Dead Secrets Tell No Tales

“Can you keep a secret?” the small voice seemed to intrude on Sylvia’s reading from nowhere. She put down her digital reader and looked around to see the source of the question.

Twisted around in the bus seat ahead of her, a small girl with chestnut hair and large round eyes looked expectantly at Sylvia. Sylvia smiled, but kept her lips tight and flat, hoping to encourage the girl to turn back around and sit quietly. She picked up her reader again and looked down at it, although she couldn’t concentrate with the small child’s gaze boring into her.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asked, her persistence unwavering.

Sylvia lowered the story again but didn’t drop it completely. “Hello,” Sylvia said in a placating tone. The girl’s grin grew wide, but she still appeared as if she was waiting for something from Sylvia.

Something about the little girl seemed wrong, some part that didn’t fit with the usual rhythm of the city. Sylvia sat up straighter in her seat and lifted herself sligtly against the back of her seat to get a better look at the child.

“Where are your parents?” Sylvia asked, now realizing what had set off her internal alarm.

“Mommy already knows the secret,” she said, still holding her tiny perch. Sylvia stood up and tucked one leg underneath herself to crane her head for a full view of the bus. Living in the city her entire life, she was used to the tunnel vision required when traveling. In the last few months, her tunnel vision had turned into a cocoon, insulating her in a personalized bubble. She paid attention to her surrounding enough to assess dangers and stay safe. Otherwise, she tried not to make eye contact at the faceless crowd around her.

As a result, all the faces on the bus seemed unfamiliar. She was so buried in her book, she honestly couldn’t say when any of them had gotten on. The bus wasn’t full, probably less than half of the seats taken. She scanned the faces quickly, but no one seemed to resemble the child or watch her protectively.

“Who did you come on the bus with, honey?” Sylvia asked, hoping to narrow the choices by gender or age. “Was it someone in your family?”

“It was my Mommy,” the girl said, and her face erupted into a wide grin that showed off two missing teeth.

Sylvia looked around again, trying to get a better gauge of who could be this girl’s mother. There were a few women on the bus, but most seemed too young or too old to be her mother. 

Sylvia noticed with some concern that her stop was coming up and didn’t want to just abandon the little girl on the bus.

She walked down the aisle as the bus slowed. She hung on the rail with a toe on the white line, the invisible divider between the passenger and driver. “Excuse me, but there seems to be a little girl on the bus by herself. This is my stop, but I didn’t want to leave her unattended.”

The bus driver, wiry and stubbled man who looked to be in his late fifties, turned in his chair and squinted to the rows of seats. “That little girl?” he asked and jabbed a finger in her direction. The little girl beamed widely. Sylvia nodded.

“She came on with you. I assumed you were watching her,” the man said.

Sylvia started. Could she really be that inattentive? Could she not have noticed an unattended child waiting with her at the bus stop, then boarding the bus at the same time? “I’m sorry, she’s not with me.”

The driver nodded, putting the bus into park with a hiss of air. “What’s your name, little girl?” he asked in a slower, higher tone, as if calling to a kitten.

“Claire,” she said with the same bright voice, showing no weariness or apprehension at the influx of attention.

“Who did you come here with?” the driver asked. The girl raised one slight arm, a finger extended to Sylvia.

“You followed her on the bus?” the driver inclined his head in Sylvia’s direction. The girl nodded.

“Do you know your address?” the driver asked while taking out a clipboard from the side of his seat and jotted down a few notes.

The girl shook her head, the loose ends of her pigtail tapping lightly against her cheek. “It’s in a very big building.” Mostly out of instinct, Sylvia glanced out the window at the surrounding city, tall building towering in neat rows down both sides of the road.

“Thank you for letting me know,” the driver turned back to Sylvia, jutting the clipboard out to her. “We have a procedure for this and someone back at the depot will contact the police. Can you just fill out your name and information in case they have any questions?”

Sylvia scrawled her name, address, and phone number quickly on the paper. The other passengers were squirming in their seats.

“Don’t worry, I have a little girl, although she’s older now. It would be my worst nightmare to lose her in the city. I’ll follow up and make sure she gets home.” The driver’s words made Sylvia feel a little better as she exited the bus.

Sylvia shook her head and took a few deep breaths to center herself before her meeting. It was still another two blocks to walk, and the fresh afternoon air would help erase the image of the strange girl from her mind.

The air was cool today, the last kiss of summer fading away, humidity giving way to a crisp bite as the air streamed down the buildings at the cross street. Sylvia worked through a mental checklist of what she would need to get ready for a new season. Her winter coat hadn’t survived, so she would need to buy a new one soon.

She was so oblivious to her surroundings and lost in her own thoughts, she almost walked past the building. She saw the heavy flow of people around her, most weaving around her slower pace. She made her way carefully through the pack into the entrance of one of the many tall buildings that lined the street.

On the third floor, she walked by memory to the office. A receptionist beamed brightly at her, a false, overly friendly gesture. Sylvia lowered her eyes to deflect some of the energy from the woman’s gaze. 

“Good afternoon,” she said brightly.

“Sylvia Jessup. I have a 2:30 appointment.” Sylvia rooted through her purse, looking for her small day planner to double check the time, suddenly nervous she remembered incorrectly.

“Of course, Ms. Jessup,” the receptionist saved her just as her hand grazed the book. “Please have a seat. The doctor is running a few minutes behind, but will see you momentarily.”

“Oh, if this time doesn’t work, we can reschedule,” she grabbed the book again and pulled it out, flipping to the next month.

“That won’t be necessary, Ms. Jessup. It will only be a few minutes,” she motioned with one hand to a neat row of mostly empty seats. Sylvia nodded and made her way to the far corner.

An older man, probably old enough to be Sylvia’s grandfather, occupied the only other seat. Whatever his age, the man looked like he lived a hard life. Tufts of hair jutted out at odd angles and deep wrinkles lines his face.

As she sat down, she tried to keep her eyes down, but the man’s sudden movement caught her eye as he rose from his seat and came to take one closer to her. Their eyes locked for a moment, and he grinned, showing badly yellowed teeth with gaps where several had fallen out. Sylvia pinched her lips together so not to to show any nervousness or disgust on her face. She dipped her head back down and produced her phone, scrolling through some emails as a distraction.

He sat directly across from her and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He had a faintly musty odor, not one that was repellent but that indicated some fundamental lack in his hygiene. “Can you keep a secret?” he said, the words hissing through the gaps in his teeth.

Sylvia’s mouth went dry, and she tasted the faint tang of metal. She kept her eyes down, but curiosity pulled her to look through her lashes. He was motionless, leaning forward, still waiting.

“Ms. Jessup, the doctor will see you now,” the receptionist called out to the room brightly. Sylvia exhaled in relief, then bit her lip, not wanting to instigate the man. He seemed harmless enough, despite his unkempt grooming habits. It wasn’t fair to judge him on such superficial characteristics, especially here. But it still made her uneasy how he had mirrored the little girl from the bus.

The receptionist waited with the door to the inner offices held open.

“Thank you,” Sylvia murmured without raising her eyes. The woman strode ahead of her, opening a door with a large decorative 3 on the outside.

“The doctor will join you in a moment,” she said, and shut the door behind Sylvia after she’d entered.

It was a warm and comfortable room, designed to put people at ease. She put her purse on the large coat rack in one corner and positioned herself on the leather couch, moving the few throw pillows around until she was comfortable. There was an armchair placed at an angle to the couch, allowing the doctor to either be the focal point or a passive observer of the session. There were bookshelves lined with books, and their orderly precision tempted Sylvia to flip through a few to see if they were some kind of cheap fillers to look impressive. Sylvia guessed she would find copies of the Encyclopedia Britannica from 1984, with the homemade price tag from a garage sale still stuck to the front cover.

The desk in the corner was unobtrusive and obviously the place where the doctor did a majority of his work when not with patients. It was neat with the patient notes locked up in the adjacent filing cabinet, but there were pens, notepads, and a personal voice recorder astray from the rigid perfection of the carefully constructed scene of the rest of the room.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Doctor Hamilton stepped through, his shoes barely making a sound on the plush carpet. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Sylvia. Thank you for your patience.”

“I was only here a few minutes. Thank you for seeing me, doctor.” Sylvia’s automatic response came.

The doctor sat in the armchair next to Sylvia and took a moment to adjust his pressed slacks as he got comfortable.

“Have you given any more thought to what I said in our last session?” the doctor asked and peered at Sylvia over his notepad.

So none of the pleasantries today, we’re going right to the pain points, Sylvia thought.

“Um, yes I thought about it,” she looked down and ran the hem of her shirt between her fingers, back and forth, back and forth. “But I don’t think it’s something I’m ready for. Not yet, at least.”

The doctor shook his head and made a sympathetic grunt, but his eyes remained focused. Sylvia could tell she wouldn’t get away with dodging the question today.

“I understand your reluctance Sylvia, but it’s been over six months since the attack. These groups can help you...” but the doctor’s lecture was cut off by a sudden loud bang on the door. It reverberated along the entire length of the door, not like someone knocking, but like they’d thrown their body against it.

“Jillian,” Dr. Hamilton called the secretary’s name, but Sylvia couldn’t imagine how the petite, professional woman could make such a noise.

The door burst open and the old man from the waiting room shambled in, stumbling like he was drunk or dizzy. He extended his arm and put up one finger to the doctor in accusation. “You can’t help her. You can’t help any of us,” He motioned to the wall of diplomas and certificates, standard fare of any practicing psychologist of Dr. Hamilton’s repute. “You hide behind pieces of paper. You publish and give lectures to prove how good you are. But you never helped anyone.”

The room around Sylvia blurred as tears sprung to her eyes. She didn’t know why people were singling her out today, but she just desperately wanted to be left alone.

Dr. Hamilton sat there, frozen. He didn’t attempt to calm the man down or otherwise escort him from the office. As Sylvia got up, he only called in a horse whisper, “Alexander.” 

For a second she thought he might have been calling to someone else in the office, but she knew the receptionist was the only other employee. 

Sylvia walked towards the door before she remembered her purse hanging on the coat rank. She took another instant to look between the frozen Dr. Hamilton, the grinning man with the black holes in his smile, and her bag on the nearby hook. With a burst of resolve, she grabbed her bag and went to move around the man.

His head didn’t turn as she walked past him, but his hand shot out faster than she expected and held her with surprising strength.

“I did it for you,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Dr. Hamilton.

“Excuse me?” Sylvia said, so taken aback by the strange statement she didn’t even think to struggle.

“That’s the secret. I did it all for you. So you could have what you wanted.”

Sylvia shook her head to rid the man’s strange talk from her head. He was an unhinged man in a psychiatrist’s office. Sylvia had to get away.

“Let go of me,” she screamed, but her voice failed her and it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you that night,” the man finally turned her head to look at her and there were tears brimming in his eyes. “But I will now.”

His fingers released and his arm dropped as he turned to leave the small room. But Sylvia was faster and rushed out the door, moving as quickly as she could without drawing any more attention. Some part of Sylvia’s mind still knew it would look crazy to run out of a psychiatrist’s office with tears streaming down her face.

The receptionist called after her as she left, but Sylvia didn’t look back. Even when she was back on the sidewalk, she continued to hurry, not daring to stop. A bus pulled up to the corner just as she was arriving. She knew the route and although the closest stop to her apartment would still be several blocks away, she stepped up just before the doors closed. She just wanted away from the office.

It was getting closer to the end of the workday and there were more people on the bus than before, but she still found an empty seat near the middle of the bus. She turned and looked out the window, breathing deeply through her nose so she didn’t draw any additional attention to herself. She smoothed down her hair and settled her purse on her lap.

The normal flow of life continued as the bus stopped and people shuffled on and off. The rhythm soothed Sylvia, and she sat back and relaxed. 

“Now you know my secret,” a voice cracked next to Sylvia and caused her to jump. There was a gangly teenage boy next to her. She hadn’t even heard him sit down.

“Please leave me alone,” Sylvia said in a whimper. The boy didn’t move, but smiled at her, the braces on his teeth glinting slightly.

“That’s what I’m trying to do. I can see fear, I can make them come to being. In some ways, I’m as old as fear.”

Sylvia froze in terror, her eyes darting to the seats around her to check if anyone would come to rescue her. But the other passengers seemed more oblivious than usual, none of them taking any particular notice of their conversation or her panic.

“But after millennia, I’m tired of being the monster. I try to protect people from those fears. I saw your fear that night, and inadvertently, fear followed you. I’m the reason you were hurt.”

Sylvia swallowed but felt frozen in place, a wedding guest accosted by the old seaman. 

“I tried to help, tried to save you. But the man,” the teenager swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “he had no fear to exploit. So afterward, I followed you to find a way to help. Now I see it,” the boy smiled, his eyes suddenly bright.

“How can you help me?” Sylvia ventured.

“Your worst fear right now is attention. You just want to blend into the background, to be unseen and quiet. I will give you that. From now on, when anyone gets too close, I will show them their fears. You will have all the peace you desire.”

Like the turning of a page in a book, the boy’s features turned from exalted to confused and finally to a pained look of disgust. He shook his head once and without explanation, rose from the seat and walked to the back of the bus.

Sylvia didn’t bother to follow his movements. She looked back out the window and enjoyed the rest of the trip in silence. For the first time in weeks, her head was quiet, and she wasn’t afraid.