4

The following morning I woke up with the feeling that I had been both a fool and a slut. I was relieved to reach work and attempt to return to my usual routine. It made no sense, yet no matter how much effort I put in, I could not get Mr. Tall and Dark out of my head. He was merely a phase, I kept trying to persuade myself, nothing more than a simple mistake. While I was at work, that reasoning held up, but the nights were a completely different matter.

Once I was alone at home, I caught myself longing for his touch and his scent. I never laundered the outfit I had worn that night, and I was pleasantly surprised that his smell appeared to still cling to the fabric. Each night repeated the one before: smell my clothes from 'the night', masturbate as though there were no tomorrow, swallow 2 sleeping pills, and then pass out.

More than once I had gotten dressed intending to return to Luna Ferus and check whether Mr. Tall and Dark would turn up again. I was simply too chicken to go through with it. Nothing appeared to eliminate the nagging frustration; I felt like a rat running on a wheel.

By Thursday my dissatisfaction had peaked, and I began the obsession the moment I got home, then added a bottle of red wine. The last thing I recall from Thursday night was conversing with the wing back chair in the family room that had belonged to my grandmother. She would sit in it and talk with me for hours about anything at all. Talking to it about why I was losing my mind made me feel slightly better.

Friday morning I woke up in my bed to the beeping of my alarm. I could not even recall setting it. I made my way out toward the kitchen and froze.

I certainly had no memory of buying a large bowl of fruit for the counter or the flowers placed in the middle of the table. I spun around toward the kitchen door and inspected the alarm pad. The light remained a steady red. That indicated the alarm had been set, or so I believed. When I pushed open the kitchen door, the blaring shriek confirmed it was active.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I disarmed the alarm and gazed at the fresh items that had appeared in my kitchen. A rap on the kitchen door nearly made me jump out of my skin.

Through the small window, at eye level, I saw a man standing outside, flashing a badge. His navy uniform stretched across a well-built, muscular body. I cracked the door open with hesitation and simply looked at him.

"Police, ma'am. Are you all right? I heard the alarm sounding. Has anything occurred?" he inquired, his eyes darting across the kitchen before returning to me.

"No, I opened the door and the alarm was going and ..." I let the sentence trail off.

How could I possibly explain to a total stranger that I'd discovered fruit and flowers inside my home that morning? I'd come across as some lunatic woman.

I chose instead to just stare at him briefly. He kept peering past me into the kitchen, then asked softly, "May I step inside, ma'am. Just to confirm you're all right."

Since I couldn't come up with a decent reply to that, I simply opened the door. He slipped inside fast and looked around the kitchen. I closed the door while he walked out of my kitchen and headed down the hallway. I was gazing at the flowers when he appeared to pop up again behind me.

"Lovely flowers," he remarked.

I clutched the counter and jumped, since I hadn't noticed him re-enter the kitchen.

"Yes, lovely," I forced out with a choke. All at once it hit me, and I asked, "What brings you here? How did you find out my alarm went off?"

With a very roguish grin he answered, "Just in the area, ma'am," as he left my kitchen and headed back to his car that was waiting.

I had no idea what to do with the fruit. It seemed lovely, yet consuming something you only just discovered in your home strikes me as a poor choice. That's the moment I recalled the sleeping pills. They had to be the cause!

Such pills have been linked to wild episodes of sleepwalking and driving while asleep. The alcohol on top of it must have been the last straw for me. I must have gone out shopping during the night while asleep! Well, I'm done with those pills.

Feeling a little less insane, I chewed on a juicy pear and thought about how much I enjoyed fruit. I truly ought to make an effort to keep some at home. That made me burst out laughing. Everyone knows me as the microwave dinner expert, yet here I am with fresh fruit sitting in the house, hah!

When I opened the fridge, I was completely stunned. It was filled with fresh meat and fresh vegetables. I rummaged through the plenty and came across eggs, bacon and fresh bread. My usual milk and mustard hadn't gone anywhere, though they'd been moved to the door instead of taking center stage as they normally did. I tried to figure out where, at that hour of the night, I could have done all this shopping.

Still, I wasn't about to let the bounty go to waste. Eggs and bacon are things I can definitely cook, so that's what I did. It was amazing. I had even picked up sandwich meat and cheese, so I put together lunch for later. What would my coworkers think when I skipped the local deli for lunch!

I had squandered a great deal of time on unimportant things that morning, so I got ready in a rush. I quickly pulled on a blue sweater and a tailored pair of black slacks. Fortunately, my black clogs were right where I'd left them in the laundry room. I drove to work like a woman possessed. On the bright side, nobody stopped me this time.

The clinic was even more chaotic than usual. By the time I reached my last patient of the morning, I felt somewhat distracted and hurried.

"Saul, I'm Dr. Grant," I said as I opened the door to the room.

The lanky man seated within gave me a smile and dutifully took his place on the examination table. His dark, lengthy hair had been drawn back to rest at the base of his neck. I stole a quick look at the monitor and noticed that the presenting complaint was a physical one. For a man of 45 he appeared remarkably youthful, yet I went ahead with the standard examination and my usual line of questioning.

Amid a pause in my questioning, he turned the tables on me: "How was your breakfast this morning?"

The question struck me as odd, though it was far from the oddest one I had ever been asked.

"It was good, thank you — more satisfying than what I normally have," I answered, all the while continuing to click through the physical questionnaire on my computer.

"A healthy diet is what keeps a person healthy," he remarked.

"That's difficult to argue with," I answered.

"When you've got a big family, the urge to cook comes more easily; when you're on your own, it's tougher, isn't it?"

At that point, he had my full and undivided attention.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, lifting my gaze to him.