Confabulation Read online

  Henry stood from the table and flashed a smile towards Lonnie. As soon as he was out of the café, he made his way out of the building while watching for people he knew. Sure he wasn’t spotted, he turned to his right and ventured into the building's parking garage.

  Crouching behind an out of place diesel truck, Henry decided he was in the best possible location to watch Kelly’s car. He could see her parked in the level below, and he was close enough to an exit to get to his car on the street if he saw her getting ready to leave. Satisfied, he pulled the cushion from his briefcase, and settled in for the wait.

  Waiting, his mind wandered. He knew waiting was the right thing to do, but Kelly was in there. Maybe with someone who wanted her dead. Sure, he could see when she left, but if something happened, he’d just know it sooner. Wouldn’t be able to stop anything. He gritted his teeth, and swore to find a better answer. At that moment, he knew he was doing the best he could.

  He watched Kelly’s car, but he started to feel a pain behind his eyes. He’d had migraine before, but this felt different. Like someone was pushing. Lights and shadows danced across his vision. He tried to blink or run them away, but they remained.

  The headache grew. Henry closed his eyes and held his head.

  Then it was gone.

  He opened his eyes. No light or shadows.

  Everything fine.

  Hours passed. Henry hid from those who he recognized, and simply smiled at those he didn’t know. He wondered when Kelly would finally come out. She came home late from time to time, but she always calls. He checked his phone. No messages. He called the house. No messages.

  He checked. It was seven-thirty. Her car was still there. He wanted to call. Wanted to check on her. He knew that would just cause another argument. He sat.

  He waited.

  CHAPTER 8

  "Weird.” Douglas sipped on his beer and stroked his short beard. "Why didn’t you tell me about the vision thing before?"

  "Well, it only happened that one time. It’s not like I was worrying about it before. Hasn’t happened again either. I guess it just never came up." Carolyn took a drink. “Until now.”

  It’d been a few days since the episode, and nothing had happened. Just typical days full of work and news. Same old stuff. Then last night, she’d gone to bed, and muted the television. She opened her eyes, and could see her room. Looked like it always did. But, she felt asleep. Not that she knew what being asleep felt like, but she was certain she was. And that she wasn’t alone.

  She looked around the room, trying to find something out of place. Something that would tell her it was a dream and she was alone. The white haze fill her view again. She wanted to run, but she couldn’t make her body move.

  "You said you heard something?"

  "Yes. A female voice kept telling me that it wasn’t real."

  "What wasn’t real?"

  "I don’t know. She didn’t say."

  Douglas took a bite from his chili and cheese covered extra-long hot dog. Chugged the beer to clear his mouth. Belched. “Excuse me.” Took a sip. "Well, like I said, that’s weird. But you don’t seem worried about it."

  "I know.” She shook her head. Kept playing with her fries. “For some reason, I don’t feel threatened by whatever this is. I mean, I’ll go to the doctor again, I’m not just ignoring it, but I’m not worried about it. I’ve been pretty lucky lately, and my hunches have been pretty good. I’m sure everything will be okay."

  "Well,” Douglas slipped the last bite of the dog into his mouth, “since you’re having such good fortune, I can assume you’ll be picking up the tab, right?"

  "You mooch.” She pushed her food away. “Yeah, I’ll get it this time. But, the two dogs and the three beers you had, hardly compare to the basket of fries and water that I had." She finished her drink. “We’ll make this even later.”

  "Even? You got the pleasure of dining in the company of a true food lover." Douglas gulped down the rest of his beer and took a handful of fries.

  "Pig." She laughed. "You know, if you choke, I won’t Heimlich you."

  "Very funny.” He coughed into his hand. “You know you wouldn’t know what to do without me around." He chewed and finally swallowed the large bite. “Carolyn. I know you’re not worried about any of this, but I am.”

  “What? Why?”

  “If there’s nothing wrong with your eyes, I just, I want you to make sure there’s not something else wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Douglas tapped his head.

  “Great. You think I’m crazy. Nice.”

  “Hey, I’m just worried about you.”

  “Well, I’m not crazy.” Carolyn sat silent until the waitress returned. She signed the slip and stuffed her copy and the card into her wallet. Without speaking she stood from the table and headed toward her car. "I’m not crazy," she thought as she walked past the scattered tables.

  She thought about the vision problem. About the weird feeling that she was asleep. The voice. It was strange, but she was sure she was fine. Everything felt fine. Still. She paused at the driver’s side door and looked at Douglas who had walked past her toward his own car. "Doug. You’re right. I’ll go just to make sure nothing’s wrong."

  "I don’t think anything’s wrong with you, deary. It’s just that, if it were me, I’d want to make sure. And, I worry about you.”

  "I know. Thanks. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days."

  "Take care of yourself. And don’t worry about anything. I didn’t mean to spook you. It’s just my nature to check everything. Call it a beneficial bad habit."

  "At least that one’s beneficial habbit, you face stuffing pig."

  "Oink, oink."

  A few more barbs flashed between the two friends before Carolyn glanced at her watch. "Crap, I have an appointment."

  "What's up?" Douglas sucked on the shake he grabbed on his way out.

  "I have a doctor's appointment.” She nodded toward Douglas. “You'll need one too if you keep treating yourself like that."

  "Well, a little voice told me to eat until I passed out. I decided it was a good idea."

  Carolyn scowled before grinning. "You're lucky I know when you're kidding."

  "I know." He laughed and continued cackling as she stepped into her car and drove away.

  Carolyn drove down the highway toward Dr. Herferd’s office. Dr. Aaronson had recommended Dr. Herferd after Carolyn’s last visit returned no sign of a physical reason for seeing things. She had an appointment scheduled with a radiologist later in the week, but Dr. Aaronson recommended she see a therapist in the meantime.

  She pulled of the highway at the Grethel Street exit, and turned right into the professional office park. The maze of red brick buildings, with a questionable numbering scheme, made it less than simple to find the office she was looking for. As she turned the fourth corner of her trip through the labyrinth, the dull hum began again and she pulled into a parking space. She had no desire to be driving if the white haze should return, so she stopped the car and waited.

  The haze didn’t come, but she could feel something in her mind. A voice, but not something she could hear. More like her own thoughts, but foreign. She, it, didn’t want her to take the appointment. Wasn’t needed.

  Carolyn sat still in the car. She took deep breaths to try to relieve the tightness in her chest. Either she was crazy, or something was talking to her. Thinking to her? She looked around, but there was no one there. She felt her skin begin to itch and she tightened her grip around the steering wheel. "What the hell is going on?"

  She was sure whoever was behind it was a friend. How was she sure? Did she think that? "A friend. Really? You’re the cause of my problems. You can help by going away." Carolyn didn’t stop to consider the wisdom of arguing with something that she couldn’t be sure was really there.

  There was more. She was sure there were others. Other what, she wondered. Other thoughts. Carolyn shook her head. Held her head tight.
None of this was okay. She needed help. She was sure of it now.

  No. She wasn’t crazy. The thought filled her mind. She couldn’t shake it loose. Couldn’t think of anything else. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy.

  “Okay. I get it.”

  Her mind cleared. She could think again. She waited, but nothing else happened. She was alone again with her thoughts. He own thoughts. She started her car and headed down the road. She checked her mirrors, but didn’t see anyone lurking near her.

  A few turns later, she saw the door of Dr. Herferd’s practice. She pulled into a parking space and reached for the key. She started to turn the car off. Hesitated. She couldn’t understand what happened to her. Why her thoughts seemed to be created by someone or something else. But she was sure she needed to do what she heard, or thought. She pulled her hand away and put the car in reverse.

  CHAPTER 9

  Simon typed feverishly at his keyboard, knowing that his research could be halted at any time by another bout with blindness. He’d had so many. Couldn’t place them at all, they seemed to just fill his memory, though. One he remembered, though. Last night. He was asleep, at leats he thought he was, but then he wasn’t. Lights and shadows filled his vision. Not the white cloud he remembered, but he was asleep. He figured he just remembered it wrong when he woke up. Either way, he was sure it happened.

  He tapped his foot as the circle of dots rotated on the screen. “Come on, I’m sure I pay for faster response than this shit.” Finally a result. His first attempt, with the phrase "white haze vision" had returned a variety of useless pages, mostly fanfic of various shows. After that failure, he entered the more clinical sounding "vision loss white haze." That had returned more appropriate sites, but the results dealt with cataracts and other physical problems with the eyes.

  He shoved the keyboard away after several subsequent attempts yielded equally valuable results. "What is happening to me? Why can’t anyone find anything?" Simon raised his head as a humming resonated throughout the house. No, in his head.

  He felt certain he shouldn’t worry. But why? He had a problem. No. No problem. Simon shook his head. Jumped from his chair and quickly scanned the room. Nothing. He ran to the front door. No signs of entry. He unlocked the door and checked the front of the house near the window he was sitting near. "Is someone there?"

  Nothing. No one. He stood in the yard. Needed to check the mail. Why? He didn’t think he wanted to check it. No, he was sure he did. He needed to. More than anything.

  He walked over to the box. Walked back into the house with the mail in hand. Simon felt a little guilt as a car drove past. Saw him still in his sweats, and obviously having not showered. Or shaved. In a few days. Ever since his job had been changed, an accommodation to his disability, he hadn’t needed to leave the house.

  He thanked his boss for allowing him to keep working. Sure, doing analysis on the industry and comparing products and rates with competitors, was work, and kept a paycheck coming. But inside he felt like a complete failure. He was unable to do his job, and he couldn’t even find out why he was having problems. He’d seen doctors and psychologists, but no one had any answers.

  What became an idle hope for the vision problem to stop never came true. He had a disturbance every day. They were common. So common he didn’t even bother noting when they happened, he just knew another was around the bend no matter what he was doing.

  But he also knew he was fine. In that same indefinite way, he knew was doomed and fine. Didn’t make any damned sense. He wondered if he was the subject of some weird test. Actually hoped that was the case. Hated himself for thinking that way. He’d always solved his own problems. Detested his weakness now.

  When he was sixteen, his parents died after being hit by a drunk driver. His grandparents made a room for him in their house, but he didn’t want to move away from his friends and his school, so he decided to live on his own. Insurance and a little inheritance gave him enough to get by for a few years. Since then, he’d relied on himself to solve almost every problem he faced. He did the repairs around the house, prepared his meals, and ultimately put himself through college.

  Now, he placed his hope in a ridiculous fantasy that he concocted from a brief hallucination. As he flipped through his bills, he laughed about his situation, mainly because he hated to cry. He continued to flip through the mail. "Bill. Bill. Ad. Bill. Ad. What’s this?" He picked up the small envelope with no address information and opened it. Inside he found an address and a small note.

  "You’re not alone. Go to this address at noon Thursday and you will receive instruction."

  He turned the card over, but there was no other writing. He recognized the street name on the address, but he couldn’t imagine why he would be directed to an area of town that was filled with restaurants, bookstores, and bars. What the hell could be there? He entered the information in his phone and made an appointment. “Well, at least it gets me out of the house.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Henry stood in the garage, holding his hands up in frustration. "Where will you be?" He looked around and back again, meeting her eyes for only brief glimpses.

  "I can’t tell you, Henry. Don’t get all overprotective on me. Again."

  Henry sighed. He’d worked out what he thought was an ingenious plan. He was going to take her on a full day of shopping, a trip to the zoo, dinner. Anything to keep her occupied. She thought it was a great idea. Henry got a good night’s sleep for the first time in weeks.

  However, Kelly’s work again interfered. Watching her at the office wasn’t easy. Following her on a weekend to a client’s office wasn’t even an option. No way he could pull that off and keep it hidden.

  He swallowed. "Sorry. I was just looking forward to this weekend."

  She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I know. I was too. But, duty calls.” She hefted her briefcase and walked toward the door. “I’ll be home late."

  He wanted to argue with her. Tell her she was in danger. But, he’d seen that play out before. He followed her out, and opened the door to her car. Put his hand on her back. "Okay, have a good day."

  "Thanks, I’ll try."

  Henry shut her door and watched her drive away. Waited for a few minutes, then started his own car and headed out. Watched the garage door go down, and then accelerated quickly in pursuit. He hoped to find her on the highway and follow her from there.

  He wasn’t sure where she was headed, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t out of town. She didn’t have many out of town clients, and a trip to sign one up would take more than a day. He pulled onto the highway, and began darting through traffic, trying to gain ground. He sped past cars on his left and right, hoping to be able to see Kelly’s car ahead.

  "Damn."

  He passed several exits. Some of them led to areas of town where he knew she had clients. He bit his lower lip and tapped then steering wheel. Didn’t know if he should exit or not. He slowed. Exited and headed for the turnaround.

  Still didn’t know which exit to take. He’d hoped to find her car, but no luck. Now, he had to guess. His heart was racing. Almost stopped when heard his phone ring. He picked it up from the seat next to him and answered. "This is Henry."

  "Hi. Listen, I’m going to have to leave town for the day."

  The words took the breath from his lungs. "What? Why?"

  "The client needs us to take a look at some things he has in another office. We’ll be taking his private plane, so I’ll be back tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?" Henry began to sweat, and he scratched his now itching arm.

  "I know, Henry, it spoils all your plans. I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

  He thought about saying he was sick. That he needed help. But that was stupid. He was grown ass man. He sat silent.

  “Henry, you there?”

  "What. Yeah, sorry. Um, be careful. Have a good trip."

  "I will. Bye."

  "Bye." Henry ended the call and pulled onto the should
er of the highway.

  Henry needed a break from his thoughts. Some time to just not worry. He pulled back into traffic and exited as soon as he could. Headed home. On the way down his street, a man and a woman strolled across the road. He smiled, but considered just running them over.

  As soon as he was home he picked up the rum bottle from the pantry and took a long drink. Ten drinks later, his mind was quiet, and the floor felt comfortable. He let the drink close his eyes. He licked his lips twice before passing out.

  He woke up on the floor and could taste the gauze texture of mouth. He could also smell, and taste, his spewn stomach contents. When he finally got up, he went to the kitchen to get a towel. Returning to the scene of his gastric floor deposit proved to be too much. He leaned over and added to the pile. After several attempts, he was finally able to clean up most of it.

  The day dragged as Henry fought against a headache and the doubt that Kelly would call. The worry that he’d said his last good-bye. Lunch came and passed without sign of Kelly or hunger. Eventually, he ate some bread to try and ease the hangover. Once he felt better, he improved on his feeble attempt at carpet cleaning from the morning.

  He took the bag of ruined towels and stomach chunks out of the house. Across the street was the same couple from earlier. He thought about saying hello. Apologizing to getting too close to them in his car. And for the smell. He dropped the bag and took a step toward them.

  They walked away. Quickly.

  He was confused, until the wind drove a waft of his smell to his nose. Then he understood their quick exit.

  Evening came, and Henry’s worry was consuming. The last of the alcohol felt like it was finally leaving his system, which let the worries take over. Images of her dead body were everywhere. He tried to think of something else, but it was like some who just kept yelling “don’t think red” a thousand times.

  Henry cringed. He tried to ignore the thoughts and the headache, but they both grew in power. Though his stomach turned, Henry lifted the bottle to his lips again. He sat down on the couch, reclined, and hung his head over the edge in case of accident. He lay there for hours, fighting against sleep, and drinking into oblivion. He continued drinking until he heard the garage door open.