Confabulation (3 page)

Henry’s head and stomach suddenly squeezed. Henry ran to the bathroom. His stomach tightened and convulsed several times. Breakfast and last night’s dinner filled the bowl. When that as done, continued heaving burned as the alcohol remaining in his stomach mixed with
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acid and scorched his damaged throat. He continued to heave long after food and liquid were no longer available.

As he vomited, his anger returned. A rage built as he realized Kelly was gone and he had no idea where she was. Only that she was probably close to those people who were out to get her. Once his stomach calmed enough for Henry to get up, he rushed to the closet, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and grabbed his keys. "Nothing’s going to happen to her today."

He left the house, and drove to Kelly’s office. He sat in his car for the remainder of the day, waiting to see if anything strange occurred. When he saw her exit the parking garage, he left, happy that another day had passed and that he would see her again that night.

CHAPTER
3

Carolyn Hansford smirked as Douglas rolled his eyes at her attire. Until recently they worked at the same local paper. He was a reporter, she worked trying to sell ads for a paper that was gasping for air.

“Did you just roll out of bed and head over here?”

“Hey, these are yoga pants, for your information. Not pajamas.”

“Still, not exactly office attire. Maybe I should take more of your advice.”

"I wish you would. I hate to see you wasting your time and your life when you could afford to do what would really make you happy."

"Hey, I love my job." Douglas looked away.

"I know you do. And you're a damned good reporter too, but, it’s not what you would do if you didn't need a paycheck."

"Well, maybe not, but I'm not wasting my life."

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "You know I was exaggerating. Stop being so sensitive."

Douglas smiled with his face hidden from Carolyn. "Don't tell me how to feel. I can feel hurt if I want to."

"Well, then I'm sorry, you big baby."

He turned back and laughed. "I just can't pull off the emotional blackmail, can I?"

"No, you're really bad at it."

She set her purse down and walked over to the counter to place her order. Got the biggest iced coffee they sold, only ten ice cubes. She hated hot coffee, but she didn’t want watered down coffee either. Slid her card across to the girl who looked too young to drive and went back.

She spent the next hour catching up with her old friend, trying to coax him into some investments that she was sure would make him enough money to quit the paper and write the books he longed to work on. He refused, as always.

“One day, Douglas, I’m gonna make you a rich man.”

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.”

Carolyn popped open her laptop and checked her stocks. She completed several transactions. Each one she picked as a result of news she had heard that morning. She couldn’t place where she’d heard the tip, or what she’d been doing, but she knew which ones were expected to appreciate.

She logged out of her account. With the assurance that her requests would be fulfilled within eight minutes, she gathered her bags as her computer shut itself down, and she headed for the bathroom one last time before beginning the drive home. She stopped as two women in sunglasses stepped aside. She thought the indoor shades were odd, but figured that’s what people did after yet another surgery to look young.

She entered the bathroom and quickly checked her appearance in the mirror as usual. As she fixed the stray pieces of hair that framed her face and straightened the collar of her silk blouse, she noticed a fog forming in front of her. She reached out to the mirror, but the fog was forming in her vision, not on the glass.

She rubbed her eyes, but when she opened them, her vision was even still blurry, and filled with lines and sparkles. Like someone was rubbing her eyes from the inside. She began to sway as the blurry vision, combined with the dull hum in her inner ear that had started weeks ago, hindered her balance.

She fell to the floor.

Pain shot up her back, and she pawed for the sink to pull her up. After several failed attempts to locate the porcelain, she let her arms fall to her sides and she began to cry. "What is going on?" She rubbed her eyes again, but there was still no relief. "What is this?"

Carolyn lunged forward, again hoping to hit something. As she lost her balance, the fog cleared and she saw the floor just before her cheek slammed into it. "Ouch." She rubbed her cheek and frowned at the thought of the impending bruise. She looked around, but could see no sign of anyone even having been there. She rose slowly to her feet and stepped outside. She didn’t see anyone, or hear any footsteps. "What on Earth happened?"

She walked back to her office and sat for several minutes to see if the vision problem occurred again. After half an hour, she decided it wouldn’t return. She grabbed her keys from the desktop, stood, and grabbed her bag. After a step toward the door, she paused and reached for her business card file. She flipped through to the "D’s" and pulled out the card of Dr. Aaronson. "I’ll definitely be seeing you soon."

CHAPTER
4

Work was easy for Henry since he started his therapy. The requests were less frequent, and easier. Dennis seldom cared if he left early, and his deadlines were never less than two weeks out. He thought to himself that if had he known it would be like this, he would have faked a breakdown years before.

At ten-thirty, he left his office for the beginning of his long lunch break. He walked to his car unmolested and drove away, toward Kelly’s office. "We’ll see if there’s been any accident today."

He pulled into visitor parking, hopped on the external elevator, and waited until he reached the top floor. The doors opened and he stepped out. "Hello, Grace. Is Kelly around?"

The short, but still elegant receptionist stepped around her desk and looked down the hall. "Sure, Henry. She’s in her office. I don’t think she has anyone in there right now, so go on back."

"Thanks." He started to walk away. "Is that a new hair color, Grace?"

"Why, yes it is."

"Looks good on you."

"Thanks."

He walked down the long hall to the corner office his wife occupied. He knocked on the door before stepping in. "Hello?"

"Henry. What are you doing here?"

He walked into the office and noticed a man standing near the bookcase to his right. He judged the man instantly based on how much harm he could cause Kelly. At first he wanted to let the young man know that there would be repercussions if anything happened, but the public environment of the office, as well as the presence of people Henry had known for years mitigated his suspicion. Henry turned away from the man and hugged Kelly.

Kelly looked up at Henry and then at the man. "Oh, sorry. Henry, this is Roger, he’s one of the new clerks here."

"Nice to meet you, Roger." Henry shook his hand, taking notice of the weak grip and grinning. He looked back to Kelly. "Anyway, I was in the neighborhood visiting the ad agency and just wanted to say hi."

"Okay. Thanks for dropping by. I should be home on time tonight."

"Great. See you then." He kissed her and turned to leave the room. "Nice to meet you, Roger."

"You too," the nasal voice replied.

He suppressed a laugh and made his way back to the elevator. "Bye, Grace. Love the hair."

"Bye, Henry. Thanks."

He climbed back in his car, and headed toward Dr. Davy’s office. His appointment wasn’t until three, but he needed to play it safe around Kelly, and he didn’t feel like going back to work. An annoying humming that had bugged him for a few days made a repeat appearance as well, and continued to grow as he drove.

As he walked to the door, the humming grew so loud that he had to stop and collect himself before he could step through. He apologized to the two men he bumped into as he entered the office. Once inside, the humming was gone.

His appointment was typical, and his responses as deceptive as ever. He relayed his minor jealousies and concerns while Dr. Davy scribbled notes on a pad and seemed to expect the responses. The voice remained silent throughout the appointment, and Henry found himself drifting off to enjoy the sound of his own thoughts often.

When questioned by Dr. Davy he found a way to frame the response around some work or home related issue that he couldn’t release. After his hour was over he made a follow-up appointment.

After a lovely half-hour drive, he pulled into his garage and parked next to Kelly's SUV. "Hmm, I wonder what she's doing home early." He shut off his car and unlocked the door to his house.

"Hey. I'm home," he said as he stepped into the kitchen and shut the door behind him.

"Hey, honey." Kelly greeted him with a hug.

As she pulled away, Henry noticed a discoloration around her eye. Henry gently touched the side of Kelly’s face. "What happened?"

"I ran into a door while I was reading some briefs."

"Sure," he thought. Henry imagined the several scenarios that could result in that bruise, and though running into a door was a possibility, so was being hit and being too embarrassed now to admit it. Anyone could have done it, he thought. It could have been that jerk Roger. If he was careful, he could have opened a door right into her face, just to watch her cry. Henry thought about what kind of coward would do such a thing, and he recalled Roger’s nasal voice and weak handshake. He had no proof, but proof wasn’t what his mind was searching for. "A door? How did that happen?"

"Huh? Oh, someone was having a private meeting and opened the door as I was walking past. They were talking and I wasn’t looking."

"Oh. So, you’re sure that’s what happened? That it was just an accident."

"Of course I’m sure, Henry. Why wouldn’t I be sure? What are you talking about?

"I don’t know. I’m just checking."

She pulled away and stepped back. "Just checking what, Henry? I thought we discussed this."

Henry’s heart raced when he realized that Kelly felt he was trying to control her again, and that her anger was returning. He thought that he was careful with his words, but he could see that his care was far from sufficient. Henry’s chest tightened, and he started to apologize.

"Henry, are you listening to me?"

He shook his head and focused again on Kelly. "What? No. I mean, I didn’t mean it like that." Seeing the bruise shocked him again, as if he hadn’t seen it when she came in. He reached for her face, but she pulled away. "I just hate to see you get hurt, that’s all."

"Well accidents happen, Henry. And this was one of them." Kelly turned away and began to walk off.

Henry stepped forward and yelled. "Okay." He saw Kelly’s expression and lowered his voice. "Okay. I get it. Sorry."

"I’m not a child, Henry. You used to know that."

"I know, I know. I’m sorry." He reached out and gave her a hug, but he could feel the anger in her embrace. "So, how do you feel about enchiladas for dinner?"

"That sounds fine."

"Okay, I’ll get started." He kissed her before she walked away.

"I need to take care of a few things."

"Sure. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready." He went to the cupboard and retrieved the ingredients he needed. He started to chop the pepper and onions. His mind conjured images of stabbing the jerk behind Kelly’s injury. He thought of catching the demented mind and cutting him while enjoying the screams. A smile worked its way across his face before he looked down and saw blood oozing from his thumb. "Crap!" He squeezed his thumb and held it under the running water.

CHAPTER
5

"What do you mean, you couldn’t find anything?" Simon sat across from the doctor and stared at the ground shaking his head.

"Mr. Klein, we saw no signs of abnormalities in brain structure. There were no aneurisms or tumors. There was simply nothing out of the ordinary. Your brain structure and functioning appear to be normal. Whatever is hindering your vision does not have a physiological cause."

Simon continued to sway his head. He had counted on the radiologist being able to find something. Some tumor, or bleeding, or anything that would explain what was happening. He was no longer afraid of what the consequences might be; he just wanted someone to tell him what was happening, and what he could do.

He’d spent the past week wondering how he could continue his life knowing that his vision would just go out from time to time. He spent his life on the road. Traveling to car dealerships to sell them on his companies financing. He had to keep moving. Going blind behind the wheel didn’t fit into that.

Simon knew he’d been having this problem for a few months. He couldn’t remember the last time it happened, but he knew it was sometime in the past week. He tried to place the exact occurrence, but couldn’t grab onto the information. Still, he needed to know what was happening. Needed to know how to fix it.

This news removed that hope and left him lost again, clueless about the source of his dilemma. "What do I do now?"

"Well, Mr. Klein, there could be a psychological reason for what’s happening."

Simon raised he head to meet the doctor’s eyes. "Psychological?"

"Yes. The mind can cause a wide range of ailments when it needs to express things that the conscious mind can’t deal with. I have no idea if that is the case with your situation, but it bears consideration when weighed against the lack of discovery that we’ve experienced."

"Do you recommend anyone?"

"Yes, there is a psychologist named Ginger Coakley who is well regarded. I’ll make an appointment for you to see her. Maybe she’ll be able to make some headway."

Simon shook the doctor’s hand and headed back to the bus stop outside the hospital. Though he felt a little strange standing at the bus stop wearing his typical summer attire of a linen suit and hat, he was convinced him that he couldn’t predict the episodes, and he had given up driving altogether. On his way out, he felt the heavy hand of his fear pressing on his neck. He had pinned all of his hope on discovering his problem via the CAT scan.

Now, with that hope dashed, he could only hope that he was crazy enough to be making the fog himself. It wasn’t a pleasant thought for Simon, but he needed any hope for a cure he could scrape up, so he clung to it.

Simon called a taxi from his cell-phone and waited on a bench outside the doctor's office. He glanced down the bench and nodded at the man and woman who sat at the other end. They looked away without returning the gesture.

Sitting there with the sun bearing down on him, his despair continued to grow. He couldn’t grasp the series of events that left him hoping for a diagnosis of mental illness. Simon was a strong man, and hoping that something was wrong with him so he could be medicated gnawed at all he was.

The taxi arrived, and Simon's trip home was a blur of forgotten images and half conversations with the driver. When he reached his house, he tossed some money at the driver and assumed it was enough when the man didn’t argue. Inside his house he knew he had one more item to take care of. He picked up the phone and dialed his manager's office. A few sullen words and halfhearted thanks passed between the men.

Simon hung up the phone and stared at the receiver in his hand. He hated quitting; he always had. Even as a child, barely over five feet tall, he refused to quit. When he started high school, most people laughed when he said he was joining the basketball team. He used their doubt as fuel, and he practiced his skills and his speed and jumping ability whenever time allowed. By his junior year, though he had only grown six inches, he was a starter on the state championship team, and his frequent dunks always brought huge fan reaction.

That attitude made his decision to take a leave of absence from his job a personal hell. He felt like he was abandoning his entire way of life, and failing completely by admitting that a condition with no cause could keep him from completing his job. It was even worse considering that he felt his job was easy, and he seldom had to put forth much effort to bring in the highest sales volume in the company.

Now it all seemed to teeter on the edge. Linger over an abyss. All because his eyes refused to work. He didn’t know how it could all be in his head, but he needed to find out what was going on. He thought back. He knew that a few weeks ago, everything was fine. He was booking visits and making sales.

But that was wrong. He was sure he’d been having this problem much longer. He tried to remember the first time it happened. Months ago, it must have been. But then why did he plan trips only weeks ago. He ran through his thoughts, trying to piece it all together. Couldn’t make the puzzle fit.

Maybe it was all in his head.