Across Carina (4 page)

“On what?”

“Socrates said, ‘The unexamined life is not worth living.’ Perhaps you will overcome your fears and guilt if you examine your own life, look inward.”

She scratched through something on her notepad and then looked up at me, twisting her lips to suppress a smile.

“Let’s talk about your relationships,” she said.

“You mean talk about boys?” I asked.

“Yes. Tell me about the last boy you dated. Or just tell me about the last boy that you liked.”

“Is this relevant?”

“You’d be surprised.”

I sighed. If I could stand an hour of this twice a week, I’d deserve a medal.

Reluctantly, I talked even more about Justin, as he was the only boy I’d ever consistently liked and the only one I’d come close to dating.

Unless one counted my first kiss, which had been thrust upon me during a crowded showing of
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
.

In the middle of the movie theater, packed between our friends, Lucas Elmer had read me a passionate poem that was far beyond our comprehension and then kissed me right on the mouth. He’d said he loved me, and I, being fourteen, had said, “You too,” and then avoided him the rest of the school year. For a time, I had also stopped reading poetry and watching Christmas movies.

I relayed this story to Doctor Pine even though I couldn’t fathom how it would help. She asked me if Christmas movies caused me anxiety, and I replied that they did. Then she asked what else caused me anxiety, and I described the floating. She said it was likely the anxiety that caused the floating and not the other way around, but that together we would get it under control. I briefly considered telling her about the three shadows that I had seen, but decided against it. I didn’t want to end up in a spiritual discussion with this woman—or in the psych ward of the hospital.

After our session I walked outside to look for my mother, but she wasn’t there. Since she and my dad were paying for my sessions, they wanted to ensure that I actually attended them. Therefore, I wasn’t allowed to drive myself.

I called my mother on my cell phone. She said there had been an accident on the interstate and that she would be there in half an hour. I knew that meant an hour.

I walked back into Doctor Pine’s house. She had already started her next session, so her door was closed. I sat on the couch in the waiting room and looked around. The room felt too small for the house. There wasn’t much to do except critique the chaotic décor.

I snatched a magazine off the coffee table and began to flip through it, starting from the back. It was how I always read. It made me feel like I was reading faster than I was.

Halfway through the magazine I paused to look at an emerald green dress. It was my favorite color. I adored its empire waist and tie in the back, but abhorred its high square neckline.

After studying the dress for a few minutes, I started to turn the page, but then a part of the dress floated off it. It was a glossy green spot, the width of a dime, and it moved with my eyes. It was like seeing the first bit of light at the end of a tunnel, but never getting closer to it.

I looked to the left and to the right, then down at my feet and back up again. The spot stayed with me, even adjusting its speed to match my own. It reminded me of those ameba-looking floaters that people see in the air. Garrett and I had used to complain about them after spending too long in the sun.

For a moment, I kept my head very still. I focused on the green spot until my eyes crossed. The spot curved and drifted away from me, no longer in my line of sight. I stood up and followed it into the bathroom.

The spot circled in front of the linen closet, buzzing for me to open it. As I turned the doorknob, I asked myself if I’d unwittingly taken more Ambien. No, I couldn’t have. My parents had hidden the bottle, or more likely thrown it out.

Down the spot flew, past the shelves to the floor of the closet, landing on a stack of towels. It buzzed again, pulsing with light, and then disappeared behind the stack. Green sparks exploded into the air and cascaded like a miniature firework. I crouched down, watching the embers sink into the carpet, and moved the towels out of the way.

There was a door. I had found another door. And it was barely tall enough for me to crawl through.

I knew she was crazy.

I looked behind me. The waiting room was empty.

What could she possibly be hiding?

I chewed on my thumbnail, deliberating, still crouched.

If I was going to be forced to meet with Doctor Pine, I deserved to know what she was hiding. And that was all there was to it.

I closed the bathroom door and moved to my hands and knees. Holding my breath, I opened the little door. All I could see was shallow darkness. I stretched out my hand and hit what felt like another door, but I couldn’t find the doorknob.

So I crawled through the first door, now squeezed between the two. I reached high in the air, trying to see if I could stand up without hitting my head. Several inches above me I found the doorknob of the second door. I stood up and opened it.

I found myself at the end of a long hallway. It was narrow and enclosed in light gray walls. Hidden light filtered through the ceiling, wrapping the air in a soft glow. The floor was glass and showed a steady stream of water rushing beneath me to the other end of the hallway, where it disappeared behind a door. The floor imperceptibly sloped down, which created a natural path for the water . . . and for my feet.

It seemed that I had started to walk toward the door. I considered turning back—the hallway was more than I had bargained for, and Doctor Pine could have been worse than crazy—she could have been a killer luring me into her torture chamber—but then I heard a whisper.

“Jade.”

I froze. The voice had been so quiet that I couldn’t tell if it had been male or female. But it sounded like it had come from the other side of the door at the end of the hallway.

Against my liking, I was beginning to think that the paranormal—whatever that encompassed—did exist. Either that or I was mad, and I had never liked thinking of myself as mad.

“Jade,” came the voice again.

I swallowed.

I have to know.

I continued down the hallway, passing through the third door. And then I stood in awe at the room before me.

Now I understood why Doctor Pine’s house was so large. Her patients only saw her cluttered waiting room and office, but in this room the walls were marble and the ceiling two stories high. The glass floor ended just ahead of me and jutted over a square pool that the water flowed into. The room had three separate areas, each accessible only by swimming—one on either side of the pool and one behind it.

The area to my right was laced with thick white carpet showcasing several beanbags and a futon. Pillows were scattered across the floor in a rainbow. Looking at them, I desired to go over and lie down, as if entranced.

Seating was scarcer in the area to my left, where a white leather couch sat adjacent to an easel and some buckets of paint. One of the buckets was open, and I caught a glimpse of its emerald green insides.

The back of the room intrigued me the most. Something that resembled a board game was on the floor, encircled by candles, none of which were lit. A pen and a pad of paper were beside the game.

I wondered how much time had passed. The only way for me to see the back of the room was to swim across the pool, investigate it, and swim right back, and I couldn’t let my mother see me in wet clothes.

On the ledge of the glass floor, I mulled over my options. I noticed that the door I’d come through had a lock, so I locked it. That would give me a few extra minutes if I got caught. But certainly Doctor Pine was with her client, and she supposedly lived alone.

Supposedly.

I retrieved a ponytail holder from my pocket and tied my hair into the tightest bun that I could without a mirror. Then I undressed and left my clothes in a pile at the door. At the ledge, I dipped my foot in the water, and it was warm and inviting. And as with the temperature, I could feel my interest in the back of the room begin to increase.

I had discovered Doctor Pine’s haven, and it looked nothing like the rest of her house. It didn’t make any sense. Surely she knew of this room’s existence. It couldn’t be uncharted territory. No, Doctor Pine had built this room—but for what purpose I didn’t know.

The pool was about five feet deep, because I stood five feet four and the water would have come halfway up my face if I’d let it. I pushed off the wall and swam to the other side of the pool, keeping my head above water so that I wouldn’t get noticeably wet.

Out of the pool, I walked to the circle of candles. It felt odd to be naked in the retreat of a stranger, but my curiosity was insatiable.

As I neared the board game, I realized that it was no game; it was a Ouija board. My shoulders dropped. So my therapist was one of those new age goons.

I’d only had one prior encounter with a Ouija board. It had been at a sleepover when I was younger. One of the girls had brought one that she’d stolen from the top of her older sister’s closet. Infused with eerie excitement, the girls had asked if William liked them and if they would make the cheerleading squad the following year. I’d watched intently from the corner and later joined in for an equally frenzying game of light as a feather, stiff as a board. But our naïveté had never provoked—or, to my recollection, invoked—any spirits.

If spirits even exist.

If they did, I wondered how they differed from the shadows or if they were all the same. My family believed in spirits and a god. I was starting to consider those things—that much was certain—but accepting a god’s existence didn’t mean that I had to like him. In any case, I still lacked proof.

I stared at the board, water dripping down my naked arms and legs. Each of the letters was capital and lined in black. There were also three words—
YES
,
NO
, and
GOODBYE
. I found it curious that there wasn’t a
HELLO
.

“Is my name Jade?” I asked.

I waited a moment, but nothing happened.

I realized that this process, if even legitimate, might take a few minutes, so I made myself comfortable on the floor.

“Is my name Jade?” I repeated.

I waited longer this time, but still nothing happened.

As I considered resigning, a cat appeared out of thin air, sauntering up to the board. It caught me so off guard that I almost screamed.

My first thought was that the cat had been hiding behind one of the chairs or pillows, but that would have meant it had swam across the pool to reach me. I had never known a cat that liked water. However, I had also never owned a cat. I despised them.

The cat, which was the ugliest creature I’d ever seen, curled up beside the board and peered at me. It was hairless, with a skeletal frame and pointed ears.

“Get,” I ordered, but the cat ignored me. “Creep.”

I returned my attention to the Ouija board. Its idleness was upsetting. I remembered the planchette moving at that sleepover. I closed my eyes to recapture the scene, with all the girls chatty and eager around the board, shoving their hands in front of each other so they could move the planchette.

Oh, right. My hands are supposed to be moving.

I would try again. This time I rested my hands on the planchette.

“Is my name Jade?” I asked.

The planchette slowly moved to the word
YES
.

Easy enough. The board had a fifty percent chance of being correct. I would test it a second time.

“What am I looking at?” I asked.

I was staring at the hairless monster.

As the planchette grazed over to the letter
C
, I felt goose bumps on my arms. I tried to keep my hands light on the planchette to avoid moving it myself. The planchette then shifted to the letters
A
and
T
.

I decided not to ask any more questions; my mother would be arriving soon.

“I’m leaving,” I told the board, but I forgot to take my hands off the planchette.

It replied quickly this time:
A S K  A N O T H E R  Q U E S T I O N.

“I
said
I’m leaving.”

A S K
, the board insisted.

“No!” I said.

How dare this board try to tell me what to do.

I stood up, about to leave, and the planchette coasted to the word
NO
. That time, I hadn’t been touching anything.

“This is boring,” I muttered, hoping to eclipse my alarm.

I sat back down and moved the planchette from letter to letter to receive the board’s retort:
I  D O N T  L I K E  Y O U
.

Without further hesitation or thinking, I dove into the pool and swam back across. I tried to shake off all the water, but I had submerged myself and now had wet hair. It would have to stay in a bun.

After redressing, I scanned the room to ensure that everything was in its proper place. I unlocked and opened the door and dashed down the hallway through the next door. Then I bent down and wriggled through the little door that led to the linen closet.

So many doors!

I pushed the pile of towels back in their place and slammed the closet door, vowing never to see Doctor Pine or her house again.

The moment I stepped into the waiting room, my cell phone rang, and my mother said she was in the driveway. I ran outside and heaved myself into the car, breathing hard. I buckled my seatbelt and waited.

My mother narrowed her eyes at me.

“Was your session in tents, honey?” she asked, pulling out of Doctor Pine’s driveway.

“No, it was in her house,” I said, confused by the question.

In the side mirror I watched as the multitude of lights, wood carvings, and wind chimes faded from view.

“
Intense
,” my mother repeated, craning her neck at me. “What are you looking at?”