Page 34 of Having the Time of My Midlife

“Roger that, bossy man,” I said with a smile as I realized I was tired.

Going to sleep wasn’t going to be a problem.

The rest of the journey? I was about to find out.

CHAPTER NINE

Where in thehell was I?

I quickly scanned the room, unable to remember where I was or why I’d come.

The overhead lights were fluorescent. The walls were a dull green, and a long plastic-covered beige couch lined one of the walls. It wasn’t a large room. In fact, it felt a little claustrophobic. There was one heavy metal door on the far side, and it was closed. No windows. The floor was a faded butter-yellow linoleum that had seen better days. Whoever decorated the room was stuck in the late 1960’s.

Wait… was it the 1960’s?

For the life of me, I didn’t understand anything. What was I doing here? And where exactly washere? There was one other woman in the room. She was stunning and about twenty—tons of dark curly hair and unusually beautiful eyes. Oddly, she was wearing an adult-sized pink onesie that should have been on a baby, not a full-grown woman. I felt like I knew her, but couldn’t place her. She gave me a shy smile and a wave. I waved back. When I was about to inquire who she was, something insane occurred.

“Daisy?” a vaguely familiar voice called out. “Can I come out?”

I glanced down at my stomach in terror. Had I eaten someone? Was I high? Was I in the waiting room of a mental institution? Why in the hell was I wearing mismatched sweats and crappy tennis shoes? Nothing made sense.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered to the fashion-impaired gal… not that I looked much better.

“I did,” she replied with a sweet smile. “I think you should let her out.”

“How?” I asked, wondering if she was as crazy as I appeared to be.

She shrugged. “Tell her it’s okay to come out now.”

Made sense. “Umm… sure. Come on out.”

Much to my shock, a full-grown old woman flew out of my feet. I screamed. I didn’t remember smoking any pot or taking hallucinogenic drugs, but I must have. Not much else could explain a woman exiting my body through my feet. I didn’t think I even liked drugs, but there was a first time for everything. Backing myself up against the wall, I wondered if I could make a run for the door and escape. Although, the old lady didn’t seem dangerous, nor did the pretty woman in the onesie. They were both adorable and the old one was very talkative.

“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” she said, looking down at her dress. “This right here is the dress I got buried in. I think I’m lookin’ spiffy!” She stared at her hands in delight. “I can’t see through them no more! Feel kinda like Pinocchio! I’m a real old lady again with skin and age spots. That just dills my pickle.”

This was definitely a mental institution. She was as nuts. There was a distinct possibility all three of us were off our rockers.

Deciding to jump in with an icebreaker, I got right to the point. “Hi, I’m Daisy.” At least I could remember my name. That was something. “I’m not sure where I am right now. Do either of you nice ladies happen to know?”

The look they exchanged was filled with horror. My stomach cramped. Something was very wrong.

“Who am I?” the old lady demanded.

“Is that a trick question?” I asked warily.

“Nope,” she said, crossing her skinny arms over her chest and giving me the eye-ball. The move was familiar. “You seem to be as confused as a fart in a fan factory. You know who I am, Daisy girl.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know who she was. I had a feeling I was supposed to, but I didn’t. Looking over to the onesie girl, I smiled apologetically. “Am I supposed to know you too?”

Her smile went right to my heart and made me feel strangely whole. “Yes, but I look very different from the last time you saw me.”

The old gal in her burial dress was getting perturbed. “You think she banged her noggin on the trip?” she asked, Onesie.

“I don’t,” she said. “There’s some kind of spell in this room. Some kind of trap is my guess.”

I looked around. What was the girl talking about? A spell? I blew out a long slow breath and tried to think of a plan. I expected men in white coats to show up with straightjackets at any moment.

“I’m out of here,” I announced, walking over to the door and trying to open it. Of course, it was locked. If this were a horror movie, the door would be locked right before everyone died violently.

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