The Case of Mistaken Identity (5-2-21)
A Case of Mistaken Identity
April 30, 2021
By: Carrie Keiser
It was an ordinary Monday in May nothing to cause me alarm, no warning of the strange things that were to transpire after I left the house.
I was running a little behind, the alarm went off at the usual time, but I didn’t hear it. (I know, I know, I can feel your eyes rolling.) Something jerked me awake, only 20 minutes later. I launched into the quickest morning routine I’d ever attempted! Five minute shower, seven minutes to put my face on: moisturizer, a little eyeliner, mascara and a quick lip gloss. Threw my hair up in a messy bun, I had planned a neat French braid, but that wasn’t happening today! I grabbed my versatile navy blue pantsuit paired it with a pale mauve button-down blouse and my favorite flats, rushed to the kitchen for a morning herbal tea and a scone, snatched the truck keys from the hook and was out the door almost on time.
I plugged the address into the maps app on my phone, set the phone in the car holder and backed out of the garage. A lot is riding on today’s interview, I reminded myself. I was interviewing for detective with my local precinct, I’d been preparing for this for five years. The nerves were high though, it wasn’t just my immediate supervisors who would be conducting the interview, most came straight from headquarters. We had just consolidated with the county and this detective division was brand-new. It would contain several people all with specialized skills or rather areas of magical expertise: Divination, Astrology, Incantations, Alchemy, Sorcery, Spirit Mediation and Necromancy. You’re going to laugh when you hear which is my area! Yeah, wait for it!…. Divination! So why didn’t I foresee oversleeping my alarm? Well, it’s been my experience, that my gift doesn’t perform like that. It never has worked in my favor. I get glimpses of what “might” happen in other people lives, but everything is a surprise in mine.
My phone warned me that I was less than a mile from the station and hopefully my new career. I glanced in the mirror: a decent looking twenty-five year old woman with near black hair, a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, high cheek bones, a thin but not too thin face and without this morning’s mascara, you’d see the whitest eyelashes on the planet framing a pair of ice blue eyes. I stand a little above average height at five foot nine inches. I’ve heard people say, I have a striking presence, but it’s just me, nobody remarkable. I do wonder where I got these features, though. I was adopted at birth, it was a closed adoption and I’ve yet to learn anything about my birth parents, maybe one day.
As I park my hunter green Dodge, I think about the strangeness of the application process for this special detective division: The SDD. Rather than the usual application, we submitted a color photo with a list of our magical abilities and examples of how we used these powers, at the bottom of the application was a space for a phone number and a single initial. The instructions said a single initial, not whether it should be a first or last or middle initial. I chose my middle initial: J. I guessed they would call us back by looking at our photos, I wasn’t really sure how this was going to play out. Would be nice if my capabilities including seeing my own future. Oh well, I slammed the door, dusted off my pants and headed for the office, crossing my fingers for luck.
There’s a bank of smoky windows covering the front of the two-story building, I look in as I pass by, there are at least 5 people already inside. I tap my watch to bring it to life and see that I am 2 minutes late despite my having sped on the drive. “It is what it is,” I say as walk through the front doors and find a seat among the other applicants. The guy next to me leans in to let me know they have already take two hopefuls back. I realize that my window count was off and there are actually ten people interviewing for the seven open positions. The nervous leg bounce gives away my current feelings and I wonder how many are here for my field.
I look around, my mind begins to wander, how long have I been here? Suddenly I get a flash: the back of a woman with dark hair, about my height, there’s a sparkle of light and then she’s reaching for something she’s dropped…. I open my eyes and this guy is beckoning me forward with a questioning look, asking if I’m J and holding up my photo. I come to an abrupt stand, dropping my phone in the process and think: did I fall asleep? Reaching down to retrieve my phone, I hurry to follow after the agent? Detective?
He leads me down the hall and to a room marked simply with a D and I’m shown to a high-backed wooden chair. I hear the soft thunk of the door closing and realize that I’m in the room alone. There is a table and two more chairs across from me, I see that all four corners have cameras and I’m sure that’s a two way mirror on the wall in front of me. On the table is my photo and the application I filled out.
Suddenly, I get another glimpse of the woman, it looks like she’s walking past the building I’m in. Strange.
The door opens and in walks two men dressed in dark suits and moving as one, they both drop into the chairs across from me and paste on smiles. That was a little creepy, I’m not gonna lie.
I need to break the ice, I stick out my hand and say, “Hi, I’m J!” As soon as my hand connects with the guy on the left, I’m transported to a backyard. I see the guy and that woman I have seen twice today, they are having a heated discussion. I wish I could see her face, something is very familiar about her.
The man on the left, a tall blonde, introduces himself as Detective Jake Kindle from precinct 2 and the other man, a slightly shorter red-head, as Detective Fred Wilson also from precinct 2. I reach out to shake Detective Wilson’s hand and see: him playing catch with a young boy at the baseball diamond. I loose the connection once our hands separate. The gift is strange like that, sometimes I need a physical contact and sometimes they just come to me out of the blue.
Kindle slides the application closer and studies it. I see him flick his eyes over to Wilson and back to me. He has an odd expression on his face. Wilson also sends a sly look my way and gives the slightest shrug to Kindle. I’m really lost, this is by far the strangest interview I’ve ever had.
Jake Kindle inquires, “What does the J stand for?’
“Juliana, It’s my middle name.”
“Juliana? Not Jazmine?” Asks Fred Wilson.
“Nope, It’s Juliana, that’s what my birth certificate says. My parents told me the name was part of the adoption contract. They had to keep Juliana as part of my name. Strangest closed adoption deal I’ve ever heard of. I’m not sure why I decided to use that initial on the application, it just felt right.” I was rambling on and on but the words wanted out and I couldn’t stop them.
“OK, Juliana, how long have you been working for the department? And can you give us some examples of how your ability has helped to solve cases?” Detective Wilson queried.
“I’ve been here for five years, I have a degree in criminal justice. I have assisted the detectives in several cases that resulted in the apprehension of drug dealers, an armed robber, car thefts and murder suspects.”
Detective Kindle is staring through me like he doesn’t see me or like he’s seeing someone else. I want to touch him again to see if I can get anymore about him and the woman. I take advantage of his zoned out gaze and gently lay my hand on his. At this same moment, Wilson speaks up, “Can you explain how your gift works, Jazmine?”
In the back of my mind, I know he’s called me Jazmine and not Juliana, but I’m too focused on what I’m seeing in the flashes to care. Out loud I relate what I’m observing, “Jake is with a woman, long dark hair, about my height and build, I can’t see her face, her back is to me. They are having a heated discussion, I can’t hear what’s being said. They appear to be in someone’s backyard, I see a colonial style home behind Jake, manicured lawn, mature pine trees flanking the house.” I feel Jake jerk his hand out of mine, and I loose the vision.
Detective Kindle appears visibly shaken by what I’ve seen and related to them. Detective Wilson helps him to his feet and they leave the room. I’m not sure what’s just happened, its not like I have control over what I’m shown. I settle my head onto my folded arms on the table and ponder the days events so far. I’ve not gotten past the missed alarm when the door opens and Wilson comes back alone.
“Good Job, Jazmine, You’ve really rattled, Jake. Why would you do that to him? Bring up that house?”
“It’s Juliana. I’ve only done what you asked, explain how my gift works. I see things, mostly they are things that will happen, occasionally they are things happening now and rarely they are things that have already happened. I can’t pick what I see.”
“If you can do that, and clearly you can, then you’ve got a spot on the team. I’ll show you out, Jazmine.”
“Juliana!” I whisper.
“Follow me,” Fred Wilson stands and leads me down the hall to another exit. With a final hand shake, he assures me he will call once the entire SDD team has been assembled. In that brief contact, I see the boy and him playing ball, he’s going back to catch a fly-ball… and then its gone.
I thank him for his time, head toward the door and my pickup. Shaking my head and not really paying attention, I bump into someone going in the opposite direction. I raise my eyes and begin to tell the person that I’m sorry for running into them, but the words are stuck in my throat. The person I see before me, is me! Is that a mirror? I see movement, not a mirror then. Slowly, I observe the woman standing in front of me, she, in turn, is studying me. I’m positive that my expression matches hers, one of shock and curiosity. I feel strange, my hand reaches out towards the vision, it has to be a vision, right? I make contact, not a vision then.
A blinding light and then I hear crying, I can’t quite focus my eyes, but I hear a young woman’s soothing voice saying, “ Jazmine and Juliana, hush. I want to you know how much I love you, but I can’t keep you. One day I hope you will meet. It’s not safe for you to be together. I hope you will forgive me.” There’s a soft sob and then it all goes black.
I don’t know how long I lay there, but when I came to I felt a hand gently shaking me. My vision cleared and I looked into a pair of ice-blue eyes identical to mine, right down to the pure white lashes.
Suddenly, the strange interview is making more sense, Wilson and Kindle must have thought I was this woman, Jazmine, and that I was paying games with them. It was a case of mistaken identity. I seem to have solved it. Well, really, I was hoping that she had also had the vision and she too realizes that we are identical twins separated at birth, brought together over a job interview. After standing, I stick out my hand, then let it drop to my side, I’m not ready to end up on the ground again.
“Hi, you must be Jazmine, I’m Juliana. Can I buy you an herbal tea? There’s gotta be a shop just around the corner, and we can talk.”
“That sounds great!”
A Case of Mistaken Identity?
(a rewrite of a journal entry)
Daren Flynn
The day was April 25, 1978. The place was my home near Frenchtown, Montana. The time was near midday. The telephone rang. I answered it. The caller identified himself as Detective Davies of the Murray, Utah police department. He informed me that my truck and driver had been identified as having been involved in a stabbing the day before.
The crime, he said, was committed at a truck stop in Murray at 5 P.M. The stabbing victim stated that he was taking pictures of the truck when the driver appeared, cussed him out and then stabbed him.
Interestingly, I had been at the truck stop that morning, but had left at about 7 A.M. and drove to the place I was to deliver my load. Unloading was completed at 9:45, after which I drove to another truck stop to await instructions from my dispatcher.
at about noon the dispatcher informed me that he could not find a load and that I should head for home. I immediately started the homeward journey. By the time I got to Pocatello, Idaho at 3 P.M. I was low on fuel so I bought diesel and continued on my way north. I stopped at Dillon, Montana at about 7 P.M. and had dinner before continuing on and arriving home about 10:30 P.M.
I was employed by Ringsby Truck Lines and driving a company truck. The Teamsters Union was on strike against Ringsby and had been for about two years. They had been harassing drivers and damaging trucks during that time. I, in fact, had experienced their vandalism on my first trip for Ringsby and assumed this was just another of their striking tactics.
My story, of course,, checked out and I chalked it up to a case of mistaken identity .... or not!
Mistaken Identity Happening
(read like a news report)
Myrna Flynn
An Amber Alert of an abducted child has been released. The abduction took place on Nantucket Island, MA. At 2 PM today, the child was snatched from the yard of the Martin O'Flynn residence.
Their daughter, Katherine and her friend, Maggie, were drawing sidewalk chalk pictures. Katherine had gone into the house to get more chalk and some lemonade. As she was coming to the door, a light green VW bug stopped and a man with a hood over his face grabbed Maggie and drug her into the car. Katherine's mother, who was also standing at the door, got a partial Vermont license plate number, AUO2...
It is assumed that Maggie was taken by mistake, since the O'Flynns were wealthy long term residents, while the Sullivan's were new to the area having moved there from Atlanta, GA a year ago.
The girls became instant friends. Their resemblance to each other was uncanny. Both girls were 5 years old, redheads, same height and build. Maggie was wearing blue shorts, white tee-shirt and red sandals.
Since the O'Flynns are well-known, the conclusions reached that Katherine was the intended victim. The authorities and families are waiting for the abductors to call with demands.
The FBI has been called in since it appears that the car has crossed state lines. If anyone sees the car, please call 911 and you will be directed to them.
Just in!!! The car has been seen at a convince store in Maine. The police have arrived and made an arrest. Maggie is on her way home. The perpetrators are in custody and it was a MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
Interesting historical background of the O'Flynn family: Katherine's great-great grandfather was a sea captain, who immigrated from Ireland in 1679. He started with one ship and increased his fleet to 12 clippers. The family first lived in a small cottage near to his shipping yard. Ten years later, the building of his marble mansion was started. The family has consistently lived there to this day. Many of his progenitors have become successful business men in today's transportation industry. Several are doctors, lawyers, college presidents and US Senators. Katherine's mother is the famous author for the Children's Short Stories Magazine.
Mistaken Identity
Cary Holmquist
My identity has always been a continuous, life-long mistake. Here’s how that works--when first meeting me, no one ever gets my name right. They always miss-hear it or distort it somehow and usually call me Gary. Or Terry. Or Larry, Jerry, Barry, Mary, Harry, Perry and so on....
I understand--it is an easy word to miss-hear or miss-remember and despite the fame of debonaire movie star Cary Grant, it is an unusual name for males. Or if it is a male’s name, the spelling is usually with the Scottish predeliction for K...so Kerry.
Speaking of spelling, there are 24 possible spellings of my name and I believe I have received mail with all of them at one time or another.
My mother told me they chose my name because it started with a C. My parents had developed a child-naming scheme of C’s for their sons and S’s for their daughters, cross-crossing the first initial with my mother’s name of Coreen and my father’s Sonny. Mom forgot about the Cary Grant similarity until weeks after my birth, when someone asked her if she had named me after the movie star. Nope, it was picked just a name off the list of boy’s names starting with a C. they picked the first I e alphabetically.
Additionally, my father had a great aunt who went by Carrie all of her life, which was a nickname for her given name of Caroline. But Dad had forgotten about his Aunt Carrie until his mother made some remark about it--but it was evidently too late to change my name by then--the birth certificate had been issued and filed.
By the time I reached high school, I had run into all kinds of taunts and teasing about my name--most of which involved gender mistakes and twists. But in high school another angle about gender entered my mistaken-name experience. At one point while I was a student, there were five Carys in my high school, even though there were fewer than 200 students. Every one of them spelled their name differently and I was the only guy--the other four were girls. One was a couple years older than me, one was in my class and two were younger.
In college, there was a little less confusion. Although a close call came when one of my first roommates had a Cary first name--but it was spelled wrong.... Oh, yeah, and my first Elders Quorum president’s name was a Cary, also spelled wrong, to match up with his last name of Kirkland.
And then there is my dear sister-in-law, whose name is also spelled wrong--ha, ha....
Rather than carry on any further, we can leave it at that. Is that enough of a mistaken identity or is it just an “identity crisis?”
Barry, Diana and Clark
By: Brandon Flynn
“The lightning strikes and the thunder rolls,” how appropriate Barry thought. It had been an abrupt and final ending to his search for the cause of the fire at the Farmer’s Exchange but in the end there was the one triumph. He had finally got a lead on the person responsible. “It all comes down to perspective.” he mused, “ You can either trust your eyes or believe in that sixth sense. You know the one that comes to you when you have finally stopped trying to find the answer.” Clark just rolled his eyes and said, “ You and your belief in.... what was it called again. Oh that’s right transcendental meditayshun” deliberately putting the emphasis wrong. They had been arguing about this since they hit the wall in the investigation. It seemed to Clark that once Barry got his teeth into some new subject he would wear that down like a dog gnawing on a bone until there was nothing but worn out teeth and bone gravy everywhere.
“Now I know you disagree but there really is something to this meditation thing. I mean really look at how easy it is to just stop thinking. Oh that’s right I almost forgot that is how you always are” Barry chided. “Can you believe that he was right there all along?”
“Oh, come one” Clark groaned, “ You aren’t seriously suggesting that Thor, God of Thunder, is the perp are you? I mean really we aren’t little kids anymore and this ain’t no comic book story we are living.”
“If it isn’t” Barry said emphasizing the word with a sly grin, “Then explain to me how with not a cloud in the sky lightning strikes the building and reduces it to nothing.”
“We’ve had this argument for the last 4 hours. I ain’t no scientist but I am sure it was just a fluke. Heck, maybe it was the Flash or maybe just maybe it wasn’t lightning at all. Coulda been Superman’s laser eyes” Clark responded making sure to give an exaggerated wink to Diana just for one more dig at Barry.
“If you two don’t stop it right now” Diana said in the most adult tone she could manage, “ I am going to make sure that Martha has you scrubbing the dishes until you got nothing but prune hands.”
“Prune hands, prune hands,” Clark croaked knowing this would really get Barry going.
“Knock it off,” Barry whispered tersely. “I hear something.”
That slowed Clark down a bit and right as he got near enough to whisper back, Barry let out the biggest smellyguster ever.
Then they were back at it again with Barry off faster than you could say boo and Clark with that little bit of delay but not much behind. As they raced past the old stable there was a flash and poof the stable was reduced to nothing. As they came back from the race around the world with Superman just a hair ahead of the Flash, Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth gently settled around both of their shoulders and she asked, “Now boys tell me who was responsible for both of these buildings being destroyed.”
You Must be Mistaken
By: Ryanne Leavitt
Sitting on a park bench for hours watching the people and birds and dreaming of what life would be like if she had been born in a different age, Gertrude waited for her mother to come back and wheel her home.
You see Gertrude was born without the ability to walk or talk. Most people thought her parents insane for keeping such a being at their home. She was beginning to think her parents now thought that. All of her 30 years they had done everything for Gertrude, and I mean everything. They even put words and thoughts out there as though she had uttered them herself. Some days they treated her like a baby, others like a burden that weighed them down and cause all the hardships and hard times they ever faced.
She desperately wanted to communicate with them, to let them know she could read, she could think and she could dream, but her brain and her mouth continued to refuse to cooperate.
To any bystander, Gertrude probably appeared more like a shell of a person, but in her mind she built things others would never imagine. Frustration sometimes was overwhelming and she longed to cry. She had seem her mother do it enough times to know a good cry could cleanse the soul, but again, her body was unrelenting in its control over her mind.
Lost as she was in the thoughts she had be deeply inspecting, Gertrude didn’t notice the stranger sit on the bench next to her. He leaned in really close and whispered, “we know who you are, and we are coming for you!” Then just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone. Panic filled her whole being. Who was that man? How did he know who she was and why would they be coming for her!
Gertrude sat there in awe until her mother finally rounded the bend in the park path and came over to her chair. “I hope you enjoyed your time dearest. I went to the baker and the butcher shop and even went to the hat shop and bought you this beautiful new hat,” her mother said as she pulled a deep blue velvet hat out of a hat box and began to tie its ribbon under Gertrudes chin. Her mother yammered on about her time around town. All the gossip she heard at each stop on her weekly outing. When they reached the edge for the park her mother hailed a handsome cab to drive them home. This was always more work than Gertrude like to have done on her behalf. The cabbie had to lift her from her chair and gently place her in the carriage, and find away to secure her chair on the roof.
This ride home was rather uneventful, that is until they rounded the corner leading to her home. All of the sudden the carriage came to an abrupt stop. The horses were snorting and jittery. The cabbie was shouting at some one or something. Her mother, Annamaria began to pound on the roof of the cab to discover what the fuss was all about. The person who opened the hatch smiled down on them and instantly Gertrude recognized him not as the cabbie, but as the man from the park. She was, of course, unable to relate any of this to her now befuddled mother.
In what one could only describe as the demandings of a woman of status, Annamaria said, “pray tell what is the matter and what have you done with our driver!” Instead of answering her, the man simply closed the hatch and urged the horses forward.
The curtains on the carriage were open and Gertrude saw, as they drove past, the cabbie sitting on the side of the lane, staring after his horse and buggy. He looked unhurt, but dazed and a bit confused. This day was just getting stranger. She watched as they went right on past her home and eventually on past the last houses in the city. Then they were on a much rougher country road.
The stress of this kidnapping was just too much for her mother, who was slumped over in Gertrudes lap. For all her bluster, manners, and up bringing, Annamaria was known to faint when things went awry. This left Gertrude without the comforting sound of her mother’s ramblings, the quite air gave her mind time to try to figure out what was going on. The man had been true to his word, he had in very deed come for her. But it had to be a mistake, what could anyone want with an chair bound invalid? She was of no use to anyone, nor was she a threat.
Gertrude stared out the window until the light of the sun faded and eventually the rocking and swaying of the handsome cab lulled her to sleep. Deep in the dark of night the cab finally came to a halt outside a rather large country manor house. The crunch of the wheels and horse hooves on the gravel lane had awakened the ladies. Even in the light of the gas lanterns, Gertrude and her mother could tell it was a very grand estate. The steps leading to the entrance was lined with servants. When the driver stepped down they all bowed and called him, “m’lord and such. He walked to one who must have been the butler. The lord of the manor, gave the butler orders before disappearing into the mansion.
The butler came to the door of the carriage, lowered the step, opened the door and introduced himself as Gerald. “Mr. Montclair welcomes you to his home and has instructed me to get you settled it,” he said directly to Gertrude, as though she were the only one in the cab. Gerald was built more like the muscle men Gertrude had seen at the side show her mother had once taken her to. As he lifted her down she felt his strength, but was shocked at how gentle he was with her. Gerald set her in her wheeled chair and pushed her up a ramp that she hadn’t noticed when they first pulled up. Then she heard the handsome cab moving again, and the loud panicked protestations issuing from within. Her mother, it appeared was not to be staying with her!
Gertrude thought this odd, and what was more strange, she wasn’t afraid, not for herself, nor for her mother. She was still convinced they had the wrong person, but this was by far the greatest adventure Gertrude had ever experienced.
When they entered the great hall it was not at all what she had expected to see. Instead of walls covered in ancient family portraits and lined with suits of armour, she saw machines of various sizes, shapes and probably functions. Though Gertrude didn’t have much control over her muscles, her eyes widened in amazement and wonder! She didn’t know who Mr. Montclair was, or the cause of her capture, but this was a place right out of the depths of her imagination.
Lost in her wonderment, it took a bit to realize Gerald was describing the inventions to her as they passed. His descriptions were not given as her mother would have, as though she were speaking to an infant, but as one grown person to another. At the end of the vast hall was a broad winding stair case that lead to the second floor, attached to the banister was an awe inspiring device. Gertrude watched in awe as Gerald pushed her chair onto the platform of the device. He then strapped her chair down and pushed a button. As if by magic the whole thing began to ascend the steps. Oh how she longed to laugh, this was the most joyous sensation. All too soon the ride to the landing ended and they disembarked the funny machine.
Immediately to the left was a room, that when she entered she realized was half the size for her home in the city. To her surprise, the room had three servant girls who waiting to assist in getting her settled in.
Gerald left and soon the girls were busily turning down the bed and getting night clothes for Gertrude to wear. One of the girls pushed her to a smaller room off to the side that had a fancy chamber pot like thing and a floor to ceiling looking glass. She soon discovered it was what the very wealthy called bathing room. Her maid had pushed her to a large bath filled bubbles and steaming hot water . Her chambermaid lifted out of her chair, prepped her and bathed her. This maid cared of her with tenderness of a mother or dear sister. Gertrude couldn’t remember a time when she had ever been show this much respect and care. It was as if they understood her unspoken word.
The bath was followed by someone feeding her a meal and putting her softly into bed. As Gertrude was drifting off to sleep, she hoped her benefactor didn’t realize he had, in fact, captured the wrong girl.
Morning came, and went and it was afternoon when she finally awoke from her peaceful slumber. As soon as her eyes opened her three maids set about getting her presentable to meet with their employer. In no time at all she was dressed in the finest dress, made of pale pink silk with delicate slippers that matched.
Again she was attached to the special chair machine, this time descending to the main floor. They went across the hall to a beautiful conservatory that had a grand luncheon spread out on the table. At the head of the table sat the man Gertrude had first laid eyes on in the park a scant few hours ago. As she entered the room, he rose to his feet, bowed and came forward to formally introduce himself. This was one of the oddest of behaviors Gertrude had ever witnessed. Sure, that was how men reacted to her mother, but never her, she was an after thought, if a thought at all.
When her chair was positioned at the table, and her maid left the room, he said in a boisterous voice, “Welcome to my home, Gertrude, I am Bernard Montclair. I am pleased that you have joined me. I know that you prefer to be addressed as Gerty, so Gerty, lets get down to the heart this new arrangement.
She sat there in complete shock, how could a man who didn’t know her, know that she didn’t like her name and wished to be know by a shortened form. No one knew that no one could. As Gerty sat and listened to Bernard her sense of wonder grew. He was speaking of things that couldn’t possibly be, yet the sparkle in his eyes and the confidence with which he spoke made her believe.
“Gerty, I have been following your life for some time now. I know you may not believe this but I have heard your questions, your musings and your ideas. Even right now i can hear the questions that are swimming through your mind. No, I am not a mad scientist, though a scientist is one word for what I do. No, I don’t have the wrong person, this is not a case of mistaken identity! Gertrude, McMillian, you are in for something out of this world.. Just wait and see.”
He sat and began to eat his lunch, all the while answering the unspoken questions that were flowing through her mind. Bernard even took the time to feed her breakfast. Gerty quickly forgot her apprehensions and for the first time in her 30 years of life she had a conversation, in real life, not her mind screaming answers to questions asked and answered by others. She was on equal standing with Montclair and he valued her as a human being , not just that, but as an intellectual woman.
Bernard wheeled her out of the conservatory and into the most intriguing room she could have even contemplated in her wildest dreams. The contraptions whirred and spun and beeped and sent up puffs of steam. At the far end of the room there was a chair surrounded by delicate instruments and a funny looking bonnet hovered over it.
He stopped pushing her, and there was Gerald. He gently picked her up and lowered Gerty into the new fangled thing. She rapid fired questions at Bernard as he placed the metal bonnet on her head, “what is this for? Why are you putting me here? Is this safe?” He patted her on the hand and softly whispered in her ear, “soon it will all be clear soon.”
By: Aaron Leavitt
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