The Many and the One

by Donald Wells

  “Wow, straight A’s, Bob, you must be very proud.”

  “She’s a chip off the old block, she’s also studying for the National Spelling Bee.”

  “Tell Emma to keep up the good work.” Lindsay says.

  “Will do,” Says the Chief, as he strolls out the door.

  They return to the sofa and nestle, as Jason reaches over and turns off the lamp. Their only illumination now comes from the fireplace that glows and crackles before them.

  Jason looks to his left and watches Lindsay as she gazes pensively into the flames, as always, he finds himself captivated by her.

  Tonight, she wears her long hair in a ponytail and the firelight’s subtle rays make her appear nearly prepubescent, reminding him of the young girl he fell in love with all those years ago.

  Thirty plus years have come and gone since the day he first laid eyes upon her, and still his heart quickens whenever she enters the room.

  Lindsay turns and smiles, crinkling her eyes in that way she does only when smiling at him. Jason takes her hand in his and, raising it to his lips, he kisses it. Their eyes meet and they say I love you, wordlessly, the voicing of the words having long ago become superfluous.

  More quiet moments pass, as Lindsay, barefoot, enjoys the feel of the plush rug beneath her feet; it’s made from white sheepskin, the old bearskin rug having been replaced years ago.

  “I was so worried for Jenny this morning, thank God everything worked out.” Lindsay says.

  “You know she only did it because she loves you so much.”

  “I know, and did you notice how supportive Paul Jr. was? I think he really loves her, and, I think Jenny’s ready to trust him.”

  “Trust him?”

  “You know Boomer, S—E—X, she’s told me that she’s started taking birth control pills.”

  Jason reaches over to the coffee table; he picks up his glass of red wine and gulps down the last few swallows.

  “All I have to say to that, is that he’d better not hurt her.”

  “He won’t, he loves her.”

  Jason sighs. “Jennifer’s grown and Matt’s right behind her, where does the time go?”

  “I know what you mean, but I never feel any older, do you?”

  “No, not as long as I have you to hold, you’re still the little strumpet who lured me in my innocence to your bed.”

  Lindsay laughs. “Who are you calling a strumpet?”

  “You, former strumpet actually,”

  “Luring you to my bed is the best thing I ever did I’ll have you know.”

  “If I recall correctly, it was only to make Derek jealous. I was simply your pawn.”

  “Oh God, I was such a devious bitch.”

  “You were not; you were just hurting because he cheated on you.”

  “Yes, and now I know he was also cheating on me with his mother, ugh, how gross is that?”

  Lindsay turns in her seat, placing one knee on the sofa, while resting her right arm along its top. She then stares at Jason.

  “How did I get so lucky?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I went from Derek to you; you two are as different as night and day, like the moon.”

  “The moon?”

  “You know, like the story I wrote when I was a kid, ‘My Star.”

  “I never got a chance to read it, only the title.”

  “Really? Well, it was about the two sides of the moon, the dark side and the light side, only I think I called them The Many and The One.”

  “How’d the story go?” Jason asks.

  Lindsay looks thoughtful, while trying to recall. “Let’s see, The One loves the sun, while The Many loves the stars, The Many thought The One a fool for wanting just the sun, but The One told him, ‘It’s not just a sun, it’s ‘My Star.’ One day the sun shined on the moon, turning it full and bright, but The Many was turned away from the sun, always looking toward the stars, and despite their thousands of twinkling lights he still became the dark side of the moon. I know it’s silly, but I was only eight-years-old.”

  Jason strokes Lindsay’s cheek tenderly with the back of his hand.

  “You, have always been ‘My Star.”

  Lindsay grins while shaking her head. “That’s funny,”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve always considered myself your moon.”

  48

  “Evidence of culpability in my mother’s murder? What fucking evidence? I’ve been paroled! I’m supposed to be released in four days.” Derek tells his attorney, Ralph Alpino.

  Alpino nervously pats down his combed over hair and answers Derek.

  “That’s not going to happen now, apparently your mother kept a camera aimed at her bed for some years, the police have a tape of you killing her, and they also have footage of you… with her.”

  “You’re telling me my mother filmed her own murder?”

  “Yes, they have you dead to rights on that. The murder of…” Here, Alpino stops to look through his notes before he continues. “…Ah here it is, a Harrison Johnson is less airtight, in the tape you can’t actually see him, although your murder of him is greatly implied.”

  “These other tapes, have you seen them? What exactly do they show?”

  Alpino stares at Derek for a good ten seconds, finally he says. “Mr. Stern, they uh, show you and your mother engaged in different sexual acts. The police have film that covers years.”

  A horrified look crosses Derek’s face, as he whispers. “She knows.”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Stern, I didn’t quite understand you?”

  The murder charges, the loss of freedom that was mere days away, all meaningless when compared to one fact. Lindsay knows. Derek crumples as if a part of him no longer exists.

  Alpino attempts to comfort his client. “I understand your mortification at this film being discovered and I’m fairly confident of having it ruled as inadmissible, however, failing that, if we have to, we can use the tapes of you and your mother to build a defense. We’ll show the film to a jury and they’ll see that you were nothing but a victim of sexual abuse; you had a reason to kill your mother, why years of such deviant behavior could warp anyone. I’m certain you could avoid a life sentence, in fact, I think a plea of diminished capacity may—”

  Derek screams from a red face. “Get out of here!”

  “But we should start charting a defense strategy that—”

  “Out!”

  Alpino motions for the guard. As he’s leaving, he tells his client one last bit of news.

  “They’re transferring you to a Level One Prison until the trial. I’ll see you there Mr. Stern.”

  No you won’t. Derek thinks, as he watches Alpino leave.

  * * *

  December 26th,

  Jason, Lindsay and Jennifer are working in the cottage when Paul stops by.

  Jason shakes his friend’s hand. “Hi, I thought you were working today?”

  “I am unfortunately. I came by to let you know that Derek escaped yesterday.”

  Jennifer turns pale. “Oh no,”

  “How could he escape?” Lindsay asks. “I thought he was in a more secure prison.”

  “That was set to take place today. A woman by the name of Joan Richards distracted the guards by walking around in the nude, and Derek made his move. Because it was Christmas the guards were running a skeleton crew, Derek had been gone for hours before they realized it. A nearby house was burgled and Derek’s prints were found, the owner claims the only things taken were some clothing and a little money.”

  “What are the chances he’ll be captured?” Jason asks.

  “Actually very good, the TV show True Crime will be broadcasting his picture. I think it’s only a matter of time before he’s caught. Listen, I have to get back to town, love you all.” Paul offers a reassuring smile, and then he leaves.

  Jennifer hugs herself. “What if he comes here?”

  Jason goes to her. “Don’t be scared baby, it’ll be all right.”<
br />
  “Maybe it’s time we thought seriously about a security system.” Lindsay says. “It would make us safer, and Derek’s obviously not the only crazy person out there these days.”

  Jason looks into Jennifer’s frightened eyes. “I guess you’re right. I’ll call now.”

  Within a week the cabin and cottage are equipped with state of the art alarm systems.

  * * *

  Monday morning, January 6th, 2003 finds the family going about their usual school year routine. Jennifer has made breakfast and after everyone’s eaten she leaves for class. Jason kisses Lindsay goodbye and takes Matt to the car for his trip to school.

  After making the beds, Lindsay heads out to the cottage to start work. She opens the door and turns on the lights. As she’s closing it, the door is kicked inward; the impact knocks her off balance and sends her to the floor.

  Lindsay watches as Derek enters, the first thing she notices is the gun, it’s an ugly, snub-nosed .22 stolen during the burglary, a gun the owner didn’t report missing because it’s unlicensed.

  Derek slams the door shut. “Get over here and punch in the code!”

  Lindsay takes her eyes from the gun and gazes up at him.

  My God, he looks awful.

  At thirty-nine, Derek looks to be no less than fifty. The once perfect face is a landscape of lines and wrinkles. The stolen suit he wears is at least a size too big and with his hair dyed a ridiculous white blond, the salt and pepper growth of a four-day-old beard makes him look almost silly.

  Lindsay gets up off the floor. “I won’t help you.”

  Derek brandishes the gun at her. “Then I’ll shoot you.”

  “All right,” Lindsay walks over to the keypad and punches in a set of numbers, immediately lights begin flashing and a bell goes off.

  Derek shouts to be heard above the noise. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I punched in the panic code. They won’t phone, they’ll simply send help. If you don’t want to be caught, you’d better leave now Derek.”

  “Fuck! Now I won’t be able to wait for Jason.”

  “If Jason found you here he’d kill you, now get out of here.”

  Derek stares indecisively at the door, next he looks at Lindsay and gestures at a stool near a drawing table.

  “Sit down!”

  Lindsay sits on the stool as Derek settles on one a few feet away. Derek looks her over, lingering at the V-neck of her yellow sweater where a touch of cleavage shows.

  “Hello Lindsay, you look as good as ever.”

  Lindsay glares at him. “Try and rape me again Derek and I’ll make you regret it. I swear to God I will.”

  Derek looks offended. “I just wanted to see you one last time, I—God damn it! I can’t take that noise anymore.”

  Derek locates the alarm bell and fires a shot at it. He misses the bell but does manage to impair the wire that powers it, silencing the alarm.

  “I hate bells.” He says.

  “Leave Derek, please just go.” Lindsay pleads, frightened by his cavalier use of the gun.

  “I came here to kill Jason.”

  “Why? What has Jason ever done to you that you didn’t deserve?”

  “He took you away from me. He took away the only thing I ever loved.”

  “You never loved me. When we dated we barely spent time together unless we were in bed.”

  If I can just keep him talking until the police come. Dear God, don’t let Jason get here first.

  “I was so scared of you Lindsay, do you know that? You scared me to death.”

  “You were afraid of me? Why?”

  Derek looks at the floor. “You made me feel… things. I’d be with you and want to tell you… the truth about… mother and me.”

  “You should have told someone Derek, it’s sick the way she used you, as sick as the way you used Jenny.”

  Lindsay’s eyes drift to the clock on the wall, it reads 8:12. Jason could return at any minute, once more she says a silent prayer.

  “When you married Jason I thought I hated you, but I never hated you, it’s Jason I hate, it’s not right that he’s had you all these years, not when I love you so much.”

  “If you really love me then you’ll leave Jason alone.”

  “Killing Jason would hurt you, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would destroy me.”

  Derek tilts his head and looks at Lindsay strangely. “And vice versa,”

  “Leave Derek, please?”

  “I’ll leave, just know that I’ll always love you Lindsay… goodbye.”

  Derek shoots Lindsay in the head. The impact hurls her backwards off the stool and onto the floor, where she twitches violently; she then lies unmoving, as Derek stares down at her.

  He tumbles to his knees and reaches out to her as blood flows thickly from her wound. He whimpers and lets loose a primal shriek as he cries, his tears fall upon Lindsay’s face and mix with her blood, sending pink tendrils streaking down her cheek.

  Derek presses the gun hard against his right temple and the still warm barrel burns him. However, the sound of approaching sirens breaks his intention, and he lowers the gun.

  He then kisses Lindsay on the mouth. “I love you.”

  Derek lurches out the door and heads for the trees, the sound of his weeping can be heard even above the wail of the nearby sirens.

  Inside the cottage, Lindsay lies dying in a spreading pool of her own blood.

  49

  At 1:16 p.m. the telephone rings in the home of Chief Rollins.

  While halfway out the door on her way to go food shopping, Kathy Rollins reaches back inside and grabs the kitchen phone by the backdoor.

  “Hello?”

  She hears a voice that’s little more than a whisper. “Kathy?”

  “Yes, this is Kathy, who’s this?”

  “It’s Derek Stern, listen, I need money, five thousand dollars,”

  “Derek? Are you crazy calling here? Bob’s home, he’s in the shower.”

  “Fuck Bob! I need money. I’ll be at my house at four o’clock. Five thousand dollars and not a fucking penny less,”

  “I can’t take that kind of money out of our account, Bob will miss it.”

  “You’d better bitch or I’ll tell him she’s mine, you know I will.”

  “No! Derek no, Bob can’t find out Emma’s not his, please, it would kill him.”

  “It’s up to you, five thousand or I tell fucking Bob the truth about his little girl.”

  “Derek… they’re saying you’re the one that shot Lindsay—you didn’t do that, did you?”

  “…My house, four o’clock,” And then Kathy hears a click.

  Kathy hangs up the phone and begins crying, upstairs, a dripping wet Bob Rollins does the same.

  * * *

  The hospital waiting area for relatives of surgery patients is packed with Lindsay’s friends and family. Jason sits flanked by his children, beside each of them sit their grandparents, both Marjorie and Joyce wipe at tears.

  Jason sits looking straight ahead and seeing nothing, at odd intervals he paces around while clenching his fists and talking under his breath, then suddenly he resumes sitting and staring at the wall. In a corner of the ceiling a TV drones with the chatter of daytime talk shows. The room reeks of fear and stale coffee, and the waiting seems endless.

  At last, a doctor emerges. He walks wearily down the corridor and asks for the husband.

  Jason stands on trembling legs and braces for the worst.

  “Mr. Reynolds, my name is Dr. Patel. I’m your wife’s surgeon.”

  “Yes doctor how is she?”

  Dr. Patel rests a soft brown hand on Jason’s shoulder and in his educated British accent tells him. “She’s alive and she’s going to stay that way.”

  A large sigh of relief is heard as everyone in the room begins breathing again.

  Jason grabs the doctor’s hand and gives it an animated shaking. “Thank God oh thank God.”

  “There is
a problem however, she is in a coma and we have no way of knowing when she’ll awaken. Mr. Reynolds there is a miniscule, and I want to stress strongly, a miniscule possibility that she could never awaken, however, all indications are that she’ll awaken soon, as her intra-cranial pressure is slowly lessening.”

  “What would be the normal length of time in a case like this?”

  “Mr. Reynolds there is no normal length of time. It is a waiting game. She could awaken today or a month from today, there is no way to tell, I’m sorry.”

  “When can I see her?”

  “You may see her now, but the other family members will have to wait until she’s stronger, please.”

  Jason opens his mouth to speak and finds he cannot say the words, after a hard swallow, he’s able to ask his question.

  “Doctor, will Lindsay suffer any brain damage?”

  “There is no way to tell at this time. I’m sorry.”

  Jason reaches out for his children and embraces them each in a one-arm hug.

  “Mom’s going to be all right, wait here while I go see her, I love you both.”

  Jennifer and Matt tell him they love him also and Jason follows the doctor to see Lindsay.

  When he sees her he barely recognizes her. Lindsay’s face is twice its normal size and her features are distorted. Her head is bandaged and tubes run into her arms from several dripping bottles, and somehow her body seems smaller, as if the trauma has shrunken her.

  He cries to look at her. I love you Lindsay. Come back to me.

  After a while the doctor tells him it would be best if he left. All she can do is rest.

  “Mr. Reynolds, quite frankly she is lucky to be alive, in some ways it’s a miracle.”

  “My wife has always been miraculous doctor, she’s very special. Please take care of her.” Jason begs. “She is my life.”

  “Mr. Reynolds we will treat her as if she were our own family. She is in good hands.”

  Jason makes his way back to the waiting area and sees Matt crying. He goes to him and lifts his chin.

  “Mom will recover from this.”

  Matt wipes away tears. “How can you know that dad?”

  “Because she loves us and would never leave us. I know she’ll come back to me. I just know.” Jason turns to his parents. “Please stay with the kids. I want to ask the doctor a few more questions. I’ll be home later.”