Suspended - Part XII
“Suspended” is a fictional story about a New York family — husband, wife and college-aged son — who’ve become disconnected from one another and lost their sense of purpose until a beautiful young woman who claims she’s a hands-on-healer enters their lives and shakes everything up.
THIS IS PART 12 of a FIFTEEN-PART STORY
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15
Later Marcia would say her concussion gave her prescience. Certainly she had no idea what possessed her to drive down to the city. A feeling. A sudden need to be with her family. The fall from Herbie had rattled her. She had lain in the dirt, nerveless as a piece of wood, unable to move, sure she was paralyzed. Phoebe had helped her up and forced her back on the horse, but she had no memory of the ride back to the barn, only that she was shaking and disoriented and that her head hurt fiercely. Alone that night she had wept and sobbed, though for what reason she wasn't sure. In the morning she'd felt better, but as the day passed she developed a growing urge to be in the city. She hadn't been there in months. She threw some things into an overnight bag, put a leash on her dog, Pierre, and got in the car. She didn't let Rich or Danny know she was coming.
Unlocking the door to the apartment, Marcia felt uneasy. The hall was dark, but from somewhere in the apartment she heard voices, or a single voice, a softish female voice. She put Pierre down and he scampered ahead of her to the living room. She followed, moving quietly, carrying her overnight bag. Dusky light shone through the tall living room windows and candles flickered on the coffee table. Danny lay reclined on the couch, a girl hovering over him. What the hell was she doing? Pierre leaped onto Danny's stomach and began licking his face. The girl startled as if she’d been burned. Had she been kissing Danny? In the glow of the candles it was hard to make out her features, but she looked as if she were pretty.
“Hello,” Marcia said in a voice that was harsher than she intended.
“Hey, Mom,” Danny said.
“We'll be finished here in a minute,” the girl said.
“I beg your pardon?” Marcia said.
“She's a healer, Mom,” Danny said from the couch. “She's staying with us for a few days.”
“Well, I think you should stand up and say hello to your mother,” Marcia said. “It’s not like you’ve seen me recently.”
“He needs to lie still while I work on him,” the girl said. “I promise you we’ll be done in a few minutes and then you can take all the time you need for hellos.”
Marcia left the room without further comment. A healer? Well, that was a new name for it. But she was glad Danny had someone. He'd been so odd recently, sad and lonely. She threw her overnight bag on the bed. Why hadn’t Rich told her about the girl? In the bathroom a votive candle flickered on the counter beside a toilet kit and make-up bag. Marcia took a lipstick from the bag — it was a pale, sweet, virginal pink. She opened the toilet kit — creams, cleansers, a round disc of birth control pills. Hanging on the back of the bathroom door was a lilac-colored silk kimono. The girl had certainly made herself at home. Marcia glanced into the study where the futon couch had been made up into a bed. On the sheets lay a thin white nightgown and a silky summer dress. Also a journal, one of those handsome leatherbound ones from Barnes & Noble. Marcia opened the journal and read: he has the nicest hands. He who? Danny? Before she had time to read further, she heard a noise behind her. She dropped the journal and whirled around. The girl stood in the doorway. But she wasn't a girl, Marcia saw now. She was in her mid-forties, lean and graceful in the same way as Alice Waters at the barn. Marcia instantly despised her, though she forced a smile to her lips. "I see you've made yourself comfortable," she said. "I'm Marcia. Rich's wife."
Cover Image: Rodnae Productions (Pexels)