back to sanity

adult fiction - a short story

back to sanity

©️Dr Clare Anne McGrory

The feeling of thick tar sliding down one’s throat, the heat suffocating, the smell nauseating. I tried again to take a deep breath, but it was no use. The sensation was here to stay.

“Cassie,” said Sharon. “Are you ok?”

That question mostly snapped me out of it. Here I was, back in our power coffee meeting at Starbuck’s. Present in the moment. I put the coffee cup back down on the table. My favourite order. I wouldn’t be having a second sip.

“Is something wrong with your coffee?” asked Dan. “If there is, I’ll go up there for you and sort it out. I ain’t shy about things like that as some folks seem to be.”

“No, the coffee’s fine,” I said.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” asked Julie, never the diplomat. “That was my cousin Pauline’s first symptom you know; she couldn’t stomach her coffee.”

“No, I’m definitely not pregnant,” I said emphatically. Everybody calm down.

“So, our client … ” began Dan steering our conversation back to the topic of work. It went on like that for about half an hour before it was time to head back to the office. I looked at the queue for the restroom at Starbucks, longer than the coffee queue. I decided I would just have to hold it until I got back to our office facilities if I didn’t want to stay here until lunchtime.

My shoes were fashionable, and beautiful, Italian piazza as the sun sets beautiful, but walking in them was a killer. Julie had complemented me on them first thing this morning, so I felt I had to live up to something. Had to make it look like I felt natural in them. I worried that at any second I would be asking them to help me up from the floor, but I ploughed on, I figured I could at least last the day in them. I had my sneakers in my bag for catching the subway home.

“So, did you have a busy weekend?” Julie was asking me, but I was almost too busy concentrating on trying to ‘stride’ in my shoes to string an answer together.

“Weekend?” I said. “Oh yes, great weekend. And you?”

Of course, she started telling me all about her weekend. I didn’t listen. I found the expression “hmmm” said with the right inflections throughout our interaction kept her happy enough.

Holding on in the elevator was much harder than I had anticipated. I was standing close to Dan. Too close perhaps, I could see the beads of sweat run down his neck and disappear under his shirt collar. But why did I feel like I was being stabbed through the urethra?

            Reaching the restroom in time was a relief at least. I hoped that the day could only get better from here on. As I was walking back out to my cubicle, my work crush Darren came walking in my direction. His eyes were soft and brown, to me always looking like they needed someone to show them love. Usually I would feel butterflies in the pit of my stomach as he drew closer to me on his way to walk past, but not today. Today was different. Sharp and piercing pains rushing through my skull, and for a fraction of a second everything looked bright and white, afterwards I could see nothing for the briefest moment of time. I crashed into Darren. I had bumped him with my shoulder, but for some reason only the pain in my head was intensified by it.

“Are you alright Cassie?” he asked gently.

            How stupid I must look.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me there. A migraine or something.”

“Oh, those are awful things,” he said. “Take it easy, won’t you?”

“Yes, I will. Thanks, and sorry again.” The pain still bursting through my brain.

I intended to ask Julie if she had anything strong for a killer headache when I got back to my desk, but by the time I did, it had vanished. Blissful again.

I sat down and busied myself until lunchtime.

I felt like a salad from a deli a few blocks away, but I didn’t feel up to walking it in my new shoes. I decided to grab a sandwich from the shop right below our block instead. It was bustling as always. The woman in front of me was deep in conversation with a man who looked like one of her work colleagues. She was dressed in the finest of clothing I noticed, her hair artfully blow dried and styled.

“It’s a beautiful traditional brownstone. This is our first week in the new place,” she was saying.

I was nearing the front of the queue now.

Then it began. I only had a few seconds of warning. A tingling in my right leg, like pins and needles, then suddenly it just seemed to give way beneath me.

Sticky hand prints were the least of their worries today because the glass display cabinet caught me and saved me from ending up in a heap on the tiled floor. It wasn’t terribly lady-like, but at least it wasn’t painful. Someone to my right assisted me kindly.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

The woman to my left walked out with her perfect hair bouncing behind her, and the feeling suddenly returned to my leg.

“Yes, I’m quite alright. Thank you so much. I think these heels are just little too high for me.” What else could I say?

My face was getting redder by the second, and if it weren’t for the thought of the long walk for me to get food anywhere else, I would have left by now out of pure embarrassment. I stuck it out, I was next in line anyway. The assistant who served me my sandwich thoughtfully enquired whether I was ok. I told her the same thing: “I’m fine.” But am I?

I started eating my sandwich as soon as I left the shop. The Dijon mustard they used gave it a distinctly cultural feel. If a sandwich can have such a thing that is. The French can make anything seem that way. I thought about what I had on after lunch. Just one meeting to get through, other than that I only had to finish writing up some reports which should be ok.

The meeting time came around at 3pm. It was in a fish-bowl like room that the team leader Greg seemed to love. In fact, he seemed to love the entire building. I sometimes wondered if he stayed in his office to the small hours of the morning when deadlines were coming up. Anyone else would take the work home, but not him.

I was one of the last ones to enter the meeting room so I got stuck with sitting next to the boss. It meant yawns could never be covered up, and one’s expression had to give the impression of being what I always call ‘engaged’ the whole time. I sat down and put my best game face on, focused and intent, but with the slightest hint of a smile to show I was looking forward to Greg’s presentation.

He began, talking as he did in his slow drawn out Southern accent, and at first I felt that things were going pretty well. I made good eye contact with him a few times, he threw some approving nods my way in return but then the itching came upon me. It was as if my entire body were covered in tiny ants all dancing together at once, and a feeling of warmth came over me. Stifling warmth. I began using my note pad as a fan which caused a few raised eye brows around the table. I realised that it wasn’t even that hot out, but so quickly the temperature I perceived in that room became too much too take.

I was getting eye contact from Greg again, but this time it wasn’t so approving.

“Would you excuse me please for a moment,” I said. “I just need a glass of water.”

I had to get out of that room. The water excuse was reasonable I thought, but overall I wasn’t impressing. I could see some of the staff watch me through the glass as I went through the motions of getting myself the little drink. Truthfully, I just felt so relieved. But I knew I had to get back in there. I had to psych myself up to approach the door and push it open. I forced myself to take one step after the other to walk through. I felt less uncomfortable now thankfully, and even more mercifully Greg didn’t keep us long today.

The end of the working day was far more welcome than it usually was. I saw Darren and most of the others leave before me. I just had one report left to finish. Once I had finished it, I slipped out of the heels, to much relief, and put on my sneakers. Maybe this will mark the beginning of a better phase in my day in more ways than one. The comfort.

I made my way to Macy’s. I needed to buy new underwear and they have a good selection. As I joined the masses on the sidewalk, I suddenly was overcome by a strong urge to run. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t. I wasn’t ready to be carted off somewhere at this point in my life, so I fought. But with each step I took, the harder it got. Like the reverse of the feelings towards the end of running a marathon. I just wanted to speed up. Finally I reached the doorway of the department store. I paused for a moment there, at the side letting people pass me. I felt safe there for a moment. There’s no other way to explain it.

My subway ride home to Brooklyn seemed largely uneventful; I was so relieved. The oddest thing I saw was a woman dressed in what looked like attire from the early 1900s. Maybe she was in a play or something, or just eccentric? She was sitting next to a young man who looked like he had just finished his day at the office too. In long anticipation of her stop, she got up and stood by the door. The young man got up after her, but he did the strangest thing: he just walked right in front of her to get off first. How rude. She said nothing.

When I exited the subway near to my apartment block, I did give in to the urge to have a slight sprint. It was the only way I felt secure. There weren’t so many people around to see me anyway.

I could feel my whole body was trembling softly as I reached the door of my apartment. I hurried to unlock the door, though strangely when I got inside and closed it hard and fast, I felt crushed. It was like my whole body was squeezing itself. Deep breathing being the only tool I had, I tried it. It didn’t do much, well at first anyway, but after a few minutes the feeling subsided. I finally walked into my bedroom and let my bag slip off of my shoulders.

I was home alone tonight; my housemate Anna was staying over with her new boyfriend in upper Manhattan. I couldn’t decide if that were a good or a bad thing. If I was slowly descending into some sort of madness, would it be best to be alone so that no-one else had to suffer me? Or could good company help to keep me grounded?

I didn’t usually drink mid-week, but I made an exception. I carefully slid a lime around the brim of a large glass then softly dusted it with salt. I fixed up some sugar and water, poured it in, then added a decent splash of tequila. The tightness I was feeling washed away for a short while. But then it started to return.

I had drunk enough.

I decided to run a hot bath to relax instead.

It felt forever waiting on the bath to fill up. I switched on the tv for company while I waited. So many re-reruns, and the news, the ever-depressing news. Even when they said “Let’s make America great again,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they meant within my lifetime or not.

I was glad when my bath was full. I rushed to take off my office clothes and left them on a heap on the bathroom floor as I climbed into the tub. I dipped in one foot first, watching how the water became displaced a little at first, and then how the whole body of it moved as I slid my body fully inside, enveloped in the warmth. But I wasn’t as relaxed as I should have been. I soaked for as long as I possibly could anyway, until my fingers had turned to prunes and the water was beginning to chill.

I got out sloppily splashing water onto my heap of clothes, they weren’t fresh now anyway. I remembered to clear them away into my laundry basket; Anna gets real upset if I forget to do things like that.

I changed into the softest pair of pyjamas I could find, and wasted some more time watching repeats on tv. Eventually I decided it was time to try to settle down to catch some sleep. I hoped to make a better impression in work the next day than I had done today. I switched off the tv.

I turned off all of the lights in the apartment and cocooned myself into my duvet, pulling it up high against my chin. But then it got worse, that dull tight feeling had always been there, but it got stronger, and then the squeezing sensation again. It was like having a strong pair of arms around you, but not ones that meant to protect or soothe. Ones that meant to trap.

I couldn’t take being alone any more. I jumped out of my bed and put on some casual clothes. I called a cab. It arrived within ten minutes.

“I’m going to upper Manhattan,” I told the driver. I gave him Anna’s boyfriend Carl’s address and we began making our way there.

I looked out at the peaceful streets, bathed in darkness and free from the crowds. We reached Carl’s side of town in good time; I tipped the driver well.

I told the door man which apartment was his, and he buzzed up for me. They agreed to let me in at this late hour thankfully. I went up to his in the plush elevator. There was such a contrast between here and my side of town.

Anna opened the door to me when I arrived. She was dressed in one of Carl’s casual shirts. When will my life become a cliché?

“I’m so sorry for showing up like this,” I said as she brought me inside. “I didn’t know where else to go, I’ve had a really bad day and it just keeps getting worse. It’s starting again, something else now, I feel like I’m shaking.”

“That’s not just you,” said Anna. “I feel like I’m shaking as well. Wait it’s getting more intense.”

We looked around in fear as the room began to sway.

It was hard to estimate how long it lasted for. At least two, but perhaps as long as three minutes. It had finally happened, that overdue earthquake had hit.

For me, after the big quake, the unpleasant sensations all stopped. I found out what happened to my apartment: it came down like a house of cards. If I had been there, I would have been crushed as some of our neighbors tragically were.

I also found out what happened to a few of the people I worked with. Some of us were lucky, some weren’t. It seemed that Greg really did stay practically all night in the office at times, because he was still there when it happened. The building stood, but fire burned him badly. He survived though.

I found out that Dan was safe in hospital. I went to visit him, he had quite a few broken bones but was bearing up ok except for the discomfort he said he had from the stent that was in.

We didn’t know yet what happened to the others from around our office floor except for Darren. Darren was dead from a crushing blow to the head. The butterflies flew away.