Into the Aether_Part One(23)

She slowly opened her eyes, adjusting to the daylight streaming through the frost-covered bedroom window. She lay there, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling, and a smile spread across her lips. “Today’s the day!” she said to herself in a sleep-laden voice. With the smile still on her face, she succumbed once more to the warm embrace of her bed; her eyelids grew heavy and started to close. Her breathing slowed. The clock radio, which was perched on top of a tall box marked ‘Spring & Summer Clothes,’ started to blare with a DJ’s voice.

“Good Friday morning! That last song was from Ms. Doris Day, recorded in 1956. For a chance to win coffee and doughnuts for your workplace, courtesy of Alpaca Coffee, be the next person to call in and tell us which Alfred Hitchcock film that song originally premiered in. Was it...”

Cybil let out a loud groan and threw her pillow at the radio. It struck the wall, clipping the box on its way down. Both the box and radio landed on the laminate flooring with a crash. The AA batteries tumbled out of the radio and came to a rest under the bed. A loud thudding came from below her, followed by a man’s muffled voice: “Keep it down up there!”

Cybil gave an exasperated sigh, threw the blankets off of her, and sat on the edge of the bed. With a little yelp, she pulled her feet off the frozen tundra that was the floor. Cursing under her breath, she reached under the bed, pulled out a pair of blue slippers, and put them on. She placed the tall box back on its end, fished out the batteries from beneath her bed, and shoved them back into the radio.

Her feet now comfortable, Cybil walked into her bathroom and closed the door behind her. Even though she lived by herself, she always felt compelled to close the door. In the mirror, two eyes stared back at her: one blue, the other green. Her short ash-blonde hair was strewn across her heart-shaped face. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she removed her bite guard and brushed her teeth.

Next, she took the overflowing hamper from the washroom, and dragged it over to the stackable washer and dryer. She put all the dark clothes, including her scrubs for later, into the washer, and turned it on.

In the kitchen, she reached into the fridge to grab the milk, but her hand stopped, hovering above the unopened carton. A ‘little voice’ in her head nudged her away from the milk, telling her water would be just fine.

This was the little voice she had learned to listen to. When Cybil was a child, she often had feelings about certain things and people. Sometimes it was simple, like when she visited her grandmother in the retirement home, she would always be able to pick out the winning Bingo card. This would sometimes create a minor insurrection among the other residents, and a rule was implemented that no one could win more than seven games in a single session. Eventually, she was banned from helping her Nana at Bingo altogether.

Other times, it was eerie. When she was six, she once woke up to find herself barricading the door of the family car with her body, while screaming and crying, her voice hoarse. She was still in her pajamas, and was preventing her father from going to work. He was furious with her for making such a scene in the middle of the street, as well as for making him late. Then he was made even more tardy when the bridge he usually took in the morning collapsed, killing three people, ten minutes before he arrived. That night, he came home and hugged Cybil tightly, and apologized for yelling at her.

This was the first time she’d had a ‘future dream’, a term she would later use, although she didn’t have a memory of it. The first dream she did remember was one she had of herself, much older, helping people. A man with blonde hair called her ‘nurse’. Her first grade teacher once asked the class what everyone wanted to be when they grew up. Between the typical answers of ballerina and movie star, Cybil resolutely answered, “A nurse!”

Her teacher was taken aback by Cybil’s conviction. He asked, “How do you know?”

To which she responded, “Because I just do.”

Cybil had moved back to Dalhousie two years ago this March after separating from her husband. When she’d met him in college, the little voice had told her to stay away. But he was so charming and attractive that she suppressed the voice, ignoring it for many years. During the time she and Brent dated, she put herself through school by waitressing. She would scrimp and save every penny she had and put it toward her rent, education, food, and if there was any left, her savings.

When she had first talked to Brent about wanting to become a nurse, he seemed supportive. As she continued through school, and finally completed the prerequisite courses she needed for her program, Brent became patronizing. When she finally enrolled in her nursing program, he became quarrelsome. Their argument quickly escalated into a yelling match, and he became so mad he slapped Cybil across the face. She had stared at him in stunned disbelief, covering her stinging cheek with one hand.

Brent left her apartment, returning several hours later to apologize. He told her she was ‘hysterical’ and needed to be ‘brought back to reality’. He took her out for supper that night in an attempt to show just how sorry he was, saying he would ‘turn over a new leaf’.

Cybil sighed at the recollection, walked to her bedroom, opened the closet door, and changed into her jogging clothes. She grabbed her cell phone from the kitchen counter, plugged in her headphones, and selected her workout playlist. As she opened the door to her apartment, she was greeted by a bright, albeit cold, January morning. Her cell read 10:07 am. Have to be at work by 13:00, she thought as she started to jog down her street.