it?”
“Hartmann?” Jamie suggested.
“Yes. The man I married was named Hartmann. Jason Hartmann. He had a penis as long as a hammer handle.”
I must be dreaming, Jamie decided. She closed her eyes and eased her body back into a sleeping position. But the woman smelled, she reminded herself. She couldn’t remember ever smelling someone in a dream.
Maybe she should take a second look.
But when she opened her eyes, the malodorous old woman was gone.
First light was coming through the window when next she woke. Jamie lay very still and put her hands on her stomach, which was tender from all that retching. With great effort, she stretched her legs and lifted her arms over her head. Her muscles felt as though they were made of Jell-O. But the nausea had retreated.
She glanced at the corner of the room recalling her strange dream, which was already growing fuzzy. A dream about Amanda Hartmann’s mother? That was just too weird. If she was going to keep on having dreams about old dead women, she would much prefer limiting them to just her grandmother.
Jamie rolled onto her side and tentatively put one foot and then the other on the floor and pushed herself to a sitting position. She felt hollow and weak but not queasy. “Hot damn!” she said.
Very carefully, she made her way into the bathroom, where she used the toilet and brushed her teeth. Then, feeling stronger with each step, she went into the sitting room, where she got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. She inhaled several breaths of the clean morning air then sipped the deliciously cold water and watched as daylight crept across the sky, erasing the stars as it went.
“A new day,” she whispered, then turned to go inside and get on with her day—a day that would not be spent in bed.
As she closed the doors, she realized the holly bushes were dead. The inside plants were still alive but no one had thought to water the ones on the balcony. She wouldn’t bother to replace them, she decided.
She walked over to her desk and looked at the calendar. She wasn’t sure what day it was, but it must already be well into September. She had been sick for almost a month.
The first thing she was going to do was take a nice hot bath, she decided— all by herself!
That was where Miss Montgomery found her—in the bathtub. “What do you think you’re doing!” the housekeeper shrieked.
“I’m feeling better,” Jamie said, covering her breasts with her arms. “Thank you so much for all you have done to help me get through this, but I need to have my privacy back.”
The woman stood there for a time, glowering. “You don’t even have a bath mat on the floor. You could slip and fall.”
Jamie took the bath mat hanging on the side of the tub and dropped it to the floor. “Thank you,” she repeated. “I know this has been difficult for you, but I’m fine now. Really I am. I would appreciate it if you closed the bathroom door when you leave. It’s rather drafty with it open.”
With a huff, the housekeeper turned heel and left. She did not close the bathroom door.
Jamie leaned back in the tub, planning to luxuriate a while longer in the hot water, but the draft from the open door chilled her shoulders. With a sigh, she carefully got herself out of the tub. She was going to start locking the door to her apartment, she decided. Of course, Miss Montgomery had a key, but locking the door would send a message.
After she had dried off, she looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the door and hardly recognized herself. “You look like hell,” she told her emaciated self.
She put on a robe and made two phone calls. The first was to the security office. “This is Jamie Long,” she said. “I need for you to bring my dog back. As soon as possible, please.”
Then she called the kitchen. “I’d like some hot tea and toast,” she said when Anita answered.
Ralph arrived just as
“Hartmann?” Jamie suggested.
“Yes. The man I married was named Hartmann. Jason Hartmann. He had a penis as long as a hammer handle.”
I must be dreaming, Jamie decided. She closed her eyes and eased her body back into a sleeping position. But the woman smelled, she reminded herself. She couldn’t remember ever smelling someone in a dream.
Maybe she should take a second look.
But when she opened her eyes, the malodorous old woman was gone.
First light was coming through the window when next she woke. Jamie lay very still and put her hands on her stomach, which was tender from all that retching. With great effort, she stretched her legs and lifted her arms over her head. Her muscles felt as though they were made of Jell-O. But the nausea had retreated.
She glanced at the corner of the room recalling her strange dream, which was already growing fuzzy. A dream about Amanda Hartmann’s mother? That was just too weird. If she was going to keep on having dreams about old dead women, she would much prefer limiting them to just her grandmother.
Jamie rolled onto her side and tentatively put one foot and then the other on the floor and pushed herself to a sitting position. She felt hollow and weak but not queasy. “Hot damn!” she said.
Very carefully, she made her way into the bathroom, where she used the toilet and brushed her teeth. Then, feeling stronger with each step, she went into the sitting room, where she got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. She inhaled several breaths of the clean morning air then sipped the deliciously cold water and watched as daylight crept across the sky, erasing the stars as it went.
“A new day,” she whispered, then turned to go inside and get on with her day—a day that would not be spent in bed.
As she closed the doors, she realized the holly bushes were dead. The inside plants were still alive but no one had thought to water the ones on the balcony. She wouldn’t bother to replace them, she decided.
She walked over to her desk and looked at the calendar. She wasn’t sure what day it was, but it must already be well into September. She had been sick for almost a month.
The first thing she was going to do was take a nice hot bath, she decided— all by herself!
That was where Miss Montgomery found her—in the bathtub. “What do you think you’re doing!” the housekeeper shrieked.
“I’m feeling better,” Jamie said, covering her breasts with her arms. “Thank you so much for all you have done to help me get through this, but I need to have my privacy back.”
The woman stood there for a time, glowering. “You don’t even have a bath mat on the floor. You could slip and fall.”
Jamie took the bath mat hanging on the side of the tub and dropped it to the floor. “Thank you,” she repeated. “I know this has been difficult for you, but I’m fine now. Really I am. I would appreciate it if you closed the bathroom door when you leave. It’s rather drafty with it open.”
With a huff, the housekeeper turned heel and left. She did not close the bathroom door.
Jamie leaned back in the tub, planning to luxuriate a while longer in the hot water, but the draft from the open door chilled her shoulders. With a sigh, she carefully got herself out of the tub. She was going to start locking the door to her apartment, she decided. Of course, Miss Montgomery had a key, but locking the door would send a message.
After she had dried off, she looked at herself in the mirror on the back of the door and hardly recognized herself. “You look like hell,” she told her emaciated self.
She put on a robe and made two phone calls. The first was to the security office. “This is Jamie Long,” she said. “I need for you to bring my dog back. As soon as possible, please.”
Then she called the kitchen. “I’d like some hot tea and toast,” she said when Anita answered.
Ralph arrived just as
Similar Books
