Lying Season

“Half French…half Scottish?” he asked.



I expected Dex not to say anything. But he eventually said “Irish” out of curiosity to see where the doctor was going with all this. It was like going to a palm reader. I was more than glad that the attention wasn’t on me but I kind of wanted to know if he could guess my background.



“Ah. Irish and French. How perfect that is.”



“Oh yeah? How so?”



“You look it. And I bet your mother was the French one, am I right?”



Dex didn’t say anything.



I spoke up, “Is this all relevant?”



I knew Dex didn’t like to speak about either of his parents. I didn’t know anything about his mom except for the fact that she was dead, and his father ran out on him when he was a young boy, forcing him and his family into poverty. Dex had a hard enough time telling me all of that – though it was really nothing in the grand scheme of things – and I knew he wasn’t about to do it with some random doctor. Besides, Dex had enough damn doctors already.



“No, not really,” the doctor said. “I think we are done here. You may go.”



Gee thanks. I got out of my chair and grabbed onto Dex’s arm, pulling him up. He followed in a weird sort of daze, his eyes still avoiding mine, looking utterly lost.



We headed toward the door but the doctor called after us, “Sorry for being intrusive. This sort of thing still fascinates me. And it’s a nice change to be able to discuss it with people who still have level heads on their shoulders.”



Level-headed. That was a new one. I smiled, short and tense, at the doctor and waved, opening the door for us with my other hand.



He waved at us and went back to his Jenga pile of books, calling out, “Don’t forget, third floor only and you have one hour. One hour and that’s it.”



CHAPTER ELEVEN



Dex and I stepped into the half-lit hallway and I closed Dr. Hasselback’s door behind us. I moved my hand down Dex’s arm to his hand and shook it gently, peering at him.



“You OK there, Frenchie?”



His glare was very unamused, which, luckily, meant he was OK. I dropped his hand and patted him on the shoulder. “Shrinks, huh?”



He sighed and rolled his shoulders back. “Are you ready for the third floor?”



It sounded spooky and creepy already. I much preferred to deal with the doctor’s strange questions than to actually continue on with our little ghostcapade. But we had a job to do and in the event that Thursday and Block C wouldn’t happen, we had to do with what he had.



“Sure am,” I said. We started down the hallway back to the front doors. I wondered if Roundtree would be around to let us back in to get the equipment.



I voiced this to Dex and added, “I’ll just stay in here and hold the door for you. You can handle all the stuff by yourself, right? I saw you flexing earlier for the doctor.”



Dex let out a chuckle, which pleased me. “That was for you, kiddo.”



“Oh, I’m very flattered,” I teased and stopped in front of the doors.



He looked around the foyer, then opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”



“You better,” I said. I didn’t feel too good about waiting alone in the hospital. But it gave me a chance to attempt my plan. The car wasn’t far away, but there was a lot of stuff to gather. I had enough time.



As soon as the heavy door slammed shut and Dex disappeared from my sight, I turned on a dime and raced off down the darkened hallway, back toward the doctor’s office.



I knocked on the door as quietly as possible, catching my breath. And waited.



The door opened and Dr. Hasselback gave me a weary look. “Yes? Is there a problem?”



“Sort of. Can I come in? I’ll be two seconds. I just need your opinion on something.”



He wiggled his mouth and then opened the door. I shuffled in and walked over to his desk. He sat down, gestured to the chair again but I didn’t take it.



“This will only really take a moment.” I plopped my bag on the tiny patch of clear desk and rifled through it until I found my iPhone. I flicked through the apps to the camera one, knowing the doctor was watching me anxiously.



I found the application. I had secretly taken photos of each pill bottle earlier on the hunch that I would never find out what they were for. I displayed the phone for the doctor.



“I have a friend who is taking this medication. I took pictures of each label, if you just scroll around there.”



“Dex Foray?” The doctor looked at me.



“Maybe.”



“It says so on the label.”



“Oh. OK, yes. But please don’t tell him. He’s really sensitive about this and I just wanted to know why he was taking medication.”



“He’s your boyfriend?”



I shook my head adamantly. “Oh, no. No. He’s just my partner. For this show. But he’s my friend, too, and I’m worried about him.”



“Why?”



“I don’t know. Can you just tell me what the meds are for?”



The doctor exhaled and brought the screen closer to his eyes. “Well, these yellow pills here are for severe hallucinations. The white long ones are also for hallucinations and also anxiety. The red and blue ones are antipsychotics. All of them are usually prescribed for schizophrenia. But Dex doesn’t seem schizophrenic in the slightest. And I have no idea what the little white ones are.”



“What? Really?”



He shook his head. “No. This Doctor Bains would know, I would hope, but this name makes no sense to me. I could look it up for you if you wish.”



I nervously eyed the door, knowing Dex would try to come back in the building at any minute.



“No that’s OK. So…hallucinations. Why…why would he be taking them?”



“You’d have to ask him,” he said, handing me back my phone.



I nodded, knowing I couldn’t after this. I had gone behind his back. I felt like I couldn’t get any lower.



“But I can tell you,” he continued, “whatever is wrong with him is nothing to sneeze at. All of these pills combined…I’m surprised he’s acting as normal as he is. Though there is something off about him. About both of you.”



“Me?” I asked, sticking the phone back in my purse, feeling dirty about everything.



He leaned on his messy stacks of papers. “You know this. You’re ghost hunters. You see things that aren’t there.”



I heard what could have been a car door slam from outside.



“I have to go,” I said, turning for the door. “Please don’t tell Dex about this. I just needed to know.”



He took one look at my face and nodded. “I won’t. You just need to watch yourselves. And try to communicate. Most ghosts come up when we can’t express ourselves.”



I nodded and gave him a quick smile. I left the room and quickly scampered down the hallway toward the doors. He wasn’t there yet.



I breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the glass. I was shaking slightly from the overall icky feeling of going behind Dex’s back like that. And the fact that the answers didn’t help. Severe hallucinations? What had Dex been seeing? And a mystery pill? What was going on?



As gross and immoral as I felt, I still had one more part of the plan that I was going to try to squeak through. It would also take a bit of luck and timing, but I felt I had both on my side tonight. As well as a touch of evil, which was certainly helping me follow through.



Soon, Dex appeared at the door like a drowned rat, gear in both hands. He looked so helpless in the rain, waiting for me, his dark, shaggy hair wet and flat against his head, the water dripping off the edge of his nose. I walked to the door and laid my hands against the cold glass. He watched me, expectantly, maybe a bit curious as to why I was watching him and not immediately letting him in.



I’m doing this because I love you, I thought. And that makes it OK.



I stared at him, through the pane, deep into his eyes, which were even darker in the night, with the brazen glare of the outside lights casting shadows on his handsome face. I loved him and I needed to know the truth.



Finally I opened the door with two hands, pushing hard against it, and Dex stepped in, sopping wet and dripping on the floor.



“Weren’t going to let me in?” he asked, sounding mock hurt. “Second thoughts? Gonna stay here overnight instead?”



I laughed, small and a bit forced, and shut the door behind him. “Thought I would take over Roundtree’s job. It looked fulfilling.”



I took some equipment into my hands and we made our way to the third floor through the nearest stairwell. It was lit, but with a weak, cheap light that made us both look green.



We reached the third floor and pushed the stairwell door open. The floor was completely dark except for the light coming through the stairwell windows at both ends. I immediately wanted to turn and leave but the door shut behind us with an ominous click that echoed down the empty hall.



“OK, this is fucking creepy,” I said.



“Agreed. Which is why it’s perfect.”



I gave Dex a look. He smiled at me and popped a piece of Nicorette in his mouth with his free hand. “Shall we get set up?”



I nodded and he brought out a tiny lantern from his pocket to provide a bit more light for our faint area. The only problem with that was that it made the rest of the floor look even darker than it was. Uneasy shadows danced down the corridor, tricks of the eye.



Out of his pack he brought out the EVP gadget, the first time I had ever really seen it. He had gotten it over the last week. It was supposed to pick up Electronic Voice Phenomenon, you know, like the hidden voices and sounds that we couldn’t hear properly with our own ears. The whole idea of using the EVP freaked the hell out of me, but holding the walkie talkie-sized gadget in my hands (it was really nothing more than a gimmicky tape recorder) made the unknown at least a bit familiar.



“Want to try that out tonight?” he asked, noting the way I was cradling it like some alien baby.



“I guess,” I said reluctantly. “Though I’m not sure what we could pick up. This is like the quietest mental hospital ever.”



He paused as he fiddled with the large camera on the ground, rocking slightly on his haunches.



“And how many mental hospitals have you been in?” he asked. Though his voice was low, he sounded a bit defensive and I couldn’t blame him for that.



I didn’t answer. He didn’t look too annoyed, though it was hard to tell from the light source.



“Besides, we’re on the third floor,” he continued, voice softer. “There’s nothing up here. And even if there were patients up here...you know, it’s not like the movies.”



I shrugged. “I know. Sorry. I just thought there would be screaming people or…”



“Like I said. It’s not like the movies.”



“Sorry Dex,” I mumbled, feeling ashamed.



“Don’t be. I’m not mad, I’m just saying. Not all mental hospitals mean the people behind the doors are all raving loons and wrapped up in straightjackets. I’m pretty sure that the second floor is just a bunch of rooms where you’ll find some pretty sad but fairly normal people going about their nightly business.”