Brain Storm, Cat Gilbert [read books for money TXT] 📗

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I CAME OUT of the bathroom feeling like a new woman. My hair had survived its fourth wash of the day, and the hot water had helped relieve my headache. Trinity had set the table in the dining room. A quick glance at the table told me we were using the old mismatched flatware from the kitchen, although Grandma’s good silver was conspicuously absent from the floor. I heard the doorbell announcing the arrival of dinner, and it was none too soon. I was starving, which I took as a positive sign that I was headed back to my normal self, whatever that might be.

“Well, you look better,” Trinity said as she came through the door juggling a pizza box and a couple of take-out salads. Normally I avoided pizza and the morning after guilt like the plague, but tonight the smell coming from that box was enough to make me forego my salad and dig right in.

“So spill.” She hadn’t even let me get the first bite of pizza. Almost there, close enough to see the speckles on the pepperoni. I weighed my options and went ahead and took a big bite, and ended up on the receiving end of a steely-eyed glare as I slowly chewed it. I gave her the wait-a-minute finger sign and closed my eyes so I could enjoy that first bite in peace. I chased it down with a big swallow of ice-cold Diet Coke. Heaven. Absolute heaven.

I opened my eyes to see her poised with her fork over her salad watching me. Spill, she had said, so spill I did. I told her the whole story, including the magic keys, the flying coffee, and Denzel. Then I wrapped up explaining my far-from-scientific brain experiment during which I had failed to move a single spoon. Apart from throwing them across the room. She had listened in silence, quietly munching away on her salad until I got to the flying coffee part, when she shoved it aside and went for the pizza. I understood completely.

Dinner finished, we pushed our plates aside. Trinity placed her elbows on the table, propped her chin on her hands and took a deep breath. I braced for impact.

“Okay, let me get this straight. You’ve had this going on for a couple of months now and I’m just now hearing about it?” She was staring me right in the eye.

“I didn’t think it was anything. Just weird stuff,” I said, trying to defend my actions, which to tell the truth, I wasn’t sure needed defending. “You don’t tell me every time you have déjà vu, do you?”

This was definitely not the discussion I thought we’d be having. I was thinking more along the lines of “Are you nuts? Someone call Bellevue!” or something along those lines. I never dreamed she would be put out that I hadn’t told her about the key thing.

“Look, there was really nothing to tell until today, and then I got so freaked out I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t even know what happened most of the day. One minute I’m sitting there trying to move the spoons and the next minute you’re pounding on the door and hours have gone by, and I have no clue where the time went.”

“I’ll tell you where it went. Where it always goes. It’s just that you are usually aware of it. So you have no idea of what’s going on?”

“No, I don’t. I have no idea,” I said, getting up to make some coffee. Trinity trailed after me with the empty plates. “All I know is that I lost track of the time, never heard the phone and made coffee fly through the air.”

“Okay, I get it. You don’t know. You are dead on, though, about the bizarre part. So what do you think is going on?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. I obviously have no idea as evidenced by the spoon debacle.” I slammed a mug down onto the counter a little too hard and cringed. Maybe I wasn’t as far back to normal as I thought. Trinity ignored the mug slam and pulled the cream out of the refrigerator.

“Don’t dismiss the spoon thing. I think that was a good idea, although possibly poorly executed.” I rolled my eyes at this. How were you supposed to execute a spur of the moment spoon moving experiment? Give me a break. “You’re on target with eliminating the possibles, but it may not be that cut and dry.”

“What are you getting at here?”

“What I’m getting at here,” she repeated as she handed me the cream and picked up her purse, “is that you got freaked out and panicked today. I don’t blame you a bit. It would have freaked me out too, but you make your living investigating and researching, and you’re good at it. You don’t even know what this ability is called, or how to correctly test for it.”

I followed her through the condo toward the door, still holding the cream. She was actually leaving. I might be going insane, and she was leaving. So much for knowing Trinity would be right there beside me!

She paused at the door as if sensing my growing panic and pinned me against the wall with a sharply nailed index finger to my chest.

“You’re the one I come to for answers. It’s what you do, and you’re good at it. Whatever is happening here, you can handle it. Look at what you’ve gotten through this year! You’re strong Taylor. You’ve just forgotten that. Call me tomorrow and let me know what you’ve found out.” On that final note, she sailed right through the door, closing it firmly behind her.

I was stunned. Everything that had happened that day and all I could think of was that she had left me. Alone. In the condo. Didn’t she realize I was dangerous? I had just confided in her that I couldn’t be trusted in public places and thought I was going nuts. She had seen the spoons, for Pete’s sake and she just left me here all alone! I don’t know if it was the sound of the coffee dripping or the smell that finally snapped me out of my state of disbelief. I had been standing there staring at the door for I don’t know how long, probably with my mouth hanging open. The cream was dangling dangerously from my fingertips and in an effort not to drop it, I managed to crush the top of the carton.

Fine. Just fine. You go get a good night’s sleep Trinity, and I’ll just sit here and go quietly insane, I thought as I tripped back into the kitchen. I poured myself a huge cup of coffee, and threw the crushed carton of cream back into the refrigerator, slamming the door for effect. I grabbed up my mug and strode out of the kitchen, headed for my study and the computer that sat waiting on my desk.