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SLOANE
Sloane took a long sip from the bottle of celery juice next to her and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she tried to stop the wild thumping in her chest. Lately she’d noticed more episodes of her heart beating erratically, like she’d been running, and then seconds later it would go back to normal. She wondered if she’d mentioned it to Dr. Porter when she’d seen him yesterday. Sloane remembered getting into the car with Whit, but that was it. Maybe she should call his office and ask for a recap, without admitting that she had no recollection of seeing him yesterday. Leaning on her elbow, she took the phone from her night table. His receptionist answered on the second ring.
“Hello. This is Sloane Montgomery. I wonder if I might speak to Dr. Porter.”
“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery. I’m sorry, but he left this morning for a few days off. He’ll be back next week. Do you want me to leave a message for the doctor on call?”
“I’ll call you back.” She hung up before the woman could respond.
Had she really completely forgotten a whole chunk of her day? She tried to concentrate and think this through. Maybe Whit had discussed the doctor visit with Emmy. When she tried Emmy’s cell, the call went straight to voicemail. “Emmy, give me a call when you get this message. It’s important.”
It had been three days since she sent the tea for testing. She should have an email by now with the results. She picked up her phone again and dialed Carlson Labs.
“Carlson Labs, how may I help you?” a man’s voice came across the line.
“Hello, this is Sloane Montgomery. I’ve been waiting for a report on a sample I sent in a few days ago.”
“Just a moment, Mrs. Montgomery. I’ll look it up.”
Sloane nervously drummed her fingers on the nightstand while she waited.
“Here we go. It was emailed to you yesterday,” he said.
“What? I never received an email from you. Can you give the results to me over the phone?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have access to that, but I can leave a message for the lab manager to call you back.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” She clicked off the call and opened her email, scanning everything from yesterday. There was nothing from Carlson Labs. Could she have deleted it by accident?
She decided to read for a bit, to take her mind off her troubles. She went to grab her book and took a last sip of the celery juice. Picking up her book, she began to read, but her eyes started to blur. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but it was no use. She threw the book onto the bed, exasperated. Now she was being denied even the simple pleasure of reading.
Suddenly, the book stood up on its own and began to dance in the air. Clashing cymbals rang in her ears as a discordant song began blaring. Where was that coming from? She put her hands over her ears. “Stop, stop!” The woman on the cover of the book leapt off the page, and her face came within inches of Sloane’s. “What do you want with me?” the woman yelled at Sloane. “Leave me alone!”
Sloane screamed, trying to push her away. The woman grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides.
“Get off of me!” Sloane yelled.
“Sloane, Sloane, it’s me. Athena. Calm down.”
She opened her eyes. Athena was standing over her, her expression inscrutable. “What happened?”
Sloane swallowed. She pointed at the book—which was now just a book again, lying inert on the bed. “I don’t know. I think…I think I saw something….” A deep sense of dread filled her.
“Are you all right?” Athena asked.
“I’m fine. I had a nightmare. Please just leave me alone.”
Athena looked like she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head and turned from the bed.
When she left the room, Sloane grabbed her phone and with trembling hands googled “new treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus,” hoping to find some new miraculous drug or protocol for stopping the invasion of the disease into her brain, but the articles were the same ones she’d seen for the last two years. No experimental treatments. Nothing new. Nothing to give her any hope. Maybe she was looking for hope in the wrong places.
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ROSEMARY
Now that Rosemary was feeling better, she wanted to arrange a visit to see Sloane. She punched in the number and waited. It rang once, then went to voicemail. She frowned. This was the third time she’d tried to reach her. “Sloane, darling. It’s Rosemary returning your call. Please call me. I’d love to come and see you.” Rosemary sighed in frustration. She’d left three messages for Sloane and still hadn’t heard back from her. She called Camille.