disintegration

by Peter Naughton

It wasn’t so much shock as horrified fascination Heather felt as she watched the pinkie inching its way across her desk.

She glanced over at her right hand and sure enough the finger was missing, though there had been no blood or pain to mark its departure.  It had almost reached the edge before she scooped it up, quickly depositing the digit into a drawer and closing it before anyone noticed.

“Hey, I was going for a coffee run; want anything?”

Heather looked up and saw Jane leaning over her cubicle wall.

“Oh, um, no I’m good.  Thanks though.”

 Jane nodded and headed off down the hallway.

Heather wondered if Jane had seen her hand only to discover that the pinkie was back in its accustomed place.  She opened the desk drawer and confirmed that there was no severed finger wriggling around the interior.

“You’re just tired.”  Heather muttered to herself and regretted not accepting the offer for caffeine.

*****

She kept checking her hand throughout the day, fearing the pinkie would be gone again having squirmed its way to some far-flung corner of the office, but it remained in place next to the others.  By the end of work Heather was convinced it had simply been a synaptic misfire combined with lack of sleep that had caused the hallucination.

‘Home, dinner, bed.’  she thought while grabbing her coat and heading toward the elevator.

It was a cool autumn evening and she rolled down the windows to help keep herself awake on the drive back to her apartment.  Pulling into her assigned space in the parking lot she hadn’t noticed it at first but upon opening the car door saw a narrow tail sticking straight out, the only intact segment remaining from the body.  Heather carefully stepped over the tiny corpse, which had been reduced to a flattened mass of bones and fur, and went inside her unit to get a garbage bag and some disposable gloves.  There were always rats and mice scampering around by the trash, and she’d apparently run over one of the latter without even realizing it.  She grabbed a paint scraper she kept in the front-hall closet and used it to extricate the impacted remains from the blacktop.

“I’m really sorry little guy.”  Heather said as she put the plastic bag into the dumpster.

The idea of dinner suddenly seemed unappealing.

Instead, she went inside and got ready for bed hoping to recover some of the sleep she’d missed out on the previous evening.

Heather turned on the TV in her bedroom and watched episodes from a series she’d seen half a dozen times until her eyes grew heavy.

*****

The dining room was a miniature replica of the one from her childhood home including the upholstered high-back chairs and intricate filigree carved into the outer border of the oval walnut table.

On one end of the table sat the mouse, sporadic tufts of fur and splinters of bone jutting out from its mangled form as it sipped from a petite porcelain cup using a misshapen claw.  At the opposite end her pinkie was trying to poke its nail-tipped head through the handle of the teapot without much success.

The mouse put its cup down and poured for the finger, which flexed its knuckle in thanks before plunging headlong into the cup splashing the contents everywhere.

They both turned toward her and gestured to a third cup which she was sure hadn’t been there a moment ago.  Heather started to politely decline their offer, but her mouth was suddenly full.  She coughed and spluttered trying to clear her airway as fragments of bone and wads of fur came spilling out onto the floor.

Heather sat bolt up in bed hacking and wheezing and spat something into her fist.

She grabbed a tissue from her nightstand and cleaned up the mess, quickly throwing the kleenex into the trash before she had a chance to examine it.

*****

Sitting in the rear of the conference room Heather struggled to concentrate as one of her colleagues droned on about quarterly profits and year-end earnings projections.

She’d felt off since that morning.  Detached from the present like watching a projection of her life instead of existing in it.  Images from the dream kept flitting about inside her head and several times she’d forced herself to swallow just to ensure there was nothing lodged inside her throat. 

She reached back beneath her hair to scratch her left ear and felt only a smooth patch of skin against her fingertips.  Heather checked the other side of her head and was met with the same blank expanse instead of the round curve of cartilage that should’ve been there.  She mumbled something to the person next to her about feeling queasy and quickly made her way down the hall and over to the washroom. There was no one at the sinks and she crouched down and made sure the stalls were free of shoes before pulling her hair back.  It would’ve been difficult to place what was wrong had she not already known; I mean how often do people really stare at themselves in the mirror, especially as adults.  Perhaps more disturbing was that she didn’t feel their absence.  Two more pieces of the puzzle gone, and her body hadn’t reacted to the loss at all.

“Are you alright?”

Heather flinched and her hair fell back into place as she turned to see Jane poking her head in through the bathroom door.

“Huh?”

“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”  Jane said.  “You looked a bit pale when you left.”

“Just my stomach.  Probably something I ate at lunch.”

It suddenly occurred to Heather that she could still hear Jane despite currently having nothing on her head to listen with.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for an after-work drink, but if you’re not feeling well.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine now.  A drink sounds great.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, all taken care of.”  Heather said, wishing she hadn’t just implied that she’d either puked her guts out or had an explosive case of diarrhea.

“Okay, I mean, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

“Lead the way.”

*****

Heather nodded at Jane but couldn’t really make out what she was saying over the pulsing thrum of the music.

They’d hung out ever since Heather started at the company three years ago, going to movies, concerts, neighborhood food festivals, and comedy shows, but they’d only been to bars or clubs a handful of times.  The noise level was something Heather had never adjusted to and the aural assault, still happening sans ears last she’d checked, was giving her a nasty headache.

“I have to show you something.”  Heather bellowed.

“What’d you say?”

Heather took Jane by the hand and led her to the restroom.

When they entered there was a woman washing up and Heather waited until she left before pulling her hair back from the sides of her face.

“Can you see them?”

“See what?”

“My ears.”

Jane gave Heather a puzzled look.  “Uh, yeah dude, I can see them.”

“You’re sure?”

Jane put her hands on Heather’s shoulders and turned her around so that they were both facing the large rectangular mirror above the sinks.

“Here.”  Jane said, tracing the tip of her finger over the swooping curve and down to the lobe of Heather’s left ear. 

“And here.”  Jane repeated the gesture with the right ear.

“Just checking.”  Heather said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“You are a very odd duck my friend.”  Jane said, her hands still resting on Heather’s shoulders.

“Positively quackers.”  Heather said and started to tilt her face up towards Jane’s when a trio of women came through the door and made their way past them to the stalls.

“You want to go back to my place?”  Jane said.

 Heather nodded.

*****

When she opened her eyes the following morning, it took a moment to understand why the ceiling fan was the wrong color.

Heather turned her head to the side and saw Jane breathing softly beside her.

The entire evening felt as though she’d dreamt it, was probably still dreaming, and afraid to make any sudden movements that might wake herself.  She tentatively slid one leg from the bed to the floor and let it rest there awhile before finally swinging over the other and standing.  Pale sunlight streamed through the windows as she crept from the bedroom and carefully made her way across the living room and into the kitchen.

‘We have the same coffee maker.’  Heather thought as she opened the cabinet above the machine searching for grounds and a filter.

“Caught you red handed.”

Heather sheepishly turned around and saw Jane smiling at her from the hall.

“This is coming across as cute and thoughtful instead of intrusive and weird, right?”

 “You mean you weren’t rummaging through my stuff looking for valuables?”

“What, no, I—”

“Dude, seriously, I’m kidding.  Coffee stuff is on the right.”

“Gotcha.”  Heather said, resisting the urge to crawl underneath the couch in embarrassment.  She located the coffee, which turned out to be beans rather than grounds.  “Oh, I usually just get the pre-ground stuff.”

“I got this.  Why don’t you have a seat.”  Jane said, gesturing to a table and chairs in a little alcove off the kitchen.

“Guess I sorta blew the whole surprise breakfast idea.”

Jane walked over to the table.  “You absolutely didn’t.”  she said, leaning down to kiss Heather.  “And for the record; I’ve been surprised since last night.”

“Me too.”  Heather said and smiled.

Jane crossed back into the kitchen and got a hand-crank grinder from the cabinet.  “Be a bit before it’s ready.”

“That’s good, I mean, it’ll give me a chance to make myself presentable.”  Heather said and headed for the bathroom.

Jane chuckled to herself.  “Funny little ducky.”

Heather closed the door behind her and opened the medicine cabinet hoping for mouthwash but settling for a tube of toothpaste that she applied to her teeth and tongue as best she could using her finger.

It wasn’t until she swung the mirror back into place that she realized her right arm was missing.

*****

Heather had breakfast with Jane and then made an excuse about needing to run errands.  On the drive home she kept staring at the place where her shoulder should’ve been which now ended abruptly at her collar bone.

The arm still felt wholly present but wouldn’t respond properly to her commands like a phantom limb that didn’t recognize its former master.  She had the good fortune of being lefthanded, but steering was still difficult, and the strain was quickly making her remaining shoulder sore.

‘This could be a symptom of a brain tumor or some other cerebral malady.’

Instead of continuing home, she made a right turn and headed toward the hospital.

*****

“Can I help you?”  said a young man in gray scrubs sitting behind the reception desk.

Heather opened her mouth to explain and realized she couldn’t think of a way to do so that didn’t sound like a prank or that she was delusional.

“I’ve been feeling dizzy on and off all day.”

“Do you think you’re in danger of passing out?”

“No, I’m fine at the moment.”

The man handed Heather an electronic tablet.  “Go ahead and fill this out.  After you’ve finished, bring it back and the next available doctor will see you.”

“Thanks.”  Heather said and walked over to a row of molded plastic seats along the back wall of the waiting area.

It took nearly twenty minutes to enter in all of the personal and insurance info and another half hour before they finally called her name.  A tall woman wearing the same scrubs and a towering platinum blonde hairdo escorted her to an examination room.  The nurse proceeded to take her height, weight, and blood pressure, recording each on a paper form fastened to a metal clipboard.

‘No fancy tech for Mamie Van Doren.’  Heather thought and had to stifle a laugh.

The nurse glanced back at her but said nothing as she continued scribbling. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

Heather started to thank her, but the nurse was through the door before the words made it past her lips.  She still wasn’t sure what she was going to say to the doctor.  It was pretty unlikely that they’d order a CAT scan just for intermittent dizziness, but telling the truth still seemed like a terrifying proposition.  The only one who knew anything about it was Jane, and Heather hadn’t actually told her what was really going on.

She played back the scene in the bathroom of the club and every wonderful thing that had followed.

‘And what happens if she finds out the whole truth?  That you’re not just eccentric and quirky, but a full-blown hallucinating lunatic.’

Heather felt her stomach knot as she glanced over at the paper gown she was supposed to change into.

She surreptitiously checked the hallway to make sure no one was coming and then made a beeline for the front doors.

*****

Heather sat on her couch staring at the television without really seeing what was on it.

All she could think about was her missing arm while at the same time trying not to think about it for fear the attention might prevent it from reappearing like an observed pot of water refusing to boil.

The screen on her cell lit up and she had to put down the glass of iced tea she was holding before picking up the phone.

“Hey there stranger.”  Heather said.

“I know it’s been what, five hours?”  Jane said. 

“Six actually; not that I’ve been counting or anything.”

“So I was wondering if you were free for dinner tonight?”

“I’ll have to consult my overflowing social calendar, but I think I can squeeze you in.”

Jane chuckled.  “Pick you up around seven?”

“Sounds good.  Where are we going?”

“That’s a surprise.”

“Okay mysterio.  Can you at least tell me if I should wear something fancy or casual?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything low-key in my life.  Do you even own jeans?”

“That’s not true.  My outfit yesterday was casual.”

“It was a dress.”

“No, it was a skirt and a top.”

“They matched; that qualifies as a dress my friend.”

“Complimentary is not the same as matching, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Formal attire is not required.  Just wear something that’s easy to take off later.”

“Oh...um, sure....”

“I can feel you blushing through the phone.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You totally are.”

“Am not.”

“Alright then, snap a photo of your face and send it to me.”

“Fine.”  Heather said and put the phone down on the coffee table.  She swiped over to the camera app.  “Goddammit.”

“Ha!  I knew it!”

“Yeah, yeah, so I’m boringly predictable.”

“Nothing boring or predictable about last night.”

“Okay, my cheeks are seriously heating up.  You need to stop.”

“Only until I come over.”

Heather giggled and snorted.

“Oh, see, now who’s the juvenile?”  Jane said, laughing.

“I know you are, but what am I?”  Heather replied in a snotty, sing-song voice.

“You are my adorably fussy, lovely little ducky.  See you soon.”

Heather felt the warmth in her face slowly spread throughout the rest of her body.  She stared at the blank screen of her phone wishing that the next few hours would dissolve and evaporate so that she didn’t have to wait.

*****

As soon as Heather opened the door, Jane immediately burst out laughing.

“What?”  Heather said.

“Nothing, I’m just shocked and impressed.  Not only do you own jeans, but an honest-to-god t-shirt.”

“Well you weren’t very specific.”

“Hang on.”  Jane said, leaning in and squinting at the faded lettering on Heather’s shirt.  Pierogi Fest ‘97 – Whiting Indiana.  “That’s fucking perfect.”

“I’m changing.”  Heather said and started back toward the bedroom.

“Wait.”  Jane said, grabbing her by the wrist. 

She could feel Jane’s thumb pressing gently against her veins and when Heather looked back her right arm was suddenly there bridging the space between them.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have teased.  It’s just a side of you I hadn’t seen before.  And I’m wearing the same thing.”  Jane said, motioning to her own dark blue denim and red t-shirt that was partially covered by a cropped black leather jacket.

“Yeah, but you look good in everything.”

“Hey.”  Jane said, pulling Heather closer and planting a kiss on her forehead. “I think you look awesome.  Now let’s hit the road, Pierogi Queen.  I’ve got quite the evening planned for us.”

*****

They’d been driving for almost an hour, listening to the radio and comparing notes about the latest bullshit at work, when Jane pulled off the main road onto a side street that was pitch dark.

“This place have a ban on streetlights or something?”  Heather said.

“We’re in the boonies now, where they don’t care for your fancy, big-city lamp poles.”

“And you’re sure this is the right way?”

Jane glanced over and gave Heather a sly smile.  “Don’t you trust me?”

“Well I did until you just said that.”

“It’s just up ahead.”

All Heather saw in front of them was a whole lot of nothing, like they’d driven directly into a cosmic void.

“...and they were never seen again....”  Heather mumbled.

“I heard that.”

The car crested the top of a rise and over it was a structure not much bigger than a backyard shed glowing in the distance.

“Thar she blows!”  Jane said in her best pirate bellow.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you Ahab.”

“Yarrr forgiven.”     

Jane drove another half mile up the road and pulled into a gravel parking lot where a family was seated at a wooden picnic table.  Across from them a pair of teenagers were feeding each other fries from a square of waxed paper spread out on the hood of their car.

“This place has the best cheeseburgers in the entire state.”

“How did you even know it was out here?”

“I’ve done extensive burger research.  You know, for science.”

Heather chuckled.  “But of course.”

“They cook everything on a cast-iron griddle that’s over a century old and has the flavor of all the previous patties infused into it.”

“Let me guess, the secret ingredient is love.”            

“No, it’s lard.”

“Even better.”

Leaning against the trunk of the car, Heather took a bite of the burger and felt twin rivulets of grease escape from the corners of her mouth.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you.  They’re kinda messy.”  Jane said.

“Totally worth it.  You weren’t kidding, this is incredible.”

 “Here.”  Jane said and handed Heather a napkin.

“Thanks.”  Heather said and glanced down at the sea of crushed white stones while she dabbed at her face.

“You act all shy but remember who lured who into the bathroom.  Seriously, that might’ve been the strangest pickup line in human history.”

“…it wasn’t a line….”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s been...happening to me....”  Heather said, placing her burger back in the paper bag.  “I don’t really know how to explain it.”

 “Hey.”  Jane said, putting down her own burger and taking Heather’s hand.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

She squeezed Jane’s hand and began to tell her about the pinkie. 

*****

By the time Heather finished her story they were the only two left in the parking lot with even the employees having left for the night.

“Have you seen a doctor about this?”  Jane said.

“I went to the hospital but left before they had a chance to check me out.”

“Why?”

“I was afraid of what they’d find; or worse, that they wouldn’t find anything.”

“How would that be worse?”

“Because it would mean that this is all in my head.”

“Even if that’s true, none of this is your fault.”

“I know it’s just...why did this have to happen now, right when something really good….”

Heather trailed off and looked down at her shoes as tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

“I’m gonna go ahead and be vain by assuming you’re talking about us.”

“At least I waited until our official first date to let you know that I was cuckoo for cocoa puffs.” 

“Hate to break it to you, but I figured that out after you confessed to loving candy corn at the office Halloween party.”

Heather let out a phlegmy chuckle.  “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it isn’t why I despise candy corn, because I feel like that should be self-evident.”

“Did you know how I felt about you?”

Jane shook her head.  “I mean I hoped, secretly pining away and all that sappy shit, but I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship and risk losing you.  And then last night happened.”

Heather looked up with watery eyes.  “Still not too late to bail.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  We’ll figure this out together.”

“Okay, but no matter what the diagnosis is, I’m still not changing my mind about candy corn.”

“After all this is over, I’ll buy you as many of those nasty, waxy triangles as you want.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Heather reached over and put her arms around Jane and they stayed that way for a long time, foreheads resting against one another as they nestled together in the cool night air.  

  *****

Jane went with her for the CT and MRI, but Heather insisted she was fine going by herself to talk to the doctor about the results.  She wasn’t sure they’d even let Jane in since they weren’t related or married.  More than that though, she didn’t want Jane to feel further obligated.  Heather was afraid of becoming this constant source of need and the strain it might put on their relationship.

There was also a part of her that didn’t want Jane present because of what they might say.

The facility they’d referred her to for the imaging scans was far nicer than her regular hospital.  Instead of chipped paint and industrial tile, the walls here were adorned with dark wood panels and the floor was covered in a pleasant mossy green carpeting.  Even the chair she was sitting in waiting for the doctor to arrive was upholstered in a plush, burnt orange material that felt like animal fur, though she assumed it was some kind of synthetic.

Behind her a door opened and a tall, slender woman with shoulder-length, auburn hair wearing a charcoal, tweed jacket and slacks entered and closed the door behind her.

“Hi, I’m doctor Marsden.”  the woman said. 

“Nice to meet you.”  Heather said, unsure whether to stand and shake or remain seated.

“I apologize for the results of your tests taking so long, but we like to be as thorough as possible when analyzing scans.”

“So what did you find?”

“There’s nothing on any of the imaging to indicate a tumor or other growth, and the cerebral tissue all appears normal and healthy.”

Heather nodded.  “Good...that’s good.”

“You don’t sound particularly relieved.”

“No, I am, it’s just….”

“You were hoping for an explanation.”

“And hopefully a solution.”

“Given the description of your experiences, I can certainly understand your concern.”

“This whole thing started completely out of the blue.  No headaches, blurred vision, or other symptoms aside from body parts vanishing like some nightmare magic trick.”

Doctor Marsden leafed through a sheaf of papers in a manilla folder and scanned over one of the pages. 

“During your intake interview you said that the parts of you that disappear don’t actually feel gone.”

“Yeah, it’s more like they’re hiding and waiting for me to find them.”

“You’ve already had a standard vision screening, but I’m going to write a referral for some additional tests at our facility.”

“You think it’s my eyes?”

“That’s unlikely in my opinion, but we need to rule it out.  It also says that you were prescribed Zoloft several years ago.  Are you currently taking it?”

“Off and on, mostly for anxiety.”

“Were you feeling anxious when these episodes occurred?”

“This is starting to seem like a therapy session.”

“I’m just trying to gather as much data as possible to aid in your diagnosis.”

“Does that include sending me to a psychologist?”

“Possibly, if I believe it’ll lend insight into your condition.”

“You think this is all in my head too, huh?”

“I think that your psychological and emotional state might play a part in what you’re experiencing, and we have to take it into consideration along with everything else.  Does that make sense?”

Heather nodded.

“Then we need to keep searching on how to get you better.”

*****

The eye exam revealed no abnormalities and Dr. Marsden scheduled Heather to come in for another series of tests the following week.  They’d needed to dilate her eyes at the ophthalmologist and Jane offered to drive her, but Heather demurred and took a rideshare so they wouldn’t both have to take off work again.  She and Jane hadn’t let anyone at the office know about their relationship yet.  There wasn’t a policy against coworkers dating, but the watercooler gossip and knowing glances would be an inevitable annoyance, so they were keeping it to themselves for the time being.

Her eyes wouldn’t be back to normal for a few hours and watching television on the couch was a bit of a trippy experience, though she mostly had it on for background noise.  She hadn’t slept well the night before and could feel her eyelids drooping as a pair of fuzzy-edged figures from a syndicated sitcom bickered about which movie to go see.

A laugh-track echoed in her ears as she slowly drifted from consciousness.

*****

Her pinkie and the mouse had returned, but this time they were seated at an octagonal table topped with green felt where they were playing some sort of card game, though Heather couldn’t tell what it was because the markings on the cards were so miniscule.  As she observed them, they suddenly stopped and started to turn in her direction, so she quickly slipped into the shadows before bones or fur could come spilling out from between her lips.  Wandering around in the gloom, Heather eventually emerged at another table, this one a square of pale scarred wood upon which two large masculine arms were locked together in a barroom style wrestling competition.  Muscles flexed and veins pulsed on the sweaty disembodied limbs as each battled for supremacy over the other.

Heather tried to see if either of them was missing a pinkie, but they wouldn’t hold still long enough for her to inspect them.  She stepped back into the surrounding darkness searching for a way out but instead found Jane standing in a cone of golden light.

She started to approach her but stopped when she realized Jane was holding something.

It was Heather’s decapitated head.

Jane swept the hair back from the sides with a look of consternation as she groped around for the missing ears, her confusion slowly transforming into a scowl.

There was a splintering sound as she pressed her palms into the cheeks, squeezing until the face collapsed in on itself and fell to pieces at her feet.

She looked up at the other Heather standing in the shadows and smiled.

*****

“Unfortunately, the latest round of tests didn’t give us much new information.”  Dr. Marsden said.  “Apart from slightly elevated cortisol levels and blood pressure, which often spikes for people during medical appointments, everything else appears normal.  How has your overall anxiety been lately?”

“I honestly don’t feel nervous most of the time.”  Heather said.

“People who regularly experience anxiety often become inured to its presence.  I don’t think you need to be on blood pressure medication, but I am recommending that you stay consistent with the Zoloft.”

“Really?  I usually only take it when I need to.”

“That may be part of the problem.  We need to see if being on a daily dosage helps alleviate things for you.  Have you had any more waking hallucinations?”

“No, but I’ve dreamt about it.”

Dr. Marden nodded and jotted the information down on a legal pad.  “Have you ever heard of Body Integrity Identity Disorder?”

Heather shook her head.

“BIID is a condition where a person desires the amputation of limbs or other body parts despite there being no medical necessity.”

“Why would someone want to do that?”

“It’s a neurological disorder, though the specific root cause has never been clearly identified.”

“This isn’t some secret fetish or fantasy of mine that I’m refusing to acknowledge, and I sure as hell don’t want my body parts removed.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I just don’t understand why my brain suddenly decided to go rogue for no reason?”

“What you’re going through is frustrating and frightening, but I promise that everything we’re doing is part of the process to try and figure out the best way to help you.”

Heather sighed.  “So what’s next?”

“I want you to go in for a sleep study.”

“Like for apnea?”

“That’s only one of the reasons for the study.  In your case I want to test for hypnogogic hallucinations, which are essentially dreams that occur during a state that’s somewhere between waking and sleeping.”

“Would I have to stay overnight for that?”

“People generally do, since the study takes several hours to complete, and nighttime is usually more conducive to typical sleeping patterns.”

“Makes sense.”

“I don’t want you to worry about this, it’s just—”

“Part of the process.”

“Precisely.  We don’t have facilities to perform the study at the hospital, but you can set up an appointment for a nearby clinic at our reception desk.”

*****

“No arguing this time.  I’m dropping you off and picking you up when it’s over.”  Jane said.

“You really don’t have to.”

“Ah, ah, ah, what did I just say?”

“Alright, alright, I give, you can drive me.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m kinda nervous.  You ever done anything like this?”

“When I was a kid I had to do a test for epilepsy.  They strapped me to a table that tilted me upside down while simultaneously giving me a drug that made me nauseous.”

“Jesus, that sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun, but at least it turned out I wasn’t epileptic.”

“Pretty sure all I have to do is sleep.”

“Lack of puking is always a bonus.”

“I just hope I’ll be able to fall asleep in that place.”

“I’m sure you will eventually.  That’s probably why the test takes so long.”

“Maybe they’ll finally figure out what the hell is the matter with my faulty mess of a head.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with your head.”

“I guess I can’t help feeling a little ridiculous that this might all be caused by anxiety, or stress, or some other mundane bullshit.  I mean what in my life is so dire compared to people with real problems?”

“Everyone has different things they have to deal with.  It isn’t a competition and needing help doesn’t make you defective or weak.”

“...I honestly don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this without you, and I just wanted to say that I...um...you know...I....”

“I love you too.”

*****

A young woman in a white lab coat led Heather to a room that contained only a bed and a rolling table with a rectangular box on top of it.  The device had a forest of wires sprouting from its front with circular sensors attached to the opposite ends.

“Go ahead and lie down.”

Heather sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off her slippers, then hoisted her legs up onto the mattress. 

“I’m going to attach these leads to various points on your body.”  the medical technician said.  “They might feel a little cold at first.”

“Those the things that monitor my dreams?”

“They monitor brain activity, heart rate, eye movement, oxygen levels, and airflow, along with a few other things.”

“But no dream recorder.”

The technician chuckled as she affixed sensors to Heather’s temples and forehead.  “Afraid we’re not quite there yet.”

Heather smiled and wondered what the hospital staff would think if they witnessed her body parts pull a David Copperfield while she slept.

The technician finished applying the sensors and switched off the lights.  “If you need to use the washroom, just press the button next to the bed and someone will be in to assist you.”

“Thank you.”

“Sleep well.”

*****

The pedestals resembled roman columns, spaced several feet apart from one another and lit from above by that same golden glow that had illuminated Jane.

Each pedestal held a different part of her along with a printed card.

Heather approached the first display titled Left Foot and saw that the toes had the same blue sparkle polish on them that she’d applied earlier in the week.

It was followed by Right Foot, Left Calf, Right Calf, and Left Thigh.

When she arrived at Lower Torso, Heather paused.

There was a crescent shaped scar the width of a fingernail beneath her bellybutton that she’d all but forgotten about.

She was eight years old playing at the beach for the first time.  In the midst of digging a hole so she could bury herself in the sand, a jagged sliver of seashell had sliced into her stomach.  The cut was small but deep, the blood flowing out of it darker than anything she’d seen before.  It had frightened her.  Discovering that she was vulnerable in a way she hadn’t understood until that moment.

Heather continued past the pedestals for her hands, forearms, biceps, and shoulders, and on to her head, which had also been separated into its component parts.

Left Ear, Right Ear, Lower Jaw, Upper Jaw, Left Cheek, Right Cheek, Nose, Forehead.

She stopped again at the display containing her eyes, which had been placed together rather than on separate pillars.

The irises were similar but contained tiny variations in color and pattern.

Heather heard Jane’s voice emanating from somewhere above her.

“Poor little ducky.  All gone to pieces.”

There was a sudden jarring sensation and when Heather opened her eyes, she saw the technician standing over her gently shaking her awake.

*****

“How ya doing?”  Jane said when the car was stopped at a traffic light.

“A bit groggy, but otherwise fine.”

“Were you able to sleep?”

“Yeah, but I still feel really tired.”

“Not sure how anyone could get proper rest hooked up to all that stuff.”

“Just hope they got something useful from it.”

Jane pulled into the parking lot of Heather’s apartment complex.

“Thanks again for driving me.”  Heather said.  “Think I’m gonna crash for a few hours.  Wanna come back around eight and we can watch a movie?”

“Sounds good.”

“Alright then.”  Heather said and grabbed her bag from the backseat.  She closed the passenger side door and started across the lot toward her unit, but then turned around and trotted over to the driver’s side of the car.

“Forget something?”  Jane said.

“Yeah.”  Heather said and leaned in to kiss her.  “Love you.”

Jane grinned.  “Love you back Ducky.”

Heather returned the smile and tried not to let her expression slip as images of the pedestals flashed inside her head.

*****

The front door of the building was propped open by a resident moving furniture into or out of their place, Jane wasn’t quite sure which.

She walked up the short flight of steps and knocked on Heather’s door, but no one answered.

Jane texted and then called her phone, but it went straight to voicemail. 

‘Maybe she’s still asleep and her battery died.’

She called again and was about to leave a message when she decided to try the knob and was surprised to find it unlocked.

“Heather?”  Jane said as she stepped into the apartment. 

The temperature in the unit was almost as cold as it had been outside, and the window at the far end of the living room was wide open, the curtains rippling in the breeze.

“Heather where are you?” 

She crossed through the living room and checked the spare bedroom and the bathroom, but they were both empty. 

There was light coming from the main bedroom at the end of the hall and Jane saw the lamp on the nightstand glowing as she entered.  The sliding glass door to the balcony was open and beyond it she saw Heather holding her knees against her chest as she shivered.

“…Heather?”  Jane said, but she seemed not to notice.

She was muttering something that Jane couldn’t make out until she was standing next to her.

“I’m still here.  I’m still here.  I’m still here.  I’m still here.  I’m still here.”

*****

After the incident on the balcony Heather took some time off work and with the help of Dr. Marsden found a facility that specialized in rare neurological disorders.  The in-patient program lasted three weeks and didn’t allow visitors, but Heather and Jane spoke every day while she was away.

During the program they tried various drug combinations to combat the hallucinations as well as cognitive behavioral therapy that helped Heather talk herself through the delusions when they occurred.  Over time the episodes diminished until they didn’t feel like much more than odd little daydreams that popped up every now and again.

Throughout her treatment and rehabilitation Jane had been a constant source of encouragement and support, and Heather knew how loved and how lucky she was.

Which is why she didn’t say anything when the new symptoms began.

The last thing Heather wanted was to be the cause of more worry.

She smiled and nodded along with everyone as Jane gave her presentation to the art department in the conference room.  The slide deck moved from one image to the next, a gray plastic remote hovering in the air as if held aloft by some enchantment.

At least that’s what it looked like from Heather’s perspective.

In front of the screen was a lone left leg in a black leather boot that vanished into nothing just above the knee.

Photo of Peter Naughton

BIO: Peter first fell into fiction penning stories to amuse his grammar-school classmates, which helped him overcome his shyness, but resulted in very few completed homework assignments.

He is an avid fan of horror movies, especially those with a sense of humor, food served from carts and roadside shacks, and the songs of The Ramones, The Replacements, and other bands of like-minded misfits who found a way to connect with the world through their music and their words.

He was raised and currently resides in the Chicagoland suburbs with his wife and cats and his writing has appeared in various online and print publications. You can find out more about Peter and his writing at: http://ravenpen.wixsite.com/authorsite