Chapter 3 Shattered Spirit

I sprinted frantically off the bridge and to my car. The only thing I wanted to do was to get home and let my mom know what happened to Dorris. With no other cars in sight, I sped off. Every light was green as the sound of my motor cut through the eerily silent night air. 

I pulled into my driveway, jumped from the car, and scrambled to the house. I didn’t even bother to close the car door. At the front door, I kept dropping my key; I couldn’t keep my hands steady. Finally, the keys slid into the lock and the bolt clicked. My mom was on the couch watching TV. 

Whose Dorris?

“Mom! Mom!!” I yelled, voice cracking.

Mom sat straight up, wide eyes fixing on me. “What’s wrong, Vanessa?” 

 “Mom! Dorris and I went to this bridge. We wanted to know if Mr. Johnson was having an affair. He said we could get our answers from this bridge, so Dorris and I went to the bridge, trying to offer something meaningful. Dorris pulled my shoe off. She tugged so hard that she went over the bridge!” 

Eyebrows raised, Mom said, “Hold up, Vanessa. You just gave me a lot of information that makes zero sense together. Let’s start at the beginning,” she paused, “who is Dorris?”

“Huh, what do you mean?” I sputtered, “Who is Dorris? Seriously?” Seeing no sign of recognition on her face, I continued. “My friend Dorris.” 

Mom leaned forward and gently placed a hand on my arm. “Vanessa, you’ve never told me about a friend named Dorris.” 

Forgetful Memories

“Are you joking right now, Mom?” I shrieked, “Now is not the time for joking!”

“Now why would I joke about something like that?” Mom said in a soothing voice. “Are you okay, Vanessa? Have you been drinking?”  

“No, Mom, I have not. She’s been my childhood friend since kindergarten, remember?” I searched her eyes for any sign of a memory. I found none. 

Save Photos

Mom shook her head. 

“Here, I’ll show you.” Hands trembling, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Dorris and I took a picture at the mall and I saved it as my screen saver. See?” But I found myself staring at a typical black screen. Frantically, I went to my photos, yet there were no pictures of Dorris anywhere. Mom watched over my shoulder. 

She asked warily, “Where is this Dorris?” 

“None of this makes sense,” I choked out, “I don’t understand why Dorris’s photos are gone.” 

“Vanessa, I think you should calm down and take a deep breath. You look tired. Let me walk you to your room.” 

“Mom, listen. I know I have a friend named Dorris. I’m not crazy.  We came to the bar today to visit you like always. Dorris brought up something about Mr. Johnson. We thought he was having an affair with one of his colleagues at work.”

“Vanessa, come here. You never come to the bar because of the smell. Besides, you said you were staying a little late to babysit little John.” Mom grabbed my hand and led me to my bedroom door. 

I jumped as a memory hit me, “I know! I have a collage of pictures of Dorris and me on the wall of my room.” I opened my door in anticipation; this would finally jog mom’s memory! When I opened the door, my blood ran cold. There were no pictures of Dorris, just collages of mom and me.

I’m Sorry Dorris

Mom pulled my covers back and softly helped me to the bed. In a kind voice, she said, “Vanessa, listen to me. I don’t know if you are playing a joke with me or what, but you don’t have a friend named Dorris.”

  I looked back at my mom and my eyes started to tear up. Mom laid down beside me and rubbed my back. I cried myself to sleep to visions of Dorris falling over the bridge and hearing that excruciating noise.