Comatose for three months, her accident left her out of sorts. Nothing was quite the same since her waking. Her ex-husband, Chip, left her, and her confusion and disorganization worsened. The hardest part of the breakup was moving back in with her mother, who paid little attention to her. Nancy struggled — being enlightened in unusual ways. Despite these challenges, she was able to keep up appearances.
I guess I’ll go into the lobby, then. I’m fifteen minutes early. I’m sure they’ll send someone to greet me soon.
She sat down in a chair just inside as a lesser-known song from The Police came through a speaker. She studied the room, noting nothing but dust, a small container of unopened window cleaning solution, and a yellow squeegee bucket — ever-apparent reflections that no one cared. The clock on the wall remained stuck on 1:23 — its second hand ticking, yet never moving forward. As she settled in, the lobby remained empty. Feelings of anxiety crept up upon her.
Maybe I’m here on the wrong day… or I’m here at the wrong time. No. Wait, is this even the right address?
Nancy pulled out the loose-leaf paper folder assembled with the interview details, recalling the strange phone call with Chris Wilkerson the previous day.
Yes. Correct place. Correct time. That’s a relief.
Minutes ticked away. Still, no one appeared to greet or welcome her. A ringing startled her as it chirped behind the receptionist station. She walked over and answered it.
“Hello. Creepy Nights lobby, this is Nancy.”
“Oh, good. It’s Chris Wilkerson. Glad you made it... Monday-Friday, 10AM-6:30PM. We’ll be in touch. Welcome to the team.”
Nancy picked at her teeth as she replied, “Wait, you’re not going to interview me?”
“Na… I have too many other things to do. I’ll touch base with you when time permits. Five an hour sound okay?”
That’s a pleasant surprise. My last job paid $3.35.
“Absolutely!”
“Good. Well, get busy. Tidy up down there. There’s a filing cabinet full of stuff to organize. I have a few house rules that I’ll have you post throughout the facility. They’ve been here longer than you or me. Make the lobby your own. Make it homey. I’m good with whatever you decide. After all, that’s part of what I’ll be paying you for. There’s a kitchen around the corner from the reception. Help yourself to a drink anytime. I’ll call in a lunch order for you to pick up soon.”
“Sounds good,” Nancy said. She sat down at the cluttered desk as a smile overtook her.
“By the way, I don’t have anyone taking calls yet. I’ll start recruiting soon. If we get anything, just get their information and tell them we’ll call them back. I’ve got to go. Talk soon. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I’m finally going to get a routine and make some money again. Two months of interviewing, and then this materializes in moments. It’s too good to be true, she thought.
Nancy peered around the room as she acclimated to her surroundings. Other than a few misplaced calendars and forgettable taxidermy, she had many opportunities to bring the lobby to life.
So much to improve upon, but mountains of potential, and plenty to keep me busy. I can move out of mom’s. Thank God. Job security!
The phone rang.
It must be Wilkerson.
“So, what’ll it be for lunch, boss?”
The voice on the line crackled through the phone, “Huh? I want a story. Transfer me to option one, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have anyone available right now to help. Can I get a callback number? We’ll get someone in touch with you.”
“334-7812… My name’s John.”
Nancy prepped to hang up the phone. ”Okay. Thanks, John.”
The line went dead.
Oh… no. Not again. Should have gone on the medicine, Nancy. It might have helped.
Nancy went catatonic as she had another of her spells. Memories misfired and jumbled up in a tangled up mess as she struggled to remember the difference between her dreams and realities. Despite an unexplained familiarity, the distant past was overwhelming. Memories poured into her like they were her own as her body and mind waged an unbeatable war against her. Her date of awakening, just like the rest, was October 29th, 1982.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
TODD ADAMS exited Riverton Financial, walking a few blocks toward the Bridgewater Restaurant. He glanced at the aged hotel building as the flickering purple of the Creepy Nights sign glowed in
the evening sky.
Lorrie, you are some kind of saint looking down on me now, aren’t you? he thought. What is that atrocity?
He stepped into the restaurant.
“Good evening, sir. It’s been a while,” the host welcomed.
“Evening, I’ll take a seat at the bar. Dining alone tonight.”
“Very good, follow me this way. Take a menu.”
Todd took a seat, studying the back bar and its multicolored smorgasbord of paths to inebriation. An attractive woman sat to his right. She smiled at him, and he returned a grin.
Who’s this foxy lady?
“Hi there. I’m Todd.”
He extended his hand to introduce himself. She held on, lingering longer than he expected. Her perfume was strong and southern, her voice — silky and smooth.
“My name’s Katrina.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Katrina.”
“Likewise, Todd. Charm me, please? I’m having a rough day.”
Todd rubbed his chin and contemplated, ”Hmm… Where do I start? You look beautiful tonight. That’s not a pickup line. I mean it.”
There’s a diamond ring on her finger. Don’t do it, Todd. You’re trying to be a better man, remember?
“That’s good — an impressive start. First round’s on me,” she said.
“I’m uh… not sure about this conversation anymore. Married?”
Katrina’s eyes squinted. “And if I am? What’s it to you?”
“I’m trying to get my life in order. Vice isn’t something I need to explore anymore.”
“Why are you sitting at a bar next to an attractive woman, then?”
“That’s what the voice in my head just asked me. Are you two acquainted?”
“It’s very likely. Mine sure is screaming loud about you, handsome.”
Todd struggled to hide a smile. It had been a rough recovery, and Katrina was a breath of fresh air.
“Well, I’m not one to just waste time with chitchat,” he
