Royally Emma, Lucia Roberts [black female authors TXT] 📗

wanted to stay longer! Could this really be...
“Demeter!” my mother commanded my attention and I realized she must have tried to call me multiple times. I looked to the doctor and realized he was looking at me hard so I instantly looked down and rubbed my forehead hoping to shield the rose flames creeping along my cheek bones.
 “Yes?” I responded weakly; not daring to even look up to face either of them.
 “Are you alright Ms. Rapohannock?” Doc Marrone asked me. There was an urgency in his voice. I had to douse my urge to laugh, nearly unsuccessfully, due to the fact that he only calls me that when my mother's around.
 “Yeah, Yes, I'm quite alright. Just tired I think.” I tried to smile for him. I think he bought it.
 “Alright. Now, what has happened to bring you in today?” I glanced at my mother as he folded his hands on the table in front of us. She just threw her eyes towards him as if to say that it was me had to tell him. Great.
 “Well, nothing really..” I began. An eye brow went up and a smirk played around the corner of his mouth. “I was, uhm, a tad but late coming home this afternoon.” My voice quieted throughout the remark and I hoped he'd heard me for my not wanting to repeat it. It would seem more true, more real that way. He leaned forward a little bit crouching over the log; his hand curling script onto the newest addition to my file.

I wondered what he was writing, but, then again I wanted everything but to know what was being hammered down on the journal screen. He seemed as though he couldn't write it down fast enough. Without even glancing up at me he began interrogating me:

 “How late were you exactly?”
 “One minute and fourteen seconds late” my mother responded.
 “Did she look pale or seem to have trouble during the transfer?” He asked, now looking at my mother. 
 “No, I didn't see anything resembling struggle..” Her voice trailed off and her forehead furrowed as if trying to squint into the past.
 “Demeter, did you feel any pain or have trouble breathing, or anything out of the ordinary feelings or otherwise when you came back?” I didn't miss the fact that he called me by name. I knew he cared about all his patients, but, sometimes I wonder... “Demeter!”
 “Uhm, just, let me think!” trying to cover for my hesitation, but he had a desperation in his voice that led me to feel rushed and scared at the same time. “No.” I said quickly. “I only remember feeling really tired. But I always feel that way when I transfer.” I looked into his eyes now searching for answers I wasn't sure would be there. “But, that's normal.... right?”

He looked at me closely. Squinting even. I don't think he believed me but at the moment that wasn't a ganghad I had at the top of my list; at this point though, it wasn't even on my list! I had come home late. And that rock that must have been floating, unbeknownst to me, in my stomach just dropped again. I felt as though some thread in my life plan just got cut and now the whole thing was going to unravel right in front of my very eyes.

He made a few notes in my file, pushed a few buttons on the electronic file pad, cursed a few times when he had to re put in a password and every move he made seemed so slow. There suddenly seemed to be a clock inside my head just ticking softly in the back of my subconscious; just counting down until the thing that would change, or end, my life.

 “Ok, so, no pain or nausea or dizziness just felt sleep deprivation which patient claims is normal. One minute and fourteen seconds late. Patient has all normal visible functions. Balance is normal.” My mother huffed a chuckle at that one. I mean, how could you not? Dr. Marrone walked around the desk and motioned for me to stand, sit, stand again and a couple of other ridiculous movements then listened to my heart and asked me a few questions about my past; “for mental purposes” he said. He sat back down and muttered down his notes.
Finally, he let out a deep sigh, as though glad to finally be done with something. He folded his hands once more over the file then swiveled his chair back over to us, looking at me until I squirmed in the leather arm chair.

 “You're sure you can't remember anything else that may be of use to me Mrs. Rapohannock?” Dr. Marrone asked while still staring hard at me. I don't know this because I was staring back, it was just so hard that I could 'feel' it in my skull.
 “I'm sure” she said, although, she didn't sound it. She just sounded... scared.
 “Ms. Rapohannock, would you please step outside and let me have a word with your daughter?”
He asked, but really, it sounded more like an order. An order she obeyed gracefully. It wasn't like she was unused to being asked to forsake her presence in the room but I don't think it was easy or that she didn't mind; she just knew there were some things best accomplished through solitude. Or, in this case, by the doctor and myself; only. Either way, she left willingly enough. Then, he stared.

 He asked no questions, gave no answers, nothing. Just. Stared. He stared until I wanted to fidget down to the least touched aspects deep within my body. Still, he stared. He was waiting for me to admit it. Whatever it is I've done to have made my mother worry enough to bring me here. We, Doctor Marrone and I, both know how it makes her feel. He says 'unbearably worried' but I say she probably feels cursed. We've argued this to a stalemate many times.

 He still waits as I try to replace my mind into times when we've been sitting in these very seats but when we were laughing or ignoring the possibly possible feeling emanating between us. He would call it “natural compulsion” or some doctorly term. I like to think that if something like what I imagine I feel between us sometimes as some thing more along the lines of... chemistry. Then again, if you had to be in the same room with someone of the opposing sex with a likeness to you, many times for many years, would you not just somewhat have to think yourself attracted to them? I didn't really like the thought of it being somehow fake or made up in my mind; this feeling that probably wasn't even there, but, it most likely was so I decided I'd stare back into the face of my doctor friend until he gave up and just asked instead of trying to make me feel bad about something that is most definitely not my fault.

 He was still waiting. But, finally, there was the smallest frown in the corner of his mouth; on the right side where it always was. I knew I was winning the silence fight. It took everything I had not to smirk. Mother had to be worried about now, but, this was more important at the moment. I needed to hear it. Whatever it is I did wrong, and how it made HIM feel; not my mother. I knew how she felt.

 He had been leaning back in his chair, hands folded in his lap. Now he sighed and his shoulders drooped forward as he let out a sigh and dropped his hands putting them quickly on the desk folding themselves over and over in front of him and leaning forward. I didn't move. “Demeter...” he began and his voice trailed off. “Demeter, I,” he tried again. He threw a hand quickly down his face and over his eyes as if his head hurt and restarted as he stood beside the desk now. “Would you tell me, Demeter, if you wanted to stay in that world?” He sat down again but pulled as close to the desk as he could so he could speak softer. “So I could... ” I blinked at him. And blinked again. I was speechless. “Demeter?”

 “I thought that was a rumour...” I choked out. “I didn't think that man actually wanted to stay there!” I stood up and started pacing the room while Dr. Marrone folded his hands and looked rather stone like. He knew what was coming. “Is that really true? Honestly? Can Night Walkers do that? How would I choose to do that? Why would I want to? I didn't come back late on purpose! I didn't! I swear..”
I choked. Tears were coming.. or threatening to. I could only hope he didn't touch me. Whenever I'm touched this close to tears I lose it. Plus, doctors aren't supposed to be nice enough to do that anyway.    I looked at him; every fear in the world being lined up on his next words and expressions. He knew it too. His brows knitted in a deep carefulness so as not to shatter my world completely and brutally; just as gently as possible. I could tell. This was not going to be good. My chest heaved and I let my nails sink into my arms as I pressed the crossed limbs into my stomach to ease the pain there.
 
 We just sat there like that for an unruly amount of time. I sat there; looking at him with eyes full of tears and heavy breathing and lips that, if parted, would let loose terrible sobs. And he sat there; staring at his hands, thinking, unable to figure out what to do or say. Then he got up and walked around the desk very, very slowly. I could feel his hand hovering above my shoulder, debating. He didn't actually touch me but he stood behind me. Close enough for me to feel him. Far enough so he wasn't crowding.
 
 “Demeter, those stories aren't.. just stories. People who can transfer into a dream they find more suitable than this life, can, well, they can choose to stay. If you get attached to something or someone, your soul feels safer there and it lingers longer and longer until you just, don't... don't transfer over again.” He paused for what seemed like hours and began walking around the room “But, that can't be proven; of course. That, is what I've been told by the Day Walkers that have passed through here and supposedly figured it out for themselves. Or we've figured out as they tell us things about their experiences there. That man you heard of, his name was Mekiiel Vonderbelt. He told me on some of the days he was in here about the adventures he had, the wonders, and... and a girl of whom he was beginning to love.” He looked right at me then; as if questioning, but not expecting an answer. My eyes closed then, unwillingly, and unreasonably filled with hurt. “I can't  know if he truly loved her, and chose to stay, or if his body simply couldn't take the change and the shifting anymore. Either way, he left us. So, yes, Demeter. It is possible. Or, I believe it is.” He looked at me then with an expression I can't begin to decipher or explain and left a long horrid pause there for me to fill my fearful thoughts with. He had crouched down and turned my chair so I would be facing him. “So, Demeter, would you tell me if you choose to stay there; as early on as you may decide?”  I opened my eyes and looked at him through the glassy tears as one rolled down my cheek.

 I felt so lost and out of control that it was nearly unbearable.

 I stared at him for a moment. I looked deep within the eyes that pleaded me