I leapt over the dying cephalopod and snagged her hand, ignoring the slime that covered it, and pulled her to me, stopping her fall. She was stiff as a wooden timber and shaking. Her whole body trembled beneath her clothes like she had been hooked to high voltage. I stroked her hair.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” I whispered. My voice was surprisingly steady in comparison to how my insides shriveled and crawled, mirroring the squid’s feeble movements across the wood floor. My mind was screaming countless questions, a barrage that I had no answers for.
“Jason.” She sobbed my name, crying fully now and leaning all of her weight on me. “What’s happening to me?”
I continued to stroke her hair and stare at the squid, its movements slowing. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t know.”
~
I slept in bouts and fits through the night, mostly because Del kept waking and clinging to me as if she were falling. I had brought her up to our bathroom after the incident and bathed her, washed her hair, helped her brush her teeth, speaking as calmly as I could, reassuring her that she was okay, that she was safe. She didn’t seem to be fully conscious of what I was saying, her eyes drifting shut again and again. When I finally got her into bed, she fell asleep almost at once. I took the opportunity to go downstairs and retrieve the squid from the floor. It was dead when I tossed it into the container with its two healthy companions. I walked down to the ocean and stepped close to the tideline, emptying them all into the sea. I stood there for a short time, looking out across the darkening waters before returning to the house. I had no appetite and simply washed my hands and face before climbing into bed beside her, but not before I called the first psychiatrist I found in the phone book. I left a message on a separate line that was given, since it was after hours, and the doctor, a man by the name of Jeff Chave, returned my call in the morning saying he would be happy to see me before his first appointment.
When I left the house, Del was sleeping solidly for the first time all night, her hair splayed out on her pillow. She looked so peaceful I could almost pretend that the night before hadn’t happened. I locked the door behind me, jingling Del’s keys in one hand. I didn’t want her having access to her car while I was gone, and though I felt a twinge of self-loathing at taking her transportation away like a jailer, I would never forgive myself if something happened to her.
The drive to Chave’s office was fairly quick, and his receptionist greeted me before showing me into a comfortable room complete with a leather reclining chair and a small stool beside it. One wall held a tall bookshelf filled with tomes, and a wilting plant sat in one corner. A single window covered with a thin drape let in sickly light from the day that seemed would get no brighter. I sat in the recliner studying my hands until I heard footsteps approaching the door. Chave stepped into the room and greeted me with a warm smile and a handshake filled with strength I didn’t expect. He was middle aged, a small potbelly hid behind a yellow shirt beneath a hounds tooth coat. He had a full head of iron-gray hair and wore a beard the same color. His eyes were dark brown, magnified by the thick glasses he wore.
He took a seat on the stool beside me and scooted it back, giving us some distance to study one another.
“So Jason, normally I spend the better part of the first hour getting to know my patients, their interests, their familial records and whatnot, but you sounded urgent on your message last night.” Chave’s eyes ran over me, missing nothing. “What can I do for you?”
How could I begin? How could I speak of what had transpired over the prior months? My initial thoughts had been to test out the doctor, see if he would be a person we could trust before sending Del to him. But now, under his unflinching gaze, I faltered.