Little Black Book

“I’m not sure when it started. I just know that since that thing has shown up, my life has been a mess.” He said as he peered over his shoulder at his bag, “You would think because I always know what to expect from my day that I would be more at ease, but I’m not. It never tells me if things are going to turn out okay, just what is going to happen. It is not like reading the last chapter in the book. It is like being stuck on the middle chapters, all the time! My life is a stressful middle chapter.” He took a breath as he ran his hand through his hair, “It’s not all bad though, sometimes it tells me good things. Six months ago it told me that I would ask a beautiful woman out at the park. Sheila was the only woman at the park that day and man is she beautiful. Because of the book I had the courage to ask her out and she said yes! Can you believe that? But then a few weeks ago it told me that Sheila was going to break up with me right when things were getting good. No explanation either. She did break up with me that day too and told me it’s because I act all jumpy. She said that she hated the way I couldn’t stop checking my little black book.” 

“Have you ever tried not checking the book, Mr Jones?” The woman asked from behind her notepad. 

“Please, call me Robert.” He said from the couch he was lying upon. 

“Well, Robert, have you ever tried not looking in this book?” She peered down at him over her small reading glasses. 

“I have but I get this pounding headache and these eerie drums just play louder and louder until I can’t take it anymore. It’s like it controls me.” Robert let out a deep breath as he rubbed at his temples. 

“Can anyone else hear the drums playing?” She asked in a doubtful tone. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to act like I’m crazy. I’m not going to a loonie bin, I’m not crazy!” He looked over his shoulder once again. 

“We are alone here, Robert. You can relax. I can assure you that your bag is going to be in the same place this whole session.” She leaned back in her chair, “I don’t send people to the psych ward who are no harm to themselves or others. Right now, you are not giving me any reason to believe that you are a harm to society. Now, tell me, does anyone else hear the drums?” 

“No, no one hears the drums but me.” Robert shook his head in frustration.

“Do you think that someone could be stalking you? Doing this to you?” Her calm tone annoyed Robert, he wanted her to feel just as angry as him. 

“That’s the worst part… The book, well, it’s in my handwriting.” 

“Your handwriting? You don’t have any recollection of doing this?” Her head tilted to the side in disbelief.  

“No, do you really not think that I would remember predicting my future every day?” He glared at her agitatedly. 

“Robert, it is my job to ask questions. I am just trying to make sense of this too.” She replied in that annoyingly calm tone of hers, “Do you know how many pages are in the book? That might help us see how long this has been happening.” 

“It has been happening for three hundred and sixty-three days.” Robert rolled onto his side, “I feel like I’m going crazy, I can’t take it much longer.” 

“Why did you say earlier that you didn’t know how long it had been happening?” She inquired. 

“Because I didn’t want you to think that my life was so consumed by this thing but you know what? It is! I think about it constantly. I wake up in the middle of the night to check it, that’s all I can think about right now. On my way to work I just imagine opening it over and over again. I can’t get enough of it, it owns me.” Robert set up swiftly to look at his new therapist, the fifth one this year. 

“Have you thought about destroying it?” She pushed her small glasses back up onto her face. 

“I’ve tried but it doesn’t make a difference. Each morning it is in perfect condition waiting for me on my nightstand.” Robert leaned his face into his hands. 

“Hmm, fascinating, have you ever tried not doing what it tells you to do?” She closed her eyes as she pondered his words. 

“Fascinating? Really? I don’t think so and yes but it doesn’t work. I become so obsessed with doing what it tells me to do that I can hardly think or do anything else until I complete the things it has written out. If it tells me that I’m going rock climbing but will break my hand, I’ll do it. I’ll be drenched in sweat from the anxiety but I’ll still do it. I won’t be able to eat or sleep until I complete the tasks even if I know the outcome is bad.” Robert looked up at her with blood shot eyes, “What do you make of all of this?” 

“I’m not sure, I really need more time to figure it out but this is all the time we have for today, Robert. Try to find something else to focus on this week until our next session… Maybe tennis.” She stood to walk Robert to the door. 

“Tennis? A little black book is controlling me and you suggest tennis? You shrinks never cease to amaze me.” Robert shook his head with disgust as he grabbed his bag and hurried from the room. 

Robert walked home, he walked everywhere now. It was hard to drive with the headaches or loud drums that overtook the sound of the highway. He couldn’t wait to get to and from places without checking the book. It was easier to walk and read what had been added to his day. The drumming began and Robert knew it was time to check the book again, something new had been added. Maybe what he was going to eat for dinner. He pulled the book from his bag.

“Your uncle is going to die in seven minutes, Robert.” The book had scrawled in fresh ink across the page. 

“Which uncle?” Robert exclaimed, “I have four!” He hurriedly reached for his phone to call his uncles to say goodbye, just in case. He hadn’t talked to his two favorite uncles in months, “Hey, Uncle Paul, how are you? Just calling to check in—I love you.” Robert hung up the phone to dial the next number. 

“Hello? Robert, my boy, is that you?” An older man’s voice came from the other line. 

“Hi, Uncle Shez. I’m just calling to check on you.” Robert smiled as he listened to his uncle’s voice. 

“Hold on a minute, will ya? This blasted thing won’t switch over to my car phone. I don’t know why this technology stuff won’t just work for me.” 

Robert listened as his uncle messed with the phone, “Mine does that all the time too. Try just putting it on speaker.” 

“Okay, hold on, don’t know which button does—Ahh!” His uncle screamed into the phone as Robert listened to metal hitting metal. 

“Uncle Shez! Uncle Shez! Where are you? I need to call nine one-one!” Robert screamed into the phone. His uncle made no response as he listened to the horrible sound of metal crunching and rolling through the phone. 

It was no use, even after the good citizen called nine one-one, his uncle didn’t make it. Robert hung his head with guilt, maybe he wouldn’t have died if he hadn't called and distracted him. Maybe he would still be here. Robert walked back and forth in his house pondering what could have been if it wasn’t for that blasted book. 

Finally the book started drumming and told Robert that he was going to go to sleep now. Even with the way his heart was hurting for his uncle it was no use, he couldn’t fight the sleep that was coming. He staggered to his bed and fell asleep quickly. His dreams that night would only be of that book, they always were. 

Today Robert’s alarm went off for the first time in weeks, typically he would awake to the sound of drums at some unholy hour but today he awoke peacefully with the sun. He immediately switched on the light as he reached for the book. He had to know what was going to happen today, needed to. 

“A large sum of money will be given to you today. Good things come to those who are faithful, Robert. Shez wanted you to have it.” 

Robert leaned over his bed and hurled, “I wasn’t trying to be faithful to you! I want my life back! My uncle!” 

“You’re feeling jittery. A run will make you feel better until the package is delivered.” The book had scrawled across the page when he looked back down. 

Robert felt the pages and realized that there was only one empty page left, “What does this mean? What happens when you are filled up? Does my life end? Do you go away? Does another book show up?” Robert cried as he tied his running shoes, “Why won’t you stop? I can’t live like this!” 

  Robert ran until the book called him home, called by the beat of drums. As Robert ran onto his street he slowed to a jog as he watched a man in a suit pull into his driveway. He would have to run inside to read the book before talking to this man. There was no way he could hear the man over the sound of drums. Quickly he ran into his driveway, waved at the man, and ran through the front door, making sure to leave it open. 

The menacing book was waiting patiently for him at the top of the stairs, demanding to be read, “Put on a happy face Robert, it is time to receive your inheritance.”  

He tried his best not to smile but couldn’t help it as he walked downstairs to greet the stranger. He didn’t want to do anything but smile even if on the inside he was falling apart, “Hi there, sorry about that. How can I help you?” 

“Mr Jones?” The suited man held out his hand.

“Please just call me Robert. How can I help you?” He smiled at the man. 

“It is about your uncle, Shez Jones. I am very sorry for your loss.” The man put on a sad thin smile. 

“Thank you, what’s this about?” He asked with his plastic grin painted across him. 

“He left you twenty-thousand dollars. I have the check right here for you. I just need you to sign on this dotted line and I will be out of your hair.” The man held up a clipboard. 

Robert took the pen that the man held out and signed his signature, “Aw, I see. Thank you.” 

All night Robert set in front of his desk looking back and forth between the check his uncle had left him and the book. One page left, what was going to happen? “What am I supposed to do with twenty-thousand dollars if I’m not even sure if I’ll be here after a day? What do you even do with money when you have no control over yourself?” Robert pondered. 

He sat there all night until the book started drumming and he knew it was time for a new day, the last page, “What happens after the last page?” He asked. 

“What does happen after the last page, Robert?” The book had scrawled across the only empty page left, it felt as if it were laughing at him.