Panic clawed her. She was used to dreaming strange dreams. She’d done it her entire life. Hearing voices though, and seeing what she saw—seeing what she thought she just saw—that was psychosis.
She clamped down on that. No. She was just too tired. She wasn’t fully awake yet. She was still half caught in a dream state where Escher’s clock melted and stairways led on an endless loop to nowhere. Coffee would shake off this crazy fugue. She started back in the direction of her house, working to a lope as she rounded the corner.
Her ex-husband, Justin, stood on her deck at the bottom of the concrete stairs. His dark hair shone with glints of copper in the early morning sun, his narrow, clever face bisected by dark Ray-Ban sunglasses. He was dressed for the office in a functional yet elegant suit, the jacket unbuttoned in the unseasonal warmth of the spring morning.
She groaned and slowed as she saw him. Justin caught sight of her before she could pivot and jog away. Caught, she continued with obvious reluctance toward him and the house.
“Oh that’s flattering,” he said with a grin. “Good thing my ego is so preened and shiny. Good morning, and screw you too.”
“You show up uninvited, you get what you get,” Mary said. Her voice sounded rough. She cleared her throat. “For pity’s sake, man. It’s not even seven A.M. yet. I never talked to you this early when we lived together.”
“Then why don’t you answer your phone?” he said in exasperated reply. “If you’d pick up, I wouldn’t have to stop by unannounced.”
She squinted at him then jogged up the stairs to unlock the door as he followed. “Because it didn’t ring.”
“Is it even in the house?” he retorted. He peered past her at the riotous mess inside. “How can you tell? The hood of your car is cold but you weren’t answering when I knocked. I was going to let myself in to make sure you were all right.”
She sighed. “Don’t make me regret giving you that key.”
“You’ll have to arm-wrestle me to get it back, and you know I cheat.” Once inside, he looked at her again more closely. Something in his face changed, the humor dying away. “Are you okay? You look really pale.”
“I’m fine.” She removed her sunglasses and rubbed at her face. She could still feel creases on her cheek from the cloth she had slept on. The pounding in her head had gotten worse. She turned to walk to her kitchen and said over her shoulder, “I need coffee. Do you want a cup?”
“Yeah.” Justin followed her. “Look, do me a favor. Make an appointment to see your doctor, okay?”
“What? No. I said I’m fine.” Mary stopped in the middle of her kitchen and looked around in confusion. She knew exactly where she was but everything suddenly seemed alien.
She didn’t belong here. Panic tried to clutch at her again, like a drowning victim being pulled underwater. She flung it off, shaking herself hard like a wet dog as she headed for the coffeepot.
“I don’t think you’re as fine as you say you are.” Justin frowned at her.
“I just had a day from hell yesterday. My shift was twenty-six hours long. We had a multiple car accident and a couple of gunshot victims.”
He shook his head. “That’s rough. What happened?”
“The accident was a pileup on I-94. No fatalities. The shooting was a different story. Some girl found out her Baby Daddy had another Baby Mama. She borrowed her brother’s nine millimeter and emptied the clip into them while they sat outside at Dairy Queen. Now she’s in jail facing murder charges. Baby Mama Two is dead and Baby Daddy is in ICU. He may or may not make it, and all the babies have been taken by child protective services, which, when you think about it, might be the best thing that’s happened in their little lives.”
Justin’s voice turned hushed. “I heard about that on the news.”
She yanked open a cupboard, pulled out the coffee and a filter. She said over her shoulder, “To top it all off, I got maybe four hours’ sleep, so I look like shit. It’s no big deal.”
He sighed. “Look, I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ve got twenty minutes to get to work—so just promise me you’ll go get a checkup and shut up already.”
She filled the coffeepot with water, poured it into the machine and started it. She slammed the pot onto the burner. “Seriously, Justin,” she snapped. “Do I come over uninvited to your house and tell you and Tony what to do?”
“Honey, I’m sorry,” he said in quick contrition. She startled as he put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s just—hell, even I know you’re never supposed to talk to a woman about her weight but you’ve lost weight you couldn’t afford to lose. You were always a little bit of a thing, the original five-foot-two-and-eyes-of-blue gal.”