Read Online Black Out by Lisa Unger - Free Book Online Page B

the darkness. Esperanza watches me with an expression somewhere between pity and fear.
    “Mrs. Annie,” she asks carefully, “are you sure?”
    “I’m sure, Esperanza,” I answer, though now, in the safety of the house, I’m not. Everything’s already fading away as if it never happened. The truth is, I
can’t
be sure. Too much bad history with myself.
    She looks again out the window. Then her eyes go wide. She backs away from the door and turns to me, incredulous. “There’s someone.”
    I see the form at the end of our walkway to the beach. He is just standing there. A terrible tide of fear battles with an odd relief that it isn’t just my mind playing tricks on me again.
    “Is everything else locked?” I ask her. I feel suddenly solid and sure of what to do next. You can keep the earthly threats at bay with locks and security systems…at least for a while.
    She nods vigorously, not looking away from the figure.
    “You’re sure?”
    She nods again. Then, “I’ll check.” She scurries off and I hear her tugging on doors and checking windows. I move to the kitchen, keeping my eyes on the form through the window, reach for the phone, and dial Drew, my heart a running engine in my ears. I tell him what’s happened.
    “He’s still there now?” Drew asks sharply.
    “Yes. Esperanza sees him, too.” I feel like I have to add this for credibility.
    “
Don’t
call the police. I’ll be right there.” The line goes dead.
    I stand there still watching as I put the phone down.
    Esperanza returns, holding her cell phone. “I called the police,” she says, looking out the window. My heart sinks. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t have done that, but I don’t. It would seem suspicious. I’ll just have to play it out.
    I look back at our visitor. He is so still. He radiates an aura of calm, the predator so sure of his prey that there’s no need for frenzy. When I hear the distant whine of sirens, he seems to sink into the blackness from which he emerged. And he is gone.
    Tonight is the five-year anniversary of his alleged death. The doctor is right: Though I remember nothing about the events of that night, something that lies dormant in my memory resurrects itself as regularly as seasons. Both a terrible dread and a terrible longing dwell side by side within me. I’ve been here before, this is true. But not like this.
     
    The clinically depressed and functionally mentally ill do a little dance, a kind of two-step with their meds. I need them; I don’t really need them. I need them; I don’t really need them. Cha-cha-cha. After you’ve been on them for a while and the chemicals in your brain have normalized somewhat, you’ll read an article about the dangers of long-term use of the particular medication you’re taking, or you’ll just start to feel like maybe all those times when you couldn’t get out of bed for three weeks were simply a lack of self-discipline. You convince yourself that you’re not as creative, productive, mentally sharp as you are when you’re off them. So maybe you miss a dose, then two. The next thing you know, you’re off them altogether. Again.
    Of course, some people don’t really need to be on medication long-term. Maybe they took something to get them through a bad patch—the death of a loved one, a divorce, even a nervous breakdown. Maybe some irresponsible doctor suggested an antidepressant for a general malaise that could have been addressed by taking a hard look at their lives. When those types of people choose not to take the medication that has been prescribed, it’s not such a big deal. But for some people it’s quite the opposite. I guess I’m not sure which of those people I am. I do know this much: If Esperanza hadn’t seen the man I’d seen, I’d have no way to be certain if he’d actually been there or not.
    In my life I have suffered periods when, due to cumulative and acute trauma, I have dissociated from reality and essentially disappeared,