“That’s why I haven’t told you. This is a sensitive area of my life that I’m not very comfortable with.”
“I get that. So do you want me to hang up?”
“I want somebody to tell me what the fuck’s going on,” he roared.
“So tell me everything, as far back as you can remember, when this started.”
“I don’t know when it started exactly. A few days ago, a week maybe. I don’t even know. I don’t think it’s been that long. It’s just, it’s dominant.”
“So it’s every day then?”
“Yes, it’s every day. Some are better than others. But my experiences could be different, from her crying in the background to wheels turning to that exasperating sense of smell. Sometimes it’s even just incredible hearing.”
“Interesting.” She thought about it for a long moment. “Do you have a first name?”
“No, not at all.”
“And no sign of a location or landmark or anything to help identify her?”
“No. The only thing that I can tell you is that I hear her crying, sobbing, saying things like, ‘Why me? Why does this have to happen?’ It’s not so much a sense of self-pity as that of great sadness, grief almost.”
“Like maybe she’s lost somebody, or she’s been caught up in something she can’t change?”
“Caught up in something she can’t change,” he said thoughtfully. “That feels about right.”
“Feels?”
“Yeah, and that’s all I can tell you. It feels like that.” Again that defensiveness came into his voice.
She didn’t blame him because they had no guidebook to anything that he was experiencing, and it had to be frustrating for him to not get any answers, to not get a say in anything one way or another. In order for any of this to come to a happy conclusion, he needed to find a way to get out of this. “How does that work, in terms of you shutting it off?”
“I’ve tried and succeeded a couple times, and then, out of the blue, suddenly I’m back in it again.”
“And usually it’s just the really strong sense of smell. Any theories on why it’s that?”
“I think because I can’t see through her eyes. There are just shadows.”
“Because she’s in darkness?”
“Maybe, that’s why I was thinking captivity.”
“And that makes a certain kind of rational sense. Do you think she has a message for you?”
“I don’t know,” he said bluntly. “I did come to the conclusion that I needed to do something to help her.”
“Okay,” she replied slowly. “Do you know what you can do?”
“No,” he said, his voice heavy. “I just feel like the only reason I’m connecting with her is because there is something I can do. Just like with the jumpers, just like with the kids.”
“And, in both cases, you gave information to me and between us—”
Excitedly he interrupted her. “Yes!Between us, we helped. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Think of what?” Kate asked. “You haven’t given me anything to help you with, and I don’t have anything to give you.”
At that, he stopped. “Then I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with any of it.”
“If you do find something that’s usable, then please let me know. If you figure out why or where she is, or if you figure out even something about the source of her grief, tell me. So, that bike, is it a stationary bike?”