Blue Bloods

CHAPTER 12

"Tell me again what happened."

Bliss sat on the white leather recliner in Dr. Pat's office. Her parents had made the appointment after she'd woken them up last night, screaming her lungs out.

"Yesterday, you were at the temple," Dr. Pat prodded.

"Right. The Egyptian wing at the Met," Bliss agreed. "He'd just taken his hands away from my eyes, and I saw the temple." She was sitting on a white Eames fiberglass lounge chair in a treatment room. She wasn't exactly sure what kind of doctor "Dr. Pat" was. It looked like a dermatologist's office, but she also saw several pregnant women getting ultrasounds in the other rooms.

"Yes, you said that."

"And then—" She blushed. "I think he was about to kiss me. I think he did kiss me, but then, I don't know—I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was just walking around with him in the American wing looking at furniture."

“And that's all you remember?"

"I remember screaming."

"You were screaming?"

"No, someone was screaming. Far away." Bliss said. She looked around at Dr. Pat's office. It was the cleanest, whitest office she had ever been in. She noticed that even the medical instruments gleamed and were arranged artfully in Italian glass canisters.

"Tell me about it."

Bliss reddened. She hadn't decided to reveal what bothered her so much. Her parents already thought she was crazy—what if Dr. Pat did too?

"Well, it was really weird, but all of a sudden, I was standing outside the temple, when it was still whole. In Egypt, I mean. The sun was really bright, and the temple— it wasn't a ruin. It was complete. And I was there. It was like, being inside a movie."

Suddenly Dr. Pat smiled. It was so unexpected, Bliss found herself grinning back. "I know that sounds insane, but I felt like I was transported back in time."

Now Dr. Pat was definitely cheerful. She folded up her notebook and put it away. "What you're experiencing is perfectly normal."

"It is?" Bliss asked.

"Regenerative Memory Syndrome."

"What is that?"

Dr. Pat provided a long-winded explanation about the effects of "cell restructuring cognizance phenomenon," a cataclysmic event in the brain that produced the subsequent «time-warp» effect. Her explanation went completely over Bliss's head. "It's like déjà vu. It happens to the best of us."

"I guess. So I'm not crazy? Other people have experienced this?"

"Well, not everybody," Dr. Pat replied doubtfully. "But some people. Special people. You should have told your parents about it sooner. You have a Committee meeting on Monday, yes?"

How did Dr. Pat know about The Committee?

She nodded.

"Everything will be explained in time. For now, don't give it another thought."

"So there's nothing wrong with me?"

"Absolutely nothing at all."

Later that night, Bliss woke up with a blistering headache. Where am I? she wondered. She felt as though she'd been hit by a truck. Her body felt waterlogged and heavy, and her head was groggy. She looked at the clock next to her bed.

It flashed 11:49 P.M.

With effort, she pulled herself up to a sitting position. She put a hand to her forehead. She was hot, burning. The pounding in her head was merciless. Her stomach growled. Hungry.

She swung her feet over her bed and heaved herself up to stand. Not a good idea. She was dizzy and sick. She grabbed on to one of the bedposts and staggered over to the light switch. When she reached over to turn on the light, her bedroom was suddenly illuminated.

Everything was just as she'd left it—the thick Committee letter and forms scattered on her desk, her German textbook open to the same page, her fountain pens arranged neatly in her pencil box, a funny Stetson magnet from her friends back home in Texas, a framed photograph of her family in front of the Capitol steps when her father was sworn in to the Senate.

She wiped her eyes and patted down her curls, which, from experience, she knew were sticking out frantically in all directions.

Hungry.

It was a dark, abiding ache. A physical pain. This was new. Dr. Pat didn't say anything about this. She clutched her stomach, feeling nauseous. She walked outside her bedroom to the darkened hallway, following the low lights to the kitchen.

Their stainless-steel kitchen looked severe in the midnight glow of the overhead lamps. Bliss saw her reflection on all the surfaces—a tall, gangly girl with scary hair and a bleak expression.

She opened the door to the Sub-Zero. Arranged neatly in rows were bottles of Vitamin Water, Pellegrino, and Veuve Clicquot. She tore open the drawers. Fresh fruit, cut and placed in Tupperware containers. Creamline Yogurt. A half-eaten grapefruit covered in cellophane. White cardboard containers of leftover Chinese food.

No good.

Hunnngrrry.

In the meat drawer, she found it. A pound of raw hamburger meat. She took it out and tore the brown paper wrapping. Meat. She stuffed her face with the bloody chunks of ground beef, devouring it voraciously, so that the blood dripped down her chin.

She practically swallowed it whole.

"What are you doing?"

Bliss froze.

Her sister, Jordan, in pink flannel pajamas, was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching her.

"It's all right, Jordan." BobiAnne suddenly appeared out of the shadows. She was smoking a cigarette in the corner. When she exhaled, the smoke curled up around the edges of her lips. "Go to bed."

Bliss put the packet of meat down on the counter. She wiped her lips with a napkin. "I don't know what got into me. I was just hungry."

"Of course you are, my dear," BobiAnne agreed, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to find your stepdaughter eating a hunk of raw hamburger meat straight from the fridge at three in the morning. "There are some filet mignons in the second drawer. In case you still have an appetite."

And with those words, BobiAnne bade her goodnight.

Bliss thought about it for a moment, wondering if the world had gone insane. Dr. Pat telling her her out-of-body, out-of-time experience was just "one of those things," her stepmother not blinking an eye at seeing her covered in blood in the kitchen. She contemplated for a moment. Then she found the packet of steaks and ate them, too.