The Glimpsing (8 page)

“If you’re going to insist on behaving this way, then the least you could do is
be
honest and let Portia know.
 
If she found out some other way, she’d be…”
 
She trailed off.

“She’d be what?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know.
 
Matters such as this have a way of bringing out the worst in a person—even in someone as harmless as Portia.”

“When the time comes, I think I’ll be able to handle anything she wants to throw at me.”

Janice reared a bit.
 
“Oh...
 
Oh, I see.
 
This affair is intentional.
 
You actually want to hurt Portia.”

He held her gaze for a moment, and was about to speak when he saw Janice’s eyes flick away.
 
She then began strolling toward the
dresser,
her eyes trained on the painting perched on top.

“What is this?” she said with a degree of wonder.
 
She picked the painting up and gazed at it in amazement.
 
“Portia?
 
Is this…
Portia?”

“More or less,” Jack said.

“Did you have this made?”

“No.
 
Portia gave it to me herself.”

“Well, who painted it?”

“She did.
 
At least that’s what she claims.”

“It’s lovely.
 
I had no idea she was an artist.”

“I’m not sure anyone did.”

“But… it’s so strange.
 
I can’t imagine why she would want to portray herself like this, so dark and seductive.
 
It’s completely out of character for her.”

“Maybe she wasn’t always the saint you assume her to be.”
 
He rose from the bed, made his way to Janice’s side, and looked at the painting along with her.
 
“She did it when she was eighteen.”

“That long ago?
 
Why in the world would she want you to have it?”

“She said she wanted me to have something to remember her by.”

“She’s not over you?” Janice asked.
 
But Jack didn’t seem to hear the question.
 
He had reached out and was letting his fingers glide along the woman’s face.
 
Noticing this, Janice added, “Or is it the other way around.”
 
Still, he did not hear her.

“Her name is Rose,” Jack said as if touched by some kind of awe.

“Portia told you that?”

He moved his hand away.
 
“No.
 
Rose told me that herself.”

Janice looked at him.
 
“I don’t understand.”

“I mean last night, in a dream,” Jack said.
 
“She said her name was Rose.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Only, it didn’t’ feel like a dream; it was very strange.
 
I saw her lying right there on the floor.”
 
He motioned with his hand toward the base of the bed.
 
“I picked her up, put her in bed, and when I turned the light on, there she was, looking just the way you see her here: dark eyes, dark hair, red dress and all.
 
I thought Portia had dyed her hair, changed her eyes, and broke into my house as some sort of gag.
 
I didn’t even realize I was dreaming until later on, after Rose and I had been talking a while.”

“You mean you had a lucid dream?”

He looked at her.
 
“What’s that?”

“It’s like waking up inside a dream that’s still going on.
 
You know you’re dreaming, while you’re dreaming.”

“That’s exactly what it was.”

“Some people try to make themselves dream lucidly, feeling that if they know they’re dreaming they can take control of it.
 
Can you imagine it?
 
Being able to turn a nightmare into some more pleasant, or fly, or even make things appear out of thin air?
 
Of course, I’ve never heard of it working.
 
Still, it’s fascinating the way the mind can pluck something from the real world, in your case the woman in this painting, and make an entire story out of it.”
 
She moved off to the dresser and carefully placed the painting back on top.

“Yes well, nothing about it seemed made up to me.
 
It wasn’t hazy or ethereal in any way.
 
In fact, all Rose kept trying to do was convince me that it was actually happening, that all of it was real.”

Janice had resumed dusting the photographs in the gallery.
 
“Oh?
 
And how was she trying to do that?”

“By getting me to drink wine.”

“Wine.
 
That’s novel.
 
What was that supposed to prove?”

“She thought my tasting it would prove I wasn’t dreaming.”

“And did you?”

“
What,
taste it?”

“Yes.”

Jack shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Janice’s dusting slowed.
 
She then turned and looked over her shoulder.
 
“You did?”

“Yes, why
?.
”

“You do know that’s impossible, don’t you.
 
Your senses don’t work in a dream.
 
You can’t taste, smell,
even
feel pain.”

“Well apparently that’s not true because I’m pretty sure I tasted something.
 
Strangest part was when she slapped me.
 
It was so hard she could have dislodged a tooth.”

“And did you feel that too?”

“Oh,” Jack said, raising his eyebrows, “there’s no question about that.”

Janice peered at him, studying his face for a moment.
 
She made her way to him, put a hand to his chin, and nudged it left.
 
There, on his cheek, was what appeared to be the pinkish imprint of a woman’s hand.
 
She frowned, stupefied.
 
“What in heaven’s name went on in here last night, Jack?”

“Nothing,” Jack said uncertainly.

“Something.
 
There are marks on your face.”

Jack went to the mirror, looked up, and turned his head to the side.
 
Seeing them, he ran his hand over his cheek, marveling.

Noticing the wine glass, Janice had made her way to the wet bar.
 
She picked it up and sniffed inside, immediately catching the odor of wine.
 
“Is this the glass you drank from in your dream?”

Jack stared at it.
 
“Yes, I guess so.”

Janice grimaced.

“What is it?
 
What’s wrong?”

She hesitated, seemed about to speak,
then
hesitated again.

“What is it?” Jack repeated agitatedly.

“Nothing.
 
It’s just that…
well,
I’m not so sure you were dreaming last night.”

“Then… what was I doing?”

“Glimpsing.”

“What?”

“Glimpsing, Jack.”

“What’s… glimpsing?”

“It’s momentarily seeing the world that surrounds our own.”

“What world?”

“The invisible one.
 
The one we’re not normally permitted to see.”

Jack was shaking his head.
 
“What are you
saying,
that I saw a ghost?”

“Not exactly.
 
There are different forms of glimpsing, seeing a ghost or some other strange phenomenon is just one of them.”

“Then what kind of glimpsing was I doing?”

“The worst kind.
 
The kind where you not only see an entity, you physically interact with it.”

“What do you mean physically interact?”

“I mean you can touch the entity.” She paused.
 
“And more disturbingly, the entity can touch you back.”

Jack turned his head sideways at her.
 
“That’s what you think was going on in here last night: that I was being visited by some damned entity?”

“Yes.”

“I don't believe that.”

“What you believe means nothing. Look at your face.
 
Something very strange happened here last night.”

“You’re being ridiculous, Janice.
 
I’m sure there's a logical explanation for all of this.”

“Like?”

“Like… I don't know.
 
Maybe Gabrielle did it.”

“Did the two of you have a fight before you went to sleep?”

He shook his head.
 
“No.”

“Then obviously she had nothing to do with the marks on your face.”

“Maybe she did it accidentally, in her sleep.”

“She struck you hard enough to leave a mark and yet you didn't wake up from it?
 
I seriously doubt that, Jack.”

He looked up into the mirror, studying the pinkish bruise again.
 
“Why would I be glimpsing?” he asked sullenly.

"That's a very good question.
 
Glimpsing is an extremely rare phenomenon.
 
A person could live several lifetimes and never once have it happen to them.”

“Then why is it happening to me?”

“Because someone wants it to happen?”

Jack looked at her, puzzled.
 
“Who?”

“Portia, of course.”

“Portia?
 
Why would she want me to glimpse?”

“Isn’t it obvious?
 
Because she knows, Jack.”

"You mean about me and Gabrielle?”

“Yes.”

“She doesn't know," Jack said plainly.

"How can you be so sure?”

"Because I saw her.
 
Late last night she came here.
 
She wasn't angry or bitter about anything.
 
In fact, she gave me the painting as a gift for my birthday.
 
Does that sound like something she’d do if she knew I was having an affair with their best friend?"

"
Jack,
did it ever cross your mind that maybe Portia wanted you to have that painting."

"For what?"

"Because she knows it will cause you to glimpse.”

Jack glanced at the painting.
 
“That?
 
You think that’s what’s causing all of this?”

“Possibly.
 
I think Portia brought it to you because she knew it would bring Rose out.”

Jack chuckled.
 
“And what exactly is Rose supposed to do, kill me?”

"If Portia brought her here because she knows about you and Gabrielle, then you may have much more than that to fear.”

Jack gazed at Janice wordlessly for some time.
 
Finally he said:
 
 
"How do you know about glimpsing?
 
You've had one yourself?"

"Me?
 
No, never.
 
As I told you, it’s extremely rare.”

“Then how do you know it even exists.”

“I was told about it in great detail by a woman I knew some time ago.
 
Her name was Angela.
 
She was very special."

"Special how?
 
She had a glimpse."

"No, Angela didn't just have a glimpse.”
 
She paused.
 
“Angela glimpsed all the time."

Jack only stared.

"I know this is all very hard to believe.
 
I had trouble believing it myself, at first.
 
Angela had always been prone to seeing things.
 
Everyone, including myself, just passed them off as wild hallucinations.
 
But in the course of time, I came to realize that she wasn’t hallucinating at all.
 
The things she was seeing were real.”