Mrs. Robinson

A/N: Italics are flashbacks.

“You need to get away, soon.” Dr. Shaha says. He looks comfortable in his pose, his left leg on his right knee and his chin on his fist. We share a moment of silence, embracing the tick of the clock. Shaha reaches into his pocket and pulls out some sort of paper.

“This is a ticket,” he holds it out, “for a week long cruise down the Pacific coast. Sound fun?” I take it off of his hand. The ticket is for a cruise called ‘Baja Carnival!’ and it’s for the August 25-27 trip. I shove it in my pocket and smile.

“Sound good?” He asks.

“Yeah, it does.” I respond. A grin appears on his face that stretches cheekbone to cheekbone.

I can hear it, the sound of waves crashing against the side of the ship. They keep getting louder after every three seconds. I keep my eyes closed and start rolling around in my bed. The waves keep hitting faster and faster, the sound becoming obnoxious. I kick my blankets off and open my eyes.

The sound stops. The only thing I can hear are my breaths, and a quiet buzzing noise. I sit straight up, yawn, and reach over to the nightstand. My hand smacks the wall, causing a tinkling sensation to run through my fingers. I look over to find that my phone and keys are no longer there, along with the actual nightstand.

I lean over to find nothing except for a bible, phone, clock, and room service menu. The spine of the bible is ripped off, with the cover having dog eared corners and black scribbling on it. I put my legs to the side of the bed and stand up. My knee pops once I stand straight out, the sound hitting all walls of the room and creating a good feeling inside me.

I hear three soft knocks, and I believe it’s coming from the door. Another three knocks happen, and they seem louder. I walk over to the door and put my hand on the doorknob. I turn right and pull, but nothing happens. I do it again, still not working. The knocks get faster and louder every second as I attempt to open it.

Out of anger, I smash my fist against the top of the door. The wood slightly caves in, but pain shoots up my right arm. I look to the right in the mirror, and I see me; a middle aged looking man with a slight hunch, wearing an Ole! t-shirt and boxer briefs. Looks strong enough to break down the door, but has overestimated his strength many many times.

I take a good seven steps back and lean over my right knee, kneecap touching my chest. I touch my left knee to the ground and take a deep breath. While releasing a scream, I pop up and rush towards the door. Within a good two seconds, I tuck my head in and put my right shoulder forward right before I hit the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” A voice says behind me, “do you need something?” I turn around to a woman wearing all blue with the name tag ‘Clarissa’. She has the face that would make an average person hate her. A face with a decent amount of makeup on, but has squinted eyes. She’ll try to be nice at first, but the raging bull comes out after a quick exchange of words. Reminds me of my ex-wife, Jean.

“I need to find my room, since no one actually helped me.” I reply. Her shoulders slouch. The bull is soon to be let out.

“Let me get that, sir.” She says with a hard S. She takes the ticket from my hand with force and goes behind the counter. I turn around to look at the high class scenery, which is just red flag wallpaper and paintings from artists who are trying to make a living. Someone taps me on the back, and I turn around to find the bull.

“Mr. Jackson, you are on the second level in room B123. Here are your keys.” Clarissa pushes the keys into my hand, and I take them. She forms a fake smile, but you can tell it’s forced. “Don’t forget to go check out the buffet on the deck!” She adds, in a high pitched tone.

“Rather starve myself.” I reply with a head tilt and a smile. Her smile goes away, replaced with a ‘you immature rat’ look. I turn around and head over to the elevator. It was a short walk, but once I get there a flood of people come out. All wearing the generic Hawaii shirts with sunhats and sunscreen covered faces.

I cut through, and head into the glass elevator. A few old ladies enter behind me. I hit the button number 2, and sit back. They are babbling on about how Jared is thinking of divorcing Linda after 23 years together. I lean back and close my eyes. A ding catches my attention, as the door opens.

I go out behind them and head over to my room. The theme is still the same as I walk through the hall. All these red flags are annoying the hell out of me, just repeated image after image. The number 123 catches my eye, and I turn to it. The door frame feels awfully small, but reasonable. I take the key out of my pocket, put it in the keyhole, and open the door.

A sharp pain hits me in the side. It runs down my spine, all the way up to my head.

“What the hell was that, Ricky?” A familiar voice rings in my ear. The pain hurts more and more as the seconds pass. The familiar person grabs me by the arm and lifts me up, hand shoved in my armpit. I open my mind to find the mother of all bulls. Not Clarissa, but even worse.

Jean.

I want to speak, but I can’t. It’s not because of her beauty that I only saw at the beginning of our relationship, or that I found someone that I’ve spent many experiences with, but it’s because she has her hand over my mouth.

“Shut up and come outside. Something doesn’t feel right.” She pulls my arm as we head outside. I feel tempted to ask what’s going on, but I rather not, because I know that Jean doesn’t react kindly when I don’t obey like a dog. Once she opens the door, I see what’s wrong.

There is no one on the deck. No sound, except for the surfing simulator that’s operating. I reach my head around the corner, but still nothing. We head over to the line of chairs and sit down. She buries her face into her palms and sighs.

What happened to her is that she heard the knocking on her door, too. She attempts to open the door, but it won’t open. After a good minute of trying, she finds out that the door is locked. Opening the door to find out that no one was there, she ran to the lobby. No signs of life at all.

Jean searched all over the ship, and it seemed that everyone has disappeared. During her third walk through, she heard a door attempting to be opened aggressively. Out comes Hurricane Rick.

I explain what happened to me and she just nods her head. For some reason, Jean manages to have a faint smile on her face. Why the hell is she happy about this? Probably so we can rekindle our flame, but I was never good at relationships, or in that matter, commitment.

We sit in silence, staring at our feet. I lean back and yawn, my back making a loud pop. What is there left to do? Jean ‘searched everywhere’, and there’s no explanation. You know what, that doesn’t sound right. I hate to admit it, but I don’t trust her. It’s not because we’ve had troubled experiences in the past, but I don’t trust anyone. Hell, not even myself. I’m just blaming Jean for everything.

“I’m going to be right back, stay right there.” I tell her. I turn around and head through the doors. I start running, picking up a steady pace. My feet make a loud noise as I go down the stairs, and through the lobby. That’s the only sound I hear during my run through. I have to admit, she’s right.

A large buzzing sound attacks my right eardrum. I look over to find a door with blue light beaming under it, the door shaking. The floor under me starts moving, so I approach the door and open it. Something hits me, causing me to trip on my own feet and smack the ground. I let go a scream as my head bangs the wall. I open my eyes and stare at the door.

A floating blue square stands in the doorway, repeatedly slamming the side of the door frame. This seems slightly unrealistic, and on purpose. Tough to say my counselor set me up, but I’m too busy focusing on the fact that there’s a floating square right in front of me.

The square smashes the right of the door frame and beeps. It starts turning, until it reaches a side with “0:42” on it. The number goes down to “0:41”, then to 40 after ten more seconds. I take deep breaths as I just stare at it, plastered against the wall. I want to say something, like a cry for help, but Jean wouldn’t hear me. I attempt to let the only thing on my mind slip.

“Great Scott.” I say under my breath. The object tilts on its side, shakes, then starts floating away. It heads down the hall, and takes a right. Finally! I can feel a grin grow on my face, and I decide to embrace it. My body still shakes. I slap my palms on the ground and force myself up.

A great wind rushes behind me. It’s behind me, again. I can just feel it.

“Damn it, not again!” I shout at the top of my lungs. A part of me wants to run and find Jean, but the device would probably slaughter me. I put my hands behind my head and sigh. The sound of footsteps behind me catch my attention. I turn my head around to find Jean, dashing down the hallway, ax in hand.

I completely turn my body around right as she holds the ax above her head. She swings it down in a swift motion, while letting go a scream. The square vibrates, stops, then continues some more. The beeping sound starts again, just this time it’s more loud and obnoxious. We stare at the box. The number is back on the cube, “0:01” it says.

The clock strikes “0:00”. I put my knee up and my arms over my head, awaiting for a huge explosion. I open my eyes back up to find that it is no longer there. Jean still holds the ax in hand, the edge being where that weird cube thing was. I turn around and rush to the door, with her following. The door is opened halfway, but it’s just still.

I attempt to push the door open, but it won’t budge. I try again, but it still won’t move. I repeatedly bash my fist against it. Jean pushes me aside and tries. It still won’t move. I shouldn’t trust divorce therapists to send me on cruises and stuff. It’s like going into a white van while a kid, sounds fun, but it isn’t. She eventually decides to slip through the door, and I follow her.

She suddenly stops, and groans. I stop right behind her. I look over her shoulder to find her stopped by a chair. She attempts to move it, but it won’t. Jean gasps, and starts running around the deck, attempting to move stuff. I take my try at the chair, but it won’t move.

It’s completely silent, except for the sound of Jean’s footsteps and breathing. I look around, admiring the sun off in the corner. It shines bright in my eyes, but it feels different. While she’s panicking, I head over to the side of the rail. The ocean is completely still, no waves at all. I prop myself on the rail and sit. Jean then comes over and sits next to me.

We start talking about small stuff, about how her dating life is much larger than mine, or even how we managed to meet Dr. Shaha. I remember why I married her in the first place. She’s a nice talker, pretty, and intelligent. I also remember why I left her. Cuts me off when I’m talking for something non important, somewhat of a controlling attitude, and her outgoing attitude.

Some people may love that about people, but I don’t. I still love her in part of my heart, but I just can’t be stuck with someone for the rest of my life. She’s a great person to be around, but I’m not. I feel that crap is just coming out of my mouth like a cheesy bastard, but that’s what I feel.

We then start to contemplate on what we’re going to do. Ideas like “living hear for the rest of our life, though we’ll never age”, “travel the world”, and stuff like that. An idea pops up in my head.

“Remember when we got married?” I ask her.

“Well, of course I do!” Her reply seems ecstatic.

“Our vows?”

“Stop asking questions and get to the point.”

“Well, we said ‘Till Death Do Us Part’, and, I guess, we can commit suicide.” I suggest with a shrug. Jean’s jaw drop, but a smile cracks and she nods.

“Look, there’s a good drop onto the solid water from here.” I add. “How about we just jump, and let it end us? We still die together, right?” She plants a kiss on me, and gives me a great hug. I grab the ax and toss it down to the water, just to check. It lands perfectly still, making a loud ding noise.

I grab onto the railing and turn around, while holding Jean’s hand. I could feel my body leaning over the water. My hand is slowly losing grip, but I can still hold on. She asks if we could switch places, so I awkwardly go around her. We hold hands and smile at each other.

“To happy endings.” I say.

“To happy endings.”

From there, we drop. It’s complete silence, except for two thuds. My body folds like a lawn chair, pain shoots down my body. I keep my eyes close and wait for my heart to give out. It doesn’t. I keep my eyes closed for a good amount of time, but nothing is happening. I look over to see how Jean is doing. That’s when I realize why she wanted to switch places.

Her eyes are wide open, smile on face. Her body seems smooth, except for the fact that she has an ax through her abdomen. She planned for her to die, yet I'm still alive. Reason why I never trust people. I lay down, my arms crossed my chest. I look up in the sky.

I've been staring at the sun for ten minutes now.

An hour, now.

A day.

A month.

A year.

Eternity.