7 Different Kinds Of Smoke

LEAP FROG

  SUMMER 1994

  “So do you want to play, or what?” Blue asked Alexandra.

  All the kids were standing around waiting for her answer, but Alexandra wasn’t sure what to say. She had never played ‘Hide & Go Get It’ before, and, at only 12 years old, she wasn’t sure that it was time to start. It was the middle of summer and Alexandra was feeling every one of the 97 degrees as the sun relentlessly baked her smooth, brown skin.

  It was late afternoon and the sun was making her squint. She put hand above her eyes so that she could look more clearly at the boy asking the question. When she first met him she thought they called him Blue because he was so black that he was almost blue, but Blue was actually his name. Blue Ogunde. He was from Africa and had made the unlikely move to Possum’s Point, Arkansas when he was only two years old. He was a year older than Alexandra, but they lived next door to each other, so they played together alot. She liked him, but sometimes he could be a bully. This was one of those times, and it was these times that made her nervous to be around him. Whenever she was nervous, it was hard for her to hide it. She could feel her armpits getting moist and the perspiration begin to trickle down her face. Her heart was starting to pound.

  “I don’t know. Tell me the rules again?” she said, twisting her long, brown hair around one of her fingers as she green eyes flittered nervously from one kid to the next.

  “God! We already told you three times!” said Little Stevie. “The girls all hide and the boys count to 10. Then we come looking for you. If we find you, we get to kiss you! Are you in or out?”

  “Don’t be a scardy cat,” said Tricia. “You never want to play. Are you going to be a baby your entire life?” Tricia was her best friend, and definitely more adventurous than Alexandra had ever been.

  With everyone still staring at her, waiting for an answer, Alexandra’s pounding heart seemed to get louder and stronger and more sweat dripped down her face. She wiped it on the sleeve of her blouse.

  “Well!?” said Little Stevie.

  “Man, forget her,” said Blue. “Let’s play.” Everyone but Alexandra began walking from the parking lot into the park. Charmaine began to skip. “I’ll race you to the big tree!” said Blue as he ran past her. Charmaine, as tall as a 14 year-old and just as strong, took off after him. The rest of the kids followed, leaving Alexandra by herself. She could feel herself about to start crying.

  “Wait, I’ll play!” she said, sniffling, and quickly followed. They all arrived at the tree, breathing hard, except for Charmaine, who had outran them all with hardly any effort.

  “Ok,” said Blue, once he had finally caught his breath. “Me, T-Mac and Little Stevie will hide our eyes against the tree and count to 10. Then we’ll come find you.”

  The seven girls all took off running, each looking for a good hiding spot. Alexandra followed suit. Charmaine ran behind the bathroom building and ducked down behind a large trashcan. Moments later, Alexandra joined her.

  “What are you doing here?” said Charmaine, “This is my spot. Get out of here! Find your own hiding space.” She pushed Alexandra down and Alexandra began to cry.

  “…Eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, here we come!” shouted Blue.

  Terrified, Alexandra leaped up and took off running, moving deeper into the thickly wooded park. She found a large, wiry bush and dived behind it. Still feeling exposed, she immediately took off again and soon found herself crouched behind a large brown boulder. She tried to get herself to calm down. She could hear the other kids laughing and yelling in the distance. One of the girls (maybe Mary?) screamed and Alexandra’s heart started racing again.

  Her mother had always told her that bad things happen to little girls that get too fresh before they’re old enough. She wasn’t exactly sure what “too fresh” meant, but she did know that kissing had something to do with it. She also didn’t know exactly how old she was supposed to be before she could start getting “too fresh” (her mother always refused to answer that question), but she knew that she wasn’t even old enough for “slightly fresh” yet, let alone “too fresh”.

  “Good girls went go heaven, bad girls go everywhere else.” That’s what her grandfather used to say. And her grandmother would always add that the roads from ‘everywhere else’ all led to hell. Alexandra hadn’t been too many places yet in her young life, and there were a great many places she’d like to go, but hell wasn’t on the list. The simple thought of it absolutely terrified her. She wondered silently to herself how she got into this situation. She should have just gone home.

  She didn’t want to kiss any boys. At least, not yet. She always thought that her first kiss would be like one of the scenes in the fairly tales that she loved so much as a young girl – and still loved. She knew there weren’t any princes or gallant knights around Possum’s Point, but she still thought that maybe it would be romantic and magical. The boy would be handsome and strong and would rescue her from some terrible predicament at the last minute, for which she would reward his heroic efforts with a virgin kiss that would bind them in love for the rest of their lives. Of course, none of the boys that she knew were even the least bit heroic or romantic. Their idea of romance was to pull her ponytails from behind and then smile shyly.

  She was starting to wonder if she’d have to find a frog to kiss if she were ever going to find her brave savior and the future love of her life. When she told her grandmother this, her grandmother laughed. “I’ve never kissed a frog and had it turn into a boy, but there have certainly been a few boys that I kissed that I wish I could have turned into frogs!” she said.

  “I hope I was never on that list,” said her grandfather from the next room.

  “Not yet,” said her grandmother, “but the day is young!” All three of them laughed.

  Alexandra was roused from her daydream by the shrieks and laughter of her friends in the distance, but they were beginning to fade. Maybe if she waited there long enough the game would be over and she sneak back home. She began to relax. A few moments later she had dozed off.

  In the dream, Satan was screaming in triumph, his face raised to the heavens, his long, red tongue flicking in and out of his mouth like a great, crimson serpent. He was holding Alexandra by her arm, pulling her closer and closer to that gapping mouth and its evil looking tongue.

  “Please, let me go, please!” she cried, struggling in vain.

  “Let you go? Let you go?!” he roared. “If you didn’t want it, you never should have played! Now you’re mine! Mine!” he laughed maniacally.

  Alexandra’s eyes sprang open and she found herself staring into the face of Blue. He was holding onto her arm and leaning in to kiss her.

  “What are you doing!?” she yelled.

  “I got you,” Blue laughed, “And now I want my kiss.”

  “I’m not kissing you!” she exclaimed.

  “If you didn’t want it, you never should have played,” he said, mimicking the dream she had just had. She began to struggle furiously, kicking Blue in the crotch in the process. He doubled over in pain and fell over on his side.

  “Oh, you bitch!” he moaned. “Why did you do that? We were just playing a game!”

  “I told you I didn’t want to play anymore!” said Alexandra, getting to her feet. Blue lay moaning and gently rocking back and forth.

  “I’m sorry,” said Alexandra, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you alright?” Blue didn’t answer. He just kept rocking and moaning.

  “Do you need me to go get a doctor?”

  Blue mumbled something and Alexandra leaned down to try to hear what he was saying. Blue jumped up suddenly and punched her in the stomach.

  “Oh!” she screamed, and leaned over herself, all the air knocked out of her lungs. She struggled to catch her breath.

  “Now how do you like it?” said Blue. He grabbed her arm, lifted her up and pushed her back against the tree. “Now you’re going to give me that kiss I asked for, and maybe a little bit more,” he said as he slyly li
cked his lips and looked her up and down. Still trying to catch her breath and gathering all her strength, Alexandra push him off her, spun and began to run in the direction of the parking lot. She didn’t get but about 100 feet before Blue caught up with her and tackled her from behind.

  “You’re not getting away that easy!” he said. Alexandra was now on her back and Blue was on top, straddling her. She started swinging wildly and felt the nails of one of her hands catch his face.

  “Aahh!” he said, as he wiped away the streak of blood. Then he punched her in the eye and she started sobbing and putting her hands over her face to protect herself. She could feel his hot breath as he leaned in close, with his mouth to her ear.

  “Don’t be so mean,” he said. “This won’t hurt. Why, lots of girls love kissing me.”

  “Please, please don’t, please just leave me alone” she cried, trying to push him away. He pulled her arms down and put his knees over them, pinning them to the ground. There was sweat and blood dripping from Blue’s face as he leaned over her, and some of it got in her eyes, burning them and causing her to shut them tightly. She began shaking her head back and forth, but he grabbed her jaw and forced her to lie still. With her eyes still closed, all she could do was moan as she waited helplessly for the unavoidable kiss.

  “Please God,” she prayed silently, “I’ve never asked you for much before, but I really don’t want to go to Hell. Please save me!” She felt his lips touch hers and her body went completely stiff. She wished that she could have faded into the dirt beneath her.

  “Huh?” she heard Blue exclaim in surprise. Suddenly, all the pressure on her body was gone and there was only silence. For a moment, she didn’t move. Then, she slowly raised her arms and used her sleeves to wipe the sweat and blood from her eyes. When she sat up and opened them, Blue was gone. She looked in all directions, but saw no sign of him. How could he have disappeared so quickly? She got slowly to her feet, feeling a bit faint, and timidly looked around again, expected him to jump out from behind a tree or something, but there was still no sign.

  Then she heard a noise. It sounded like a tiny growl. Or maybe a burp. Then she saw it. There, at her feet, was a large, green bullfrog. “Ribbitt!” it said. Startled, she jumped back, but then noticed something odd about it and leaned forward to get a better look. There was a streak of blood on its face. She shrieked, and took off running. Before she knew it, she was standing on the porch of her house, wondering what had just happened.

  WINTER 2009 – 15 YEARS LATER

  Dr. Phillip Sanford stood in front of the large, second-floor window of his office, pipe in hand, and watched the people walking by. The pipe wasn’t lit – he never lit it in the office – but it gave him comfort to hold it, even to puff on it occasionally. There was nothing wrong with that. Like he always told his patients, use whatever works that doesn’t hurt anything or anyone else. He caught his reflection in the glass and the short grey hairs in his goatee reminded of how old he was getting. At least he had started shaving his head years ago, so he didn’t have to worry about grey hairs there. He used to dye his beard and his moustache, but after a while it became such a hassle to maintain that he had to ask himself exactly who he was going through all the trouble for. He had been divorced for going on 18 years now, and hadn’t dated anyone seriously for the last ten or so. Actually, he hadn’t really dated much at all since longer than we really cared to remember. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. But after listening to people’s problems all day, week in and week out, he had simply gotten bored with the majority of the population. The women he met that were stable, caring and well-adjusted he found mind-numbingly dull, and the ones that were exciting, daring and edgy were usually so fucked up emotionally that getting involved with them was more of a liability than he was willing to take on. Besides, he dealt with loonies all day long, he really didn’t want to come home to one at night, as well.

  Sanford began his career as a marriage and family counselor 26 years ago and from the beginning his practice was an unbelievable success. Somehow, people just naturally felt comfortable around him, and he lived to help them. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, he dove in head-first right from the beginning, certain that he could ‘save the world’. And for a while, it seemed that he could. He was ‘curing’ difficult cases that had stumped psychologists 20 years his senior. His peers had started called him ‘Doc Midas – The Man With The Golden Couch’. Many saw him as a threat. It didn’t help that he was also African American, in a community that had few blacks at all, let alone professional ones making his level of income. But his confidence and natural charm eventually begin to win over even his most ardent detractors. That is, until the Roulette case.

  John Roulette had come to him as a court referral. He had attacked a fellow employee – a minor skirmish – but as part of a plea bargain to get the D.A. to drop the charges had agreed to some anger-management counseling. Nothing about their interactions gave any indications that there was anything unusual or special about him. At the end of his twenty sessions, Sanford rendered his report to the court – Roulette had, for all intents and purposes, simply ‘had a bad day’. He worked in a high-pressure job in industrial sales and the stress had just temporarily gotten the best of him. His final assessment: Roulette was not a threat to the community or to himself. Sanford didn’t think anything more of the case until six weeks later, when he turned on the television and saw that his ‘non-threatening’ patient had just been arrested after going on a murderous rampage and killing 8 people in a department store with a machete, while injuring 7 others. The case made daily headlines for months and was the cover story in several psychology journals. Sanford’s couch was ‘golden’ no more. Neither was his marriage. Within 2 years his wife had left him, as had 20% of his clients.

  He supposed he was lucky. It could have been much worse. Many men had been completely ruined by less. But he held on and slowly began working on repairing the damage done to both his reputation and his practice. Eighteen years had passed, and his practice was now every bit as successful as it had ever been, though he never really regained the same level of respect and admiration from his colleagues. Nor had he ever really gotten over the guilt of the consequences that his misdiagnosis had caused. Sure, he told the reporters and anyone else that cared to listen that it was just an ‘unfortunate incident’, for which ‘no one was really to blame’ and that ‘the mind is a devious mystery that science is still struggling to figure out’. But no one really bought it, including himself. No one, that is, except for, perhaps, Monty.

  Sanford took another dry drag on his pipe and looked at his watch. It was 4:25. His 4:15 was late, and he was feeling irritated. It was the Friday at the end of a long and wearying week and there was a football game, a steak and a glass of 80-year-old scotch at home with his name on it. He looked at his watch again – 4:26. He put his pipe in his pocket and grabbed his notepad. His straggler was actually a couple - two women: Alexandra Larrieux and Beverly Holiday. He had yet to meet them in person, but he knew that they were a lesbian couple and that they were having some relationship issues that they hoped he could help them with. He had spoken to Alexandra on the phone; she was the one that had made the appointment. He could tell she was black, and she had a slight southern lisp – not exactly an accent per se, but the lasting traces of a past accent that she had probably worked hard to overcome. Still, he could tell that she was likely from somewhere around Missouri, or perhaps Arkansas.

  He heard a car door slam and through the window saw two women walking hastily towards his building. This must be them, he thought. One was black, the other looked Puerto Rican. The black woman looked to be almost six feet tall and moved across the parking lot like a model on a runway. She had long, flowing, curly black hair and wore dark shades, thigh-high black boots, black jeans, a black sweater and a long black overcoat. Her friend was at least 3 inches shorter, with a short, bobbed hair cut and mid-length grey dress, black pumps and matching black coat. She looked li
ke she had come straight from an office job. They were a very attractive couple. Moments later his secretary buzzed him to notify him that his 4:15 had arrived and that she was leaving for the day. He wished her a good evening and asked her to bring them in.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Sanford”, he said, smiling and extending his hand. They each shook it and both had surprisingly firm grips.

  “I’m Alex Larrieux and this is my partner, Bev Holiday ,” said the taller one. “We’re sorry we’re late. Traffic was a nightmare.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Sanford. “Why don’t you both have a seat and we can get started. Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

  “No, we’re fine, thank you,” they both said in unison as they sat down on the couch, an elegant piece of furniture of Mediterranean design that he had purchased while on holiday in Turkey 3 years ago and had then had shipped back to the States. It was covered in gold and gray colored cloth with a paisley inspired pattern that became almost hypnotic if you stared at it for too long. Sanford took the leather chair directly opposite them, on the other side of a beautiful glass and wrought-iron coffee table and grabbed from it his notepad, pen and cup of coffee. As he took a sip, glancing over the edge of his cup, he took the opportunity to examine them both a little more closely. Alexandra crossed her legs at the knee, while Beverly crossed hers at the ankle, a subtle difference but one possible indication that the taller one might be the more dominant one in the relationship. Or, at least, the more self-assured. Alexandra calmly stared at him, while Beverly seemed to take inventory of the room.

  “So,” he started, sitting his cup down and crossing his own legs as he leaned slightly back in the chair, the fine, dark brown leather not making a sound, even as he shifted his weight from side to side. “How can I help you?”

  “Well doctor,” said Alexandra, “we’re here because we’re having some relationship problems. We’ve tried to deal with them ourselves. We’re talked, we’ve read books, we’ve gone on retreats, we’ve even prayed together over this. But, somehow,” she took a moment to glance at Beverly, “we just keep missing each other. I don’t understand her and she definitely doesn’t understand me.”

  Sanford had been doing this long enough to be able to read between the lines pretty accurately, and he knew that nothing that this woman had just said was the real reason they were here. He began to ask the probing questions: How did you meet, How long have you been together, What initially attracted you to each other, etc. Both Alexandra and Beverly took turns filling him in on the details, and he learned that they had met 5 years ago, in college. They were roommates, and over time a strong friendship had blossomed into romantic love. They had been together as a couple for the past 2 years. It was Alexandra’s first lesbian relationship, but Beverly had never been with a man.

  “Tell me Beverly, how old were you when you first realized that you were attracted to women?” he asked as scribbled notes in his notebook.

  “I’ve always been attracted to women,” she said. She spoke in a measured, restrained fashion. He noticed the similarities in the way she spoke and the way she dressed, right down to the Nuyorican accent. Her clothes were conservative, but classy, and now that she was closer he could see the embossed pattern of silhouetted dancing women on her grey dress. And her shoes appeared to be alligator. Maybe Jimmy Choos. “I’ve never had any interest in men, even as a little girl. By the time I was 8 years old I knew that I was gay. People have told me that it’s not possible to know that early, but I knew. I just knew.”

  “And you Alexandra?” he said.

  “Alex, please,” she responded.

  “Sorry – Alex .”

  “Doctor, the truth is, I’m not so sure that I am gay.”

  So there is was, he thought. Now we’re starting to get to the meat of the problem.

  “Well, tell me a little bit about what led you to get romantically involved with Beverly.”

  “I always tell people that it started with a rainy night, tears over a freshly ended relationship with a longtime boyfriend, a bottle of tequila and some well-intentioned consoling. That made it sound romantic and almost accidental. But in reality, it was all about sex. I was lonely and I knew I’d probably never be with another man. Bev was sweet and beautiful and sexy,” she paused just long enough to caress her partner’s hand, “and I was just tired of being alone. So I seduced her. Or maybe I let her seduce me. I’m not really sure how it happened, but it did. And I’ve loved her ever since.” She smiled brightly and the love in her eyes as she glanced sideways at her girlfriend was both endearing and unmistakable.

  “Tell me more about the beginning, and why you were so sure that you would never be with another man. What exactly did you mean by that?”

  For the first time since she’d walked into his office, Alexandra seemed unsure of herself. She began to fidget on the couch. She let go of Beverly’s hand and began to wring hers in her lap. Beverly began glancing around the room again, as if she really didn’t want to hear what her girlfriend was about to say; it was as if she were embarrassed.

  “Uhmmm…” Alexandra began, “Doctor, what I’m about to tell is going to sound…strange. And you may think I’m not being serious here, but really, what I’m about to tell you is the God’s honest truth.” Then she stopped, as though she wasn’t sure she should even be there.

  Her slightly southern accent, so contrary to her partner’s heavier Latin one, gave some kind of special weight to the statement she had just made. At that moment, Sanford felt it would have been physically impossible for her to actually tell a lie. He shifted ever so slightly forward in his chair, an old body language trick to subconsciously let her know that she had his most focused attention.

  “Go ahead, Alexandra, I’m listening,” he said.

  “Alex, please,” she said.

  “Sorry – Alex. Please continue, Alex.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Dr. Sanford, the reason that I can never be with another man is that whenever I kiss a man, he turns…” she bowed her head slightly, then looked up again, “He turns…into a frog.” The air in the room, which, till this moment, had seemed so flowing and lively, froze, and in the process seemed to capture the words she had just spoken, suspending them over the glass table that separated them. All sound appeared to have been sucked out of the room by some unseen force. Even the traffic noises from the street below, usually a constant soundtrack to his sessions, had disappeared.

  “Excuse me, did you say ‘frog’?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Alexandra.

  “Yes,” said Beverly, her Puerto Rican accent seeming to reheat the air around the words her partner had just spoken, “she said ‘frog’.” She made little attempt to hide her irritation.

  Sanford cleared his throat and reached again for his cup of coffee. It wasn’t the strangest thing that he had ever heard. He was a psychiatrist that had been in practice for over 20 years. He had heard just about everything – every type of perversion, delusion, addiction and syndrome there was. And on a scale of one to ten, thinking that you could kiss men and turn them into frogs didn’t rate very high on the ‘crazy’ scale, relatively speaking. But this was the first time he’d had a patient with this particular ‘condition’, and he was intrigued. It was particularly interesting coming from such a beautiful, well-spoken and seemingly well-adjusted young lady. Normally, he prided himself on being able to see all of his patients, no matter how attractive they may be, as completely sexless – even the ones that came in dressed like street walkers and wantonly throwing themselves at him. He was very good at maintaining a clinical perspective that normally prevented any threat of sexual tension between himself and the patients that came to him for treatment. But he suddenly felt an undeniable tug of sexual desire for this woman. It was slight, and he was able to immediately push it down in his mind, but it disturbed him, nonetheless. He took a long sip from his cup and tried to re-focus his thoughts. The coffee had gone cold.
r />   “Well, let’s examine this a little closer,” he said, once he had completely recomposed himself. “Why, exactly, do you think that you can kiss men and turn them into frogs?”

  “Because I’ve done it. Several times.” She stared blankly at him. So did Beverly.

  “Ok. How old were you the first time kissed a boy and turned him into a frog?”

  “I was 12 years old. His name was Blue. Blue Ogunde. He was an African boy that used to live next door to me, back in Possum’s Point.”

  “Possum’s Point?”

  “Yes, Possum’s Point, Arkansas. That’s where I was raised.”

  “I see,” he said, jotting another note in his book. “Was Blue also 12?”

  “No, he was actually 13 at the time.”

  “I see,” said Sanford. “Tell me how it happened.”

  Alexander told him the entire story of that day in the park; the fateful day that she agreed to play ‘Hide & Go Get It’ and was subsequently physically assaulted by the boy.

  “So what you’re telling me,” said Sanford once she had finished, “Is that you didn’t actually see him turn into a frog. You were frightened – terrified – and trying to fight off your attacker. Your eyes were closed, burning from the sweat produced by the struggle. Feeling helpless and desperate, you wished that you had the power to turn him into a frog, and shortly thereafter, when you opened your eyes he was gone and there was a frog in his place. Is that how it happened?”

  “Ummm, not exactly. I never wished that I could turn him into a frog. I just prayed for God to save me. And when he kissed me he became a frog.”

  “I see,” he said, again. “And you never saw Blue again?”

  “No, never. No one ever did. The police and the neighbors searched the fields and streets for him for weeks. There was never a sign.”

  “And did you ever see the frog again?”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t know. I mean, I saw other frogs, but I’m not sure whether or not one of them was him.”

  “And you never told anyone about what happened? About him attacking you or you transforming him into a frog?”

  “I tried to tell my best friend, Tricia, but she didn’t believe me. And she told me that if I told anyone else, they might think I was crazy and send me to the loony farm. So I never mentioned it again.”

  “And did you experience any guilt over your belief that you turned this boy into a frog?”

  “Yes, tremendous guilt. I cried about it regularly for months. My mother kept asking me what was wrong, but I never told her.”

  Sanford made some more notes in his journal.

  “So you say this wasn’t the only boy you turned into a frog. How old were you the next time it happened?”

  “I was about 17. There was a boy named Joshua Hill that I’d had a crush on since Jr. high school. He was a football star and one of the cutest boys in the school. I was always too shy to say anything to him, but I began to think that he might be interested in me, even though he already had a girlfriend. Her name was Patty, and, of course, she was gorgeous. And of course, she was head cheerleader. But I used to notice him staring at me sometimes in the hallway, between classes. He’d be talking and laughing with his friends, but he’d occasionally steal a glance my way. I don’t know if anyone else noticed it, but I did.” She smiled coyly. “Anyway, one day he sat down next to me in the library and asked me a question about an assignment. From then on he spoke to me every time I saw him. Then, a few weeks later, he asked me out on a date. To the movies. I couldn’t believe it! The most popular boy in school wanted to take me out! I was so excited.”

  “And had you forgotten about the incident with –” Sanford paused to glance at his pad, “Blue, or was that something that you were still concerned about?”

  “Honestly,” said Alexandra, “I think I had wiped it from my mind, more or less. Every now and then I would have a flash of memory from that day, but at that point I wasn’t sure if it had really happened or if it was all just a bad dream. Blue’s parents had moved away a year after he disappeared and I never saw them again. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.” She smiled nervously and a dark shadow seemed to cross her face. At that point, she looked so sweet and vulnerable that Sanford just wanted to put his arms around her, pull her to him and tell her everything was going to be alright. But he resisted the urge.

  “Tell me about your date with Joshua,” he said.

  “Well,” she began, “he still had a girlfriend, so we had to be careful. He told me that he was about to end the relationship with her because it just wasn’t working out, but he didn’t want to hurt her. So he didn’t want anyone to see us together until he had a chance to tell her.”

  “Oh, brother” mumbled Beverly, as she rolled her eyes and turned her head away from her partner.

  “What did you say?” asked Alexandra, turning toward her friend.

  “I didn’t say anything,” she spat quietly.

  “Ladies, let’s not lose our focus here,” interjected Sanford, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Beverly, I know you have some issues with some of the decisions that Alexan-, I mean ‘Alex’, has made in her life, but let’s not get distracted. We don’t have much time left today, but I’d like to get through as many details as possible of her past so that we can spend our future sessions concentrating on making some positive changes.” He turned his attention back to Alexandra. “Please continue.”

  “Well,” she said, with a last sideways glance at her partner, “he picked me up one Saturday. I’ll never forget his car. It was an old ’65 Mustang that he and his father had completely restored. It was all black, with dark tinted windows. I guess it was the perfect vehicle for a clandestine rendezvous. We drove to the next town and saw “The Sixth Sense”, with Bruce Willis and that little creepy kid, I forget his name. It had already been out for a couple of months, but this particular theater always played older movies.”

  “Sounds good so far,” said Sanford. Beverly exhaled loudly, like she was bored and really needed to be somewhere else. They both glanced at her briefly and then Alexandra continued with the story.

  “Yes, it started out really well. The movie was great, and really scary. I jumped once, and Joshua put his arms around my shoulder. Then, about halfway through the movie, he tried to kiss me, but I pulled away.”

  “Is that because of what you thought might happen if he kissed you?”

  She paused for a moment.

  “No, not really. I wasn’t really thinking about that. I was with the handsomest, most popular boy in school! I wanted to kiss him, but I was worried about what would happen if someone recognized us. He still had a girlfriend and I didn’t want people thinking I was some kind of man-stealing floozy.”

  “Understandable,” said Sanford as he scribbled some more in his notebook. “So what happened next?”

  “A little while later I whispered to him that I needed to go to the restroom. He said he did too, and he came with me. We met back at the entrance to the theater, at the first door. When we walked through the second door, there was a corner that you needed to turn to get into the theater proper. The only light was from the screen, but it must have been a night scene or something, because it was pitch black. I called his name quietly and then I felt him grab my hand in the dark and pull me to him. It was like he was charged with electricity. I felt like a bolt of lightning had hit me! My skin felt prickly and I could feel my temperature rising and my body immediately started sweating. I even started getting wet. Not just from the sweat. I mean wet… down below. I was so wet I thanked God for the darkness, because I was sure that it must be seeping through my panties and all over my jeans.”

  Beverly, who had suddenly become very interested in what Alexandra was saying, nervously uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. She fiddled with the strap on her purse and then crossed her arms, as though she didn’t exactly know what to do with them. But she kept her eyes riveted on her girlfriend. Sanford felt his own temperature start to ri
se, but tried to ignore it.

  “Then,” continued Alexandra, “I felt his lips touch mine.” She stopped. Both Sanford and Beverly stared at her without saying a word, waiting patiently.

  “I wanted him so badly. But I had never really kissed a boy, other than Blue, and that didn’t really count. I was nervous that I wasn’t going to do it right. I tried to remember how I’d seen it done in movies. In movies, people always closed their eyes. So even though I couldn’t see anything anyway, I closed my eyes and parted my lips slightly as I moved my arms around his back. Our lips gently touched, my body began to melt into his and then – he was gone. I mean, he was just no longer ‘there’! One minute he was in my arms, and the next minute he wasn’t. And that’s when I heard it. That ‘ribbit’ sound that frogs make. That’s when I turned around and ran from the theater.”

  Sanford took a deep breath.

  “So,” he said, “again, you didn’t actually see him turn into a frog.”

  Alexandra seemed slightly confused.

  “Well, I guess not technically. But it’s pretty obvious what happened. Frogs don’t normally frequent movie theaters.”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “So are you saying that you never saw this Joshua again?”

  “No, no one did. Again, search parties went out looking for him. The football team posted thousands of ‘missing’ posters all over the streets of the surrounding three or four towns, but he was never seen again.”

  “I see,” said Sanford again. “One moment, please.” He spent the next two minutes making notes while Alexandra tried to rub Beverly’s back and Beverly tried to act as though she didn’t notice. “Was that the last ‘frog’ incident?” said Sanford when he finally looked up from his notepad.

  “No, there was one more. It was my first year in college. A boy named Wynton. He was my lab partner in Biology. He and I ended up at the same frat party one night. I don’t really know what happened. I only had one drink, but it must have been really strong, because I don’t remember much after that. I vaguely recall following him to one of the back rooms, and us throwing a bunch of coats off the bed and laying down. The next thing I knew, I woke up with a pounding headache. Some girl was screaming and a boy I didn’t know was laughing and chasing her around the room with a large frog in his hand. I heard someone ask him where the hell he got a frog from. Then I ran out the back door and vomited like a mad woman before jumping in my car and somehow getting back to the dorm without killing anyone or getting pulled over.”

  Sanford didn’t say anything. He just looked at her.

  “I know what you’re going to say, doctor: ‘that I didn’t see this person change either.’ I guess that’s technically true, but again, no one ever saw this guy again. There wasn’t too much a fuss made about this one, though. Someone told me that they heard that he had been thinking about leaving school anyway. He didn’t live on campus, and it was a big school, so I guess one student mysteriously leaving didn’t cause too much of a ripple. A detective came to my biology class one day shortly thereafter, and I think he was asking about Wynton, but I never heard anymore about it.”

  “And how did you feel about this – about the fact that you may have turned yet another man into a frog?”

  “I didn’t really feel anything. I was numb, physically and spiritually. But that’s when I swore off men. And started spending more time hanging with Beverly. And the rest is history.” She smiled faintly and ran her hand over her lover’s thigh.

  “Beverly,” said Sanford, turning slightly towards the Puerto Rican woman, “you haven’t had too much to say. Is there anything you’d like to add before we end our session today?”

  “Not really,” she said.

  “Do you have any questions for Alex?”

  Beverly tilted her head to the side and thought for a few moments.

  “Dr. Sanford, I’ve heard all this before. This is nothing new to me. The one question I do have is a question I’ve asked Alex before and never really got a satisfactory answer to. So let me ask it again, with you here.” She looked straight at Alexandra.

  “So if we were such great friends,” she began, “and you were so sure you had these magical lips or whatever the hell you call them, that turns people into reptiles, why would you ever risk kissing me? How did you know I wasn’t going to turn into a fucking frog?”

  Sanford wanted to say something, but just waited for Alexandra to answer.

  “Like I told you before, I don’t know,” she said, lifting her hands in despair. “I…I just felt safe with you. Somehow, I just felt things would be alright with you. And they were.” She grabbed her friend’s hand again and squeezed. Beverly finally responded and lightly returned the gesture.

  “That’s a very good question – and potentially revealing answer,” said Sanford. He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, we have to end here, for the day. But, Alex, I want you to think about something for next time. I want you to think about the fact that not only did you never see any of these boys actually transform into a frog, but each of them was, in some way, clearly abusing you. The first physically attacked you, the second was using you to cheat on his girlfriend and the third tried to take advantage of you while you were too drunk to know what you were doing. Neither of these guys were exactly the type of person you would necessarily want to ‘bring home to mother’. These were not ‘good’ guys. It’s possible, even years after the fact, that you were suffering a kind of post traumatic stress reaction to the first attack, a reaction that left you with the illusion that you had the ability to punish the men in your life that you perceive to have mistreated you. I don’t want to go into it any more than that, right now. Let’s pick it up again next week. The same day and time works for me, if it works for you.”

  “Beverly?” asked Alexandra, questioningly.

  “Sure,” said Beverly quietly.

  After the women left his office and Sanford watched them drive away from his second floor perch, again pipe in hand, he sat down at his desk and went over his notes, reflecting back on their session together. Of course, this woman did not have the ability to turn people into amphibians. But it is quite possible that something happened to these young men. Could she have physically harmed them? He didn’t get the impression that she had the potential for physical violence, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had made such a mistake. He shook his head, not wanting to think too much about the Roulette fiasco. And this girl, while clearly suffering from some fairly serious issues, was certainly no John Roulette. Was she? No, he didn’t think it possible. He thought back to his reaction to her sexual energy. That was the most disturbing aspect of the entire session. It was something that had never happened to him before, and he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it. He looked at his watch again. 6:05. He picked up the phone and dialed Monty’s number. Monty Davish was a colleague and one-time mentor. Whenever he had a difficult case or just needed to unload, Monty was who he called. Monty was the first psychiatrist to befriend him when he first moved to this town, and the only one that never seemed to judge him over the Roulette blow-up. An extremely wise and learned man, Monty had already been in practice for well over a decade when Sanford was just graduating from school.

  Monty’s voicemail picked up. Sanford then remembered that he was out of town on business until Sunday. He left a message, then began preparing to leave the office. At home, he fixed himself a gin martini, grilled a steak and some fresh vegetables in the backyard and settled down to catch the last of the Lakers game. At 2am that morning he found himself sitting up in bed, unable to sleep. He was thinking about Alexandra. Maybe he had been dreaming about her. It was hard to say, because he seldom remembered his dreams. But once he realized that he was awake, her face was the first image that appeared in his head. Frustrated, he grabbed his robe and slippers and went into the spare bedroom that doubled as his office and turned on the computer. He had subscriptions to several news databases. They often came in handy during the process of researching a case. br />
  He entered “Possum’s Point” and was surprised to see that there were ‘Possum’s Points’ in Virginia, Texas and New Zealand, in addition to Arkansas. He changed his search to “Possum’s Point Arkansas” and began clicking on the results. It was the typical small American town. He started going through the crime blogs. Not much there. He grabbed his briefcase to check the names of the two boys that Alexandra had spoken to him about. He typed in ‘Blue Ogunde’ first. There it was. A 13-year old boy had disappeared from the town July 17, 1994. He was never found. The police eventually ruled it a ‘runaway’ case, even though the parents refused to accept it.

  He then typed in the other boy’s name, ‘Joshua Hill’. There was much more information on this case. Joshua was a local hero, with a promising future in pro football. Several college scouts had already visited him and he was still in his junior year. His disappearance was a shock to the entire town, and they rallied together to find him. They searched intensely for months. Police suspected foul play, but without any evidence other than his abandoned car, found in a town 20 miles away, they were reluctant to officially consider it a homicide. Leads were few. Officially, the case was still open but considered ‘dead’.

  Sanford wanted to run a search on the third ‘victim’, as well, but knew neither the boy’s last name nor the town in which the school was located. He grabbed his pipe, walked out onto his patio and lit up. The smoke, mixed with the cool night air, tasted good. He looked up into the dark sky and starred at the twinkling stars and they reminded him of Alexandra’s eyes. He started to go over the facts again in his head. At least two boys had disappeared from the same town, 10-15 years ago. Alexandra was convinced that she was responsible for their disappearance. If she had killed them, how would she have done it? There was no report of any evidence of a crime in the files he’d just read. No blood, no clothing, no personal articles, no witnesses. How could a young woman, especially a 12-year old, have gotten away with such a horrendous crime without leaving any sign? Of course, just because the boys disappeared from the town doesn’t mean that they came to a bad end. Maybe they really did run away from home. It wasn’t impossible. He finished his pipe, tapped it against the edge of the railing to empty it and went back to his computer.

  He typed the name “Blue Ogunde” into one of the court databases. There was a “Blue Ogunde” in Charlotte, NC that had purchased a house just 3 years ago. He was born in 1980. That matched the timeline. Could this be the Blue Ogunde that Alexandra was convinced she turned into a frog? It could. He copied the address into an email and sent it to his secretary, asking her to send Mr. Ogunde a letter first thing Monday morning, requesting a phone number that he might be reached at, regarding a ‘sensitive personal matter’.

  Next he typed “Joshua Hill” into the same database. Unfortunately, ‘Joshua Hill’ was a much more common name. There were hundreds. He filtered it down to those born between 1979 and 1983. There were still over 200. He filtered it again, to residents of the southern U.S. That brought it down to 40. Some were in prison. Three were attorneys. Seven were married within the past 5 years. This was a long shot, and then some. Still, he did a ‘copy & paste’ of all the addresses and sent another email to his secretary, with the same request as for Ogunde. She was probably going to be giving him dirty looks all day Monday, and chances were good that it was all wasted effort, but he felt he needed to do something, anything, to get a handle on this case.

  Sanford spent Saturday working on his house and trying to forget about Alexandra and her frog issue, but it kept creeping into his mind. Early Sunday morning the phone rang. It was Monty.

  “Phil, how the hell are you?” he said cheerfully.

  “I’m great Monty. How was your trip?”

  “Fantastic! Miami is beautiful this time of year. You should go!”

  After a bit more small talk Sanford got to the point.

  “Listen, Phil, I’ve got a new case that’s a bit unusual. I’d like to go over it with you.”

  “Sure. Shoot.”

  Sanford told him everything, including his sexual attraction to Alexandra and the results of his internet search.

  “Phil,” he said, “I don’t have to tell you that you’re treading on dangerous ground here. Neither one of us can know, at this point, what this woman has done or what she’s capable of doing. But the fact that you’re so attracted to her is where the real problem lies. You’ve already compromised yourself as a counselor. Surely, you see that. The smart thing to do would be to refer her to someone else, before it blows up in your face.”

  “You’re right, of course. But I still feel like I can help her. Haven’t you ever been attracted to a patient?”

  “I’m a man, Phil. Certainly I have. But not to the degree that it became an obsession or clouded my judgment. And I fear that’s where you’re going with this.”

  They spoke a while longer and Sanford promised to give it some more thought and touch base later in the week.

  Sanford spent the next week grinding through his sessions, trying to force himself to stay in the present and give his patients all the attention that they needed and deserved, but many times he felt himself drifting, thinking about Alexandra and her approaching Friday appointment. Sometimes he even had to ask a patient to repeat themselves because he just wasn’t listening.

  When Friday finally arrived, Sanford found he could barely contain his excitement. At exactly 4:15 his secretary buzzed him to tell him that his patient had arrived. Excellent; they were on time this week. But when the door opened, only Alexandra walked through. This time she was wearing a long, tight green dress, a waist-length black leather jacket, black scarf and large, dark glasses. She seemed to literally shimmer as she walked into the room, but he wasn’t sure if it was the dress or just her.

  “Good afternoon, Alex. Is Beverly not joining us today?” he asked.

  “Hi doctor. No, she couldn’t make it.”

  “Well, I have to tell you,” he said as he waited for her to be seated, “That it’s very difficult to engage in effective couples counseling if both people are not present.”

  Alexandra sat on the couch and removed her shades and scarf. She was wearing green nail polish and just a touch of green eye shadow, both of which were the exact same shade of green as her dress.

  “I know, and I apologize for her. I’m sure she’ll be here next time. I would have canceled, but it was kind of last minute.”

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Oh yeah, everything is fine. It’s just that she got very busy at work.”

  “I see. Ok, well since you’re here, why don’t we use this time for you to tell me a little more about yourself; your upbringing, how your relationship with Beverly has developed, etc.”

  At first she didn’t know where to begin, but once she started, it just seemed to flow with all the naturalness of a cool, mountain river – clear, powerful and relaxed, but with determination and purpose. She started off talking about her parents and how they originally moved to Possum’s Point to get away from the rat race of Chicago. Then she spoke of her early experiences in school and the difficulties she’d always had making friends. She ended the session talking about how well she had always done with her school work. There was no mention of frogs.

  The next week, Beverly again didn’t make it, and it was more of the same. This time there were some tears and there was some laughter, and she seemed a hundred times more comfortable than before. When Beverly was absent yet again the following week, Sanford knew it was time to seriously address the matter.

  “Tell me, Alex,” he said after she had gotten settled and he had given her a cup of coffee. “What exactly is going on with your partner?”

  “She’s just-,” she began, “Ok, the truth is that she’s not very open to this ‘couples therapy’ thing. She never was. I dragged her here kicking and screaming. She said she just didn’t see the point in going over things that we’ve already gone over time and time again. And be
sides, she was feeling a bit of jealousy.”

  “Jealousy? How so?”

  “For some reason, she thinks I might be attracted to you.” She smiled slightly.

  Sanford felt himself beginning to blush and was instantly grateful that his skin was dark brown instead of white. Still, he took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

  “What would possibly have given her such a notion?” he asked.

  “She knows that I’m attracted to men. I always have been. That’s not anything that I’ve ever tried to hide. I made it clear from the beginning that I am still drawn to men, it’s just that I made a promise to myself to swear off of them. What made it worse is that she knows my type, and you kind of fit the profile.” She was doing the ‘shy’ thing again, kind of tilting her head down and to the side, while she looked up at him and smiled sweetly.

  “Well, there’s nothing for her to be jealous about. My only job here is to try to provide guidance and advice to help you overcome the difficulties that you both are having in your relationship. Her not being here makes my job more difficult, but we’ll see what we can do.”

  The next five weeks flew by. Seeing Alexandra every Friday was something that he looked forward to the way a child looks forward to the weekend. They didn’t speak much of Beverly – or frogs – but they spoke of everything else. Against everything that he knew to be right and in spite of all his training and years of experience, he found himself revealing to her details about his own life and upbringing. After a while it no longer even seemed like a therapy session, but more like two friends having a friendly visit. Except for the insurance payment, of course. His secretary had sent out all the letters to Ogunde and the Hills, as he had instructed, but no one had yet responded. He was still optimistic that this Blue Ogunde was the Blue Ogunde that Alexandra thought she had transformed. He knew that once he was able to confirm that her childhood friend was still alive and confront her face-to-face with the evidence, she would be well on her way to learning how to overcome her past and deal with this delusion she’d been living with for so long.

  Monty had been trying to get in touch with him for days, but he purposely avoided taking the calls. Instead, he’d call and leave a return message when he knew Monty wouldn’t be there to pick up or send him a quick email, promising to call later. The last thing he wanted right now was to listen to his colleague tell him how idiotic he was acting. And he knew that’s what it would come to if Monty knew what was going on between he and Alexandra. He had crossed the line, and he knew it. But he felt he was still in control.

  It was Friday, at about 20 minutes to 4:00 when his secretary buzzed him. Alexandra was on the line. A chill went through his body. Instantly he knew something was wrong.

  “Hello, this is Dr. Sanford” he said.

  “Doctor, it’s Alexandra,” she said, her voice both heavy and frantic. He could tell she had been crying. “I’m sorry, but I’m just not going to be able to make it today. Can we please reschedule?”

  “Sure. But what’s wrong?” he asked. She began to sob.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s Beverly. She and I had a big fight and she ran out of the house, and I’m just so – so worried about her.” She began to cry even harder.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? We can talk it over. It might help.” He could hear turn away from the phone to blow her nose. When she returned she seemed a little calmer.

  “Thank you, but no, I’ll be ok. I just need some time to think. Besides, I’m all the way over on the north side of town and I have no idea where I put my keys. I think I’m losing my mind,” she said, and tried to laugh.

  “Well,” he began, knowing even before the words came out of his mouth that he was making a terrible mistake, “I live on the north side of town myself, and you were my last appointment for the day. How about if I came and picked you up and we went to a coffee shop to talk?”

  “No, I couldn’t put you through all that trouble,” she said.

  “It’s really no trouble at all,” he responded. “Not only am I heading that way, but your insurance is going to pay me for the session anyway, since you didn’t give me 24 hours notice on the cancellation. So you might as well get your money’s worth.” A couple of more minutes of coaxing and he had convinced her to meet with him. He brushed his teeth, grabbed his jacket and briefcase and ran out the door.

  He picked her up in front of an ultra-modern, high-rise apartment building. It turns out it was only a mile or two from his home. He knew the area well. He drove to a local coffee shop that he often frequented, where he knew there would be plenty of seating this time of day. He bought them both an espresso and they found a comfortable pair of chairs near the back of the store.

  They spoke for over an hour about how Beverly had accused her of refusing to really commit to their relationship, or to the idea that she truly was a lesbian. She talked about how confused she was about her sexual orientation but that she had no doubts about her love for Beverly.

  “Alex, loving someone and being in love with them is not necessarily the same thing, and it can be easy enough to confuse the two,” said Sanford. “And just because you’ve slept with a woman doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a lesbian.”

  “Well, that’s discouraging,” she said. “I mean, it’s not like I have a lot of options here, if I don’t want to spend the rest of my life cozying up to a vibrator.”

  “Alex,” said Sanford quietly, “I’ve been holding off telling you this because I have yet to receive actual confirmation, but it’s quite possible that Blue Ogunde is still alive – and still human. And that I’ve found him.”

  “What?” she said. There was real fear in her eyes.

  “I did some investigation and found a person with that name, that’s about the right age. He lives is North Carolina. I’ve sent him a letter. I’m just waiting for a phone call from him so that I can personally verify that it’s the same Blue Ogunde you think that you…transformed. And if that’s true, it means your belief that you are cursed with men is just a delusion, probably brought on by extreme stress; a sort of minor mental breakdown.”

  “I…I…” she stuttered, looking bewildered. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t really even know how to respond to that,” she said.

  Suddenly Sanford felt his heart overflowing with love and caring for this woman. Without thinking he watched himself reach across the table and gently grab one of her hands.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

  Sanford quickly jerked his hand back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean -,” he began, before he realized she was no longer looking at him, but at something behind him. He turned around and saw Beverly standing in the doorway of the coffee shop, giving them both the most evil look he thought he had ever seen.

  “Bev!” yelled Alexandra.

  Without saying a word, Beverly simply turned and walked out of the shop. Alexandra leaped up and ran after her and Sanford followed. By the time they both reached the street, Beverly was nowhere to be seen.

  “Oh my God, this is awful,” said Alexandra, grabbing her head with both hands. “I thought she was going to work. If I had known she was still going to be around the neighborhood I never would have agreed to meet you someplace so close to our home.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Sanford. “I never meant for something like this to happen. Let me drive you home and I’ll go in and talk to her. I’ll explain that this was strictly a professional meeting.”

  “No, that’s only going to make it worse. I think it better if I walk home. It’s only a couple of miles, and I need the time to think.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. But thank you doctor, for all your help and understanding.”

  “Sure, no problem. Here,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Here’s my card. That’s my service number, but they can reach me 24 hours a day. If you need anything – and I mean anything – please, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Ok.” br />
  “Promise?”

  “Yes, promise,” she said, smiling slightly.

  On his drive home, Sanford wondered what to do next. After all this, continuing therapy sessions with Alexandra was probably out of the question – at least as long as she was together with Beverly. And if there were no sessions, how was he going to see her? He really didn’t want to think about the idea of not seeing her. He needed to see her. He really needed to be with her. Did he just say that to himself? Yes, it was true. He had finally, really, truly crossed the patient/doctor line. He wanted Alexandra for his very own, like he had never wanted anyone. And what of her relationship with Beverly? Beverly was a nice girl, but she wasn’t right for Alexandra. Alexandra wasn’t even a lesbian, for God’s sake. He would actually be doing Beverly a favor by helping to end her relationship with Alexandra, which would open her to finding a true lesbian that she could actually be happy with.

  He was still tossing these ideas around in his head when the phone rang. He looked at his watch. It was 10:34pm. It was his service. An Alexandra Larrieux would like him to call her immediately. She left a number. He quickly hung up and dialed the number. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Dr. Sanford?” she said

  “Alex? Are you all right?”

  “I’m really sorry to call you so late.”

  “It’s ok. What’s happened?”

  “Well, when I got back to the apartment, Bev was there, but she wouldn’t let me in. I forgot to grab my purse when you picked me up, so I didn’t have my keys, my wallet or anything. We yelled back and forth through the door for about half an hour, until someone threatened to call the police.”

  “Why didn’t you let them? No one has the right to lock you out of your own home, Alex.”

  “I know, but I really didn’t want to bring that kind of drama down on her. I love her, and even though I didn’t mean to, I’ve hurt her. She just needs some time to cool off. So anyway, rather than cause more trouble, I just left – just started walking. I’ve been walking ever since. I wanted to get a hotel room for the night, but I don’t have my wallet.”

  “Oh Alex,” he said, his voice heavy with concern.

  “I was wondering if I might borrow a few dollars from you to get a room for the night. And cab fare. I’ll pay you back tomorrow, I swear, as soon as I can get to my stuff.”

  “Absolutely, that’s no problem at all. I’m glad to help. But you know,” he said, hesitating slightly, “I have an extra room here. I know it would be kind of strange, spending the night in the home of your therapist, but it seems kind of ridiculous to spend a couple of hundred dollars for nothing. Besides, it’s almost 11pm. I’m sure you’re exhausted from all that walking. I would imagine the last thing you want to do now is drive around in a taxi, looking for a vacant hotel room.”

  “Well, that much is true.” She paused. Sanford held his breath and waited. He could feel the blood beating in his temples. “Well,” she said finally, “if you’re sure it’s no problem.”

  “Not at all, Alex! I’m always happy to help. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right there.”

  Sanford picked her up at a phone booth just 10 minutes from his house. He tried to get her to talk on the drive back home, but she wasn’t in a very talkative mood.

  “Can I get you anything? Something to drink or eat? You must me hungry,” he said, as they walked into the house.

  “No thanks. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day. I just want to go to sleep.”

  “Oh sure,” he said. “One second.” He ran into the hallway and moments later came back with bath and face towels.

  “Here you go,” he said, handing her the towels. “The room is right there,” he said, pointing at an open doorway. “I put fresh linen on it before I came to get you. The bathroom is over there and my room is right down the hallway, first door on the left. If you need anything, just knock.”

  “Thank you doctor,” she said warmly, “I really appreciate this.”

  “Sleep well,” he said.

  But that was more than he could do. It was 2:58am and he was still awake, tossing and turning and listening to the silence of the house. Then there was a sound. It sounded like someone crying. He listened more closely, then got up and walked into the hallway. It was coming from Alexandra’s room. He knocked on the door.

  “Alex? Are you ok?” There was no answer, and the crying began to grow louder. He knocked again. “Alex? Alex?”

  Still no answer, he slowly opened the door. The room was dark except for the light coming in from the hallway. He slowly walked into the room. Alexandra lay under the covers, holding on the pillow tightly and crying. She appeared to be in the middle of a nightmare.

  “Alex?” Sanford called softly to her. She still didn’t answer so he walked over to her and gently began to shake her. He eyes popped open and she issue a short scream and sat straight up in the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sanford. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. But I heard you crying and wanted to make sure you were alright.”

  Alexandra just stared at him. Here face had such a blank look on it that at first he wondered if maybe she were still asleep. Then her face began to change, to transition from one emotion to another: fear, anger, sympathy, bewilderment, rage, defeat. Finally, she turned her face to him and it melted into something he could only describe as relief. Then she burst into tears and buried her head in her hands. Sanford grabbed her gently by the shoulders and pulled her to him.

  “It’s all right,” he said, as he held her to his chest and rubbed her back. “It was just a nightmare.” It seemed like they stayed that way forever. The spell was finally broken when she pulled away from him and looked deep into his eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said solemnly. “I’ve never met anyone as caring as you are. Thank you for being there for me.”

  Sanford pulled his pajama sleeve down over his hand and used it to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  Then they just stared at each other. Sanford felt like he was back in high school, out on a first date, wondering when the right time was to move in for the kiss. Kiss? This was a patient! He knew the last thing he needed to do was kiss this woman, but at that very moment, there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do more. But, still, he waited. And so did she. Neither moved. They just continued to stare into each other’s eyes. The silence and lack of movement began to feel uncomfortable. And then, Sanford knew it was now or never. Slowly, he leaned in, brought his hand up to her face and moved his lips towards hers.

  The distance between their lips seemed as wide as an ocean and momentarily he wondered if he’d ever be able to reach them. Then, they touched. Her lips were so soft that he couldn’t imagine anything more heavenly, more nourishing, more inviting than kissing this woman. Electricity surged through his legs. Explosions began to go off in his head. His heart began to beat half as fast but twice as hard. A cold chill went up his back. Then there was something else, something he had never felt before in his life and could not even begin to describe.

  “Ahh!” he exclaimed in surprise. Suddenly, they were no longer kissing. Alexandra had pulled away from him and screamed. The room seemed to spin slightly and then he felt a blast of cool air over his skin. Something was wrong. She really did seem far away from him now. It was almost as though he were laying on the floor, looking up at her. Had he fainted? He tried to get up but couldn’t move. He tried again, and the strangest sound issued from his mouth: “Ribbit.”

  Alexandra screamed again. This time, he didn’t think she’d ever stop.