An Argument

Honestly, I'm not sure what I want, Peter said. I want you...but I don't get the sense you feel the same. It's not that I don't want to be with you Peter, I do. It's just that I don't see how it can work; we aren't together right now for a reason. Peter looked pained and said: so this isn't a break, it's a break. I'm not sure what this is, Madeline said.

Jane stood with the sheep watching the scene unfold thinking the same thing. What is this? Who are they? Why can't they see me, and why did it seem she could see me for a moment? Where the hell are we? The sheep looked at her blithely and followed Peter and Madeline down the street. Why did I even expect an answer, Jane asked aloud. As she walked she couldn't shake the feeling there was something familiar about all of this. The license plates on the parked cars told her she was in Pennsylvania. She realized she was now a few blocks ahead of where she'd stood just a second ago, but she hadn’t moved. There was a sense of jumping in time, like listening to a skipping CD.

Jane felt like she was trespassing inside a place without physical locality; inside a memory or a dream. She began to notice things in the background were out of focus and incomplete. The faces of homes were without windows or doors, and the few people that passed were translucent and featureless.

Then they were at a bench. Madeline and Peter were seated and silent. The sadness in Peter's eyes shined and became liquid. There had been a miscommunication and an argument that had robbed them of their voices; tactless tongues unsheathed like swords instead of plowshares. Jane watched as a twisted tree started to sprout behind them, growing darker and more ominous as they sat. Like the minutes that kept jerking past, the tree too moved like a video dropping frames, like an affront to time. Certain seconds were stripped continuously from its existence. It spasmed and twisted and darkened in odd intervals until it seemed to leech the color out of everything that surrounded it. Madeline said she thought it best to go home and she got up and left. Peter remained on the bench a while longer looking more like a statue than a man. He sat seeming hardened and grey, motionless. The sudden squealing sound of metal told Jane she'd be changing venues, and she squinted as a bright light flared and she became weightless.

----------------

Is dere anytin you need help wit, nurse Lamb asked authoritatively. The man in the doorway cooly turned to look at her and said, no, I was just leaving. Are you a relative of the patient, nurse Lamb asked. No, an old friend. His boots hissed loudly off the linoleum as he left. Nurse Lamb entered the room, her face twisting slightly at the smell of tar and tobacco in the man's wake. She turned to see which way he'd gone but he was nowhere in sight. She checked Jane's vitals and changed her fluids, updating the chart as she completed the items. Hey nurse Lamb, Sarah said as she reentered the room. Miss Sarah, do ya know if your sistah has any older acquaintances, nurse Lamb asked. No, not that I can think of, why? Dere was a man here a minute ago, standin in da doorway; he struck me funny...smelled like a chimney. Sarah remembered a few nights ago when it had rained and she stood outside in the smoking area. It had to be a coincidence she thought, as a vague fear hissed about her ears. I'll have to call mom and see if Jane knows anyone that fits this guy's description, Sarah thought, a wave of worry cascading down her spine. Excuse me a minute nurse Lamb, I need to make a call.

Sarah stepped out into the hall and pulled her phone out from her jacket-pocket. It had no service so she began moving further down the hall, hoping to find reception. Looking down at her phone, not paying careful attention to where she was walking, she caught the shoulder of a passerby, sending her phone out of her hands and across the floor. Sorry, Peter said as he turned in the direction of the escaping phone. Looking up Sarah said, no it's my fau...you! She recognized him from earlier in the week when she'd gotten lost and almost hit him with her car. Me, Peter said, bending down to pick up her phone. It seems I'm always helping you get back on course, he said with a smile. No, you're always getting in my way, Sarah said, taking the phone from him. Well, glad to see you found the hospital alright; hope everything is okay. Wait, I'm sorry, Sarah said. I didn't mean to be rude just now, my humor can be an acquired taste. I'm sorry about almost hitting you with the car too, I had a rough day by the time I'd seen you. I didn't mean to take it out on you. No worries, Peter said, is your phone alright? The glass is cracked but it looks like it still works. Here, come with me, my dad's a surgeon here, we can fill out a report and they'll reimburse you for the damages.

Wait, so your father actually is a doctor?