I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror holding my mascara wand. I was in the process of putting
the finishing touches on my make-up; but for the life of me, I couldn't remember starting, or even coming in
the bathroom for that matter.
Looking at myself in the mirror, my blue eyes--usually bright--looked dull. I seemed thinner than usual;
my face appeared gaunt. My long red curls looked wild, like I'd been out in a windstorm. I did not like what
I saw; my make-up was much heavier than usual, like I'd caked it on. I thought I looked like a prostitute.
This isn't the first time I found myself doing something I didn't remember starting.
It started one night about two weeks earlier. Around two one morning, my husband Jack and I were on
our way home from a party waiting at a stoplight. All of a sudden there was a bright light coming toward us,
moving so fast that there was no time to react. Before we knew it, it was hovering over the hood of our car
and sat there for about ten seconds. Jack said it came through the windshield right at me and then disappeared,
but I didn't remember that. The last thing I remember is that the light stopped over the hood. The next thing
I knew it was daylight and I was in bed. I looked at the clock, it read 2:14. I thought, "That's not right.
I never sleep that late." By nature I'm a morning person.
I got up and took a shower, all the time trying to piece together the previous night. As hard as I tried,
the pieces wouldn't come together. There was a large piece missing. The last thing I could recall was the
light over the hood of the car, and I wasn't even sure that was real.
After I got out of the shower I got dressed and went to look for Jack. I found him in the studio
fiddling around at the piano. I stood there watching him for a moment before he noticed me.
"Morning, sleepy. How did you sleep?" he asked mischievously.
"You tell me."
I asked him what had happened the previous night and he started by telling me about the light coming
toward us. Then he said, "After the light disappeared, you were, like, catatonic. I couldn't get any kind
of reaction from you. When we got home, I put you to bed and you just lay there."
All I could do was stare at him. I didn't remember any of what he was telling me.
He continued, "About six this morning, I woke up and found you in the bathroom. You were standing in
front of the mirror, nude, exploring your body."
"What do you mean I was exploring my body?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I couldn't keep from asking.
"You were running your hands over your breasts and--"
I could feel my face getting hot. "Jack, you're making that up."
"I'm not," he replied. His expression was serious.
"Stop it, Jack! I know you're making this up!" I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.
His expression told me that he believed he was telling the truth, but my mind just didn't want to accept
it, and I started to feel a little afraid.
Jack looked at me for what felt like an eternity.
"Do you want me to continue?" he finally asked.
"Yes--no. I don't know," I replied, the fear building.
He just stood there watching me.
I finally said, "Just tell me."
Still watching me, he continued, "When you saw me, you came to me. I tried to talk to you, but you just
ignored the words. You led me back to bed and we made love. Afterwards, you just sort of fell asleep.
Honey, you don't remember any of this?"
I just shook my head. I couldn't believe that he was talking about me, that I could have done those things.
I'm not like that, at least I thought I wasn't.
That was only the first incident.
I reached for a washcloth to remove the make-up and found myself standing in the bedroom putting on my
coat. I had an overwhelming urge to get in my car and drive. I finished putting on my coat and grabbed my
purse off the bed.
Jack was in the living room watching television. I've always thought he is the most gorgeous man alive,
from his long wavy brown hair, his gorgeous blue eyes, his muscular arms, his cute little behind, all the
way down to his toes. I might be a little biased, but I don't think so. I didn't think it was possible for
me to love him any more than I did at that moment. I stood there watching him, trying to memorize everything
about him. I had a funny feeling that I wouldn't see him again for a long time.
"Beth, are you okay?" I heard him say.
"I'm fine," I replied. "Why?"
"You looked so sad there for a second."
I shrugged. "Why should I be sad? I've got the best husband anybody could ever ask for; a man I love
more than anything in this world. I have nothing to be sad about."
"Who is this man?" he asked as he got off the couch. "I've got to meet this wonderful person."
"Why, you don't have to go very far. He's standing right in front of me" I said, putting my arms
around his neck.
He wrapped his arms around me.
"I love you, Mrs. Blaine.
"And I love you, Mr. Blaine."
He kissed me softly on the lips.
"Where are you off to?" he asked.
I told him, "I just need to get out of here for a while."
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?" He looked concerned.
I smiled. "I'm sure."
"Okay," he said, "if you're sure."
"I am."
"Hurry home," he said, releasing me.
"I'll do my best."
I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and started to walk away. He grabbed my arm.
"Is that any way to take leave of your husband?" he asked playfully.
"It is if I want to get out of here soon," I replied with a smile I didn't feel. "Now, will you please let
go of my arm?"
I just had to get out of there or I felt I would go insane.
He put up his hands.
"I give. How 'bout some company?"
"Sorry, honey. I just need to be alone for a while."
He followed me out to the garage and opened the door for me. Neither of us talking. As he closed the car
door, I took his hand and kissed it.
I looked back when I got to the end of the driveway. Jack waved. I smiled and waved back.
That was the last thing I remember until I found myself sitting on the couch at my brother Jamie's
apartment in Manhattan, New York.
I looked around the room and found that I was alone. This was too much. I had left my home in
Seattle and made my way clear across country, and I remembered none of it.
I started to panic. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I would die.
"Jamie!" I called. "Jamie!"
I got up and started toward the hallway, calling his name again. I went through the entire apartment and
discovered I was alone.
I picked up the phone and dialed my home phone number. The phone rang twice before the answering machine
picked up.
When the announcement finished, I said, "Jack, this is Beth. Don't ask me why, but I'm at Jamie's
apartment in New York. Please call me. I love you."
I didn't know what else to do, so I sat on the couch and turned on the television. I didn't want to think
about this. I was afraid I was going crazy. I couldn't seem to find anything that held my attention, so I
started flipping channels. I had probably been sitting there about fifteen minutes when I heard the front door
open.
I heard Jamie saying to someone, "--said a word since she's been here, so don't expect her to
acknowledge you."
I turned off the television and went to meet him.
I think Jamie saw me before I saw him because when I saw him, he was just standing there watching me.
Behind him I saw my husband.
"Jack!" I exclaimed. In that instant, I had never been so happy to see anyone in my entire life.
I started toward him and then stopped. They were just staring at me.
Jamie spoke first.
"How are you feeling, Beth?"
"Scared. Jamie, what am I doing here?" I looked at Jack. "Did we come out here together?"
Neither of them said anything. They just continued to watch me, and I was getting very nervous.
"Will one of you please say something!?"
"I don't know why you're here," Jamie told me. "We were hoping you could tell us that."
I just closed my eyes and shook my head. The fear was receding and I was beginning to feel numb.
"Couldn't you at least tell me how long I've been here?" I asked, looking at my brother.
"You got here last night," he replied. He looked concerned.
I looked at Jack.
He shrugged and said, "I just arrived."
Jamie said, "Let's go in the living room."
Looking at my brother for the first time, I noticed that he looked the same as the last time I'd seen
him: long, thick blonde hair; big blue eyes; skinny, but not too skinny; muscular, but not too muscular.
I've always thought if he weren't my brother, and I wasn't happily married, I could really go for him.
Jack sat next to me on the couch. Jamie sat in the chair facing us.
"Honey, " Jack said, "you've been acting strange recently; forgetting things, doing things you don't normally do."
"You've noticed? I thought I was hiding it so well," I replied in all honesty.
"Beth, I've asked you this before, but you wouldn't answer me," Jamie said. "Did Jack hurt you? Is that
why you're here?"
When Jack was in college, he got involved with drugs, and for a while things really got bad. He destroyed
things when he was angry, breaking things, pounding his fists against walls, etc. He came home from college
one weekend acting very strange, really intense. I could tell something was bothering him, but he wouldn't tell
me what it was. We got into an argument about it, and Jack became so angry that he slapped me across the face.
It scared him more than it scared me. I didn't tell Jamie about it, but Jack did. That's why Jamie thought it
was possible that Jack could hurt me.
"I already told you," Jack said angrily, "I would never hurt Beth."
Jamie replied, "I'd like to hear it from her."
Turning to me, he said, "You can tell me the truth, sis. He can't hurt you here."
"He didn't hurt me, Jamie," I told him. "Jack would never harm me in any way."
Taking my hand, Jack said, "Honey, when you didn't come home last night, you've been acting
so strange, I thought you'd left me. And then when Jamie called me--Beth, I think you should see a doctor."
"How long has this been going on?" Jamie asked.
"A little over two weeks, I guess," I replied.
Jamie added, "Then I think Jack is right, sis. Why don't I see if I can set up an appointment for you tomorrow?"
"Do I have a choice?" I knew they were right, but I was afraid they would find something horribly wrong,
like a brain tumor or I really was going crazy.
"I really think you should, Beth," Jack added.
"I know, you're right," I replied, rubbing my forehead.
I suddenly felt exhausted and I announced that I was going to bed. To my surprise I had no trouble
falling asleep.
When I woke up, the clock on the nightstand read 10:30. The sun was shining through the window and I
thought the day looked promising.
I got out of bed and took a shower, thinking that Jack was probably already up and dressed. After
I got out of the shower, I got dressed and went out to the living room, expecting to find him there. Instead
I found Jamie sitting at the desk in front of the computer. He looked up as I entered the room.
"Good morning," he said cheerfully. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Fine," I replied. "Where's Jack?"
"Beth, Jack is dead," he replied looking puzzled.
All I could do is stare at him.
"How could he be dead?" I demanded. "He was here last night. Jamie, where is he?"
"That was three days ago. He died in his sleep that night. Beth, you were the one who found him."
First I travel clear across the country and not remember, and now my brother was telling me that
my husband is dead--this was too much!
"You're lying!" I yelled at him. "Why are you doing this? Jack is not dead!"
I looked at my brother wondering why he was trying to hurt me.
He looked so sad and concerned.
"I'm sorry, sis, but it's the truth. Why would I lie? God, how I wish it weren't true.
He was my best friend; I loved him, too."
The last part echoed in my mind: "I loved him, too." It started to sink in that he was telling the
truth, the lost time, turning up someplace and not knowing how I got there. It was too much, I
couldn't deal with it. I couldn't breathe. Jamie was coming toward me, and then everything went black.
The next thing I knew I was lying on the floor and Jamie was shaking me.
"Breathe, damn it! You're not going to leave me, too. Beth, breathe."
He slapped me hard across the face causing me to gasp. The loss, sadness, pain; the emotions were
overwhelming. I started to sob, turning away from him. All I knew was that the love of my life was gone and
I wanted to die.
Jamie pulled me into his arms and held me while we both sat on the floor and cried.
When the tears began to subside, I asked, "Where is he now? I want to see him before..."
"The funeral was yesterday. I'm sorry. I just thought you weren't dealing with it. You wouldn't talk to me
or even look at me," he replied sadly.
"Take me to where he's buried."
I knew that until I saw his grave I would still hold some hope that he might be alive.
"Are you sure?"
"I need to see, to say goodbye."
We rode to the cemetery in silence. At his grave, I silently said goodbye, tears flowing down my cheeks.
It hurt so bad. And I couldn't stop thinking that I might have killed him, suffocated him with a pillow. More
lost time and I didn't know why or what I'd done.
After we got back in the car, I asked, "How did he die?"
"His heart stopped," he replied.
"But he was just thirty years old."
"The doctor said he had some kind of heart defect." He sounded as if he was just reciting something
he'd memorized.
"Could I have done it, maybe suffocated him with a pillow while he was sleeping?" I couldn't
stop thinking that it was a possibility.
Jamie pulled abruptly off the road and turned to me, his face full of anger.
"Elizabeth Ryan, don't you even think that." He only calls me by my Christian name when he's extremely
angry with me.
"But it's possible. I don't remember anything from the time I went to bed that night--" It
sounded so reasonable.
"Stop it. He died of heart failure, not asphyxiation. So don't even think that. I know you, and
I know you couldn't have killed him."
"I'm sorry, Jamie," I told him, why eyes full of unshed tears. "It's just that I don't remember
the last three days and a lot of other things in recent past. I was really afraid that I might have.
I mean, how do I know what I've done any of those times?"
"You didn't, okay?" he said gently. "I know you would never intentionally hurt anyone."
"That's just it, Jamie; I wasn't myself." I really believed that I could have killed Jack. I think
it showed in my eyes.
Jamie took me in his arms and held me. "Just let it go, Beth. I know you didn't kill him."
We flew home to Seattle the next day. We had mutually decided to sell the house we grew up in.
Neither of us wanted to live there any longer; too many sad memories.
We had been home for a week, going through the house deciding what to keep and what to leave behind.
We'd already started looking for a new house. We'd talked about living in separate homes, but neither of us
really wanted to be alone. Besides, Jamie was gone a lot, so it wasn't like we'd get on each others' nerves.
I awoke with a start. It was still very dark. I rolled over and discovered that there was someone in bed
with me. His back was to me, but I was sure it wasn't anyone I knew. I slid out of bed, careful not to disturb
him. I pulled my robe off the end of the bed and quietly left the room.
In the living room I sat down on the couch. I couldn't believe that I was in bed with someone I didn't
know. I thought, "Now what have I done."
I'd been sitting there for what seemed like hours when I heard someone come in to the room. I looked
up and all the color drained from my face.
"What are you doing sitting here in the dark?" Jack asked.
When I didn't answer him, he asked, "Beth, are you all right?"
He turned on the light. He looked the same as I last remembered seeing him.
"You're white as a sheet. What's wrong?"
I was certain that I really had killed Jack, and now he was here to haunt me.
He sat down beside me and I moved away.
"Beth, what?" He sounded so concerned, but I wasn't fooled.
"You're dead. I killed you. Now you're here to haunt me."
He started to laugh, then he saw how serious I was. He put out his hand.
"Touch it."
Shaking my head I moved further away. I was sure he wanted to hurt me, to pay me back for killing him.
"Beth, I'm flesh and blood."
He grabbed my hand. I started to pull away but he held on. I expected him to be cold, yet he wasn't--his
hand was warm. I reached out with my other hand and touched his face.
All I could do is sit there looking bewildered. First I couldn't believe he was dead and now
I couldn't believe he was alive.
"I know that was a wild party last night," he told me with a grin, "but it didn't kill me."
"Last night?" I asked, still confused.
"That's right. You fell asleep in the car on the way home. I carried you in the house. Why?"
Could it be that it was all a dream?
