Buried in Sunshine (14 page)

“Okay…” Emma whispers.

“Have there been any instances where you’ve seen
them in the presence of other people?”

“Yes,” Emma replies with a single nod. “There
have been a few times when I’ve talked to these other versions
while people should have been able to see them—and they have
not.”

“I can only imagine how scary it must seem—but
just remember that they are not real. They are just a way for your
mind to cope with all these new changes in your lifestyle. I
believe that once you are in a much more stable routine that you’ll
find that these visions will fade. How are you doing on your
medication by the way?”

“I’m supposed to be on medication?” Emma asks,
she thinks back—she remembers having to take pills for anxiety.
However, lately, she has not had the anxiety so she has forgotten
completely.

“You should really have cut down instead of gone
cold turkey,” Dr. Riley says as she shakes her head and looks
sternly at Emma for a moment, then returns to her smiling demeanor.
“I suppose though you are doing fine—just next time, if you are on
any medication that you feel you don’t need any more—cut down, do
not just stop.”

“It’s strange,” Emma says as she nods. “I just
forgot.”

“Well it looks like no harm has been done,” Dr.
Riley says reassuringly. “Are there any other issues you’d like to
discuss? I would say that your improvements outweigh any of the
concerns you have—even if they are sad revelations about your
mother. I’m sure that will work out alright.”

“That picture in the lobby, with the trees and
the winding road and fog…”

“Yes?”

“Where was that taken?”

“I’m not completely sure,” Dr. Riley says as she
cocks her head sideways and thinks about it for a moment. “When I
was younger I saw a lot of roads like that in the rural parts of
Missouri. There’s also a lot of nice wooded road up north near Door
County. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to go somewhere like that,” Emma says
as she takes a mental note of the places mentioned.

“So you think you are able to travel?”

“I have the urge to do so—“

“You’ve got the means to do so,” Dr. Riley says
as she tilts her head back and forth and smiles. “You really are a
new you… aren’t you?”

“A whole bunch of them,” Emma says.

“And you still have that off sense of
humor.”

“It seems to be, and hopefully is, the only
thing I’ve carried over from my time being that depressed girl,”
Emma says as she stretches her arms out in front of her and lets
out a short yawn. “I think I could travel, soon.”

“I would love to see you do that,” Dr. Riley
says as she gets to her feet. “Good luck with your date
tonight.”

“I’ll give you the details in a few days,” Emma
says.

“Don’t stay outdoors too long,” Dr. Riley warns
as Emma heads out of the room. “It’s pretty miserable out there
today.”

*

As Emma exists the building the oppressive heat
is so strong in nearly takes her breath away. She briskly walks to
her car and turns the air conditioning on high. A lot of What Dr.
Riley said made a lot of sense—however it did not explain this
heat. Perhaps, it is just coincidence?

Emma starts the car and begins to drive
home.

*

As Emma enters her house she follows the hallway
and rounds the corner that leads into the kitchen. Upon the table,
Elizabeth is sitting—her head buried in her hands.

“Elizabeth?”

“Emma?” Elizabeth asks as she attempts to raise
her head.

“Are you alright?” Emma asks as she comes close
to Elizabeth. Emma places a hand upon Elizabeth’s shoulder; her
skin is clammy to the touch.

“Are you alright?” Elizabeth repeats
mindlessly.

“What’s wrong with you?” Emma asks as she
attempts to gain Elizabeth’s attention.

“What’s wrong with you?” Elizabeth says as she
pushes Emma away.

A strange, sickening feeling begins to grow in
Emma’s stomach. She feels as though she is about to be ill. She
takes a few steps back as her head grows dizzy and he heart pounds
like a relentless drum in her chest. Sweat drips from her forehead
as she attempts to wipe it away with her hand she feels herself
forehead—it is burning up.

Emma can feel herself falling backwards to the
floor. Her legs have given out and she is falling to the ground
like a displaced house of cards.

“Emma…” Elizabeth whispers as she suddenly turns
her attention and reaches a hand out. “Stop…”

Despite Elizabeth’s command, Emma does not stop.
She continues her descent to the floor. She looks up to the ceiling
as everything begins to grow dim. Elizabeth gets to her feet and
stands above her, she kneels beside Emma.

“What’s happening to me?” Emma asks. Elizabeth
looks strange—almost as though Emma is viewing the world through a
fish-eye lens.

“Emma?” Elizabeth asks as she places her hand
upon Emma’s forehead. “You’re burning.”

Emma’s vision goes black.

*

7/25/12

3:45-7:31 p.m.

MISSING TIME

*

Emma’s eyes slowly adjust to the soft subdued
light of evening. She reaches up and pulls a cool washcloth from
her head.

“Emma?” Elizabeth asks from the edge of the bed.
“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Emma says as she slowly pulls herself to
an upright position. “What happened?”

“You just kind of…passed out,” Elizabeth says
with a tone of relief in her voice as though she has been deeply
worried. “I didn’t know what to do—I couldn’t exactly call the
ambulance. I knew you’d be alright. I think I did anyway…it’s not
time yet.”

“What was up with you when I got home?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth says embarrassedly. “I
kind of felt like I was slipping away mentally… Until you fell,
that snapped me out of it.”

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Emma says as
she crawls out of bed. She looks out the window—the last rays of
sunlight are visible over the tree-line in the distance. “What time
is it?”

“Time for you to get ready for your date,”
Elizabeth whispers sadly as she looks away from both Emma and the
window that serves as her ticking clock.

“I’m sorry Elizabeth,” Emma apologizes.

“Do you think I’ll be back tomorrow?”

“I know you will,” Emma says reassuringly as she
places her arms around Elizabeth. It is a strange thing, Emma
thinks, to be friends with one’s own self. However, in a way,
Elizabeth is different—so it kind of makes sense to her. “I’ll need
you tomorrow.”

“I’m just glad you feel better,” Elizabeth says
as a painful look washes over her face. Darkness fills the room as
Elizabeth tears away into burning stray ashes. The final pieces of
her glow off into the air and disappear completely into the
ether.

“Be well, Elizabeth,” Emma whispers as she
leaves the bedroom. She wonders if she should still go on this
date—given the situation. Between passing out without explanation,
and the knowledge that Emma’s Mother and was having a very long
affair with Ethan’s father—her apprehension at the idea of dinner
seems more like a logical one rather than an irrational fear based
decision. However, she wants to see him. Despite the fact that it
has only been one day—she misses him.

Emma stands in front of her closet. She pulls
out a playful short yellow dress with a plunging neckline. It has
been a long time since she has worn a dress, especially one that
shows off a bit of her assets. She strips down and climbs into the
dress. She finds a pair of yellow open toed shoes with daisies
painted on the sides and slips them over her bare feet. Emma then,
carefully, descends the stairs and looks at herself in the mirror.
She puts on a bit of pink lipstick. She pulls her long hair to the
side and fixes it in place with a barrette.

A knock on the door comes from down below.

Emma rushes down the stairs, careful not to trip
in her shoes—and opens the door.

“Holy shit,” Ethan says as he looks at Emma.
“I’m sorry—I mean good evening. I just, I’ve just seen you in jeans
and a t-shirt.”

“Holy shit to you too,” Emma replies playfully.
Ethan looks handsome. He is wearing a grey button up shirt and
tight fitting blue jeans. It is nice to see him in something that
isn’t covered in dirt. His hair is spiked up in the front and his
rough face has been cleaned up a bit—but not too much. Emma likes
the rough, ruggedness of his features.

*

Ethan escorts Emma into a dimly lit Chinese
restaurant. The décor is simple, plain wooden booths line white
walls with large-brushstroke paintings of mountains, trees, and
plants that are hung above each seating. A large white beckoning
neko sits on a large shelf against the back wall along with a
golden Buddha and a small bamboo plant. Save for Ethan and Emma,
the restaurant in completely vacant.

“Is this booth good?” Ethan asks as he leads
Emma to a small recessed corner.

“This is perfect,” Emma says as she sits down
against the cushion of unidentifiable origin and crosses her legs
so that her toes touch the edge of pole holding the table
up—something she does out of comfort and instinct. “Do you come
here often?”

Ethan laughs, “That’s supposed to be my line
isn’t it?”

Emma looks away as she hides a small embarrassed
laugh with her hand. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I got ya,” Ethan says as he nods. “I like to
come here after work. Life gets terribly noisy sometimes… during
the week, if you come an hour before they close you have the place
all to yourself. It is quite peaceful really.”

“I’ve never even heard of this place,” Emma says
as she looks around her. The only thing that makes her feel
slightly uneasy is the lack of windows.

“It’s pretty small, family owned,” Ethan says as
he hands a menu to Emma. “Plus it’s far from the lake so it doesn’t
get a lot of tourist traffic.”

A woman approaches the dimly lit restaurant with
a pad of paper in hand.

“Ah, Ethan—will you have the usual again
tonight?”

Emma looks up to the woman and instantly turns
away. The waitress looks exactly like one of her clones—the blonde
hair, the blue eyes, and the familiar features. She could be any of
them by appearance, Elizabeth, Alexis…or even a new one.”

“Yes,” Ethan says. “Emma, are you good or do you
need a moment.”

“Vegetable fried rice,” Emma quickly spouts out
as she continues to look away. “A coke… that should be all.
Thanks.”

“Thank you,” the waitress replies as she begins
to leave.

Emma turns to watch and sees a woman with dark
hair walking away.

“Are you alright?” Ethan asks as he looks to
Emma with a concerned look upon his face. “Do you know her?”

“Oh,” Emma says as she attempts to concoct a
reasonable sounding excuse. “I’m just not good with… new people. Or
really, I mean, more than one person. I prefer one on one
interaction, anything more than that, and it kind of frazzles me
out a bit—sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Ethan says as he places his
hands together and attempts to change the subject. “Crazy how hot
it is, even at night—right?”

“It’s definitely,” Emma begins; she pauses as
she attempts to make sense of sensory overload that her mind has
placed upon itself. Her mind goes back to her therapist—these
visions, these clones, are they not real? Are they just her mind
trying to fix itself? Could the weather be a coincidence? None of
it made sense—if they were not real, who was cooking her meals?

“Unusual?”

“Unusual,” Emma repeats as she snaps back to
reality. She realizes that she is probably making for terrible
company. She hopes that Ethan is not beginning to regret his
decision to take her to dinner. “That’s the word…I was looking
for.”

“It’s okay,” Ethan says as plates are set out in
front on him. “The heat makes it hard to think.”

Emma looks away for fear that she will see
herself—she knows that she probably would not, after all, it is
nighttime. Instead, she keeps her eyes fixed to table and whispers,
“Thank you.”

“Thank you, Ann,” Ethan says as the woman walks
away.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says sadly as she feels an
overwhelming sense of worthlessness inside of her. For all of her
success, it seems as though she is marred with just as much
difficulty. “I’m probably a terrible date.”

Ethan nearly chokes as he takes a sip of his
soda. “I didn’t know that you actually considered this a date—I’m
flattered.”

“Well it’s…” Emma begins, and then realizes she
has no idea how to finish. “It is if you want it to be. It was your
idea,” Emma adds in an almost accusatory tone.

“No, I’m happy that you even would consider it
as such,” Ethan says as he smiles. “As for the rest, don’t worry
about it at all—you’re fine.”

“I’m really not.”

“I mean,” Ethan says as he backtracks. “I know
what you’ve been through—I mean, I’m sure I don’t know everything
that there is to know about you, I’d like to, I just…I know what my
father has told me about your life. I know that it has not been a
kind one.”

Emma gulps painfully at the mention of ‘father,’
she thinks back to the love letter addressed to her mother—part of
her wants to say something, however, she knows that this would be a
very bad idea. She remembers back to what Elizabeth had said, ‘just
because you are in pain does it mean you should bring it to
others?’

“So how is your father? Have you seen him?”

“We meet once a week for lunch and talk—other
than that he is pretty busy. I’ll come by the house and visit him
and my mother, Brenna, every now and then when I’m not busy,” Ethan
says as he pokes at his noodle dish and places a spoonful of it
into his mouth.

“I’ve never met your mother,” Emma admits. She
did not remember seeing her at her mother’s funeral, or anytime at
the office for that matter.