Excerpt from . . .

Broken Mirror
by Justin Holley

PROLOGUE

He had felt the stirring in the abyss. Slowly first, but then it had gained momentum quickly.  Something big was happening.  Just the snippets of memory that the stirring forced loose from his past life made him pray more than usual.  He found himself praying that this rousing within him had nothing to do with that path.  All prayers were answered, but sometimes the answer was no – he had learned this the hard way, long ago.  The way the elders were suddenly in closer proximity to him and seemingly keeping a close eye, made him believe his prayers were heard, but not granted.  He had waited patiently and fervently for his calling that he knew was coming, probably sooner than later.  Something significant to the large plan was cresting and he was needed.  Even though he felt some trepidation about mixing once again with an old calling, this thought filled him to the brim with gratitude that he may be allowed to be a part of something grand.

The newness of this realm had long ago passed, but he still was learning.  He had thought he had learned and accomplished so much in his life.  That was but a pin point of what he now realized. Every new discovery had been shockingly simple yet had always been just beyond his grasp.  The way it should be.  He realized now that there were things that the Diende were not meant to discover.  They were close now, he thought. Or I wouldn’t be the focus of attention.

As the stirring accelerated, some startling revelations were being presented to him.  Revelations that were eerily similar to the old calling, yet different.  Perhaps more refined, but he could not be certain.  He was sure that he would soon be shown more as his mission was revealed. If he had learned nothing else in a place so timeless, it was that everything was learned in time - in the master’s time, but no sooner.  It’s of no consequence.  What else have I but time?

Just as he resigned to once again clear his mind to worship, the abyss seemed to clear both physically and mentally as in response to his reverence.  The revelation was so rapid that it startled him with its insights.  Words came to his consciousness and he immediately understood all the things that, only moments before, had puzzled him.  He looked about, trying to blink away the surprise that enveloped him. Am I dreaming?  He stared on and it was as if he could see the ends of all creation – nothing was hidden.  The day had arrived and his soul leapt with delight like a candle flame in a light breeze.

The limits of his sight knew no bounds.  When the will of the master dictated, all things became clear.  Nothing was kept secret.  From his vantage he could see all that must be done.  Calmly now, he gathered himself and prepared.  Using the strategy already playing out before him, he boldly contemplated the first move and its implications.  There was only one way to where he was and only one way must remain. Even with this absolute knowledge, he knew that every game had rules and this was no exception.

Chapter 1

Eli Ross was ripped out of REM sleep like an Armageddon Flame.  Normally it was a rapid trip to consciousness, but under the circumstances he was grateful just to wake up.  Or not perhaps, as his head felt like someone had placed an axe in the back of it.  His cell phone continued howling as Eli struggled to locate it.  Picking the insistent thing up, he promptly dropped it again, missing the call altogether.  Eli squinted painfully at the caller ID and read “Dana” scrolling across the LCD.  What time is it anyway?  His blurry, crusted eyes searched for the alarm clock: 5:30 a.m.  The chic is officially crazy. The voice-mail alert shrilled to life and almost caused him to aspirate - a wave of nausea hitting him like a brick was his reward for such thinking. 

It seemed like minutes ago that he had said goodnight to Dana with a polite kiss. At the time he had pondered the wisdom of driving home under the influence of more wine than he cared to remember, but decided it worth the risk.  After the kind of story he’d had to endure, who could blame him?  Yes, the girl is crazy and that’s all there is to it - personality disorder maybe.  He hadn’t known her for that long, so perhaps any kind of rebuff would be okay.  After all, he had met her on one of those dating web sites.  Mental note to self: no more internet dating, you addicted bastard!  He rolled over, deciding to wait until she called back again, and briefly entertained the thought of taking a piss as he floated back into oblivion.

*   *   *

            Dana Sullivan, deep in thought, tipped her head forward allowing her silky brown hair to cascade over her ample breasts.  She sat up; with her back against the head board of the bed that she was reluctant to crawl out of.  She reflected on the activities of the night before.  Dana hadn’t expected Eli to answer.  She knew he was more than likely still in the throes of the grape and besides, maybe she shouldn’t have told him.  Deep down, she knew why though - it was such a part of her now that it was an obsession.  She felt her life to be slowly spiraling out of her control.  As evidence, she had received - just minutes ago - another of the frightening calls.  As always, she traced the sickening call back to the hospital where her mother passed away two months ago - to a line that was no longer in service, according to the recording.  Calling Eli had provided some comfort, but Dana still shivered slightly. Maybe she was going crazy like her shrink and Eli thought.  Eli was patient and sweet to listen, but she had seen the casual look of doubt in his eyes as she told him her story.  Who could blame him?  It even sounds crazy to me.  

The calls had started shortly after her mother’s death – as if the death itself hadn’t been enough to deal with.  The calls were always the same: the voice, which was not unlike that of an automated operator and spoke robotically on the other end, always said; “Susan, please hang up and try your call again.”  Susan was her mother’s name - was being the key word.  Even if Dana didn’t pick up, a message would be left on her voicemail.  Several were on there now.  Why is this happening to me?  Was it a warning, a cruel prank, or just an accident?  What was her mother trying to tell her?  The answer was always the same: there wasn’t a logical one.  She had even had the phone company come over to try and figure it out.  They were polite, but not very helpful.  According to them, everything seemed normal.  The hospital had been even less helpful.  For fifteen minutes she had been unceremoniously passed from the receptionist, to the head of maintenance, and finally to the bio-medical technician in charge of that line.  The man, not much older than she, gingerly explained that the line had been disconnected for over a year.  According to the tech, it was impossible to be receiving a call originating from that particular line.  She remembered the conversation verbatim: “I’m sorry Mam… I’m not sure what’s going on, but there is just no way that you could have received a call from that line… it’s been out of service for over a year.  It’s part of the old system.  Maybe the phone company could come out and take a look.”  He desperately wanted this out of his lap.  “I’m sure there must be a logical explanation.”

            “I already spoke with the telephone company… they couldn’t help me either.”

            The technician was first silent, too silent, and then, “Well, mam… I really think that there must be some weird glitch.  I’m sure the calls will stop.”

Dana had noticed the hesitation in his voice that indicated the tech didn’t have much conviction in his last statement.  Why not? He may as well think I’m nuts too – just like everyone else.  She replied, “I know this sounds bizarre, but this is really happening.  The calls trace back to your ‘out of service’ line.  How do you explain that?”

Silence, and then, “Mam, I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve spent as much time on this as I can afford.  I have eight dialysis machines that need PM’s and an MRI machine that needs to be recalibrated by the end of the day… I’ve really got to get going.”  Dana had hung up the phone slowly - tears welling as fear and frustration threatened to render her helpless.  It was starting to become a life style.    

The truth was that it was hard enough getting over her mother’s death.  It had been tragic, but mercifully quick - for her mother anyway.  Christmas had been a joyous occasion.  Two days later had come the diagnosis of brain cancer.  Two months after that they were burying Susan in an air tight casket.  Dana had been through it several times with her psychiatrist, but the lack of closure and feelings of abandonment were beginning to control her life.  Dana tried desperately to think of more pleasant things.

Dana, forcing herself to stay calm, stretched out on the bed.  She lengthened her small frame like a cat and recalled meeting Eli.  She had loved his profile on e-love.com.  Eli’s headline had read: romantic adventurer poet seeks his muse.  His profile had described his love of writing, his faith, and best of all (in Dana’s estimation) Eli’s insatiable love of adventure.  Within his profile, Eli had gone on to describe his deep passion as was characteristic of his Scorpio sign.  If last night was any indication of this passion, then sign me up, Dana thought.  Initially she realized that perhaps they were on the same website for two completely different reasons - hers being more plutonic in nature.  She also knew things were changing quickly in that regard.  Even with this initial intuition, she had finally agreed to meet Eli.  They had corresponded via flirtatious e-mails for only two days before Eli insisted on talking on the phone.  From there it only took Eli’s sexy phone voice twenty-four hours to convince Dana that it would be worth her time to meet him face to face.  From the very beginning she felt herself giving in to him, which for Dana was completely out of character.  She was typically very independent and stubborn, but in this affair she felt out of control from the get go – like it was destiny.  

Dana rubbed her hands down her hips and her smooth legs ending at her thin ankles as she recalled meeting Eli face to face for the first time.  They had agreed to meet at Spazios, one of the trendy eateries near the USC campus.  Dana remembered being impressed as most of the guys she dated did not have the fiscal prowess to offer such a date.  Dana remembered getting to her destination early and waiting at the far end of the mahogany bar where she had an advantageous view of the door.  About ten minutes before Eli’s arrival the weather had attacked and Spazios was being drenched by a thunderstorm freshly brewed by the moist ocean air.  While waiting, Dana had visited with a couple of ladies sitting in the vicinity.  They had provided good companionship as Dana had waited and chatted nervously.  Dana recalled humorously that when Eli had entered they were all jealous and said things like “well, if things don’t work out send him my way.”  As Eli entered he ran his fingers through his short brown hair, flinging droplets of moisture in all directions.  The result had been sexy and Dana had been immediately struck with Eli’s rugged looks.  Although not overly tall, Eli had been blessed with the kind of boyish good looks that lasted a lifetime.  The evening had been divine, filled with Eli’s dirty jokes and his carefully crafted conversations that she knew served their purpose of them getting to know each other.  Normally the jokes would have turned her off, but coming from Eli they seemed funny and harmless.  He was so reckless and bold with no inhibitions, at least none that she could see.  Eli was stark contrast to her quiet and shy demeanor - a contrast that seemed to bring out the naughty girl in her.  If that were good or bad, well, the jury was still out on that.  Last night certainly had felt right.  In fact, Dana thought, perhaps too good, and too comfortable.  After all, something had prompted her to tell him – tell him of that singular thing that now controlled her life.  Sometimes pillow talk can come back to haunt you.

She enjoyed the fact that Eli was educated in psychology, even though he was currently unemployed and happy about that fact.  The bi-products of his skills made her feel good inside.  The brave, reckless Eli had no worries about unemployment.  The bills would get paid somehow and in the mean time it was fun time.  It seemed to her that perhaps Human Resources wasn’t a good vocation for him - too much detail work.  Eli had explained that his idea of filing was placing items haphazardly into organized piles.  Perhaps Eli needed to get back into counseling, something pure and unadulterated.  He had used burn-out as an excuse, but she thought it was more about the money for Eli.

Only one thing bothered Dana really - it nagged at her subconscious like a pesky mosquito.  She was vaguely aware that Eli had been through a great heartbreak.  He hadn’t come right out and said it, but the hesitation was there.  She could sense it.  Eli had made a show of pretentiousness, but from the first time she spoke to him Eli had been reluctant to share deeply, withholding what Dana would consider pertinent information about his past relationships.  Dana had been able to feel that small cold piece in Eli’s heart that did not allow him to get too close.  He had been more than willing to pursue the physical, but Eli had dragged his feet and subtly changed the subject when Dana would ask about the past that she knew now dictated his future.  Dana knew that a boy with a broken heart was a tough cookie to crack, and all of his experiences in combination with her innocent life as a psychology student and waitress made for a relationship built on stark contrast.  Interesting, she thought.  Just how interesting was yet to be determined.

Dana continued to lie on her bed remembering the details of the short time that she had now spent with Eli.  She was finally beginning to relax – even smiling to herself, when something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.  At first Dana was certain that she was seeing things.  She got off the bed slowly, never letting her eyes leave the mirror that hung on the wall down the corridor in her living room.  Dana traversed the distance like a child creeping to her parent’s bedroom – her mind wasn’t ready to believe what she was seeing.  “It can’t be,” she whispered, her naked body reeling from a sledge hammer blow of cold, instantaneous shock.

*   *   *

            Eli finally came to life around 9:00 a. m. His head felt vaguely grotesque, but mercifully the axe had been removed.  Eli felt capable of lifting himself up on his elbow without throwing up and so looked around his one bedroom apartment.  He truly enjoyed his little piece of real estate that he had hand picked, five months ago.  He had looked at many, but had truly loved this one.  The view from his third floor veranda was his favorite part as it overlooked a wildlife area that many waterfowl called home as they wintered in a warmer climate than the harsh northland that was their breeding ground.  All I have to worry about is the bird flu, Eli mused.  He slowly sat up throwing his legs over the edge of the bed and decided to try standing.  When this did not cause any great deal of discomfort, he walked slowly from his sleeping quarters into the living room where he flipped on the air conditioner and gas fireplace simultaneously - enjoying the dual effect.  Utilities were included and Eli intended on being comfortable.  He manipulated the buttons on his television remote until the Outdoor Channel projected itself onto his plasma screen.  Walking to the refrigerator for a much needed Red Bull, Eli realized that he needed to either create some energy or slip into a coma induced by his own over-indulgence.  The drink tasted strong and good on his parched throat as he alternated between reading the can and watching Ted Nugent retrieve his arrow.  Uncle Ted was just saying, “Where have we seen this before”?

The shower felt exquisite, washing away his sins from last night and drowning the feeling that his own personal weird fairy had bopped him on his aching cranium with her stupid stick.  Dana’s story, although entertaining, was more than he could comprehend.  Even looking for work was more than he could comprehend at the moment.  Strangely, that seemed to make him some kind of martyr to Dana.  Being able to do no wrong in her eyes was heady stuff, and she seemed to thrive on his boldness - or his irresponsibility, as Eli saw it.

Standing in front of his shower mirror, Eli stared at his bloodshot eyes, deep in thought.  Maybe I should get a tattoo, or an eyebrow ring, or paint my fingernails black. I’d probably get laid every night.  Eli decided he was getting dangerously close to falling off the precipice into the land of arrogance - he finally decided on confidence instead and to see where that train took him.

Eli had used the excuse of needing a break as the reason for his resignation from his Human Resources position at Gesmer, Inc. The truth was, under the emotional circumstances, Eli was having a hard time concentrating.  Jillian, his ex-girlfriend, had taken a toll on every aspect of his life.  It was also true that Eli disliked Human Resources.  No, despised it.  Dana was right; he hated the paperwork, the attention to detail, and all the stupid rules that made absolutely no sense to him.  If the job had been about the people like he thought it should be, well, that would be different.  That wasn’t the case, however, and Eli often thought; they can take their mounds of paper and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.

Eli gently shook the curtain to remove excess water.  Somewhere he had learned that extra water led to mold and it was now a habit.  After his ritual, Eli slid the curtain aside and stood there dripping, letting the water fall from his cut frame into the porcelain tub.  Eli reached for the towel, that he had waiting on the toilet seat, and commenced to the drying process starting with his hair and working his way down.  Once dry, Eli stepped out of the shower and decided he felt better, and maybe even a little humble.  He contemplated checking his voice messages, but thought better of it.  He already knew what he’d hear anyway: some vague reference to having fun last night and how she hoped her story didn’t scare him off.  Well, it certainly didn’t scare him - nothing did, but it certainly made him pause.  What kind of future was there with someone possessing that much mania over a practical joke?  It has to be a joke.  What else could it be?  Eli wouldn’t even let himself think about what parts of her story could actually be real.  Dead people don’t just start contacting their living relatives.  That’s screwed up.  Eli looked down at his phone.  I might not be ready for this . . . on any level. Pensively, he dialed the number anyway.

What am I going to say to her?  He thought as the phone rang.  Five rings later he got Dana’s voice mail.  Her voice is cute.  Eli also thought it strange that she didn’t pick up.  She must be in the shower . . . cleaning up.  He certainly couldn’t leave her a Dear John voicemail so he left a polite message and hung up.  She was a nice girl and more than adequate in the sack.  Perhaps, he smiled, that silly story isn’t so unbearable.  Eli threw on his jeans and a jersey shirt and walked the steps from his third floor apartment to his truck.

The Inland Hills apartment complex, where Eli resided, was on the outskirts of the downtown; in Echo Park where the city, the beach areas, and suburbia collided. Jokingly, Eli affectionately referred to it as the triangle… where the purveyors of love went in, but never came out.  He and his friends had come up with this saying over a number of beers one night when discussing Eli’s past romantic relations and it had stuck.

By now, the few neighbors who were similarly unemployed were used to seeing him out and about.  Eli briefly commiserated with the few adventurous souls that ventured out, but he was in need of some strong, black coffee and with his usual congenial demeanor begged out of any lengthy discussions.  As he walked to his truck, Eli decided that he would pick some coffee up for Dana as well—God knows she would need it.  Maybe he would even pick up some rolls or pastries or something.  What was getting into him?  She didn’t answer her phone one time and now he felt like walking on glass.  Maybe I’m the mental patient he thought, and stepped on the accelerator with more confidence than he felt.

*          *          *

            In reality, Eli was just starting to feel healed again.  The last five months had been an emotional hell and he imagined the scar they had left would always be there.  Every day for the last five months he woke up to the depression.  Every day his first thought was that he would never again feel the kind of love he had had with Jillian.  Every day Eli had wanted to do nothing but drink, sleep, or drink himself to sleep.  Sometimes, lying awake in the sleepless night, Eli imagined death to be kinder than this miserable existence.

For the last two months he’d been trying to reconcile with her, asking for a second chance. Didn’t everyone deserve that?  He had certainly given her a second chance, and a third, and a fourth.  He remembered what he’d written in their last correspondence:

“Any amount of adjectives could not begin to describe where I have been.  The closest thing to it is waking from sleep into a nightmare.  This time is just gone - a piece of my life missing like a big pot hole in the middle of the road - with everything I hold dear just disappearing into it.”

But so far her response had been closer to fat chance.  Life wasn’t fair and it was making him bitter, something that Eli couldn’t even admit to himself.  As a result the last five months had been chaos, with several first dates and few second ones.  Eli was just not ready.

*          *          *         

            Rob Zombie blared from Eli’s speakers - howling about some living dead girl.  Eli, loaded with coffee and cinnamon rolls, sped sixty in a thirty down Wilshire boulevard and sang along like a banshee on steroids: “Sing it to me…dance for me…living dead girl.”  When he got to Dana’s apartment building, he reluctantly turned the music down.  I suppose I need to retain some professionalism he thought, grinning at his own sarcasm.  Locating an empty parking space was no small task.  Damn college students have nothing better to do on Saturday except sleep in or taste a little hair of the dog.  The irony of his own situation was not lost on him as he gathered up his delivery and headed for the dimly lit entry way.  Once inside, Eli buzzed #304.  Before his finger left the button he was buzzed up.  Was she expecting him?  Strange, but Dana was all about strange.  She probably sensed it was me.

He didn’t know the half of it as he strolled towards the steps, somehow the elevator chipped away at his manhood.  He flirted unabashedly with the sexy, young co-eds that were streaming out for a day in the beautiful sunshine.  He enjoyed the effect he had on women, but even he could realize the downfalls of shameless pleasure.  There was something inside him that held back from complete self destruction and moral oblivion.  He saw this as a weakness—others saw it differently.

Eli took the black, carpeted stairs two at a time all the way to the third floor.  Dana’s apartment was almost directly across from the landing—a little left of center, just like everything else about her.  Eli walked up to her door, which was adorned with the usual “Friends Welcome” signage and preceded by a welcome matt covered in winged cherubs and yellow butterflies.  He then noticed that it was propped open.  That wasn’t nearly as odd as the fact that the door was spring loaded and should have closed on its own.  Eli noticed something on the floor, wedged next to the doorframe.  He bent down for closer inspection.  What in the world? Eli tried to fathom an explanation.  It was a mirror - a mirror that had certainly seen its better days.  There was absolutely no question of that.

As Eli bent down he saw the jagged, shattered fragments of the mirror and the spots of blood that sprayed across them like a gossamer wraith.  His mind slowed as it so often did in crisis situations - as if the adrenaline slowed down time and increased his awareness.  He was always amazed what he noticed at these times.  His mind tried desperately to piece the situation together as he took in the ornate structure of the mirror’s faux baroque frame.  Eli briefly picked up the mirror and looked more carefully at its details.  As he did so, pieces of the broken four foot by three foot mirror fell to the floor.  He gingerly fingered the four inch frame and was uncertain of its make up - Eli thought maybe Formica or some other man made material, gaudily covered with fake gold glitter which even now came off on his hands.  The pattern of blood seemed to be uniform, which meant perhaps that it was hit with great force.  The fragments were small and the only parts of the mirror still intact were the outer edges which lent some credibility to his theory.  His first thought was of Dana and her safety.  Despite his heightened sense of urgency, Eli still knocked.  A shell of Dana’s usually robust and enthusiastic voice responded, “Eli, please get rid of that mirror.”

Eli walked in to find Dana sitting on her tiled kitchen floor looking pathetic; cute, but pathetic.  Her mascara had streaked her eyes and cheeks a gothic black and her fingers and hands dripped crimson onto the white tile as she held them out in front of her.  She reminded him of one of those mental patients that were always slitting their wrists in the cheap thrillers he liked renting.

            “There’ll be plenty of time to discard the mirror after we get you patched up.”  Eli spoke with the calmest counselor voice he could muster.  Apparently that was not the correct answer as Dana got up looking terrified, as if she’d seen a ghost. Oh boy, is that what this is about? He wondered.

            She walked up to him slowly and put her bloody hands and by now bloody arms around him.  She was trembling.  Eli was gentle as he led her to the bathroom so he could tend to her wounds.  “It was my mom,” she mumbled as he helped her along.

            “Just stay quiet for now Dana.  Let me patch you up before you go into shock and then I’ll listen to everything you have to tell me.”  This seemed to calm her, but she still shook violently and looked, in Eli’s estimation, like hell warmed over.  After an extensive search, Eli finally found the first aid kit and started patching the nasty cuts on Dana’s hands and fingers.  None of them seemed too deep, but he applied iodine just to be on the safe side.  Dana flinched with pain at each application, but suffered it with quiet dignity.  She just stared at him with a look that Eli interpreted as part relief and part love.  The love part was unexplainable in Eli’s mind, but he ignored it and pressed on with his duties.  After cleaning and patching Dana, Eli gently helped her to the queen-sized feather bed; the very one he had just exited not seven hours ago.  He laid her down and covered her with the down comforter.

            She looked up at him with eyes that begged him not to leave.  Eli had no intention of doing so.  “I’m going to bring the mirror to the dumpster.  Try to sleep and when you wake up we’ll talk,” he said.  He sat by her side for awhile, until she appeared asleep.  Eli then got up quietly and went to dispose of the mirror.  It was still where he left it wedged in the door and on his way to the dumpster, Eli carefully inspected the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary really - only the letters USC–RA scrawled in small letters on the back.  The letters carried no meaning for Eli and he quickly let his mind wander to other things.  All Dana had mentioned was her mother.  What did that mean?  Did her mom break the mirror, cut Dana’s hands and fingers?  Eli didn’t even want to hear about it, but he knew he had little choice.

*          *          *

            Eli took his time making his way back to Dana’s apartment.  He needed time to think and she was sleeping hard anyway.  He stopped and sat on a wooden park bench near the massive flower beds that lined both sides of the concrete runway leading to the main building.  Eli liked this complex - it was well-maintained, quiet, and constructed with that modern, suburban sprawl look with salmon aluminum siding and charcoal shuttered windows.  Most of the residents were career folks or upscale college students. They maintained a rather strict code of conduct, but it was still an apartment after all; with college students that liked to party on occasion.  Eli felt at home even though he was in serious denial about being thirty-four.  He didn’t look-thirty four—rather twenty-four, if anything. His 5’ 10”, 180 pound frame accentuated his boyish, hip demeanor.

            Eli sat with his head in his hands; his hangover was almost gone.  Where do I go from here?  Eli thought.  The practical side of him just wanted to go home - too much drama.  However, Eli knew that on some level he had a responsibility to Dana.  Not only had grad school been expensive, but now he was plagued with feelings of guilt and responsibility.  He was a licensed - albeit burned-out - family counselor after all.  “How damn inconvenient,” Eli moaned to himself.

Although Eli seldom stepped foot in church, his awareness of spirituality was strong.  He loved the lord, but despite that, his recent propensity for drink, women, and the ideology that most laws didn’t apply to him, had caused him to “backslide”, as a pastor friend of his liked to call it.  This fact forced on his psyche a sense of empathy that he could never quite ignore.  Once again Eli thought, how inconvenient.

Eli tried to swallow the strange myriad of feelings starting to rise in his throat. Dana was a nice girl - a little whacked but cute as a button.  Perhaps this was his caretaker instinct coming out again.  A little voice in his head whispered, “Or possibly the infant roots of love”.  Eli quickly stifled this thought.  Love was something that Jillian had stolen from him, and that was that.  Eli thought back to a month ago when he had tried a similar dating experience.  Also meeting this match on-line, Eli had sabotaged the whole ordeal and gave the poor girl no chance from the start.  The result had been some very hurt feelings and they certainly were not his.  Now he found himself caught up in this dejavu’ experience without knowing why.  Perhaps he was just addicted to the chase.  Eli was tired of psychoanalyzing himself and finally decided to play the situation by ear.

He gathered himself and slowly walked for the front entrance, scuffing his feet while kicking the sand displaced from the ant holes that formed between the cracks in the sidewalk.  As he approached the door, he realized he hadn’t brought the key out with him.  Nice move Eli, he thought.  As he contemplated his options - ringing the buzzer and pulling Dana out of bed or leaving and letting her sleep - the decision was made for him.  Dana came running down the stairs and to the door, her face a mask of concern and mild fear.  Her hair hung over her eyes, giving her a hollow, lost look that almost made her appear to be resigned to a perilous fate.  Even though Dana didn’t look hysterical, she opened the door just a little too quickly. Eli thought it odd as she just stood there, looking at him as if defeated.

            “Is there anything wrong besides the obvious?”  Eli asked, instinct telling him there was but not sure how to approach it.

            “Oh, no… I was just afraid you left.”  Dana stated this so blandly that it made Eli’s counselor antennae buzz.

            That girl definitely has some abandonment issues, Eli thought as he walked through the door with her.

Eli held Dana’s hand as they walked up the stairs.  She was so quiet and subdued that Eli decided she could definitely benefit from more rest, but it was obvious that rest would have to wait.  He couldn’t avoid this any longer; it was time to talk.  Eli guided her through the apartment door and to the couch while she flowed along; completely willing to follow where he led.  He sat down next to her, instinctively kissing her cheek and running his hand through her long black hair.

            “Are you comfortable telling me what happened?” Eli asked.  Dana nodded.  Eli made eye contact and waited for her story.

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