Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (6 page)

Loud ringing beside her head.
Must be the alarm clock
.
Is it morning already?
She had to do something, at eight o’clock. What was it? Mina turned to look at the time on her digital clock. Her eyelids barely open, she concentrated on the red glow coming from the night table. The glow flickered, dancing and mocking her. The numbers became
glowworms
, crawling out of the clock, slithering on the night table and flying away, like fireflies in the summer nights of her childhood. “
Mina, you’ll be late, get up.”
Her mother’s voice. Where was her mother? She could smell her perfume all around her
. S
he knew it
—
Boucheron.
She moved her arms above her head, reaching, searching, “
Mamma, sono qui.
I’m here.”
Tired, her arms fell back by her sides and once again, sleep prevailed.

The pounding came from somewhere in the living room. Mina was awake in the sense that her eyes were open.
Was
it morning?
She lifted one hand and
could see her fingers. All five of them. Voices joined the pounding sound. Someone was banging on her front door. S
he had to get up, open the door
and see
what the commotion was all about. Maybe it had to do with the thing she was to do at eight o’clock. Why couldn’t she remember? She sat up in her bed, cold sweat circling her head like a crown of tears. She wanted to throw up. The pounding stopped. No more voices. The need to feel alive trumped the urge to sleep. Mina managed to get her feet on the floor, and then, little by little, she stood. Perspiration ran down her neck, her chest, to her navel.

So tired.

She rested her body against the wall. Couldn’t stand the nausea.

Baby steps.

The house
was
so quiet, no sounds and no outside noises. Something wasn’t right.

Baby steps.

Mina could see the sunshine on her terrace and the couch,
only
feet away.
Please God, let me get to the couch.
She stopped praying after her mother’s death. Why start now?

When she sat on the couch, elation filled her like an important achievement had been reached. Soon she felt herself slipping back to sleep. A sense of urgency thrust itself into Mina’s consciousness. She had to stay awake, get help. The phone was in her bedroom. Too far.

Voices came from the hall outside her front door. Maybe her neighbors were on their way to work. She could get their attention while they waited for the elevator.
She pulled herself up from the couch
and moved toward the front door
holding
first
to the back of the sofa,
then
to the cocktail table. When she ran out of furniture to hold on to
,
she let herself slide against the door. The outside voices faded.
No, please, help!
She turned the knob. Her door wasn’t locked. Holding on with both hands she propped her body between the door and the wall. Where were the neighbors? Footsteps on the stairs. Getting louder. Her head jerked up, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t fight any more. Her fingers relaxed, let go. Her body slipped,
and she collapsed
on the doormat. Thoughts fled past her, faces, memories. Then all went dark again.

“Is she breathing?” The voice sounded so far away. “You said there wasn’t anyone left in the building.”

“I went door to door. When I knocked
,
no one answered. How was I to know?”

“See if you can catch the meds before they leave.”

“Ahead of you. They’re on their way up.”

Mina knew the voices were talking about her. She must open her eyes, speak. She heard the soft swoosh of the elevator door. Hushed voices and footsteps.

“Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.” A man’s voice. “Help is on the way. Good girl! Hold on tight, you’ll be okay.”

More whispering.

Mina opened her eyes. Three pairs of eyes looked back at her.

“How are you feeling?” The man wore a uniform, something dark, a ski vest? She must be dreaming again.

“Can you talk? Are you in pain?” Another man knelt beside her, a different uniform, no ski vest. This man touched her wrist. He had gloves, not like the gloves used to wash dishes, gloves like skin. Nauseous, she closed her eyes. Something cold probed her chest, below her heart. She still had a beating heart
,
and she knew these people were cops and paramedics. Who called them? The cold ob
ject brushed against her breast
and she recoiled.

“What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” The man with the gloves.

S
omehow she managed,
“Mina.”

“Good girl
,
Mina. I need to look at your eyes. This isn’t going to hurt
. O
kay
?
” The man pointed a
pen
light
at first one eye, then the other
. Why? It wasn’t dark, and her eyes were fine.

“Do you think you can sit up if I help you?”

Mina was aware of more people
. S
he could see the shoes, the uniforms
. T
hen another voice joined in. “What’s going on? Where did she come from?”

This voice she knew
;
she was sure of it.

“Mina? What’s going on?”

DeFiore
. I
t had to be
DeFiore
. She searched the faces. Yes, he was squatted next to her. “Hello there, what happened to you?” Before she could answer,
DeFiore
turned to speak to the man with a different uniform, the one touching her body with a cold object. “No visible sign of trauma?
Vitals good?
Okay. Let me talk to her. Can we get her inside?”

They lifted her up and laid her on the couch. She thought how ironic it was that she had made all that effort only to end up exactly where she started.
Her awareness grew while the nausea receded
. Mina propped herself up on her elbow. Her living room was like a police station. How did all these people get here so fast? Who called them?
DeFiore
stood a few feet away
talking to a paramedic. Another paramedic came
down the hall.

“Nothing?”
DeFiore
asked.

“Birth control and Midol, that’s it.”

Maledizione.
They went through her medicine cabinet?
Her
tremendous outrage produced a miracle
. S
he was wide-awake and incensed by such action.

“Mina, did you take sleeping pills?

“No, I didn’t, and how dare you go through my stuff?”

“Calm down, we are trying to figure out what made you so sick and lethargic.”

“How did you all got here so fast? Who called you?”
She was suddenly
so tired again.

“We had a hostage situation on the floor above, the penthouse. It turned out to be a lovers’ quarrel.
And the only reason we found you is because Sergeant Jones here,”
DeFiore
pointed to the man with the vest, “was coming down from the rooftop and saw you on the floor outside your door. So stop arguing and try to remember what you did last night before you went to sleep. What did you eat, drink? I assume you went to bed, you are in your pajamas.”

Arrgh!
No, no. He was right
. S
he was in her pajamas.
Mina lowered her eyes
wishing she could
disappear.
She was supposed to do something at
eight
o’clock.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Eleven.
” DeFiore answered.
“
Going somewhere?”

The paramedics were packing up their gear and Sergeant Jones fidgeted with his belt. He looked like he wanted to bolt out of there.

“I was supposed to drive Angelina to the bus.” She remembered. Hurray!

“Oh, when did you last speak to—Angelina?”

“Last night?”
The return of Mina’s memory e
m
powered her.

“How about you tell me the whole story
?
”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

DeFiore
exchanged glances with one of the paramedics who nodded and went to the refrigerator. The
others
seemed to
be
hang
ing
around waiting for
DeFiore
to tell them what to do next. Mina drank the water wondering what happened to Angelina. Wasn't she
sp
ending the night on the couch? Why was there no trace of her anywhere? Should she tell the whole story to
DeFiore
? Why did she get so sick? Was Angelina also sick? Mina's mind went into overdrive.

“I’m waiting.”
DeFiore
wasn’t giving up. Mina knew that.

“Angelina was going to spend the night here, and I was going to drive her to the bus station so she could go to Oceanside to see her family. I overslept or something. She must have walked to the bus stop.” She heard the quiver in her voice. Talking exhausted her, but she was finally thinking straight.

“You overslept? You look like you're coming out of a drug binge. What time did she get to your place?”

“Huh, well, she was in my car. We drove together.”

“How did she ge
t

never mind. You don’t lock your car. So you two drove straight here from Bosom Bodies, and she spent the night here?”

Mina nodded. She wanted everyone to leave, she wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep. “Yeah, we had hot cocoa and then I felt very tired
.
I went to bed, an
d…
I don’t feel good.”

“You both drank hot cocoa? Where did you put the empty cups?”

She pointed to the dishwasher, hoping he would go back where he came from.

DeFiore
went into the kitchen. “White mugs?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have them analyzed.”

“I washed them.”

DeFiore
smiled
.
“I’ll have them analyzed,” he repeated. His two
-
way radio went off. He turned away from Mina. “Yes, Sam. Where? You're sure?” He looked at Mina, his face an unfinished puzzle. “I’ll be right there.”
DeFiore
motioned to Sergeant Jones to take the mugs. He spoke to him in a low voice that made Mina suspicious.

What were they talking about?

“Mina, I have to go. Paco is sending Margo to stay with you until you are back to normal. And Jones here will keep you company. “

“No way. I’m fine, thank you very much. Jones can go where he is needed and the same with Margo.”

“She's on her way here. Shush and be a good girl. Talk to you later. Jones, walk to the elevator with me.” He turned to the two paramedics hanging around. “If you think she’ll be okay, you can go. Thanks, fellows.”

To Mina’s relief they all left. Two minutes later,
DeFiore
and Jones were back.

“Where is your phone?”
DeFiore
asked her.

“In the bedroom, exactly where I will be as soon as you get out of my house.”

“Good. Jones is staying put until Margo gets here. You need to answer the phone when it rings.” He looked at her, and Mina felt he was going to say something important. He didn’t. He left before she had a chance to tell him again to take Sergeant Jones with him.

Her flash of energy had passed, and she needed to lie still, close her eyes. She wasn’t sure she could make it to her room, but she
had no intentions of
ask
ing
the Sergeant for help.
Maybe she could just close her eyes for a minute or two.

Margo’s perky voice woke her. Damn, goodbye peace and tranquility.
“Mina, you look like hell! What happened? Party hardy?”

She didn’t know how long she slept or what Sergeant Jones did while she lay asleep on the couch
.
Mina wanted to scream
. I
nstead she gave Margo “the look,”
for all the good it did. Nothing could dampen Margo’s enthusiasm, especially if there was a man around.

“Mina, I’m putting you to bed and making you some coffee, strong coffee. Have an espresso machine?”
She put her arm around Mina’s waist and helped her off the couch. Soon Mina was in her own bed. “You rest now, and I’ll make coffee for the three of us.”
Three of us?
Sergeant Jones must still
have been
t
here.