Back of Book: Things are not what they seem...My name's Patrick Madison and I thought I had everything together. Graduating from college, I took some time to myself, hiked the Appalachian National Scenic Trail, and found someone from college I never thought I'd see after college. Returning to the real world with optimism, I began a career. My life was full and I was happy. However, something happened along the way and I found myself in a nightmare. Things are quickly falling apartm people are bying and missing and I'm caught up in the middle of it. Something's happened to my wife and I feel she's not the person I fell in love with. I'm beginning to think she's not even human.
Officially, I met the woman of my dreams, actually first engaged in conversation, at a cafe just before winter break of my sophomore year. It was the week of finals and I needed a holiday from studying. It wasn’t like the coffee shops in the cities, which would have been too sophisticated for the town the college was located. The students frequented the only solace available, a tiny diner off Main Street. Calling it a cafe gave it some class, because it didn’t have any on its own. It was nicknamed Frank & Scary’s because the business’ real name was boring. It was tradition to warn everyone not to eat there for the unknown meat elements in their burgers and famous chili. Nevertheless, it was the only location in the municipality to compete with the hours of the local bars. It was greasy and cheap and a place to gather and talk, or drink bottomless cups of coffee (which was important to a college student, when money was always tight and you had to cram all night for tests).
It was a little after nine on a Thursday night. I had been feeling claustrophobic in my little dorm room so I decided to slip on a pair of cobblestone colored and relaxed fit, pleated slacks. I put on my boots and a V-neck gray heather cable knit sweater over a black T-shirt. I grabbed my scarf and pulled on my long wool coat. I took a Terry Pratchett novel I borrowed from a friend to entertain myself. After all the studying I had been forcing into my brain, I wanted something light-hearted and adventurous to get lost in over the weekend.
After I left the dorm, I made my way across the campus. I had a feeling of anxiousness in my belly. I loved quiet nights. There weren’t many people outside. I was the only person on foot for as far as I could see. Two inches of snow covered the ground; even the sidewalks had a thin coating. There were no other tracks besides mine since the snow started falling earlier in the evening. I buried my gloved hands deep in the pockets of my coat and walked with muffled steps through the snow.
It seemed I felt the perfect timing, like there was magic in the air, held within the crystalline cases of the large drifting snowflakes. The low clouds and snow reflected the glow of the village in an off orange. Everything felt so right that night as I walked over the hill and down into town to Main Street. The fresh air was pleasing to my lungs. I could hear the snow tinkling on the surfaces around me.
I opened the door to the diner and held the knob while I stomped out the snow packed in the tread of my boots. There were two other patrons in the café. I was going to be a happy third. I was glad to see the place scarce of people. The atmosphere was quainter when the place was empty, even if the owners didn’t appreciate it. The girl on the other side of the counter looked from her psychology book to acknowledge me with a smile. I obliged her with the same, closing the door behind me. The place smelled like bacon and eggs, even though no was eating pork and chicken embryos. The grill behind the girl was clean and cold.
I found a vacant table near a side street window. I pulled off my gloves, shed my coat and scarf and put them on the back of the chair. I got the book out my coat pocket, put it on the table next to my gloves, and took my seat.
The girl came out from behind the counter with her notepad.
“What can I get for you?” she asked politely.
I smiled again and told her, “I have a craving for a French vanilla cappuccino with lots of whipped cream and a touch of nutmeg.”
“I can’t do that. Nothing that fancy here.” She said it in a tone as if I was being serious.
I didn’t want to point out my joke so I went with her attitude. “Then coffee with extra cream.”
The girl made a mark on her pad. “Anything else?”
“Hmm,” I hummed. I wasn’t hungry but I reasoned that since I had intended to just lounge there and read for a while, I thought it would be easier to rent my space with a muffin instead of a hot beverage alone.
“How ‘bout a cinnamon muffin.”
“Okay. I’ll warm it up for you.”
“Thanks.”
While she went to fill my order, I picked up the book and skimmed through the pages until I picked up where I left off. After what seemed like a minute, my eyes drifted over the top of the book to the other two customers in the shop.
A friend had mentioned that he had seen my wife frequenting the diner. I went there on the off chance I would see her. It was a lucky guess to find her there that night. She was with someone. She had a male friend that sat across from her with his back to me. I don’t know if they were dating. I hadn’t kept that close of an eye on her to know all of her social life. I felt a little disappointed when I saw her with him.
I went humbly back to reading my book while the waitress returned with a poor substitute for a cappuccino and a steaming muffin.
Some twenty minutes later, I heard the male friend get out of his chair. I watched him slip on his coat. He gathered his books and gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving. He glanced at me on his way past my table but I pretended I was too involved in my novel to notice him.
When he was gone, I sat at the table rereading the same page repeatedly because I had suddenly lost the ability to retain any information now that she was alone. I put the book down and finished my coffee and muffin. I took the dish and cup to the counter as an excuse to look over at the girl while my heart tensed in my chest. She was still studying for her finals. It seemed she was too engrossed in her work to look my way. I don’t think she even saw me enter the diner.
On my return trip to my table, she broke free of her book to look up at me and smile. I was new again, refreshed and even encouraged to grin back. I was tempted to join her. However, textbooks covered her table. I suspected she was just being friendly with the smile. It wasn’t an invitation. She didn’t need me distracting her from her studies. I returned to the chapter I was beginning and hoped when she got ready to go she would accept my invitation to walk her home.
A few minutes later, she acknowledged me with words.
“How’s the book?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure if she was talking to the girl behind the counter with the psychology book or me. Nevertheless, her eyes were on me.
“It’s funny.” I responded. Then I thought I had sounded sarcastic.
There was an awkward silence. The kind that comes when one waited for the other to speak. An embarrassed stillness threatened to end any beginning we shared. I decided to take the chance of an actual conversation. I wanted to talk about something with meat to it, not the timid half words of a nervous fool.
I closed the book and took a sip of my refilled coffee, more for stalling than a thirst. I needed a point to start and searched my brain for something intelligent. I wanted her to think of me as someone with brains as well as good looking.
Before I could get up the courage to speak, she closed her book again and culled the textbooks together on the table. Then I watched her yawn and stretch her arms over her head. I realized I had missed yet another opportunity. She was leaving and I probably wouldn’t see her again until after the new semester, if at all. I didn’t feel it would be right to ask to walk her home without having had some basic conversation before hand.
She stood, the chair scraped on the floor tile when the back of her knees pushed it. She stepped around the chair and gathered her heavy, stonewashed canvas jacket. She slipped it over her arm then picked up the textbooks.
I lightly sighed, not enough for her to hear then went back to reading the novel.
Then she slipped into the booth seat across from me and knocked my knees in the process.
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She said it so sincerely that I winced because although she hadn’t really hurt me I wished at that moment she had. Then I regretted the thought immediately.
“I’m fine,” I said coolly.
“I should’ve warned you,” she said with a laugh.
“No, no, it’s okay I’m not planning on running any marathons for a while.” I rubbed my knee in mock agony.
Then I felt her hand touch my knee lightly under the table. I stiffened and she took her hand away. She turned her head slightly, avoiding my eyes as if she had done something wrong. I was instantly regretting my actions. It gave me a chance to study her profile in detail. I could see the shape of her straight and slightly pointed nose. Her brown eyebrows were thin and curved sharply over her hazel eyes. Her lips were thin and teardrop shaped. When she smiled her cheeks flushed. I don’t think she wore make-up, or wore very little. She had on a black turtleneck that was high collared and tight to her body. I could see the slope of her small breasts perfectly.
Her sandy colored hair had more blonde than brown. A tight ponytail was at the back of her head. She wore a part that went from left to right. Her ears were completely exposed. She didn’t wear any earrings. She was long before her time, or far after. She always wore her hair natural, as far as I could tell. She was never into heavy maintenance. There were many girls on campus that made it a point to dye their hair other colors than what they were born with. Alternatively, they permed, fluffed or feathered their hair to make a point. She had never had to make a point; she was more sensible than that. I heard other girls talking about her, saying she was too plain. She was a prude.
She was very attractive but many guys shied away from her. It was as though she was made of impenetrable stone. If they strayed a look or had one wavering conversation, she would crush them. Their attempts at casual sex ruined. For a time, I had convinced myself she was still a virgin. To me she was too bookish to be promiscuous.
Her confidence out-weighed any lingering thoughts of a more physical relationship with her. I admired her. I found her attractive of course. But I reserved sex with her in the privacy of my dorm room while my roommate was asleep or gone.
I think my face flushed. She was looking at me again. This time she seemed to be scrutinizing my features.
I had short black hair that was a little unruly because it had some curl to it. My nose is average and rounded at the end. My eyebrows are as black as my hair and thick. I’ll share a secret: sometimes I check for wild hairs and pluck them.
I have always taken good care of my teeth and been told I have a killer smile. It makes me a little proud. I’ll risk sounding vain when I say I don’t think I’m bad looking. I’ve stayed trim and at the time I met my wife I was beginning to sprout hair on my chest. There was a line of hair that traveled from my navel down my stomach like a treasure trail.
We were quiet again. She sat back against the seat, making herself more comfortable. Her coat lay beside her in the booth. The textbooks were on the table in front of her.
“Hmm,” she hummed aloud, as if she was thinking of something to say.
Then we fell into conversation. The light chatter was more like feeling the ground where our interests were. We talked for almost two hours. I know it was that long because there was an Elvis novelty clock on the far wall behind her. Between sentences and portions, I would watch the King shake his hips slowly in a pendulum motion. I was hoping time would stop and we would have forever to get to know each other.
After three coffee refills, one pit stop to the men’s room, and a cup of tea for her, she finally announced that she had to go.
I was immediately sad. As she stood and slipped on her heavy coat, I offered to walk her home anyway.
She declined the offer. I must have looked devastated because she had to explain her reason. “It’s a really nice night out. I just wanted to be alone. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
Did I mention that I wear my emotions on my face? And it took a woman with a lot of confidence to point it out to me.
I smiled. “Maybe next time,” I told her.
She returned the smile while she zipped the coat.
“Maybe,” she whispered. She produced a blue wool cap as if out of nowhere and slipped it on her head. She pulled it over her ears and her face looked younger than her twenty-one years. Then a pair of mittens appeared in her hands and she put them on, making her age reverse a few more years. She sacrificed fashion for functional. She looked adorable all bundled for the cold weather.
I stood up and went to pay the bill. On my return to the table, she stood with her books gathered in her arms I had a strong sense of panic. I was looking at her, admiring her strong will to be practical in the shallow times we lived in. When most girls on campus thought tight jeans were for all seasons, she wore corduroy because it was warmer. The sickening feeling that was settling over me was the fact that I had forgotten her name.
She had one of those names that were unique. I’d heard it once or twice and liked it immediately. It suited her. But for the life of me, I couldn’t recall just what it was at that precious moment. It was a time when it would have been beneficial to know such a thing. I was dumbfounded.
We walked outside together; I held the door for her. In the soft snow on the sidewalk, I waited for her to speak again I was hoping her voice would trigger that dead place in my brain where important names went to lay in wait to be remembered again.
“It was nice talking to you,” she said, her voice mellifluous. I think she sensed my silent anxiety.
“Nice talking to you too.” I replied hastily. I was pushing the goodbye for no good reason. I finally sighed and laughed lightly at my embarrassment. “I’m really sorry,” I started quietly. I didn’t have to finish.
She didn’t look hurt; she even gave half a smile. This was something I learned she did when she knew something I didn’t.
“It’s Sable.” She told me without me asking.
Sable! I screamed inside my head. Actually, I think I etched it into my memory banks with a jackhammer. I put my hand out. “I’m Patrick.” I said.
She took my hand and squeezed it.
“I know,” she replied.
“Well, goodnight, Sable.” I took a step back.
“Goodnight, Patrick. Have a good holiday in case I don’t see you again.”
“You too, Sable.” I was already wearing out her name.
She chortled, “See you, Patrick.” She knew how to play too.
“Bye, Sable.” And we both laughed.
She turned and started up the street to the sorority house she lived in. I crossed the vacant street to start back up the hill to campus. The last sight I had of her was when she turned the corner by the post office.
Excerpt
“Since I took the implant out, I’ve experienced a surge of forgotten things. It’s like it keeps you from remembering the important details. Do you remember the night you came along while we were pulled off the side of the road and you wanted to know if we needed help?” Henry looked thoughtful then nodded. “I’m convinced that was the last time I saw my wife. My real wife.”
Henry mauled it over and quietly asked, “What are they?”
“I really don’t know and I don’t know how many there are. I saw where they came from. I followed Sable to the place.”
“What’s it like?” Henry wanted to know.
Nervously I laughed. “I really couldn’t say. I couldn’t see for shit. It’s so dark it makes me think they create an artificial blackness. It felt like that anyway.”
“Where is this place?” Henry asked. “You think you could find it again?”
“I’m not sure. I think I could but they might move around so no one else finds them.”
“Those woods are privately owned. The owner prosecutes anyone she finds on them. She doesn’t even allow hunting.”
I considered what he said. “She’s one of them. They can use the land to hide.”
“Maybe I should go talk to her.”
“Don’t risk it, Henry,” I told him. “Right now we have an advantage they don’t know we know.”
“So where’s Alice? My wife?” he asked finally.
“That’s why I need your help. I hope we can find Sable and Alice and anyone else they took over.”
Henry narrowed his eyes at me. “When do you want to start?”
“The first thing you need to do is get that implant out of your knee.” Henry glanced down at his leg. “I’m going to talk to Sable and see if she slips up. So far, she’s been fairly quiet. You and I have to be careful being together. I don’t want either of them to start putting things together before we get a chance to do anything.” I had to work up the ambition to tell the sheriff more. “There’s something else.” I took a breath. “The disappearance of Marcie Plumber the Syracuse cops are investigating I feel is my fault. The night Marcie disappeared she was with me. Sable saw the two of us together. I think she did something to Marcie.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“The night my boss Jon Powers died he went to see Sable. I don’t know what happened between them but I don’t think Jon had a heart attack.” Henry’s eyes betrayed him. I saw the plan formulating in his head. “We have to be careful, Henry. No one is going to believe this. We can’t talk to too many people, we don’t know who to trust.”
“I know.”
I looked at my watch. I had a long drive back to Syracuse to get the laptop and implant and go home. “I have to get going. Give me a call tonight if you can. Maybe I can use the excuse of playing cards to get out of the house.”
“Okay,” Henry agreed. “Sure.”
I got out of the car looking back. “Please be careful, Henry.”
“I will, you do the same.”
I closed the door and went back to where I parked as the sheriff’s car left the parking lot. I unlocked the Saturn and got in throwing the tray of food on the passenger seat. I started the car and put it into reverse. I looked up to see a slender framed oriental girl staring at me from inside the restaurant I smiled back at her. I drove out of the parking lot and headed back to Syracuse. I watched the sunset on the horizon during the drive back. I saw the sun sink behind the hills and catch the sky aflame in a brilliant red. It made me think the day held the sun in its grasp as long as it could.
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Reviews for "Stranger Beside Me"
Reviewed by Kate Clifford
1/15/2006
This is also a book that I have read and completely enjoyed. It is one of those books that you cannot put down until the ending and even then you do not want to put it down but it will get you a bit uneasy the next time you look at the person beside you!
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