THE MONUMENT: 13

“There, there, sweetie, it’s okay.” Sally Mae rubs Stephanie’s back.

As Stephanie shrieks, her vision is streaked with ribbons of purple and red, and engulfing her is a looming sensation that she’s got to get out of here. Her mind is consumed by her fear, and yet her legs do not react; the presence of a soft, warm circular motion on her backside nags for attention, but the panic overrides it and she continues to scream. Her voice is getting hoarse and she knows she needs to run, but her legs won’t go, so she runs with her arms, flinging them from side to side and the soothing circles stop and she feels deathly cold.

“Stephanie,” a voice calls. “Stephanie.”

She can see herself, sitting on the dingy flowered couch, from a point of view that seems to be above the ceiling. Watching her arms flying and her mouth and throat convulsing with each surge in vocality, she feels a sudden and deep embarrassment. What the hell am I doing? she thinks. Gasping for breath and red in face, she is like a two-year throwing a temper tantrum, but she’s powerless to stop it. Instead, she focuses on the doting woman sitting beside her, so frail her clothing hangs loosely from her body and so concerned with every movement Stephanie makes. Examining the room, dark and cavelike, Stephanie is keenly aware of the passing of time, of the dust collected, as though dripping from the ceiling to form these stalagmites of paper on the floor. Again she is drawn back to the warm and soothing circle on her backside, the woman’s gentle hand rubbing her back, and she feels a moment of clarity. Self-possessed and in control again, she immediately stops screaming, but she remembers her panic and fright, even if she no is no longer experiencing it. Her anger at herself and at the situation forces her shut out any of those thoughts and impulses and focus on finding a way to escape.

“You must be hungry as a horse.” Sally Mae’s rodent-like nose is up in the air, but that hand is keeps rubbing.

Stephanie’s stomach makes a low growl. “Yes.” She looks beyond the stacks of papers to the front door. Grimly, Stephanie realizes that even if she were to get out, she wouldn’t know where to go because she doesn’t know where she is.

Sally Mae hollers for someone to bring Stephanie some food, then looks at her, clasps a skeletal hand on top of Stephanie’s, and says, “You’ll feel better after you eat.” A moment later she hops up from the couch and meets a man in the dimly lit hallway. Stephanie can make out his left shoulder, but can’t see much else. He stays out of view but hands Sally Mae a bowl, which she then offers to Stephanie. With a nod of appreciation, Stephanie spins the noodles on the fork and shoves a mouthful of pasta into her face. A few bites into it, she realizes just how hungry she is quickly slurps down the rest of the bowl. She saves the crusty piece of garlic bread for last, holding the bowl under her chin to collect the crumbs.

Sally Mae watches her amused. “That’s better now, isn’t it?” She looks at Stephanie expectantly.

Stephanie nods her head, still licking her lips.

“My name is Sally Mae,” the woman says. “And this is my home.”

Unsure how to respond, Stephanie gives a half smile.

“You had a fall. My husband brought you here to make sure you’d be okay.”

Stephanie tries to remember what happened, but her memory is foggy. She had been driving, she had been frenzied and tense, driving fast. She had an appointment and she knows she never got there.

“And I’ve just been hoping every day someone just like you would come and visit me.” The woman looks down her long and slender nose at Stephanie, her cheekbones raised into a freakish smile. “I get lonely, you see?” She gestures around the room. “So, during the day I stack and sort all these things for my collection.”

Again, Stephanie gives her a weak smile. She wonders whether the husband was the man in the hallway. Probably, she reasons, as she wipes a hand, still greasy from the garlic bread, onto her jeans. “Ouch!” The blood has dried on her jeans, but her thigh feels tender below the stain.

“Oh, dear… Let’s go get you cleaned up,” Sally Mae says, rising from the sofa.

Stephanie follows her into the dark hallway and to the first door on the right. It is a small powder room, sink and toilet, no window. Sally Mae opens the door and Stephanie enters, Sally Mae coming in behind her.

“Uh, I think I can manage by myself,” Stephanie says.

“Oh… Oh, well, yes, of course,” Sally Mae splutters, then backs out of the room, pushing the door shut as she does.

Stephanie locks the bathroom door, and breathes a few deliberate and cautious breaths. The small room is all peach colored, the walls a flat and static bridesmaid’s dress peach, the porcelain sink and toilet a creamy peach sorbet, with matching peachy toilet paper in the wall-mounted holder. Shimmying out of her jeans, Stephanie hunches over to inspect her thigh. Nothing but a small bruise mars her otherwise blemish-free skin. Running her fingers over the slight bruise, she’s fairly confident that there is no wound, nothing that would have caused her to bleed so much. She picks up her pants from the floor and looks more closely at the bloodstain. There is a small nick in the cloth, as though something may have passed through her jeans and pricked her.

With a shrug, Stephanie holds the stain under the faucet and turns on the water, soaking the whole area. The water turns reddish and the stain lightens, but is still visible. She scrubs at it with her thumbnail, but eventually she realizes that’s the best she can do. Turns off the water, and uses the hand towel to pat the jeans dry, and slips them back on.

“Everything all right, dear?” Sally calls to her.

“Yeah,” she replies. “I’ll be out in a sec.” But instead, she sits down on the toilet lid and puts her head in her hands, golden hair falling in front of her face.

Knowing that at some point this woman will have to go to sleep, Stephanie hopes she’ll be able to slip out. No matter what, she thinks, I have to be at the Monument tomorrow. For now, though, she decides she has no choice but to play along and wait for some opportunity to get out. Loath to leave the sanctuary of the small bathroom, she dawdles a few more minutes before finally opening the door. Sally Mae is waiting for her, a gaunt matron, anticipant of her charge.

“Okay?” She is wide-eyed.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Stephanie follows her back out to the crowded room and plops back down on the couch.

“So, sweetie, tell me about yerself,” Sally Mae implores, sitting sideways on the sofa so she’s facing Stephanie.

Cautiously considering her words, Stephanie is determined to put on a good show for this woman, hoping to appeal to her emotions, and maybe, just maybe, talk her way out of this situation. “I have two children,” she begins. Reaching for her purse, she digs around for her wallet and displays a photograph of her nieces, two smiling, blond little girls. “They are my life,” she adds, gazing at the picture, willing the tears to come. With a sniffle, she continues, “Robin is four; Jillian is three. But”—here she shudders with a wellspring of emotion—“my husband left us a few weeks ago, and now we are all alone.”

Sally Mae’s mouth opens and hangs there, captivated. She says nothing, but tilts her head for Stephanie to continue.

“I’m just worried as could be about them right now.” A tear breaks free and dribbles down her cheek. “I’m sure you can understand.”

Sally Mae nods at her and reaches a hand out to resume her circular backrub.

“And this morning, I was on my way to the hospital—my father has taken a turn for the worse.” She quakes. “My mom passed away when I was a baby, and it was just Daddy and me.” Stephanie makes a mental note to call her parents as soon as she gets out of this situation. If she gets out of this situation, she thinks. “And when Kevin left us, well, Daddy just couldn’t take it. I think his heart must’ve broken, because he just collapsed and hasn’t gotten up since.”

Sally Mae is clinging to every word, her angular face tightened up like a knot.

“I haven’t been sleeping, I couldn’t eat… I tried to visit him every day, but with the girls and work and everything such a mess, I hadn’t been in a few days.” Stephanie fully embraces her role, becomes her character. “And this morning, the nurse called to say that Daddy had slipped further away, that he was right at the end, you know? So, I dropped everything and”—suddenly a vague memory of the bakery comes back to her, she had stopped for coffee and then—“I stopped for a cup of coffee this morning, and the next thing I know, I’m here.” She lets her head fall, with a dash of melodrama, then leans in to Sally Mae, who puts a wispy arm around her, and sobs into her shoulder.

Sally Mae’s mind reels. She is at once guilt-stricken and maddened, her brain screaming, But I need you. She knows she can’t keep her, and yet her sense of entitlement won’t allow her to let her go, either.

Unknown to both of them, Neil overhears the whole story from his shadowy hideout in the hallway. But something just doesn’t jibe for him. Why all the money? What does she know about the opposition? He waits for Stephanie to say something more, but the women cling to each other, both in tears.

And in Stephanie’s mind, the audience is on its feet in an uproarious ovation, as the curtains draw closed. End scene.

...continues tomorrow...