“Yup. My brother Noah calls it my wife.”
“Your wife? Why?”
“Because I named her Joanna, and I take good care of her. He says it’s because she eats up half my paycheck.”
She giggled. “Okay. Well, nice to meet you, Joanna.” As they approached the passenger’s side, she realized how talking to an inanimate object might also make her look like a crazy person—and he’d already caught her talking to, what…a dead guy? Maybe someone who stepped in front of a bus many years ago… She still wasn’t sure what was going on. Could two old ladies be punking her?
He just smiled, dug the key fob out of his pocket, and opened the door for her.
She settled herself on the comfortable leather seat and looked around. His car was indeed in pristine condition. It didn’t have that new car smell, but it looked as if it could have.
He jumped into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the driveway. “Where to?”
“I work at the mall in Somerville. I thought I already said so.”
He drove in the general direction of the expressway, but stayed quiet for a few moments. At last, he asked, “Mallory, are you sure you should be going to work?”
She reared back and stared at him. What was he saying? And did she want to know? “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
He glanced over at her. “It’s just that… Well, you… I mean…”
“Just say it, Dante. You think I’m nuts.”
“No, not nuts. I wouldn’t put it that way, but maybe…I don’t know, stressed?”
“Nope. I’m an artist, and having a creative outlet decreases stress. To pay the bills, I take professional portraits at the mall. Kids’ photos mostly. But I like kids, so that’s not very stressful either.”
“Please don’t be offended, but…are you on drugs?”
She burst out laughing. “No. Are you?”
He sighed. “Of course not. Maybe you should think about seeing someone for an evaluation though.”
“Like who?”
“Like a doctor. I mean, you’re not stressed and not on drugs, so why were you hallucinating? Doesn’t that concern you?”
She cringed. “A lot of artists aren’t wrapped too tight, but this has never happened to me before. I’m as confused as you are.”
“Except for the two other times those ladies saw you.”
She took a deep breath. How many times had this happened? If shehadbeen hallucinating, how would she know? What if she was seeing ghosts and couldn’t tell them from real people? That baffled her. She felt like that poor little kid in theSixth Sensemovie.
She remembered that one time the cops came when she was having an argument with someone panhandling. He kept following her and wouldn’t listen when she told him to back off. The cops acted like she was the only one responsible. When she got through explaining her side of the story, the beggar was gone. But the cops weren’t. One of them tried to take her to his cruiser until she wrenched her arm free and ran down the alley and around to the back of a laundromat.
Oh…and then that other thing happened. She had somehow been able to run up a drainpipe, which clearly shouldn’t have held her weight—not that she was heavy. And when she saw herself in a puddle on the roof, she saw a monkey. Just for a second. Then the puddle blurred, and she saw her own face and long blonde hair again. Maybe shewaslosing her mind.
“Mallory, please let me take you to the ER for a quick evaluation,” he was saying. “You can call in sick or say you’re running late.”
“But what if they lock me up?”
Dante looked right at her. “Are you planning to harm yourself or anyone else?”
“Of course not!”
“Then they can’t hospitalize you against your will.”
At this point, she thought a professional opinion might be a good idea. She let out a deep sigh. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Take me to Boston General.”
