Clothing drifted away, taking with it the smells of the hospital. A shower and a fresh set of duds would set the world back on the path to a bearable semblance of normalcy. Just slipping into a favorite pair of gel sandals could make troubles seem distant and tiny.
Raisa clutched a towel to herself as she arranged a clean outfit on her bed. She laid down a light cotton shell in foamy green, khaki shorts that went to the knee and closed with a drawstring, and her favorite pink and brown shell necklace. The pale blue sandals would complete the dressing. A white hat and sunglasses would make her ready to face the world. She may not take more than a few steps out the door, but she would feel as if she hefted an invincible sword and unbreakable shield in her radiant ordinariness. What cancer could beat her back now?
It was not that the sandals were gone. They still rested in the middle of the long line of shoes, their toes in perfect alignment. They were also shifted, sitting inches apart from their normal position. All the shoes had traveled away from their customary spaces.
Raisa jolted backwards and then swept the room with her eyes. Minor objects everywhere appeared out of place. Some items, such as the necklaces on their stand, remained in the usual order but were twisted, showing another side.
“How did I not notice that?”
She pulled her fresh clothes on in haste, her mind ranging over the television, the stereo system, the espresso machine, and all the other items she could imagine being shifted. She concluded, “Nothing big missing…Maybe it was just Rex, cleaning.” The moment she thought of Rex dusting and scrubbing, she knew the truth was not there. He wantonly criticized her for her housekeeping but never bothered to help.
A search of the house set her mind at ease, showing her many things shifted but easily located. The missing item was so taken for granted, that Raisa had to look the area over twice before she saw it. A nagging thought drew her back to the place beside the couch where both Sydney and Rex had always stashed their car keys and Raisa had always scolded them for it. She herself took pains not to touch it or risk rubbing the delicate pigments away.
“It’s an Olmec bowl,” her ex had crooned, as if that was supposed to take away the sting of another sleepless night spent waiting for him to call. He had excuses, such as the coincidental lightning storm that knocked out all the cell towers and the accident on the freeway that had tied the traffic up for hours. Too many excuses, though, add up to an overdrawn account of patience.
“Sydney.” She shivered as she said the name. “Why that…and why did you think you had to search for it?” Another shiver followed. “It wasn’t you that was looking.”
