ANASTAAASIAAA!
I take the stairs three at a time. I burst into our room and she's sitting on the bed, looking shocked. I lunge myself at her so hard it's practically a tackle. We're lying on the bed, I'm hugging her, completely encircling her.
"You're alive, you're alive, you're alive! ohmygod You're alive!" I say over and over as I rock her back and forth, reveling in the precious solidity of her body. I can smell her hair, I can feel her skin, I can hear her breathing. She's real; she's not dead. She's really here.
"Christian! Of course I'm alive! Why would you think otherwise?" Her voice is muffled since I'm pressing her head tightly against my chest. After a few more minutes I'm finally feeling calm enough to ease the tightness with which I'm clinging to her. I move so that I can see her face, her beautiful, beautiful face. Right now, I am such a jumble of emotions – love, relief, fright. I'm slowly recovering from the horror that I thought had happened.
"Christian, what's this all about?" She pulls back and looks at me with concern.
What do I tell her? That I'm hearing dominant chords, feeling drafts of cold air, seeing and hearing ghosts? That I saw a woman who looked like her, she evaporated and left me thinking the love of my life was dead? Shit, I don't know if I can even tell Flynn all this.
"I, I must have had a nightmare," I stutter. It's all I can come up with at the moment and it sounds lame even to me.
"You were screaming at the top of your lungs and you came bursting into the room. Are you sleepwalking now, too?"
"I've been having vivid nightmares the last couple nights. So vivid I had to get up and check the house. Just now I thought something happened to you. Ana, I was so scared!" I pull her back towards me and hug her tightly again.
My fear has finally abated and the adrenalin rush I had transforms into erotic energy. I'm consumed by a desperate need to be in her, to feel her surround me. I start kissing her lightly on her face, little feather kisses all over, hoping she'll respond. It takes a minute but then she does. Yes! Pretty soon we're in full coupling mode. It's swift and sweet and, as always, it's over too soon. We finish our night's sleep wrapped around each other.
When morning arrives I don't even bother reviewing the tapes or asking Gail about the keyboard. I'm pretty sure what the answers will be; instead, I text Taylor asking him to check the video and let me know if anything unusual shows up.
When I'm not in meetings or on the phone I spend the rest of the morning thinking about what I'm going to say to Flynn at my appointment this afternoon. If someone else told me what I'm going to tell him I'd write that person off as certifiably nuts, or at the very least, seriously disturbed. Several times this morning I think about cancelling the appointment, at one point going so far as to dial his number but when it starts to ring I hang up.
Zero hour arrives and I'm sitting in the familiar chair in his office.
"So, Christian, what brings you here? It sounded rather urgent when I talked with you yesterday."
"John, I'm having hallucinations." There. It's out in the open. No going back at this point.
"I see. What kind of hallucinations?" Damn. Sometimes the man's unflappability can be so irritating.
"First, let me ask you. How much do you know about music and music theory?"
"Well, like many young boys, I played guitar. Even had a band in my youth, what people here would call a garage band, although home garages are almost nonexistent in urban London. Why do you ask?"
"Then you know what a dominant chord is, right?"
"Of course, and augmented sevenths, and diminished fifths. I assume there's a point to this."
I proceed to pour out the events of the last two days to him. Everything. Piano notes in the night, voices, visions of Ana, everything, including my irritability. When I'm done, it actually feels good, like a mental vomiting.
He finishes making notes and looks up at me. "So, what do you think this means?"
And I. just. lose it. "WHAT THE FUCK DO I THINK IT MEANS?! IS THAT ALL YOU GOT? THE FUCK I THINK IT MEANS!? WHAT THE FUCK AM I PAYING YOU FOR, YOU FUCKIN' QUACK!" I jump up from my chair and go over to the "break box." There's a crystal goblet there; I pick it up and smash it to the floor. (On my first visit with Flynn, after I destroyed his Theodore Alexander office chair, I was to only select items from the "break box" if I needed to smash something. I did pay for a new chair, though.)
He continues as if nothing's happened. "These events all carry some sort of significance for you. You're sure the two notes are middle C and the G above?"
"I have perfect pitch, John. I know which notes I heard. And I told you, the dominant interval is of special significance for me."
I calm down and we proceed to explore the meaning of everything. The apparition and voice could be an ex-sub or or Ana or my mother in her teenage years, maybe even Elena with her true hair color. I was shocked and upset when she was killed in that murder-suicide with Linc shortly after our wedding, but somehow that just doesn't fit.
The notes seem a little more obvious but we discuss them at great length as well. We even talk about the times of occurrence. In the end, I'm left with more questions than answers.
"How are you and Anastasia getting along these days?" he asks.
"Fine," I reply, "we have the usual ups and downs like I suppose any married couple with a baby would have. We're trying for another one."
He raises his eyes at this, which is the most reaction I've gotten out of him since I've been here. "Wonderful! Whose idea was this?"
"Actually, I was the one who brought it up," (internal smirk here) "and she readily agreed."
"Very good. I hope it works out for you. What I'll tell you at this point is if these things happen again, face them head on, just like you've already been doing. You might want to start journaling these events, including what happened during the previous day, your emotional state, etc. If it continues to interfere with your sleep pattern, I can write you a prescription for a sleeping aid."
"I don't think that'll be necessary," I quickly reply. I abhor drugs, even prescription drugs, and avoid them almost to a point of phobia.
"All right, then. If you feel the need for another urgent session, I'm sure you'll call me. Otherwise I'll see you at our next scheduled visit."
"Thanks, John."
I'm feeling somewhat better after my visit and I suspect this is mainly due to unloading all this crazy shit on him and his calm reaction to it. I don't think we've come to any solution to the problem, if indeed there is one, but it's amazing how much it helps to verbalize to someone.
Back at the office, I continue to handle the usual corporate matters; the only bump in the afternoon is a call from Ana informing me of another late night, although she doesn't think this one will be as late as last night. I ask if I should hold dinner for her but she says no, she'll be ordering dinner for the staff and eating while they work.
So when I get home in the evening, I decide to eat while I do some work. Gail brings dinner to my office and Teddy crawls around and plays on the floor. I have the child gate in the doorway so I don't have to worry about him wandering off.
After about an hour of reviewing contracts and spreadsheets, I've had it, so I pick up my son and head over to the music room. Let's see if anything happens while I'm actually in there. I put Teddy in his bouncy seat and sit down to play. He's in my line of vision so while I'm going through the music I keep an eye on him. Sure enough, after a few pieces, I can see he's getting restless. I pick him up and take him back to the piano with me, sitting him on my lap. We've played together a few times and he just bangs his hands flat on the keys.
This time, though, it's different. He looks at the keyboard, almost as if he's deliberating. As I watch, he takes his chubby little index finger and presses two keys in succession.
Middle C, G.
It's taking all of my self-control not to run screaming from the room with my son in my arms. In fact, I want to run screaming from this house. I don't do that, though. Instead, I take a very deep breath and say to him, "Wow, Teddy! That's good! You'll be playing Mozart in no time!"
He looks up at me, says "Daaa!" and smiles his awesome little boy smile; I'm instantly calmed. Checking my watch, I see that it's past his bedtime, so we go upstairs to the nursery. Just like last night, I bathe him, put on his jammies, and sing to him. He falls asleep and I tuck him in his crib.
Baby monitor in hand, I turn out the light and leave his room. I'm not at all sleepy and I don't feel like doing any more work but I'd like to play the piano some more so I head back to the music room.
Christian
I stop halfway down the stairs. I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them, I slowly look around to see if maybe Anastasia, Gail, or even my mom is around but no, I'm all alone. I take out my iPhone and call Ana. She picks up on the second ring.
"Christian, what's up?"
"Nothing, baby, I just needed to hear your voice. How much longer you think you'll be?"
"At least a couple more hours. We've got a deadline and this author's being a real prima donna about the edits."
"Well, your guys miss you. I'll wait up for you. Love you, baby."
"Love you, too. I'll try to hurry this along as much as I can. I miss you too!"
Like Teddy's smile, my wife's voice is a soothing balm for my soul. Whatever's going on, I can handle it as long as I have her.
Back at the piano, I need music I can take out my frustrations on and decide on Khachaturian's Toccata. It's a wonderfully percussive piece that's just right for my current frame of mind. I play it over and over until I've had enough and then one more time for good measure.
A glass of wine seems like a good idea so I close the keyboard. I'll wait for Ana upstairs, maybe do some reading on the love seat in the bedroom. I turn out the music room lights and leave the room.
Christian, he's alive.
Once again, I stop dead in my tracks, close my eyes, and count to ten. When I open them, I look around. The hallway is empty but when I turn into the music room, she's there, standing between the window and the piano like before. I close my eyes again but when I open them she's still there. The room is still dark but in the light from the window I can make out the same features as before, the long dark hair, petite body. I can't see her face, I can't see any details of what she's wearing.
"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT" I scream as I turn on the lights.
She's gone.
I slowly sink to the floor and put my hands over my face. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening! THIS IS NOT HAPPENING!