Just The Ticket Read online

worried. Angry or worried? That about summed it up. If this whole thing was outside of her, then she was angry. If it wasn’t, then she truly should be worried.

  She crossed the road to a convenience store and walked down the aisle to the back of the shop for something to drink. Reflected in the glass of the long fridge she saw a man walk into the store, eyes scanning until he saw her. He started walking down the aisle. She quickly walked up the next aisle, collecting a bag of chips and then over to the counter. As the young woman gave her the change she lowered her eyes, saying softly, “the way out is through the door”.

  Out the door and onto the street, she checked back. There was the man, still following. She turned down a side street and kept walking but could hear his footsteps. She stepped into a doorway, out of view. The man strode past, stopped and looked up and down the street before he saw her. She ran, and saw up ahead the bright flashing lights of a budget hotel.

  As she pushed through the front doors the woman greeted her cheerfully. She deflected her enthusiasm by quickly asking for a room as she pulled out her wallet.

  Taking a room on the third floor, she watched the street below until, exhausted; she laid her head on the pillow and fell asleep.

  She woke to the swishing sound of cars on the wet road. Did her memory betray her like a cursor running backwards over the letters? She was hungry.

  Downstairs she found a communal dining room with large wooden tables for guests to share.

  A couple smiled at her warmly. She sat beside them. They spoke in accented English and she listened to fragments of their conversation – plans being made for tomorrow. She listened and nodded, pretending not to speak the language.

  Next to her on the wall was a hand drawing on paper pinned to a corkboard. A medieval scene of people on earth living life with angles and devils swirling around. She examined the fine details for a long time.

  Afterward she looked across the room and saw a couple laughing together. The woman looked exactly like her. Maybe it is? She wondered. She turned her attention to the young man beside her. Maybe he was simply an actor? Maybe they were both actors simply playing parts in her own play? Was this what life was to everyone else?

  The waiter arrived at the table and asked her about her day.

  “Do you want to see a trick?” He asked, clearly enjoying the prospect of conversation.

  She nodded.

  “Ask me the time?”

  “Ok. What is the time?”

  “It is,” he said, looking up to the ceiling, “twelve minutes to ten”. He pulled a digital watch out of his pocket and checked the time.

  “Aah. See!” He said jubilantly showing her the time on the watch.

  “So did you look at it a minute ago?” She asked, sceptical.

  “No, no,” he said shaking his head.

  “Couldn’t you just wear it then?”

  “I don’t need to,” he said, “it’s all in here.” He tapped his temple.

  Her thoughts were gaining momentum, still speeding along a question. Like a persistent drone in her head. She stood and walked out the side door to a patio overlooking a pool.

  “Quiet, isn’t it?” a man’s voice softly said. She turned. The flashing coloured lights strung up around the roof lit the face of the man that she’d seen earlier. He was stretched out on a pool chair.

  “The evening, I mean.”

  She walked over and took a seat beside him. The moon moved beyond the clouds and rolled itself out over the water, like a red carpet unfolding toward the future. Life marched on relentlessly to death.

  “Are you following me?” She asked.

  “Where are you going?” He asked.

  She looked over at him. If he agreed to marry her they could run away together and be safe and comfortable. Isn’t that what life was about? She cleared her throat.

  “I'm so tired, but I can't sleep,” She said, looking over at him. His eyes were closed, but he nodded.

  Everything she understood seemed to be sliding out of view. It felt as if the floor was tilting and that she would slide away too. She grabbed her chair to anchor down. A train whistle sounded in the distance. It was dark. Her face felt cold against the tiled floor. Now she was on a gurney, in a hospital. Someone was talking over her.

  “I’m a doctor. Can you tell me your name?”

  She stared up at him, unsure how to respond. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she drifted off to the beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor. Continuous, rhythmic, persistent.

  She woke and found herself in a small room, just big enough for the hospital bed and a table beside it. A fixed window was cut high up in the wall beside her. Above the door was a camera behind dark glass. As if by magic, a nurse came into the room.

  “How are you?” He asked.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “All your tests are clear, but we'd like you to see someone before you leave.”

  He left her with directions on a piece of paper.

  She collected her things and located the office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  She slumped down in the metal framed chair opposite his large desk. He looked at her calmly.

  “Would you like a glass of water?” he asked, pointing to the jug and stacked glasses on the edge of his table.

  She shook her head.

  “What do you have for me?” He asked.

  She started to rattle through her story the best she could, unable to resolve the plot, find the big reveal. He didn’t say a word. She stopped.

  “A whole new perspective,” she said, finally.

  He pulled out a little book from his top pocket and carefully turned a few pages reading as she waited.

  “What should I do?” She asked him.

  “Hmmm. That's up to you.”

  He leant forward with a form and asked her to sign next a big ‘X’ drawn on the page.

  “I can’t read this,” she said, trying to decipher the words.

  “Do you still not understand?” He asked, quietly.

  She picked up the pen and signed the piece of paper, then they both stood and he guided her to the door.

  “See you later.” He said as she walked out the door.

  She followed the hall out of the hospital and then followed the footpath beside the road until she came to a large park. She crossed the grass and sat down on a bench under a large tree. She noticed a man walking toward her who looked like the park gardener.

  “It’s you again,” she said, as the Specialist sat down beside her on the bench.

  “Yes,” he said. He put his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I’m not sure how to get home,” she said.

  He pulled a train ticket out of his pocket and handed it to her.

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