It was a weird night, but I’m inspired. A new perspective won’t hurt. The fifty-four fast ball pelts scared the hell out of me, though.
The loneliness he felt was eerie, leaving him unsure if it was the silence, the isolation, or the emotional toll of the day that wore upon him.
Daybreak arrived, and Chris walked several blocks toward RGH.
Katrina, let’s see how you’re doing.
When he arrived at the nurse’s station, Nurse Rickle’s eyes lit up.
“Chris, you’ve got to hurry down the hall. She’s awake! We were calling you all night, but the line just kept ringing.”
“Wow. Yeah, I didn’t make it home. Stayed at a hotel down the street.”
Maybe there was something to last night. I never expected that.
As Chris strolled past other hospital rooms, a man moved back and forth in the hallway, relearning the mechanics of walking.
Nurse Rickle stopped and spoke to the man, “Keep up the excellent work, Todd. Dr. Hicks will have my hide for letting you out of bed so soon, but your progress is remarkable.”
“Thanks,” he said.
“Who could have imagined it?” Nurse Rickle said. “This guy was in just as bad a shape as Katrina, and he’s already walking overnight. I suspect she’ll be right behind him. Don’t ask me why… It’s just a feeling I have.”
Chris came around the corner and looked at Katrina. He gazed into her eyes, and a chill ran down his spine. It seemed impossible that a person’s soul could alter their appearance. The woman he gazed upon was only a shell of Katrina. Something had changed.
“Chris!”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Weeks passed by, and CHRIS WILKERSON was ready for adjustments. He and Katrina sat on the ground floor of their townhome apartment. Her eyes glimmered with an unrecognizable perkiness while she recounted her latest dreamy experience. Reclining in one of the plaid printed easy chairs; he watched her mouth move but missed the words.
I’m ready to hear myself think again. Day after day, she goes on and on about another life, and I can’t stand it anymore. How many hours are we going to waste talking about her eccentric and excitable dreams? I used to think I was too much that way. It’s like I’m dealing with a different person, now. Talking about the things like they were realities. Vivid visions of the roaring 20s and stacks of cash. I’m sick of it.
“Chris, you didn’t hear a thing I said, did you?”
“Of course I did. You were telling me all about the grandiose 1920s. I hate to break it to you, but we’re not living in a world of Gatsby. The Reinhold legacy is nothing to sneeze at, though. This is an enjoyable life.”
“No. I was telling you to call me ‘Sylvia.’ Sylvia Greenwich.”
What the…?
“What did you say?”
“I said, call me Sylvia Greenwich, darlin’. You’ve got your own selfish agenda, don’t you?” She chuckled and placed her arm around Chris as she kissed the top of his head.
Who are you? This can’t be real.
Chris stood up, proceeding to the front door. He called out to Katrina, “I can’t have this conversation right now. I need some fresh air.”
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be waitin’.”
She grinned at Chris. The eyes of Sylvia Greenwich looked back at him through her.
He dashed several blocks from their downtown townhome, making a beeline toward The Oak Hollow Hotel, the new home for Creepy Nights.
Dear God, help me. I’m too young to be losing it.
He raced toward the lobby as a record player played A Flock of Seagulls tune.
“What do I do?” Chris yelled. “I don’t understand. How did I end up in this situation?”
The Shadow emerged and said, “You got yourself into this, Chris. It’s only fair that you pay up. You know what to do with her.”
Chris hurled a rock from one of the lobby fountains at the record player, and the ambient music stopped upon impact.
Swirls of thoughts raced within.
What am I supposed to do with this? Some unexplained figure is giving me marching orders now. No matter what I do, I’m screwed.
The passing seconds seemed endless.
I shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee.
The Shadow spoke again, “You know what? This land has much to offer you… if you’ll let it.”
Beads of sweat streamed down the sides of Chris’s temples as his heart pulsated faster.
Call the undertaker now. My mind has checked out of Riverton. I can’t handle this anymore.
He ran outside. Katrina stood there waiting.
What do I say? Crap.
“What were you doing in there?” she said. “You can’t just run off on me like that and not expect consequences.”
“Katrina, what else can I do? All this talk of the roaring 20s… and now Sylvia Greenwich. It’s making me feel like I’m the one who’s cuckoo.”
“Cuckoo?” she said. “What are you trying to say about me? What is this? Are you hiding something from me? You got a fling on the side going on?”
Chris struggled to reply to the barrage of questions, pivoting toward misdirection, “You know good and well what it is. Get in there and see for yourself, Sylvia! They’ve got medications for identity crises like you’re facing. I think it’s time we get you some help, honey.”
Gazing into her eyes, he realized it was no longer Sylvia he yelled at, but Katrina. Her tears welled up.
“What are you trying to do to me? You know my recovery will take some time,” she said. “What were you messing around with while I was away… or who were you messing around with? Is there something else you want to talk to me about?”
“I don’t know anymore,” Chris said. He ran his hand down the wall of the building as the hair on his arms stood up.
“You better shoot straight with me, or we’re done. I don’t have to put up with this. You know how well off mother is…. was.”
“You know what? I think it’s best if we take some time apart,” Chris remarked.
Katrina scoffed, cocking her fist back. “So, you are hiding something from me, then? What’s
