Chapter 3
Home again, or: blind leading blind
Forest for the trees
The apartment smelled like wet wool, and looking at the puddle, I wondered how Sarah appeared again without tripping the motion detector. Not to mention why she arrived soaking wet on a dry evening. I felt like I was going insane. I thought of what Sarah might need at the hospital; Dry clothes, notebook, headphones, cell phone, and packed them in a canvas bag to bring with me. I was about to leave when, turning back, I flicked the switch for the ceiling fan. The last thing we needed was a home with musty carpeting. I paused again the second I stepped through the door, hurrying back inside to pull open the curtains in our living and bedroom, just in case I wasn’t home the next day. My responsibility for Sarah’s plants had returned.
Driving silently to the hospital, any relief at Sarah’s reappearance was eclipsed by the mystery of her entry. Where did she come from? Why did she collapse? Why was she drenched? Will she be okay?
I arrived at the welcome desk.
“I’m looking for Sarah Burnett,” I said, voice catching in my throat.
“Down this hallway and to your left there’s an elevator. Take that down one floor and check in with the ER nurse there.”
In the silent elevator I contemplated a myriad of potential complications. Upon finding and speaking to her spindly and pale doctor however, I was shocked to discover the cause of her collapse was merely dehydration. Looking at her in that white hospital bed, hair still damp with an IV in her arm, I thanked any God who would hear me.
“Oh Sarah, Oh Sarah how are you?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes.
“Emma,” she said quietly, “this time I remember where I went.”
“What?”
“I remember where I went! It was this great big meadow, with flowers from all over the world that could never possibly bloom at the same time or in the same place.”
“So you were at the conservatory?”
“No, not the conservatory. I was outside. They told me I needed to choose a path and I said I wanted the one with you at the end, I felt like I was running for miles and miles until I made it to our living room,” she rambled unintelligibly.
“Sarah what are you talking about?” I asked, glancing behind me to make sure the room was empty, fearing a 5150.
“Emma there is too much to explain here, but I promise that when we get home I will tell you everything.”
Unsatisfied, I agreed the conversation could wait and settled into the chair beside her bed. We were only there for a few hours, but it felt like days. I began hypothesizing that Sarah had been drugged, only for her tox screen to come back clean. My curiosity burned and, unable to sit still, I took to pacing the hallway and peering into other people’s lives. One patient was a middle-aged woman, hair graying, with a weeping gash across her forehead. She was surrounded by her very large family and very large husband. They were quiet, like they had been there for awhile. Behind another pale curtain was an older man trying to get out of bed. The nurse attempted to subdue him, but he seemed determined to get himself out of the hospital. I listened to his obscenities and hated to imagine feeling so powerless. All their lives made me sad, so I went back to Sarah’s bedside.
Sarah was watching a video essay about MKUltra on her cell phone when I sat next to her again. She turned it off, looked at me with her piercing eyes, and said, “I’m not crazy you know.”
“I know.” I said.
We got the go-ahead to return home, which we did in an uncharacteristically quiet drive. At the apartment I filled a cloudy glass with ice water and brought it to her side of the bed.
“Tell me everything, Sarah. From the beginning.” I said softly, beckoning her to sit next to me on the mattress.
“Okay, but only if you promise not to interrupt me. I know you’ll be tempted to,” she said with a hint of a smile, sitting weakly beside me.
“I promise.”
“So I woke up at a quarter to three, and felt the electricity buzzing around me again. The sound surrounded me, but seemed loudest outside the bedroom door. I followed the sound into the living room where, in the fireplace, I saw a great meadow with a million different flowers.”
“A meadow in the fireplace?” I couldn’t help myself.
“I told you no interrupting. I saw this beautiful meadow, with sunshine, and I could literally feel the breeze coming through the opening. So I got on my hands and knees and crawled out of the living room and into the soft grass, where I was greeted by a strange little rabbit who was much smaller than any bunny I’ve ever seen. And when I looked around I saw Montana wildflowers next to tropical ones, all growing in the same habitat. Even stranger was the moment I thought of you. As I imagined your face, I saw bluebells appear at my feet where there was only grass before—I picked them for you, did you get them?” She took a breath.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. They promised they would get them to you, so that you knew I was okay.”
“They?”
“Yes, I’ll get to them in a second. First I need to explain to you why I was gone so long. When I looked at the flowers I realized that I had been to this meadow many times before. My memories came flooding back to me, how in childhood I would go to the meadow on nights when home was particularly violent, and could see every choice in my life laid before me like trails through the forest at the edge of the meadow.”
“Like Robert Frost—” I started.
“I took the road less traveled by, exactly,” she finished. “Only this time I could see every single choice, laid out in a tangled mess, that brought me to where I am today. So, I wandered to the edge of the meadow to have a closer look at the trails, and I realized that some of the paths led to decisions and outcomes I never made, which made me consider the infinite number of possibilities for my life path alone. The moment I considered this thought, a million more trails opened up in my peripheral vision, and I began to feel an energetic pull towards certain worlds, certain decisions.”
“Sarah, what I’m hearing is that you had a vision of some sort,” I said, “but it doesn’t explain where you were for all of those missing hours. I need you to be serious with me because right now it sounds like you’ve been tripping on acid.”
“I am being serious. I know these things happened because how else could I have disappeared without a trace?” She said with the conviction of a madman.
“Okay, fair, but I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for all of this, like being kidnapped and drugged.”
“You heard the doctor, my toxicology report was clean of any substances.”
“Including your medication?”
“Well, I haven’t been perfect at taking it lately. But never mind that, I haven’t finished my story. After I began to feel this energetic pull towards different paths, I realized that if I left without you I might not ever see you again. The moment I thought of the possibility of us being separated forever, I looked back to see the portal to the living room fireplace close, and I knew instinctually that I had to find the right trail back to you. This is when they come in. I’ve never seen them, but when they are around I can hear them in my mind, like an extension of my own consciousness. They oriented me towards a small animal trail beside a creak, and told me to follow that until I reached the lake.”
“Is that why you’re all wet?” I asked, half joking.
“Precisely. I felt like I was running for miles across branches and stones and through clouds of gnats before I reached the lake. I had terrible cramps in my sides and could barely breathe by the time I looked at my reflection in the water. And I was about to scoop a handful of water into my mouth when I realized my reflection wasn’t mine, but yours. That’s when I fell in and showed up on the carpet.” She pointed through the doorway.
“Sarah baby, I love you so much, but I don’t know how you expect me to believe this.” I stood up to pace around our bedframe.
“It’s the truth, whether you believe me or not.” Sarah said icily, climbing under the covers. “I think it would be best if I rest for a while.”
I nodded silently, dutifully kissing her on the forehead while my insides churned in despair. I had not signed up for this when I fell in love with her. How was I supposed to live with a partner who was sick like this? What was I supposed to do?
I grabbed my keys and headed for the doorway, texting our mutual friend Bobby that I’d be to his place in 10 minutes. I was afraid to leave Sarah alone for fear of her disappearing again, but my concern for her was no greater than my concern for myself. I left anyway. The shame of my doubt hanging heavy on my shoulders.