The Banishing (10 page)

“You’re
still
working?”

Mark paused, and she could tell he was in between a mouthful of food.

“Yes, I’m working. What the fuck do you think I’m doing? I took a late job last night. One of the guys called me and said he had a delivery he needed doing, and it was pretty urgent. So, I just slept in the car. Was easier, that’s all.”

Melissa swallowed, trying to let her anger pass. He should have called, let her know this before. “You slept in the car in the middle of October?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t so bad. It meant I could hit the road at five this morning. Been pretty quiet on the roads, actually.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Wales.”

“Shit, Mark. That’ll take forever.”

“About five hours there, five back, give or take. Depends on traffic, really. Money was too good to say ‘no’. It was urgent, and none of the other lads wanted to work on a Saturday morning.”

No, they would want to be home with their wives. Who they don’t beat
. That was what she wanted to say, but instead she simply said, “So, you’re going to be back when?”

“Maybe about four or five o’ clock. I’ll have to make a couple of stops. Can’t do the drive straight.”

“All right.”

“You okay?” he asked. She could hear more clattering and something smashing in the background. The café sounded like a headache.

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“You sound weird.”

“Something weird happened again last night,” she said, and she instantly felt mad at herself.
What am I doing,
she thought? He thought I had imagined it the first time. The words came from her lips without her mind wanting them to. “Like the man I saw in our lounge. I saw a woman in the kitchen.”

Mark laughed. “She good at doing dishes?”

“Stop it,” Melissa snapped, pissed off at him, and pissed off at herself for expecting anything more. “I did, Mark. I saw a woman, and she looked awful. It scared the hell out of me. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Yeah? Where is she now?” he asked, taking a loud slurp of his coffee.

“She disappeared. Like the man I saw.”

“Mel, I’ve heard enough. You were probably still half-asleep.”

“In the
kitchen?
” she retorted. She was relieved they were having this conversation across the phone; she didn’t want to piss him off when he was capable of snapping, of hurting her and losing his temper.

“Maybe you were sleepwalking, again. You used to do that, didn’t you?”

Melissa blinked back tears of frustration. “No, Mark. I haven’t done that for years. I know the difference between being awake and asleep. I
did
see her.”

“So you’re seeing ghosts, now? Jesus Christ.”

“Well I don’t know. I know how it sounds, but—”

“But nothing,” Mark snapped, his voice like lightening down the phone. Sharp and powerful. “I’m fucking tired and working all the hours God sends, and all you want to talk about is ghosts. Do you know how that fucking sounds?”

Melissa snapped. “Do you know how
you
fucking sound? How you’ve sounded for the past few months with your shouting and your awful temper and…” Her voice trailed off into silence.

Mark cleared his throat. “I told you the other night. I’m sorry,” he said.

Melissa couldn’t believe her ears. “You said sorry. Then last night, you forced me to—”

“Forced? A married couple having sex? God forbid!”

Melissa hung up the phone and felt a knot of dread thread itself along her stomach. She pushed him. Too far. What sort of mood would he be in when he got home? What would he do to her, now? She had to be careful with him, as much as that infuriated her.

As she placed the phone in its cradle, the phone began ringing. Startled at the shrill noise in the silence of the kitchen, she grabbed it and answered.

“Hi, is this Melissa Sanderson?”

“Yes. Who’s speaking?”

“It’s Josh. Josh Howell from the hospital. Please forgive me for calling you at home. Ah…can you talk for a minute?”

Melissa, surprised and intrigued at his call, said, “Yes,” then waited to hear what he had to say.

Josh apologized again for calling her at home. “I know it’s unprofessional of me to get your number from work. I spoke to your friend Sharon, and she gave me your number.”

“Okay, I don’t mind.”

“I just wanted to know if perhaps you were…free to meet today? For coffee and a chat.”

Melissa hesitated, not knowing what to say. Josh seemed like a nice guy, easy to talk to, but why did he want to see her? More than that, what would Mark do if he found out she was meeting a good-looking young man for coffee? It could be more trouble than it was worth. “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“I’m sorry. Let me be honest. I couldn’t stop thinking of you the other day when you left. I was worried.”

“Well, I’m okay,” she lied.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

Josh broke through the awkward atmosphere. “One coffee. At my office. I’ll bring pastries over from the canteen.”

“Oh, you’re working today?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. I’ll be at my office all day. I assume you’re not?”

Melissa laughed. “No way. It’s my day off. I suppose a coffee would be nice.”

“You’d be brightening up my lunch break,” he said, his warmth reaching her over the phone.

Melissa smiled to herself. He was a good guy. One of the good ones.

“I’ll come over at noon,” she said finally.

“You don’t mind coming over to the hospital? Only by the time I’d drive over to meet you somewhere else...It’d just be easier.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry.” Melissa hung up after saying goodbye and went upstairs to wash and dress. Before she left at midday, she didn’t see or think of ghosts.

Chapter Thirteen

Outside, it was cold and wet. Melissa chose to wear a pair of black trousers and a tight, red top—one of her favorites. All through the week, she forced herself into ill-fitting white, crisp, clerical shirts and ugly, black trousers. It was the uniform all of the nursing staff had to wear, and she hated it.

During the weekend, at least she could make an effort; although, she hadn’t felt like making an effort for Mark in a long time. He had put an end to that.

Melissa wanted to walk down to the hospital, hoping to get some much needed fresh air, but it was far too cold. Rain fell in sleek, thin patters against the pavement and dampened her hair as she jumped into the car. She wouldn’t walk in this weather.

She was surprised the roads were busy, considering it was the weekend. Despite the traffic, she thought about Josh Howell. He had sounded genuinely concerned for her over the phone, and it was good of him to take the time to call her, to see if she was all right. Melissa liked how that felt, knowing that somebody cared, that somebody was worried. Sharon was a good friend, but her insistence that Melissa should simply pack up and leave Mark was not what she wanted to hear, or do. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe in time, but not yet,
she thought to herself
.

She parked the car as close to the main entrance of the hospital as she could get without having to pay. People milled around the entrance, some with their heads down and their faces taut, full of worry—probably relatives of patients who were desperately ill. Others stood, huddled in corners, smoking. Smoking was not allowed on the property, but people still insisted on using the main entrance as a smoking corner.

Melissa walked past, quickly sprinting through the small clusters of people and trying to get in from the rain.

She headed through the reception area. The smell of coffee and baked cakes wafted through the air around her from the small café. It made her hungry. She hoped Josh had picked something up. She took the flight of steps to the second floor and followed the signs that pointed to the Psychology and Psychiatric Unit.

When she reached Josh’s office, she knocked once, and immediately she heard him from inside telling her to come in.

She opened the door. For some reason, she felt a little nervous. She didn’t know why, just that the feeling was there, setting her slightly on edge.

“Hello! Thanks for coming over,” Josh said. He stood from behind his desk, walked over to her, and kissed her on the cheek. It was unexpected. The greeting felt too familiar, too intimate. After all, she had only met him once. It made her flush, and she smiled sheepishly, dropping her handbag and her damp coat onto the back of the chair.

His eyes narrowed on her, and he smiled, motioning for her to sit down on the sofa that lined the back wall of his office.

Melissa went over and sat down, suddenly unsure of what to say. Suddenly unsure of why she had come. Josh was being his warm, charming self, and within moments she relaxed.

“Now, I don’t know about you, but I think the café downstairs sells the best chocolate brownies. I got two of them a few minutes ago. Still warm from the oven,” he said, carrying a cardboard tray with the two brown cakes nestled on top amidst napkins.

He leaned forward, and Melissa picked up one of the cakes. He placed his on the floor and went back to the desk to fetch the two large beakers off of his desk. “Two coffees,” he said, handing her one of them. Melissa took one, smiled, and thanked him, placing it carefully on the floor. Hot steam rose from the paper cup, and it smelled delicious to her.

Josh finally sat down beside her, leaned back into the cushions that were propped behind, and bit into his cake. “Trust me, you can’t beat them.” Chocolate crumbs fell from the cake onto his blue shirt, and he blushed, patting them away with his free hand. “You’ll have to excuse me. There is no elegant way to eat these.”

Melissa laughed and took a bite of her own. Rain tapped against the glass, and the sky overhead was still a bleak blanket of gray, making the office that had seemed bright and welcoming on her previous visit now appear gloomy, depressing.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, turning to him.

Josh nodded, throwing the last piece of cake into his mouth and reaching for his drink. “Go ahead.”

Melissa set her cake onto the napkin before placing it on the floor. Again, her appetite disappeared; she didn‘t feel like eating. Even if she looked like she
needed
to eat. “Why did you really call me here? I can’t believe that I made so much of an impression on you that you just had to see me, again.”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “You underestimate yourself,” he replied. He took a sip of coffee, and for a moment, his features were blurred by the steam rising from the drink.

“Seriously,” Melissa said, her eyes fixed on Josh.

He hesitated, seeming to be searching for the right answer. Melissa said nothing, waiting for his response.

“You seemed on edge,” he said at last. “Like you were carrying the weight of the world. You looked so…” his voice melted away, and he fell into silence.

“I looked so what?” Melissa pressed.

Josh ran his hand over his chin, the skin uneven and darkened with stubble. “It might sound bad, but you just looked so vulnerable, so lost. I see a lot of people in all sorts of situations—you do in my line of work—but there was just something about you,” he said. His pale skin seemed to redden, and Melissa wondered if he was embarrassed. It made her feel self-conscious, suddenly.

“Something about me,” she repeated. Her words fell into the veil of silence that had settled between them.

Josh nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “I just thought about you after you left and realized I didn’t want to leave it at that. You looked like you needed help.”

I do. Desperately
, she thought.
My husband has turned into a monster, and I’m seeing ghosts
. What would a qualified psychiatrist make of
that
?

“What’re you smiling at?” he asked.

Melissa realized the thought had turned her expression into a half-smile. She shook it away. “I’m all right. You don’t need to worry.”

“Have you spoken to your husband yet?”

“About?”

“Him needing help. If his change in temperament and his mood swings are getting worse or out of control, he needs help. You know that.”

Melissa shrugged. “We’ll work through it. I’m going to help him.”

“You’re frightened of confronting him, though.” Josh pressed. His youthful, warm features made her feel wary of opening up, made her feel like he was too fresh out of school to understand any of the things she was going through with Mark. She felt herself contract, slink away within herself, suddenly not wanting to take the subject further.

“Melissa, will you confront him?” Josh repeated. He was leaning forward now, closer to her.

She shrugged.

“Or are you frightened to?” Josh asked. “In case he tries anything like that, again.”

Melissa looked up at Josh, and he pointed to the healing cut on her lips, where Mark had struck her. She had almost forgotten about it. The pain on the side of her head had been the worse injury, making the split lip seem like a walk in the park. She instinctively placed a hand to the cut. “I don’t want to get into this,” she said, turning away from his direct gaze.