyway? But even as I finished the grout and moved on to wiping out the deplorable state of the microwave, I couldn’t help but glance out the window again. I hadn’t heard anything, per say, but it was like I was receiving a frequency too high or low for anyone else to hear. It wasn’t a sound. Not really. It was more of a feeling of spreading unease. I threw my rag in the sink.

Outside, the heat was finally slackening off. The sun had hours in the sky yet, but the breeze had picked up and threatened a thunderstorm. A stray gust caught me and pushed me towards Mrs. DuPont’s yard. At her front door, I felt silly. I walked back towards my steps again when something in my stomach lurched. I leaned forward, wondering suddenly if I was going to puke, but the sensation went away as quickly as I came on. This week had been a bad one in terms of sanity. Ms. Axford was right. I needed sleep. I stood up and glanced down the street. It was quiet, save for someone’s wind chime clattering in the wind. I closed my eyes, letting the sun bathe my arms. Without visual distraction, I could almost hear Mrs. DuPont’s voice.

…Adam got second place in the spelling Bee…got to call someone…spent his birthday at that laser-gun place…my leg…

I opened my eyes. When had Mrs. DuPont ever complained about her leg? I knew for a fact she was a member of the YMCA’s Silver Sneakers. She worked out twice a week. Then, like I’d touched an electric wire, a shock went through me.

I ran towards her porch, my fist connecting with her door.

“Mrs. DuPont? Are you home?” there was no answer. I hammered like a crazy person. “Mrs. DuPont?” There was no response, and I shifted back and forth, the wood creaking. Finally, fully accepting the role of crazy person, I ran to look through her window. I couldn’t see much past the back of her bright floral couch, but seeing the inside of her house seemed to spur something in me. I ran to the door again and jiggled the knob, but it was locked. I bolted towards the backyard, quickly throwing open the chain link gate. The backdoor was closed, but unlocked.

I bolted into her cool house, calling her name. “Mrs. DuPont?” there was no reply. But something drew me towards the basement. Not the almost sound, but following the feeling of fear that was mine, but also not quite mine. I bolted down the stairs, almost slipping on the lush carpet, and was met with the scene out of a nightmare.

Mrs. DuPont lay at the bottom of the stairs, her arm twisted up and back and her left leg bugged out at a sharp, unnatural angle. A bloody bruise had bloomed a vicious red across her cheek and scattered laundry lay flung about her. A pretty pink washcloth had landed absurdly on her pretty white curls. I knelt beside her, a scream clawing its way up my throat like bile.

“Mrs. DuPont? Are you…” I reached a hand out, afraid to check for a pulse. Instead, I put it in front of her slightly-open mouth. “Mrs. DuPont?” a tiny breath stirred the hairs on my hand. I dug in my jeans for my cell phone.

I was crying ugly, heavy tears when the sirens cut through the sound of the wind.

 

I think I’d been curled up on Ben’s lap for two hours or so, his legs must have been very, very asleep, but that didn’t stop him from stroking my hair in a gentle, repeated motion for the entire duration. I’d cried myself to sleep there, then startled awake, setting off a new stream of tears, but eventually I was too tired to cry, and the tears fell instead in silent, unconquered misery. He’d given up on trying getting me to talk. I managed only the most basic things…Mrs. DuPont was in the hospital, she’d fallen down the stairs, I’d found her lying there like a broken-backed ragdoll...then he’d pulled me into his lap, having not even bothered to take off his windbreaker or pull the sunglasses off his head. Maybe I’d attacked him at the door. Maybe I’d called him in from work. If I was being very honest with myself, I didn’t remember exactly what I’d done.

Levi came home early and the boys talked in hushed tones, Ben’s voice reverberating loudly in my ear next to his chest. I fell asleep again.

 

This time when I woke, I was on the couch alone. I sat up, disoriented in the dark. I looked at the clock on the TV. 9:42. I found Ben in the laundry room, washing something. He smiled when he saw me, and he pulled me into a hug.

“Hi sweety.” the tenderness in his voice almost made me start crying again. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a grapefruit.

“Hey.” I croaked. He stood, holding me silently, as the dryer spun. I felt goosebumps on my legs and realized I wasn’t wearing jeans. Or my shirt. I was wearing someone’s cast-off gray hoodie. “Wha�"where are my pants?” Ben cleared his throat.

“Your clothes had blood�"” he froze midsentence, “your clothes were dirty. Don’t worry. I got it covered.” I swayed a bit, and Ben put a hand around my waist. He guided me to the kitchen, sat me down at the table and poured me a glass of OJ. I made to push it away, but the look on his face made me reconsider.

“You drink that.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He started to unload the dishwasher, glancing back at me every so often as if I were a dangerous predator. I took small, measured drinks while he putzed around the kitchen. With the dishwasher empty, he sat across from me. For once, he wasn’t smiling.

“I’m…so sorry. I wasn’t here. I was called in for an extra shift…”

I looked up at him, incredulous.

“This wasn’t your fault Benjamin. Mrs. DuPont just fell. Thank God I found her�"”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I glanced back into his eyes. They were troubled.

“What do you mean that’s not what you’re talking about?” I watched his eyes drop. I felt a flair of unease. Ben cleared his throat.

“Dave said he saw you in the park the other day. He said he waved at you but you didn’t see him. Fifteen minutes later he said you came tearing out of there like you’d seen a ghost. He called me, but I couldn’t�"”

“You’re spying on me now?”

“Sid, my good friend happens to see you, then�"” he stopped, clearly not in the mood to argue. “Never mind. But if something happened, I need�"”

“Nothing happened. I fell.” I snapped, leaning back in my seat and glowering. I felt suddenly betrayed. Which didn’t make a lot of sense, but I wasn’t in the mood to be sensible.

“Yeah, you told me that. Which is bad enough. But that doesn’t explain�"”

“Nothing happened Ben. I don’t want to talk about it.” I saw his eyes narrow. I’d hit a nerve.

“You see? You don’t want to talk about anything anymore. That’s what worries me more than anything. You’re always distant. You’re listless.” he blinked, and the worry was back. “I’m trying to be understanding Sid, but that only goes so far.” he stopped and I glanced away. He moved to keep my face in sight. “What happened Sid?”

I sighed. Loudly. Angrily.

“I bumped into a bum. Why is everyone so�"”

“Wait wait…a bum? You…”

“I ran into a homeless person. And I fell.” Ben blinked. This apparently wasn’t what he was expecting.

“And he…scared you?”

“No, he…” but suddenly the man’s face was there in my thoughts again, and I remember how scared I was. How scared he was. It must have shown on my face. “He was just screaming…I guess, yelling, but�"” Ben’s face went white.

“Oh my God…are you hurt?” He cupped my face in his hands and I flinched.

“No! No, Jesus, it’s not anything like that. I’m fine.” Ben sat back down, his eyes still wide.

“Really. I’m fine.” he didn’t look convinced.

“Then what? You bumped into a screaming guy and…” I tried to keep my face level. But Ben worked with kids. He was a good a lie-detector as any. “Sidney…”

I harrumphed.

“I panicked. A little. It’s fine, I came home…”

“Ran home.”

“Ran home and locked myself in. End of story.” I unfolded my arms long enough to grab another drink of juice. But apparently that wasn’t good enough.

“Sidney, are you…” Ben nodded his head, trying to make me hit upon something.

“Am I…on my period?” Ben made a face.

“God…no. Not where I was going with that.”

“Then what?” he narrowed his eyes again.

“Are you hearing…voices again?” I felt an intense flash of anger. I’d told him that in

confidence and under the influence of probably-too-much alcohol, but for him to bring it up now, after all I’d had to deal with today, was just a bit too much.

“How…” I stood up and the table jerked crazily, almost knocking over my glass.

“Sidney…”

I marched towards my room, incensed. I slammed the door and something fell off the wall in the next room. I heard Levi yell something, Ben yell something back, and then I locked my door and threw myself on the bed.

And I didn’t even come out when I heard Dr. Who on in the next room.

 

I spent the next week in self-imposed exile. I only came out to eat whatever Ben cooked, if he invited me, but I wouldn’t look him in the face. He would talk to me, but they were in long-winded monologues that didn’t require answers on my part. I spent the time writing and then scrapping the beginnings of two novels and oscillating between angry fit-throwing and guilty room-cleaning. I caught up on my emails. I wrote my mom a mother’s day poem. All great tantrums have to come to an end eventually though, and that time came for me when I could finally visit Mrs. DuPont at the hospital.

She’d cracked her head on the banister and shattered her left leg, but the old lady looked as bright as ever as we came in, exchanging hugs. She sat among a plethora of get-well cards and balloons and flowers, smiling as if it were her birthday. Ben had driven me in, and then excused himself to get coffee. I appreciated the gesture.

“Sidney honey. You’re my hero. Truly. You deserve a medal.” she smiled at me, grandly, as if it were in her power to make it so.

“It’s ok, Mrs. DuPont. I’m just so glad you’re alright.” She squeezed my hand. They had her hooked up to an IV, and her veins bulged gently from beneath her thin skin. I hoped they were feeding her alright. She always had herself on such a strict, healthy diet at home.

“You know Sidney, I was lying there, and ohh…the pain was tremendous. I can’t even remember bringing Robert into the world with so much pain, and that was before those fancy medications they have now…but anyway, I was lying there, and dozing, so hazy, and all I could think was…someone will find me. They’ll know. They’ll just know. Someone will hear.” The assurance in her voice caught me off guard. I was about to ask her what she meant, but she was already going on about a vase of roses she’d gotten from an “admirer” in her aerobics class and something hilarious her grandson had said on his last visit.

 

After that, things got better. I met with Mrs. Axworth on a set schedule. I called my parents before they could call me, and I kept up on my medication. With a stricter bedtime and meals at set hours, I began to feel better. Eventually the thoughts that before would run away with me began to recede and settle. I could focus on tasks. The managing editor complimented me on some literature I redesigned. For the first time in a long time, I began to relax. I laughed with Ben. Levi didn’t get on my nerves quite as much. I felt sane.

 

Three months later, my parents were in the car accident.