1. Monica

1

MONICA

" T he Thrill Is Gone ."

There was so much passion in that old song. B.B. King had created a masterpiece, a timeless classic. It had been around since 1969 and would continue to live on long after his passing. I had enjoyed it on more occasions than I could count. Relaxing nights in with my gal pals. Endless talks with one or both of them. I used to put it on repeat. More often than not, I would hear it six or seven times in a row, before playing something else. It was my favorite song. B.B. King's magnificent voice, his amazing guitar skills, and those incredible lyrics have been with me since my childhood. They reveal a man's truth, once he realizes that whatever he had with his special someone is gone. It's his way of saying "goodbye" to her, without becoming too emotional or melodramatic. He admits he's going to be lonely, but, as far as he's concerned, there's no other way but to leave her. He's got to move on with his life and wishes the best to his girl.

In all the times I had hummed it, one thought never crossed my mind.

That a day would come when I would sing it for a reason.

Jack Donahue had given me that reason. Or rather, my marriage with him.

Like most marriages in this day and age, it had started well. He worked in advertising, and I was a doctor at the New York Metropolitan Hospital. His reassignment to Cleveland hadn't gone down well with either of us. He didn't like the fact that he would have to spend four days a week over there any more than I did. However, being in love with each other helped us find a silver lining. We thought some time apart would do us good. It would give us space and help us appreciate each other more. By missing one another, we would be tighter than ever.

And this was true in the beginning. For a few months, Jack was the caring man I had known and loved for three years. He would fly back to the Big Apple, loaded down with presents, flowers, and a huge sexual desire. A couple of nights with him helped me brush aside the fact that he had been gone. Yet, once winter drew in, there wasn't much he or I could do. As time went by, going back to an empty apartment after a grueling shift became unbearable. I would make myself dinner, and wishing he could be there to share his day with me because that's what partners do. It is one thing that makes them "partners." I would crawl under the covers and stare at the space in my bed, wishing I weren't alone. However, the truth was cold and bitter. It screamed in my face: "He's gone. He's hundreds of miles away. You'd better suck it up."

Suck it up?

In all honesty, I tried my best. Afterall, I had agreed to take him "for better or worse." This wasn't our best time together and we knew that. I wanted to get past all the cold, lonely nights and focus on the love we used to share. But, once Jack had changed into an insecure, jealous man, trying to hold on to that love got harder by the day. Perfumes and jewelry went right out the window. In their place arose an angry predisposition, which manifested at the worst possible times. Picking me up from the hospital, he would get upset because I was being "too friendly" with a male colleague. And our surroundings didn't deter him one bit. In a bustling hallway, he would snap and shout at me. He didn't seem to care that he was humiliating me and was embarrassing himself in the process. Somehow, he had concluded that I was being unfaithful to him. He made sure to announce it to every single passerby. Jack proved that point at a couple of fundraisers we had attended together. The reason was the same in both cases. A fellow guest had cracked a joke, and I had had the nerve to laugh. In other words, I wasn't allowed to find anyone other than him funny.

This level of insanity was more than I could bear. I couldn't stand this petty, little man. He became a guy who wanted to make my life miserable. He wasn't the Jack I had married. Anxious anticipation while waiting for his arrival turned into dread. Sadness for his departure shifted into relief. He killed that thrill B.B. King had mentioned in his song, leaving me no choice but to file for a divorce. Along with that decision, came a painful realization. Our apartment, the place that once used to house our happiness, was now its burial ground. Any pleasant memories we had created together had been wiped out of my brain. Verbal abuse, too much noise, and broken vases and glasses had destroyed them. So, I turned to my supervisor and asked for a transfer. Losing touch with friends and family would hurt, but staying in that apartment would do much worse than just that. It would be a constant reminder and keep on devastating me every time I came home.

Shandaken Medical Center sounded ideal. Far away from the city, up in the Catskills, the scenic town would offer me what New York could not: peace of mind. I would be able to pick up my pieces as I would be carrying out a more stress-free job. Bonus, I could forget ten-hour shifts and I wouldn't have to worry about dozens of colleagues and their gossip anymore. Of course, there would be gossip at the new hospital, too, but tracking down its source would be much easier. I would be working with only three doctors and six nurses, not a total of fifty-three medical professionals.

On the main road, a mile outside Shandaken, Erica, Stacy and I watched the moving company truck pull away, black fumes rising from its exhaust pipe. A sense of fulfillment had enveloped me. Despite my sore muscles, all my belongings were in my new house. Nothing had been left behind, not even my toothbrush.

"Okay, babes. I think it's time for a drink," Stacy suggested, pulling a vodka bottle out of my liquor cabinet. "I think we've earned it."

"I'll get the ice," Erica said, shuffling off to the kitchen as I neared the porch door.

"You don't mind enjoying that drink outside, do you?" I wondered, sliding the porch door open.

"Why did I have a feeling you'd say that?" Erica complained, approaching our friend with a tray of ice in her grasp.

"Because you know me too well," I replied, smiling back at her. Cold air rushed in, tossing the white curtain to the side. "Come on out. Trust me, you won't find this view in the city."

Unbeknownst to them, I had no idea what I was talking about. I had caught a glimpse of the view in the early afternoon. It wasn't bad, but there was nothing special about it. Still, stepping outside, I discovered that my little lie was anything but one. Lush moonlight had spread across the mountain range, exposing a white blanket on the slopes of Bear Mountain. The snow was glowing in the dark, the barrenness of its peak a bright shade of brown. Gray clouds had veiled some of the stars. The ones that had escaped their clutches joined the moon in a symphony of light.

"Well, I've got to hand it to you," Erica smiled, gazing around her. "It's beautiful out here."

"I second that," Stacy agreed, offering me a glass of vodka on the rocks. "But it's what you don't hear that I like most."

"Noise?" I asked, focusing my gaze on her.

"Exactly. To more peaceful days, Mon," Stacy offered up her glass for a toast. The three of us clinking glasses, I let the powerful beverage slip past the seam of my lips. I felt it washing over my tongue, as I stood watching Erica smile.

"Monica, I can understand why you're searching for peace," she murmured. "It's that quest that brought you up here in the first place. But don't you think you should also try to find someone new?"

"Not really." I shook my head in refusal. "I need some time on my own to clear my head, Erica. I want to wake up in the morning without a worry in the world for a while. I'm especially looking forward to not having to worry about how my new boyfriend will react if he sees me talking to another man."

"Jack screwed you up so badly," Stacy concluded, a touch of discomfort in her tone. "Look at you. Just because he was insanely jealous, you think everyone else will be like him."

"Stacy…"

"I know," she interrupted me. "You need some peace of mind; you've said that like a hundred times. I do believe you'll find it here. And if you want to have some fun, well, you know how to reach us. Although I have to say, it's not going to be easy. How far are we from New York again?"

"One hundred-and-thirty miles," I answered, the number sending my voice down an octave. "I know it's a long way, but you can sleep over if you don't feel like driving back to the city in the dead of night."

"Hmmm…" Erica hummed, tapping her index finger on the edge of her glass. "I'm afraid sleeping over in your place is pretty much our only choice. I, for one, wouldn't like driving six hours on a Saturday or a Sunday. I have better things to do with my time than drive through tight hairpins and narrow, mountain roads."

"Not tonight, though," Stacy interjected. "I've got…"

At that point, a distinct sound didn't allow her to finish her sentence. A sizzle of lightning, followed by a blinding flash turned our heads forward. A glance skyward implied what was about to happen. Every star in the sky had disappeared from view. Hidden behind dark clouds, their light was all but invisible. A boom of thunder rocked the ground, the vibration causing the rail in front of me to blur for a moment.

"So much for having a drink on your porch," Erica groaned as the first raindrops lashed down. I felt some hitting the top of my head with annoying force while more of them moistened the soil in front of my house.

"It was good while it lasted." Stacy shrugged, trotting back into the living room.

"Jesus!" Erica clipped out, her hand on top of her head. "How long were we out there?" She wondered, shifting her palm to me; her fingertips were glistening, its middle wet.

"Guys…" I began, the sound of the torrent smashing into the roof filling my ears. "This is no ordinary rain. It's a rainstorm."

"A rainstorm?" Erica squinted at me. "What's…?"

A long whistle of the wind drew my attention. Focusing on the glass behind her, I noticed raindrops stream down its surface and join others, forming much larger raindrops.

"I guess that answers your question," I presumed as the wind gained in intensity.

"Oh, give us a break!" Stacy shouted, peeking through the glass. "I shouldn't have suggested that drink. Now, we'll have to drive through the rain."

"You were right to suggest that drink," I argued, more roaring gusts battering my new home. "It kept you here. You two are not going anywhere in this weather."

"Mon, I'm meeting Ken for breakfast tomorrow morning," Erica moaned. "I've been trying to go out with this guy for a month, I can't miss it!"

"Girl, you said it yourself," I remarked, putting some force in my voice. "The road to the city is fraught with danger, and that's under good circumstances. It's prone to landslides in the winter. Those rocks could squash you like bugs."

"You're right," she agreed with reluctance. "Red, I hope you're ready for me. You're mine for tonight."

Stacy snorted in amusement. "Dream on. Let's go unpack some blankets."

My friends hadn't covered more than five feet when a noise stopped them in their tracks. Squealing tires, skidding across the wet asphalt, drowning out any engine rumble. In a split second, another noise raised every fine hair on my body. It was the deep thud of metal crashing into a solid surface. I dashed towards my front door while hearing the sound of glass shattering to pieces.

A draft of ice-cold air chilled my skin, while raindrops landed on my forehead and cheeks. Glancing out over the road, I spotted the source of the noise. A brown pickup truck had crashed head-on into a nearby light pole. The wood had almost split the front end in half, stopping just inches before hitting the windscreen. Water dripped down the side of its cab and its left taillight was still on.

My sneakers splashing onto the drenched road as I headed for the mangled vehicle. I hadn't reached it yet, but its driver's fate was all too clear. The airbag had deployed, and his head was buried deep into the fabric. Reaching forward, I gripped the silver aluminum handle and pulled it open. To my amazement, the driver fell out. Rolling in front of my feet, his body came to a stop at Stacy's right. The three of us stood silently, just staring at this bizarre sight. He was enormous… Easily six and a half feet tall. This wasn't the only surprise about him. He had no clothes on. No shirt. No pants. Not even underwear. There was a big bruise across his forehead and parallel scratch marks on either side of his abdomen. Blood was oozing out of his wounds, rain washing it away as fast as it emerged.

"Talk about weird…" Erica muttered under her breath. "He's been driving around naked? And look at the size of his…"

"Now's not the time for lewd comments," I told her, squatting down. "Help me get him inside."

"Oh, no," She disagreed, raising her tone. "First of all, this guy is huge. We can't carry him inside. Second, we should call an ambulance. He needs to get to a hospital."

"The ambulance might not get here in time," I pointed out, as Stacy moved around his head. "I'll treat him here. Erica, grab his other arm."

"Whatever," she mumbled, as she and Stacy bent down. Gritting my teeth, I flexed every muscle in my upper body using my leg muscles to push me up.

"God!" Erica groaned. "I hate it when I'm right!"

"Push!" I shouted out, watching as his pelvis left the ground. Stepping backward, I gasped for breath and looked back over my shoulder. To my satisfaction, there was no one else on the road. My gaze was met with more light poles, standing across from elm and cedar trees, shedding their light on the asphalt.

It took an immense amount of effort to get him inside. Making my way towards my couch, I eased his feet down on the armrest, while Stacy rushed back to the door.

"Why the hell did I listen to you?" Erica wondered, stretching her arms. "God, it hurts…"

"Get the first aid kit from the bathroom, Stacy," I requested, my gaze scanning his body.

"Okay, no more stupid jokes about his penis," Erica promised, her eyes on the stranger's face. She bent her knees and reached down to push his hair back from his forehead. "Oh, my…" She said, her voice a little more than a whisper. "He's one good-looking bastard. Look at that strong jaw. He's got a swimmer's body, but he's bigger. A lot bigger, and his muscles are even more toned. I'd be interested to know his workout routine."

I gave an exasperated huff. "Oh, for God's sake. We just pulled this man out of his wrecked truck, and you're interested in his workout routine?"

"Okay, that last part was a joke, but..." She paused as Stacy strutted back into the living room. "He's beautiful; don't tell me you can't see that. There's one more thing. He was just in a car accident, but, other than that bruise on his forehead, I don't see any other impact-related injuries."

"He may have internal injuries," I argued, popping open the first aid kit. "Girls, I'm going to need the room. I'll let you know when I'm done."

Emptying the contents of the first aid kit onto the table behind me, I scanned his body again, using my small flashlight. Very soon, I realized that Erica might have been correct. If I had been right about potential internal injuries, there would have been at least one telltale sign: extensive bruising of the affected area, along with swelling. There were none whatsoever. His skin was smooth and wet, as a result of exposure to the torrential rain. His wounds had not been the result of this mishap. On the contrary, they had to have been caused by something entirely different. I counted different sets of claw marks on his abdomen, his right leg, and his shoulders. Blood was dripping from the strange cuts and onto the cushions of my leather couch. There was also a deep puncture wound near the base of his neck.

I turned my flashlight to check the pupillary response and my heart fluttered in my chest as his pupil contracted. He hadn't suffered a concussion. His memory should be fine, but that was just conjecture. It wouldn't be strange if he woke up later that night without any recollection of how he ended up bleeding and naked in his truck.

All the evidence pointed to an animal attack. Those parallel claw marks and that double puncture wound could only have been attributed to an encounter with one of the apex predators out there. This was bear, wolf, and coyote territory. Nevertheless, something wasn't quite right in this theory: His complete nudity. His clothes could have been ripped to shreds and they would have been in terrible shape, yes, but there would have been something left on him, like at least his shoes.

Stitching him up, I watched his eyes twitch, and my gaze roamed down his torso. Erica had been correct twice that night. He did look phenomenal. His complexion was somewhat dark for a mountain dweller. Well-shaped muscles dominated his chest. Each one was three times the width of my palm. As for his stomach? Those abs were so defined that rainwater had pooled in between the ridges. I was enjoying the view; yet it was late. After such a long, hard day, I needed to rest my weary eyes. He would have all the time in the world to explain what had transpired in the morning…