Chapter Eleven
Stranger Things Could Happen
I tried to wrap my head around today’s events. I’ve never believed in ghosts as such, I didn’t believe in God or the concept of heaven but I always looked for signs from the cosmos. My philosophy was that everything in nature was connected. We lived on the same planet, we shared DNA with other living creatures so, it was reasonable to think we also shared an energy- a force that linked everything on earth from rock to elephant to human. Some people might argue that as a case for ‘God’ but it depends on what your version of God is. I liked to think I was somewhere in-between, that I just appreciated the wonders of nature for what they were. I held proclivities for scientific explanations with a side garnish of natural magic. So how could I explain what had happened earlier? Was my dad really trying to contact me? Or was it just another one of my hallucinations? I shook my head.
I thought about all the strange happenings from the volume on the TV, the music, the words typed on my laptop and the loud bang I’d heard in the shower. All of them could be scientifically explained- a faulty TV remote or electrical power surge, I could’ve typed those words myself and just forgotten and the bang could’ve been a window left open or anything like that. I was being paranoid again. Dr Blanchard’s words of wisdom rang in my ears, there was nothing weird going on, and it was just me and my screwy brain looking for anything I could use as an emotional crutch. I had to learn to deal with my grief and stop looking for things that weren’t there. I couldn’t allow myself to listen to the part of me that waved the flag vigorously on the side of the unexplainable. These were signs I wouldn’t allow myself to believe, the pain of losing my dad was still too raw and the concept of him trying to reach me from beyond the grave was just too much. He was gone and I had to deal with it.
I decided on a nap so I threw the wet towel in the laundry pile, pulled on a vest top and loose boy shorts, rough dried my hair and lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Eventually I dropped off and when I awoke it was early evening. I’d missed most of the day and had never made it to Mum’s house. I checked my mobile and it had three missed calls from Immy. I texted her to say I had fallen asleep and to send apologies to Mum. As I’d never intended to go anyway, falling asleep meant I hadn’t had to lie and make up an excuse. It felt nice knowing I had the whole evening ahead of me to work on my story. The steamy scene I’d worked on earlier had affected me more than I thought, I’d turned myself on so much that I’d had to go shower. Just a shame I got interrupted at a crucial point. Grinning, I knew I would make sure to finish myself off later and Joe would be helping! That was one little fantasy I would not deny myself.
I turned on the laptop to warm up but decided against turning on the TV or the CD player. I didn’t want them going all weird on me again. I needed to concentrate, no more stupid signs! My mobile pinged to signal I had a text message. It was Immy asking if would go to Mum’s tomorrow. I text back a ‘Yeah, maybe x’ and left it at that, turning the phone to silent.
My notepad on my knee, I began plotting. I wanted to draft out a particular scene in the readers’ cafe that Joe and I owned.
‘Joe wiped all the tables down while I replaced the books on the shelves. I looked over at him as he worked. He had a towel slung over his shoulder, his tight white t-shirt had a few splash stains on it from the kitchen, despite the chef’s apron that was still tied around his waist. He looked gorgeous, humming as he cleaned. Not for the first time, I thought how lucky I was that he was my man. I caught his eye, he winked and flashed me one of his killer grins. I would never tire of his smile, it was so bright it could melt the polar ice caps. I knew I was biased but he had been the catch of the town back in Italy. I thought back to our first meeting, I had fallen for him the minute I looked into those beautiful big brown eyes.
It’d taken some work mind you, he was a notorious playboy and loved the company of women, all women, no matter their dress size. Joe found so much beauty in the female form and had no problem expressing it which, of course, made him utterly irresistible to all members of the opposite sex. On those days when you felt ten pounds heavier just from looking at a cake and your hair put birds’ nests to shame, Joe could make you feel sexier than Marilyn Monroe. In the time I had known him, I don’t think I’d ever seen him ignore any woman that had walked into his bar in Italy or our cafe here at home. Not in a ‘man-whore’ kind of way- he just paid attention. A smile, a nod, a wink of his eye, Joe would always take the time to notice you and that was his secret. The guy could cook, clean, do his own laundry, he worked hard and he played hard, his Mama must’ve been one hell of a woman, I wish I could’ve met her.
His skills in the bedroom were incomparable to anything I’d ever known. Granted, I didn’t have that much to compare it to but Joe rocked my world between the sheets and out of them and I couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. I hoped we’d be married someday because I just couldn’t imagine my life without him in it.’
I began reading through my rough notes when I heard my laptop beep. It was an old machine and took a lifetime to warm up. I’d managed to quickly jot down two paragraphs while waiting for it to be ready. After reading through the last page to remind myself where I had left off, I began typing up the notes. This was usually how I started, hand-writing first and then type it up as I go. After a while the words would start to flow and then I just carried on typing. So far so good. I’d not been working on my story very long and I was totally inspired by Joe. In the past, whenever I had tried to write, I would reach a certain point and then it would all sort of fizzle out and I would give up, making me feel like a failure. This time I was on a roll, I had so much to say about Joe. Perhaps because I already knew him through Laney’s story or because I was totally obsessed with him, in truth it was probably more of the latter. A part of me still felt apprehensive about stealing Laney’s character but I had to bury that feeling and just write. This was a story that had to be told. I needed to immerse myself in a world where Joe and I existed together, call it therapy or whatever, it was pure self-indulgent catharsis. I didn’t care, something was driving me to write it and I felt so good. For the first time I could remember, I felt like my life had a purpose. I had something to aim for, something of my own.
The page I had typed up was done and I took a moment to recap, I wasn’t quite happy with the wording so I sat chewing my pen and pondered over how I could change it. I had hit a bit of a blank and was just sitting staring at the blinking cursor on my screen when it moved. Letters appeared on my screen and the letters formed words,
“Do not be afraid.”
“What the fuck?” My immediate thought was that someone had remote accessed my computer and my heart rate went up a notch. Except that didn’t explain why they were talking to me. I typed something back,
“Who the hell is this? Get off my computer you wanker! I’m running a trace on you right now!”
“Naomi, please, do not be afraid. I don’t know how much time I have.”
“Is this a joke? How have you got access to my laptop? Who are you?”
“No joke. Need to talk. Urgent”
I stared, aghast and confused at the words appearing on my screen. Sure I was being hacked I went to turn off the machine.
“No! Stop! Please don’t turn it off, mia cara.”
My hand wavered, Italian? Ok, someone was definitely fucking with me. Some psycho must have remote accessed my laptop and had seen what I had been writing about.
“This is not funny. I’m reporting this to the police you weirdo. I have your I.P number.” I lied.
“No, you don’t. I’m here, I can see you. Naomi, I need you to hear me.”
Oh my God! They could see me? I looked around for something to cover up my inbuilt webcam and microphone, all I had was my thumb so I stuck it over the lens and reached for my phone with my other hand, ready to call someone if I needed to.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded, forgetting I had covered up the mic and camera.
“It’s Joe.”
My hand dropped from the camera, how on earth could they have answered the question when I had been covering it? I decided I needed to play along and try and trip this guy up. If I was going to report this I needed information. He must have some scary-arsed tech to be doing this sort of stuff. I needed to know what he wanted.
“OK, Joe…what do you want to talk about? What do you want from me?”
“Naomi, this is NOT a joke. I need you to tell me what happened, why am I here? Where is my body? I need you to help me before it’s too late.”
I frowned at the screen. This guy was crazier than me.
“I don’t know what happened to you ‘Joe’ and only you know why you’re here. What do you want?”
“I’m confused. Are we not together?”
“OK buddy, I think you’re talking to the wrong person.” I said out loud and then typed back,
“Sorry to break it to you mate but I think you hacked into the wrong computer. I’m not the Naomi you’re looking for.”
I waited for a few seconds but no reply came back. Just as I was about to shut everything off and do a major virus scan more words appeared.
“But you saw me, you knew my name. You talk about me all the time. I’ve read your words.”
In the moment it took my heart to skip a beat, time appeared to stop. My mind raced, trying to figure out what was happening. Either this weirdo hacker had somehow rigged up secret cameras in my flat and had been spying on me and was now fucking with my head or …this was Joe. My Joe. Both seemed equally impossible. I mean for a start I barely ever left my flat and if someone had indeed broken into it- why would they? Surely one of my neighbours would’ve noticed, you couldn’t even get past the front door without the key code. Unless it was Iain? Had he gone fruit loop on me and turned into some psycho stalker? Was I about to become the victim in a real-life horror film? I scrolled the contacts list on my mobile phone till I found Iain’s number and began to text him. If it was him I’d rain merry hellfire down on his idiotic arse!
“Who is Iain?” The text on the screen asked.
“Okay, I’m now officially freaked out. How can you see that? You better give me some answers here because I’m one call away from contacting the police!” I couldn’t help but look around the room for hidden cameras as I spoke. I considered taking apart my phone to see if I could find a bugging device and then caught myself, laughing scornfully. It’s not Mission Impossible for Christ’s sake!
“Naomi, this is me Joe! I saw you in your flat talking to a woman on your laptop and I KNOW you saw me. I saw you at your Parents house, I know you lost your father, you were crying in a chair. I was here when your sister stayed over. It IS me! I don’t know why I’m here like this or why you can’t see me now. My memories are unclear. I just know that we’re together somehow, aren’t we? I feel it. Have I been in an accident? Am I in a coma? Help me Naomi, please?”
Oh dear God! Was this guy real? Was it possible that Joe was here and communicating with me? Or had I gone totally crazy? My finger’s hovered over the keyboard but I couldn’t think what to type. I chewed hard on my lip, wracking my brain, trying to work out how this could possibly be real. The logical part of my brain was telling me this was an illusion I had created, that I must be so angry and discouraged at the real world I had created a false one in my head. My gut told me a different story- this was real and Joe was here…somehow. My heart was at odds with my brain. Although I had wished a thousand times over that Joe was indeed real and mine, there was no possible way that could ever be true. Joe was just a made-up character in a book. The child in me, the part that still believed in the impossible, was shouting at me from the depths of my soul. And for one brief, glorious moment, I allowed myself to hope beyond hope that somehow the universe had heard my desperate plea and had sent me my Joe.
“NO, NO NO! This can’t be happening. It’s impossible!” I shouted. Fear clawed at me, strangulating any feeling of hope. I could feel my grip on reality slipping. I clung to the notion that this was some kind of cruel joke, it had to be. The alternative was far too wonderful yet terrifying to contemplate. Get a fucking grip Naomi! You’re losing it!
“Naomi? Please, bella. Believe me. Help me, I need you.”
“Stop it! Just stop it, whoever you are. It’s not funny and it’s not FAIR! You can’t do this to me!” I shouted out to the room. Slamming the laptop lid down and dumping it on the table, I ran to my bedroom scared out of my wits and flung myself face down on the bed, sobbing. Someone had gotten into my head and my life. Someone cruel and vicious was taunting me. That had to be the answer because I refused to accept I was going crazy.
Hugging the pillow tight around my head and curling my knees up protectively, I tried to ignore the nagging feeling that I was not alone. I couldn’t shake it, I kept my face hidden and my eyes closed tight, and hoping the feeling would go away, that it was just paranoia but I knew it wasn’t. Someone or something was in the room with me. My skin prickled with the change of atmosphere in the room.
“Go away!” The muffled shout caught in my pillow and I felt my body tense in anticipation of a response, so sure was I that someone was present. No audible response came but I expected something and was almost disappointed when it didn’t. I don’t know why because a response would have gone someway to confirming I was going crazy. When I cautiously lifted my face from the pillow to peek, I was caught off guard by the sight of a drinks coaster flying across the room from my bedside table. It slammed into the wall and fell to the floor where I looked at it in wide-eyed shock.
“What are you?” I whispered. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.” I kept repeating this mantra desperately trying to convince myself I hadn’t lost my mind. There was a banging coming from the hallway and it took all my remaining courage to get up and investigate. Knees weak, breath shaking I peeked around my bedroom door and looked down the hall- it was empty. Another noise came from the direction of the bathroom. I could hear something clattering in the sink. One slow, daring step at a time brought me level with the open bathroom door. Steeling myself to look in, I took one deep breath in and stepped through. I was greeted by the contents of my bathroom cabinet piled up in disarray in the sink below and the words I AM JOE written in black eyeliner on the mirror. I couldn’t tear my eyes away and my feet were seemingly glued to the floor, frozen but not in fear, in hope. This time I listened when the child in me spoke up. I did still believe in magic, I did still believe in a world where anything is possible if you just wanted it hard enough. As I stared at the mirror the light in the room distorted and shimmered and a tall, toned figure materialised in front of me. A beautiful silver haired, smiling Adonis- Joe.
“Is it really you?” My voice shook with emotion.
“You see me?” He asked with hopeful urgency.
I nodded, dumbfounded. He smiled in relief and took a step towards me but I hastily stepped backwards out of the door and his face fell.
“mia cara, please don’t be afraid. I know it must be a shock seeing me like this, it’s…unnerving to me also but I know there is a reason for it. I think I need your help.”
His plea momentarily fell on deaf ears for I couldn’t take my eyes off his. He was here, he was real and he was my Joe. Everything I thought I ever knew about the universe was now shrouded in doubt. All logic had gone out of the window. Magic was real. I had stepped back not through fear of him but afraid that touching him somehow might break this spell I was under. The disappointment etched on his face brought me back.
“Help? What do you mean?” I asked, confused. I could hardly focus on my words, mesmerised by the sight of him, I wanted so much to touch him but I was convinced he would disappear in a proverbial puff of smoke if I did.
“Have I been in an accident?” he asked tentatively.
“Um…no.”
His brow furrowed in confusion and he looked away for a second. The moment his eyes left mine I craved them. I needed him to look at me.
“Joe!” The cry that left my lips sounded almost desperate but it worked, his eyes flashed up towards mine again.
“Bella…I need to know why I’m here. I’ve been visiting you but you couldn’t see me. I was here sometimes and then I wasn’t, I don’t understand it. Please help me.”
It hit me then that he had no idea who he was. A work of fiction, albeit a very solid and sentient one. Perfect and beautiful and tantalisingly real yet still a physical impossibility. I didn’t know what to tell him. How could I possibly begin to explain to him that he was the result of one woman’s obsession with another woman’s creation?
I had to be brave and reach out for him, touch him. I needed to know for sure if the vision, standing in my bathroom, was physically there. My eyes stayed fixed on his, drowning in those hazel pools lined by long luscious lashes. I was hardly aware of my hand reaching up towards him, nor of the fact that I hadn’t taken a breath for at least half a minute. When I felt fire at my fingertips I still could not look away, I only knew that the heat came from him, from his own hand as it met mine and we touched for the first time.