Chapter thirty-seven
Upon coming out of the parking garage and to the front door to check my business mail, I noticed a swarm of police cars and an ambulance. I titled my head back, looking up at the building thinking that is was a suicide, and I could see what level it was, maybe he jumped out of the window. That again it could be anything. I hate to find the police again on my floor and next to the office that I recently moved into.
“Oh God, what could’ve happened now” I groaned to myself.
“I’m sorry ma’am no one is allowed in the building at the moment” said a policeman, as I was about to enter the building. I could either stand out here or freeze with my coffee and mail in my hands or I could sit in my car. Walking back into garage, I noticed the police have neglected to guard the short cut entrances.
I threw out whatever coffee I had and pack my mail into my bag to make hast toward the door before anybody sees. Quickly flying up the stairs and making sure no one was guarding each stairwell. I was afraid I was going to run into that one cop who told me not to go in, and might arrest me. With luck, by the tenth floor, there was not a cop around and I was allowed to let my guard down.
By the time I got to my floor, I felt the sweat poor into my shirt and down to my back and underarms, leaving an uncomfortable feeling every time I would move my arms. My floor was empty and not a soul was around.
I sighed knowing what I was in for, “I could just turn away now” I said to myself. Wondering what could have happened, I started to search the floor for a person that could explain what happened.
It dawned on me, maybe there was a fire on a different level of the building. Maybe I’m the only one in the entire building. The feeling gave me an unsettling knot in the pit of my stomach. Quickly checking the fire alarm; the red light was not on, nor blinking so could it not be a fire. The knot untightened in my stomach and I felt relaxed until another unsettling scenario formed in my head.
There could be some sort of killer on this floor. Maybe he has killed someone already and he is hiding in the cubicles. Maybe he is watching me already, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. My voice began to build up in my throat, if he attacks I will not have enough energy to call for help.
“Natalia” I jumped in my placed letting out a small scream.
My boss, Mr. Tweed stood behind me, embarrassed of what I just did, I cuff my mouth, hoping no one would hear.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Tweed, I’m really sorry” I said. He placed his hand up, “What are you doing up here? How did you get pass the police?”
I shrugged not wanting to give the full story of my so called “Charlie’s Angel” move. He placed his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the door,
“You should not be here.”
Passing my old office, I noticed a swarm of people, cops, paramedics, and a stretcher. “Oh My God, who died?” I questioned.
“No one, go home now!” he said. I struggled out of Mr. Tweed’s grip and darted towards my old office.
“Natalia, no don’t go!” It was obvious that Mr. Tweed didn’t want me to see something. I had to see what happened, after all whoever was after me, clearly didn’t realize I was not the occupant of that office anymore. And who was ever the recent occupant was mistaken for me.
“Oh My God!” I gasped. The office was covered in blood and torn apart obvious by a struggle. It dawned on me I wasn’t watching no TV show and that this was real. And I don’t know what scared me more, the fact this was reality or that there are monsters like this in the world. In front of the desk was a sheet shaped like human body. It sent a violent shiver down my spine that caused tears to appear in my eyes.
“Natalia, please listen to me for once” Mr. Tweed said, frustrated. Slowly, gathering my courage, I approached the body, pulling the sheets back. It felt as though a thousand sharp objects have pierced my body. I turned my head, from the torn up corpse that use to be my assistant. There was a buildup of tears in the back of my throat that threaten to come out.
“Natalia, come on” Mr. Tweed pick me up, slowly I felt the room spinning. I took a deep inhale of air and suddenly fell to my knees, feeling the buildup of tears burst. Holding myself on the floor as Mr. Tweed bent down to comfort me.
“Not here, Talia” he whispered. Nodding knowing a lot of my collogues were watching, I gathered myself and let him escort me to the bathroom.
After feeling this morning’s breakfast and last night’s dinner forcing coming out of my mouth, I realized I can’t be at work and I must go home. Mr. Tweed offered to drive me, but I declined feeling I needed some time to myself. He offered me about two weeks off from work, and to continue at home.
When I got back outside, the swarm of police cars was down to a minuem, the almbunce was gone and yellow tape surrounded about half the block. I continued down the other street feeling the need to be in the fresh air. The cold air reduced the nausea I had and I felt relieved. Passing a little convenient stand; every magazine from ‘People’ to ‘Weekly’ had pictures of Marshall and I on them.
“Rap legend files for divorce”
“Slim Shady is back…on the drugs”
“Eminem hospitalized”
“Drugs provided by Dre.”
The magazines made me sick to my stomach. And I felt a rush of acid come up to my mouth and noise. I leaned against the wall letting whatever is left in my stomach out. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. My dreams have turned into nightmares. Marshall’s actions prove that these magazines are true.
I remembered when I lived a hell growing up, moving town to town, place to place, school to school, Eminem or Marshall was always there. Somehow his words were more comforting then my mother’s. And at night, the only escape was to slowly drift to sleep thinking of him. And sometimes if I got lucky, I dreamt of him. The most occurring one was when he would sing to me like he did with Lily in “8 Mile.” I would ask him to sing to me, he would lay next to me, and start singing some of his songs to me, softly.
They were vivid but sometimes they felt so real, I could actually feel him next to me. At the age of sixteen; settling down in the town apartments in Newark with my mother, one night I actually heard his voice so clearly. Turning to my side feeling some sort of warmth traveling around my body, as if someone was gripping to huge me, I heard him whisper, “Ronnie.” That dream has always stuck with me, it was a dream foretelling something that was going to be a big part of my future.
Wipping my mouth from any left overs, and looking back at the magazines, how I held a greater hate for them then the people who wrote them. Out of impulse, I grabbed arm full of them and threw them in the trash can, some in the streets and some in the sewers.
“What is wrong with you, lady?” I turned around, my hood was down, and my face well enough exposed to show who I was. It only took the young boy a few seconds to realize who I was,
“Eminem’s wife?”
“I’m sorry” I said. He scanned the destroyed magazines, “No…” he said. “It’s ok…I understand…” I was taken back by his statement. Tears started to stream down my face and I felt myself coming back from my daze.
“Hey, Hey…it’s ok…um…” he said. He quickly grabbed the stole and sat me down.
“Come on, do you really expect people to believe this?” He asked. The boy had to be no older then a high school student in his Junior year. He was a black, his hair shaved with a little mustache.
“I don’t expect any of you to read it” I said. “Only you know what goes on, Eminem would never turn back…he…he is too strong of a man…his music proves it.” I was surprised by his maturity and how he did not quickly ask me what was Marshall like at home or for some sort autograph from me.
I did not want to go home, at the moment I felt lost and confused feeling I had no home. It was twelve noon, and my stomach began to growl. Stopping off at a small diner for a turkey sandwich, I felt strangely better.
“Hey” a voice said, directed to me. Vincent stood behind me, dress in a demin jeans and a black winter coat.
“May I sit with you?” He asked. Vincent was the last person I wanted to see. I felt obligated though, for the last time he took me out for coffee.
“Yeah, sure” it pained me.
Vincent sat right next to me as a waitress came over, “Anymore coffee, sugar?” she offered Vincent.
“Just a small cup” he said. She poured him a half a cup and directed her stare at me, “Hey aren’t you Eminem’s wife?” she asked.
Coolly I said, “No, sorry you must have me confused with someone else…” she looked at me as if she could see right pass me and left.
Vincent starred at me blankly, “It is a useful trick…” I said, “Sometimes.”
For a while we talked as I knawel at the plastic straw from my drink. I told him about finding Tina dead in my old office. He cuffed his hand over his mouth,
“I’m so sorry” he hugged me tightly. Awkwardly I pulled away giving him a stiff motion. He noticed my blank motion as I stirred my coffee around,
“You know, you don’t need him…” he said. “What?” I glared at him.
“…He doesn’t deserve you…I mean” he said. “No, I heard what you said, I was just giving you a chance to redeem yourself…and you failed” I said, putting on my coat and paying the bill.
“Wait, Talia…wait” he said chasing after me outside. “Look, I know what you are thinking…this was Natalia’s dream and it came true for her…she is living a lie…” I shouted.
“Well, I’m not…none of you know him like I do…” I said walking away.
“You? What you talking about?” “Look, you don’t understand ok…just go back to Jersey, I’m sure everyone is missing you!”
Vincent grabbed me by the arm and forced a kiss on my lips. I pushed him away kicking him in the groan and smacking him in the face, making my escape across the street to my car. Once I was in my car, my heart began to pound so fast that I thought it was going to jump out of my chest and fly away. Once I calmed down, I started to cry out of fear and frustration.
“Oh God” I cried. Taking deep breathes before I started the car. As the engine roared, I laid my head on the stirring wheel, wanting Marshall to come to my rescue.
“Marshall…” I cried, tempted to take out my phone and call him.