Read Online The Truth About Butterflies: A Memoir by Nancy Stephan - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Stephan
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I pleaded, but it did no good.
“Look, Nicole has probably run off somewhere, and we don’t have time for games.”
I couldn’t tell them the truth, that she had vanished in my arms, because they wouldn’t
have believed me.
I ran
outside and began looking around the premises. The sky was overcast. The
building was a small two-story brick building that sat on a hill. I searched
everywhere. I walked down to the bottom of the hill. There was on old
weathered, wooden sign with “Thompson” painted in black letters; the sign was
very old and the paint was peeling. Just adjacent to that sign was another
hand-painted sign: “Welcome to the Low-lands.” I thought it strange that they
referred to the area as low lands when it was on a hill. Anyway, it seemed I
had been outside for at least a couple of hours, so I called inside to see if
they had found Nicole. Whoever answered the phone said they had found her. I
ran up the hill and back inside.
Once
there, no one seemed to know anything about my phone call; they all just looked
at each other. “You haven’t even looked for her, have you?” I asked. One of
the doctors became angry and said, “Nicole is hiding somewhere trying to make
fools out of us.” I begged the doctor to believe me. Still reluctant to tell
them that she had literally vanished right before my eyes, I simply told them
that she wasn’t hiding or trying to make fools of them, but that she was
missing and I needed help finding her. “We’re not doing it,” he said, and he
sat back down to finish his work.
I walked
outside and used my cell phone to call for help. I didn’t want to call the
police because if I had told them that Nicole vanished, they, too, wouldn’t
have believed me. Instead, I called Eunice, but someone else answered her
phone. I pulled the phone away from my ear to double check the number I had
dialed, and it was indeed the correct number. I could still hear the woman saying,
“Hello, is anyone there?” I returned to the call and told the lady that I
needed help and that I was trying to call my friend. She said, “You’ve reached
the right person.” So I told this lady everything that happened, exactly as it
happened, and she said she was on her way, and that we would get to the bottom
of it when she arrived.
She
arrived very quickly. She was a Black lady, and she looked official, but she
wasn’t someone I knew. She asked to go inside and see the room where it
happened. I took her inside and into the room. She covered her mouth and nose
with a cloth because the air quality in the room was so bad. We walked into
the hallway. “This isn’t good,” she said. She asked a few more questions and
looked around a bit more. The hospital staff didn’t seem at all concerned that
this stranger was snooping and asking questions. The lady said we should drive
around the entire area to see if we could find anything.
Though I
don’t remember having a car up to that point, we got into my car, and I began
driving away from the building. I told the lady how the doctors wouldn’t help
because they didn’t believe me. She listened attentively. She didn’t strike
me as having any expert knowledge in what was going on, but she was the only
one who listened and tried to help me.
Less than
a mile away from the building, I got a text on my cell phone: We found her.
“Come see.” I was filled with relief as I showed the message to the lady. I said
to her, “See how they put ‘Come see,’ in quotation marks? Maybe Nicole was
hiding after all, and now they’re going to rub it in my face.”
“Don’t
worry about that now,” she said. “We’ll just get her and go.”
As we
approached the building, we could see the doctors and nurses gathered outside
but facing away from us and toward an alcove in the building. We couldn’t see
what was in the alcove until we got closer. The lady began to
“Look, Nicole has probably run off somewhere, and we don’t have time for games.”
I couldn’t tell them the truth, that she had vanished in my arms, because they wouldn’t
have believed me.
I ran
outside and began looking around the premises. The sky was overcast. The
building was a small two-story brick building that sat on a hill. I searched
everywhere. I walked down to the bottom of the hill. There was on old
weathered, wooden sign with “Thompson” painted in black letters; the sign was
very old and the paint was peeling. Just adjacent to that sign was another
hand-painted sign: “Welcome to the Low-lands.” I thought it strange that they
referred to the area as low lands when it was on a hill. Anyway, it seemed I
had been outside for at least a couple of hours, so I called inside to see if
they had found Nicole. Whoever answered the phone said they had found her. I
ran up the hill and back inside.
Once
there, no one seemed to know anything about my phone call; they all just looked
at each other. “You haven’t even looked for her, have you?” I asked. One of
the doctors became angry and said, “Nicole is hiding somewhere trying to make
fools out of us.” I begged the doctor to believe me. Still reluctant to tell
them that she had literally vanished right before my eyes, I simply told them
that she wasn’t hiding or trying to make fools of them, but that she was
missing and I needed help finding her. “We’re not doing it,” he said, and he
sat back down to finish his work.
I walked
outside and used my cell phone to call for help. I didn’t want to call the
police because if I had told them that Nicole vanished, they, too, wouldn’t
have believed me. Instead, I called Eunice, but someone else answered her
phone. I pulled the phone away from my ear to double check the number I had
dialed, and it was indeed the correct number. I could still hear the woman saying,
“Hello, is anyone there?” I returned to the call and told the lady that I
needed help and that I was trying to call my friend. She said, “You’ve reached
the right person.” So I told this lady everything that happened, exactly as it
happened, and she said she was on her way, and that we would get to the bottom
of it when she arrived.
She
arrived very quickly. She was a Black lady, and she looked official, but she
wasn’t someone I knew. She asked to go inside and see the room where it
happened. I took her inside and into the room. She covered her mouth and nose
with a cloth because the air quality in the room was so bad. We walked into
the hallway. “This isn’t good,” she said. She asked a few more questions and
looked around a bit more. The hospital staff didn’t seem at all concerned that
this stranger was snooping and asking questions. The lady said we should drive
around the entire area to see if we could find anything.
Though I
don’t remember having a car up to that point, we got into my car, and I began
driving away from the building. I told the lady how the doctors wouldn’t help
because they didn’t believe me. She listened attentively. She didn’t strike
me as having any expert knowledge in what was going on, but she was the only
one who listened and tried to help me.
Less than
a mile away from the building, I got a text on my cell phone: We found her.
“Come see.” I was filled with relief as I showed the message to the lady. I said
to her, “See how they put ‘Come see,’ in quotation marks? Maybe Nicole was
hiding after all, and now they’re going to rub it in my face.”
“Don’t
worry about that now,” she said. “We’ll just get her and go.”
As we
approached the building, we could see the doctors and nurses gathered outside
but facing away from us and toward an alcove in the building. We couldn’t see
what was in the alcove until we got closer. The lady began to
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