Chapter 2


    “Well Ayan, now that you’re here, let’s start with a tour!” Dr. Jameson beams at me while gesturing around that small front area. A slightly pungent but sweet smell wafts in from the hallway behind him. Something I will likely have to get used to if I start working here.


    “This is our waiting room. We’re open 8 till 6 PM most days. Though, we do close early on Saturdays and Sundays and are generally closed on Mondays unless it’s an emergency.”


    He walks towards the desk. The frog-monster shifts slightly to get a better view of the man approaching. Dr. Jameson continues to have no reaction to the creature taking up all of my headspace during this tour.


    “Here’s our front desk. The place you’ll become most acquainted with,” he chuckles.


    Huh? Is this a good sign? Do I already have the position?


    His words briefly take my mind off the frog and onto the hope of being hired before the day is over.


    I will DEFINITELY clean my house tonight if I get this job. It’s gonna be great! Oh my goodness I-


    “Are you with me? Hello?” Dr. Jameson turns back to me, his brows furrowed.


    “Yes! Sorry yes, Dr. Jameson, I’m here,” my quick steps towards the desk, towards that little monster resting there, takes all of my self control. “I actually have extensive experience in administrative tasks.”


    Liar.


    “I can-”


    It shoots its tongue out at me! Barely missing me by half an inch. I yelp and drop my resume and binder onto the floor. Jumping back I knock into the small table of pet magazines, sending them sliding off and into a mess next to and underneath the waiting chairs on the other side of the room. His floors are oddly slippery.


    “My goodness! Have you gone mad?” Dr. Jameson reaches down to help me, the same yellow substance that is on his chest appears to be crusting over on his wrists and upper palm of the hand he hold my way. Wincing, I don’t know if it’s at his choice of words or me knowing there’s no way I can accept his help up without touching whatever is stuck on him, I push myself to my feet without making any body contact and start putting the room back to rights.


    “Nothing, nothing,” I’m speaking too quickly.


    Do I sound erratic? Will he still hire me?


    “I thought I saw something. Nevermind.” I finish putting the magazines neatly back into place. They honestly look better now that I’ve rearranged them than they did before. “Like I was saying, I have a lot of experience. I, uh, I would love to know what systems you use to keep track of all your patients and appointments.”


    “Oh there’s plenty of time for that later.” He waves away my question. “In fact, if you have a recommended system you can just go with that one. I do everything by hand myself.”


    “By hand.” I repeat in disbelief. This is possibly more astounding than the creature now watching the fish tank built into the wall behind the desk. “You’re the only vets office for at least three towns over, everyone comes to you! Even about their farm animals if it’s serious enough. How do you have time to track all of your patients by hand?”


    This job is going to be more work than I originally thought. I assumed I would be answering phones and scheduling appointments and smiling at people as they wait for their puppy to get done with its first round of shots. But doing everything manually… I may be working harder and more than I wanted.


    “I don’t. Hence the need for an assistant,” he states briskly, straightening himself. “Let’s just go to the exam rooms. Please be careful not to knock anything over.”


    Did I offend him?


    Unease creeps into my thoughts. I don’t want to leave the creature loose in the building while I continue the tour. Of course, if it doesn’t exist then it isn’t actually a problem at all. It can’t do anything if it only exists for me…right? The worst it can do is cause me not to get this job and become homeless because Dr. Jameson thinks I’m absolutely insane. So perhaps it would be best to leave it where it is and forget all about it. Just like this morning.


    It isn’t like I have a choice anyways. Dr. Jameson is already halfway down the hall and turning into the first door on the right, clearly unaware that I’m not following him yet.


    With one last glance at the beast - of course it’s still ignoring me, watching the cacophony of fish swim in their tank instead - I put back on my interview-ready smile, pep-talk myself back into the confidence I had before seeing the damn thing here, and stride into the hallway.


    “-we have four exam rooms,” whatever the beginning of Dr. Jameson’s sentence was probably wasn’t that important. “From previous times when I had a partner and students to help with the place. At most only two will ever be in use at once.” He opens drawers and cabinets, baring the room and its belonging for me to look over. “You’ll need to restock the rooms as needed, they all have the same layout and organization. Just mirrors if they’re on the other side of the hall.” He closes everything up and heads back toward the door.


    Down the hall and into what must be the largest room in the building, the last door on the left, we walk in one after the other. “Our procedure room,” there is a wall lined with spacious cages, most of them are empty, but a few hold tired looking dogs and cats in them. One even has a giant tortoise munching on some lettuce. “Other than stocking I may need help with transporting animals from their exams to here if they have to stay overnight.” I glance towards the computer in the corner and the metal table with a hook to hold onto collars hanging from the ceiling above it.


    I knew I would hate this job. It’s so fucking miserable in here.


    Dr Jameson is still talking, completely oblivious to my distaste for medical procedures on animals, no matter how necessary I know they are sometimes. “I have one highschooler who thinks she wants to be a vet coming after school on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. She helps with any animal handling and feeding on those days. You can help on the other days if someone is particularly rowdy and I need two people to get them here.” He turns my way. “You aren’t squeamish about blood or needles are you?”


    I am actually very squeamish about blood and needles.


    “No. That doesn’t bother me,” I hear exit my mouth.


    “Good. You shouldn’t see much but I can’t have you fainting if it ever happens.”


    I frown.


    Needles are the single things I know of that make me faint. I passed out once while a needle was stuck into my arm at some clinic in New York. I made the oh so foolish mistake of watching the nurse put it in. And the entire process of the blood - so, so many bottles of blood - being taken out of my arm for testing. It was enough to make me forget how to breath. I’ve been required to look away at the doctor’s office ever since.


    “Oh I have a great constitution. I never faint.”


    But apparently I lie. Often.


    It’s so great to learn new things about yourself!


    “Perfect!” he grins and wipes his hands on the back on his pants. “In the back is the trash. I will handle the trash, can’t have such a lovely young lady taking out the garbage everyday,” he winks at me.


    Ah there it is. I knew he couldn’t help but be weird. I’m actually surprised he lasted this long.


    I force a laugh out. I can apparently hold down a rowdy animal, but garbage management is taking things a step too far. Good to know.


    He finishes opening and closing the back door for me to have a look. It seems that there’s a little place for dogs to use the bathroom and even a little pond that I wonder if the tortoise has visited yet.


    “Let’s head back inside and finish up. You can start on Tuesday.”


    “Oh! Oh t-thank you Dr.-”


    “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until you see the workload and figure out if you can move me onto a computer format. Let’s do a two-week trial of this and see if we’re a good fit for each other.” He locks up the back and heads towards the front of the place again. Back to the waiting area. Hopefully that frog is gone again. “Also no need to call me Dr. Jameson all day. Just Harvey is fine.”


    “Of course! And I don’t have any worries, I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”


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    Lie and lie, Ayan. Shame on you.


    The worries pile up in my head as we make our way back down the hallway and settle into two of the waiting room chairs. The frog-bird is not gone. It promptly flies and settles next to  me on the arm of the chair to my right. I stiffen before I can even stop myself.


    Smile. Just smile. You got the job and you didn’t even have to interview for it for real. You can be out of here in five minutes or less if you play your cards right. Don’t look at the thing. Just. Smile.


    I smile at Dr. Jameson…Harvey. “I’ll be here Tuesday at 8-”


    “7:30 would be better,” he interrupts.


    “7:30 it is.” Would I get a lunch break? This is almost twelve hour days…


    You need the money. Have you already forgotten you need money?


    Ah yes, money. “Dr. Jame- I mean Harvey.” I smile quickly again. How do I bring this up without it being awkward… “I was wondering - well the pay wasn’t in the posting and-”


    “16.75 an hour.” He stands abruptly. “Will that do?”


    Will it do? I do some quick math in my head, itching to pull out my phone and use a calculator.


    “16.75 an hour, I- yes. That will be great. Thanks.” I stand up too and start to reach my hand out, forgetting that his hands are still filthy with God knows what. Numbers are still running across my mind.


    How much is that a month? Will it cover my bills? Five and a half days a week…about eleven hours a day… does this count as overtime??


    Ugh I wish it was ten hours. That would make the math so much easier!


    I think it’ll be…maybe almost nine hundred a week? Maybe seven hundred after taxes? Yes I can pay my mortgage on that. It’ll do.


    “Thank goodness! My last admin asked for over twenty an hour! Can you imagine? They almost bankrupted me when I agreed!” He lets out a full-bellied laugh while walking me towards the front door.


    I could have gotten over twenty an hour! Wait!


    “Well have a good rest of your week Ayan.” The door opens. “Glad to have had this all work out.” The door closes. I missed out on over four dollars an hour! That was to be at least two hundred dollars a week!


    My hand automatically raises to knock on the door and see i f I can renegotiate. Or honestly just negotiate at all, how did I forget to negotiate? But a wet, sticky, solid thing pushes my fist away from connecting with the door.


    The pink tongue of the monster is still touching me as it hovers two feet away. It retracts its tongue back in its mouth. My breathing is shaky. Pressure is building in my head. I’m willing myself not to break down.


    I felt it.


    It touched me and I felt it.


    This is not a hallucination. That was solid.


    I look at the frog with horror. Why is it hovering so peacefully? It’s destroying my entire world, my send of reality, and it has so remorse at all. And why doesn’t it want me to ask for more money??


    I’m gasping for air, probably continuing to be a disappointment to the frog, and I decide that my current state is perhaps not the best time to convince Harvey that I’m the perfect assistant who deserves at least twenty dollars an hour. I can just revisit the topic after the two weeks of trial time.


    My hand feels strange as I try to catch my breath. It’s like the residue of slime is stuck on me. I can’t get the feeling of by wiping it on my skirt. I simply leave a damp spot on the satin that I’ll have to hand wash later.


    My hand feels so strange. It’s practically tingling at this point.


    I look at my hand, look at the frog, look back down to my hand.


    What should be nonexistent is as visible as ever. What should be firmly attached to my body is fading away, shimmering into the background until it matches completely, entirely invisible. And it’s…spreading.


    I can see the shimmer slowly move from the side of my palm over through my third and second fingers, it’s going to get to the fingertips soon and as I move my hand around the ripple takes on the colors and textures of whatever is behind it. I’m disappearing. And I don’t know if it will cover my entire body soon.


    I rip off my shoes with my left hand- the oddness of moving my hand and not seeing where it’s going is too much to try and attempt with my right one. And move as fast as I can to get my gym shoes into place and my heels safely back into my purse.


    Invisibility has already reached my wrists. Luckily, it appears to be taking my clothes with it. Unfortunately, the clothes take longer to spread over than my skin. At this rate I’ll be mostly clothes, slowly disappearing, before I make it halfway home.


    I start running, wrapping my shawl around me and hiding my right arm underneath the layer of fabric. Few people are likely to be out this time of day. It’s a Wednesday afternoon and the children are in school, the parents are probably working, and the elderly are either taking an afternoon nap or are at the town hall for this week’s list of activities for them.


    The freaking monster is flying circles around me, admiring its handiwork as I sprint home. Cows moo my way, birds chirp in the distance, the smell of horse fades in and out as I rush past different fences and small farm homes.


    I am so out of shape this is actually embarrassing.


    I have to slow down to a light jog less than five minutes into my panicked dash. Eventually even the job fades into a brisk walk. I’m clutching my side as I gasp for breath. I’m still over twenty minutes from home. I can’t see it, but I can still feel my right arm. My shoulders are covered and I can only hope that this little problem decides to travel down my body instead of moving up towards my neck and face.


    I’ve never really been a lucky person though.


    You could cut through the riverbed. If you go past this farm and turn into the river you definitely won’t run into anyone, and you’d get home in less than eight minutes if you just follow the river directly…


    The river. Where this all started. Where if I had just stayed home instead of trying to sit by the river before my interview I could have had a normal morning, gotten a normal job, and been a normal, boring person enjoying my upcoming new life with a steady income. Right. That river.


    I turn towards the rover. Surely nothing could go worse than ceasing to exist due to something attacking me that should really cease to exist itself.


    I glare at the exact thing I wish I couldn’t see. And for the first time it seems pleased with itself. This frog has the most expressive eyes I have ever seen on an animal. The closer we get to the river the faster it flaps its wings, shooting forward and then returning back to me like an overly excited puppy. I scowl at it. Trekking along the river is going to muddy my only pair of gym shoes and very likely ruin my socks and skirt.


    I attempt to beat the frog away from me as I climb down the side of the river bed to skirt along the edge of the water from the rest of my much shorter walk home. But it takes serious offense to that. It pushes out its tongue towards me three times.


    One. It hits my left hand.


    Two. It smacks into my ribcage.


    Three. My left hip is hit last and this one sends me tumbling down into the water.


    It’s the strangest thing. The water ought to be shallow. It should be barely a few inches in this section of the river. But I’m falling and falling and I can’t stop. I can’t figure out which way is up. I’m being pulled in all directions, like I’m tumbling around in a dryer, water all around me. For a second I’m truly afraid that I’m going to drown.


    This is how I die? By evil flying frog?


    Just as the thought crosses my mind that I don’t actually feel very wet at all, I break air. An oddly heavy air, cooler than what I felt on my journey back home. I open my eyes, and somehow it’s nighttime as well.


    Impossible.


    It shouldn’t get dark yet for hours.


    I look down, half of me is invisible, or, maybe it’s just too dark out for me to see myself properly. I am also very dry, not a drop of water comes off me and I stand, taking in my surroundings.


    There are no farms, no bird sounds, not a single hint of horse scents the air. The stars here are breathtaking, but the constellations I’m familiar with - only slightly, to be fair - are nowhere to be seen. The only familiar thing about this entire place is the winged frog soaring next to me.


    “Anura? Back already?” A voice comes from the other side of the water. I snap my head up as my feet move me backwards, out of the water and away from the man across the way. I can only make out his silhouette in the darkness. Tall with a medium build and broad shoulders, his arm raises up as he beckons the creature to come to him. “I didn’t expect you would actually bring her. How did you manage that?”


    The frog lets out a hearty croak. The man breathes out sharply, slapping a hand on his forehead with a quick laugh. “Of course you did, I should have known.” His gaze snaps toward mine. “How many times did she get you?”


    The winged frog, Anura? My kidnapper? Does a loop in the air then lands softly at the man’s feet. Taking a few hops before wrapping a wing around the man’s legs.


    “Ah. She got you way too many times, I see.” He cracks a knuckle. “Guess I’ll have to do something about that.”


    He starts my way, getting closer to the water, closer to me, and I realize I have two choices. I can stand here and let myself continue to be kidnapped by a mythical animal and its mysterious owner. Or I can jump back into the water and become invisible by my own river, in my own town, and make it back to my house.


    I take what I think is the better choice and end up wet. Soaked, as this river is very much deeper than the one I’m used to. And now I’m ever closer to the very man and animal I was trying to get away from.


    He reaches in and pulls me up, laughing not unkindly. “You can’t get through like that.” He pulls me over fully to his side of the narrow river and hands me a small bottle out of the bag on his shoulder. “Here. Drink up. It’ll be harder to get rid of her effects the longer you wait. And I can’t easily keep track of you if I can’t see you.”


    Why would I want him to keep track of me? But also, will I ever get the chance to NOT be invisible if I don’t drink this right now?


    I’m not going to drink it. I’ll take my chances.


    “Anura will still be able to see you even if I can’t…Naturally.” His eyes meet mine. I can’t distinguish his pupils from his iris. His eyes are so dark they rival the bits of night sky hiding in between the stars. “You can speak, right?” His tone is teasing but…


    Can I?


    I think I’ve forgotten how to. I think I need to rest. I think I’m simply dreaming.


    This whole day has just been a dream. And this man with the black eyes and smoky voice is simply a result of my loneliness. I cannot speak because everything is starting to fade to black. The sharp cold of what I assume is that bottled remedy touches my lips.


    I’m shaking.


    My eyes close as I swallow, forcing the burning chill of that drink down my throat.


    I hope that when I wake up, actually wake up, to the real world… I have truly remembered to set out my interviewing outfit… I really do need that job.