by all means do not get distracted. The possible events that can occur in the wink of an eye are endless, absolutely endless. So though he is more than three quarters of the way home, has, in fact, only .a few more streets to drive, about ten actually, still the possibilities for disaster are legion. Yet it does look, more and more, as if he will arrive at his home without incident. Even now he is parking the car. Yet he does not get out but sits staring through the windshield. He is, perhaps, uncertain if his legs will support his weight if he stands. He looks around carefully before opening the door wanting, I am certain, to avoid the ultimate irony of thrusting open his door and stepping in front of a vehicle and … and what? Who knows? But there is no traffic, yet he does have to lean against the car adjusting to standing, until his vision clears and he can walk slowly and carefully up the walk.
My god! the walk looks endless. How can the door be so far away? It looks like its in another land. How can I possibly make it to the door, its much too far. I just cant do it. But I cant stand here forever—the longest journey starts with a single step—have to get off the street. Just push myself off the car. One foot, then the other, thats all, one foot, then the other, over and over, cant walk too fast anyway, feel wobbly, something wrong with my balance, god, the neighbors will think Im drunk if I keep staggering and what will they think if I fall that I had a heart attack and call 911 no, have to keep my balance and just get to the door but I cant look desperate god only knows whos watching me have to look relaxed like Im just strolling up the walk, thats it, look around at the trees up at the sky stop and look at a flower, look really interested and get my wind feel like Ive run a couple of miles maybe I can whistle or puff my cheeks like I am so if they are watching theyll think Im just strolling and whistling and enjoying the birds and the flowers o krist Ive got to get to that door and in the house jesus now the sweat is running into my eyes and I cant see cant take out my handkerchief, too obvious, just pretend Im scratching my head and wipe my eyes with my finger tip oh that feels good can see just a few more feet oh sweet jesus Im going to make it nice and easy key in the lock just sort of lean against the door I think thats how I usually open it I think roll behind it and push it closed I made it I made it the door is locked shut Im home I wonder what time it is how long have I been away I cant remember what time I left the coffee shop never knew really have to sit oh god that feels good should take my jacket off and tie cant bother have to sit rest oh god I feel faint whats going on????
Oh thats better, much better. Catch my breath. Wow that feels good! How did I ever breathe with the collar buttoned? No wonder I felt faint, I was being strangled. Feel a million times better just opening it. Get this jacket off in a minute … or two. That air feels so good, just, going right down my throat. Cant believe how different my chest feels. Legs still wobbly. Damn. Why in the hell cant I stand? Getting dizzy just from trying to stand. This is crazy for krists—okay, just relax. Sit a few more minutes. No rush. Nice and easy. Damn. Not even 3 oclock. Seems like years ago. Just a few hours. He goes to lunch at one. Cant seem to remember what happened. Can see it, but memorys hazy. How strange. Know exactly what happened, yet … At least I think I know what happened. Could I be wrong? Cant be. No. Howd I get out? The coffee shop. Didnt run. No. To the car. Cant remember. But I drove home. Im here. How in the name of krist did I make it? All the way? I dont remember it yeah, thats right, my eyes burned. Sweat. Five miles. At least. Should remember something. Wonder if I can stand now? Think Im soaking wet. No, better not shower. Legs too wobbly. Krist, Im really home. I did it. Didnt I? Yeah, I know, but better check the bottle. At least that way—Empty. Knew I dumped it. I really did it. I did it … and Im here. Home. All the way home. Wonder if the cars okay? Didnt hit anything. O krist, I/d remember something like that. Sure. Yeah!!!! Im here. Its over—Hey! Im standing. My legs are fine. Pick up your pallet and walk my son. Maybe tomorrow I/ll remember more clearly. A shower. Hot. Cold. Get these clothes off. What a great day. Greatest day of my life. No, no tossing clothes on the bed. Hang up the suit, nice and tidy. Everything in perfect order.
Indeed, all is perfect in the perfectly ordered life of the man … at this particular moment. Our man is singing in the shower, his legs sturdy, the water hot, relaxing, mist filling the bathroom, clinging to the mirror. In time, perhaps soon, he will increase the cold water in small increments and when he finally turns off the water he will feel invigorated and rub himself briskly and step forth a new man, at least for a moment.
Bring me giants! Cant believe my legs were so weak just a few minutes ago. I could climb a mountain. No, I could run up the son of a bitch. God, Im starving. Ha ha, no wonder, I didnt eat any lunch. Whip something up. Roast beef sandwich and a beer sounds good. Pickle too. Sounds great. Watch a movie while I eat. Could go out later to a restaurant and celebrate with a late dinner. Nice piece of broiled fish I havent checked the car. I know nothings wrong but better check it anyway no point in taking chances well I dont know what chances but its the little details that make or break you no I wont look conspicuous Im not going to stare at every inch I/ll just walk slowly around to the drivers side yeah thats it look carefully no rush open the door yeah open the door and lean in and op—no get in and open the glove box and rummage around for a minute now get out and walk around the other way … yeah, who is going to notice just go back up the walk nice and easy and get back in my chair and finish my sandwich, nothing to it, and my legs feel fine, didnt wobble not even for a minute. Strong as a running backs. Still afternoon. Cant seem to get used to the time. Seems like such a long day. Guess it is but still plenty of time. What a wonder this day is and—maybe I should hide the bottle dont want a series of coincidences revealing what happened but what can be revealed still you cant be too safe but if some weird set of circumstances leads to the bottle what can be more oh for crying out loud, just throw it all away, bottle, culture all of it, but if I need more oh this is silly, I can always make more and what would I say if the cops found the jar of culture in the closet okay, lets stop this, forget all this, no one is going to be looking for anything throw everything out and sit here and relax and listen to the birds, yeah talk to me, no sing to me my finches and mockingbirds, yes sing such lovely songs my pretty birds pretty birds sing sing how sweet your song a song so light and delicate a lullaby that puts the devil to sleep ah yes defenseless against a microbe how sweetly poetic like the nightingale to undo the tyranny of demons with something invisible to the naked eye oh yes the demonic eye is naked to my scrutiny I will seek you out uncover you and lay waste to you without your knowledge without your knowing that you are being sent to the fires of your own creation still unaware of my existence not even a name or face to you not even the 9 digits of a social security number unaware this entity you chose to treat with contempt is your executioner oh yes I will eat cake while you eat the dirt of your grave oh lets hope your pain is severe the least life can do to avenge all those thousands you have caused such egregious pain to oh lets hope the agony brings moans and pleas from your lips sweet music to join the singing of my nightingale sweet songs to celebrate the worms crawling through your loathsome carcass
What a lovely evening—night? no its still evening, hard to tell this time of year, wonder what time it is oh not important, lots of people on the street, wonder if I should get something to eat oh not now maybe later dont think Im hungry, damn cant remember where Ive been I mean I know where Ive been just cant remember being there I really do remember the streets of course I can … lets see theres Lawrence then Hobbs th—well yes of course theres Selby but I live there naturally I didnt start with that thinking of the streets later okay so theres Selby, Bankcroft, then Lawrence I know but thats just a short little piece of a street just a ‘bridge’ really from Bankcroft to Lawrence okay okay so Solo Court, Lawrence, Hobbs, Tempo, Main and now Im on Valley Circle walking around ‘The Square’ I know exactly where I am, and where I have been, and I am ‘aware’ of my surroundings, the people the shops the cafes the
bistros the trattorias the coffee shops the restaurants the delis, I am perfectly ‘aware’, soon I/ll turn on Garden and see where I/ll end up, can always eat later, fewer people here, seems like Ive been walking a long time but doesnt feel like it, quieter here top fewer cars traffic sounds so far away, trees probably block the sound dull it, part of the campus I always liked, wouldnt think its a major university more like a suburban campus, trees and bushes even some paths, cant see the parking structure, just over that hill from here, cant see the street either, such a small decline blocks everything out, just the trees and shrubs and bushes and whatever, sit for a few minutes oh wow that feels good, god bless whoever thought to put a bench here, must have been walking fast, feels like anyway, actually its a bit of a distance, couple of miles I guess, or more … can really feel it in my legs now that Im sitting, and my back … can feel my breathing slowing down too, must have been really pushing it … yeah, nothing like a little aerobics for strength and health. Really pretty place. Even a slight breeze down here. Faint but noticeable. Especially on my face, must have been sweating. The air is so sweet, no perfume of flowers, just sweet clean, I guess thats what it is it smells clean and sweet and feels so refreshing I could sit here all night, yeah, does feel like its getting late, but the suns still up, can see it bouncing off the leaves in the top of the trees. Really pretty. Sparkles. Glitters, thats it, gutters. Probably be a pretty sunset tonight. Wonder what kind of food I want? Suddenly feel ravenous. Must have walked up an appetite. Didnt realize it until I sat down in this idyllic little spot. Like the world doesnt exist. Keep getting hungrier and hungrier. What do I want to eat? Just hungry. Maybe I/ll just stop in the first place I come to. See how it feels. May just as well cut through the campus. Pleasant. Cool. Walk slowly and enjoy the scenery—Yeah, maybe Barnards feeling feverish. Cant eat. His wife will ask him whats wrong and he/ll tell her its his stomach, must have been something he ate. Must be tainted tunafish. Now that sounds good, very good, Tainted Tunafish. Repeat after me class, Tainted Tunafish. Tainted Tunafish. Very good. Now once again, Tainted Tunafish. Tainted TUNafish. And what do we get from Tainted Tunafish? Altogether now … S I C K. He should make Ripleys Believe It Or Not, ordered a salad and a coke, and got sick from Tainted Tunafish
The man moves merrily, happily through the trees, along paths and walkways, trees and bushes casting long shadows in the evening sun. Such a joyful buoyancy to his step, such an expansiveness to his demeanor as he treads across the grass, stopping frequently to enjoy the flowers, breathing deeply of this salutary atmosphere, not noticing as he steps from grass to concrete, totally immersed and involved in his thinking and the joyous sensations it creates in his body, the lightness of foot and shoulders, flowing through the lengthening shadows, feeling them brush his cheek and finds himself sitting at a sidewalk table and ordering one of the specials with a slight wave of his hand, a broad smile and jaunty and jovial attitude, then leaning back in his chair and sipping his aperitif as, his shadow stretches itself, leisurely, across the pavement.
Dont know how long it takes for E.coli to start working, I mean when he would feel it. Information doesnt apply to this situation. Possible may only get slight upset. Well, that doesnt have to be a disaster … Actually might be fine … could work out very well … yeah … yeah, we could have lunch together every few weeks or so. Oh yeah, that could be even better. If he just gets slightly sick the doctor wouldnt even think of checking for E.coli … well maybe. Good chance give him some maalox or something. Eventually might check, but for a while it would just be an ‘undiagnosed chronic condition’. Oh that would be great: What in the hells wrong with me doc, I cant stand this much longer, been going on for months. Having a hard time working, falling behind and Im up for review in a couple of months. And my wifes complaining. I cant be late in getting my reports to Washington I cant tell you what its like to get that bureaucracy on your back, you cant explain anything to them even if you can find someone to explain the situation to, its like trying to nail jello to the wall and I—
Whoa, slow down there. Youll only make it worse. It may take time but—
But thats exactly what Ive been trying to tell you, I dont have—
Please, Mr Barnard, you must try and relax—squeezing his shoulders slightly and smiling—you have been under a great deal of stress and it is definitely aggravating the situation.
Mr Barnard sighed and leaned back against the examining table and nodded his head, Okay … yeah … I guess youre right—shaking his head as he stared at the floor, then raised his head slowly and looked at the doctor with such intense sadness and pleading he was happy his patient had medical insurance or he might be tempted, or at least hard pressed, to bill him personally (heehee)
Heres the name of a doctor I want you to see, an allergist.
Allergist? I dont understand—shaking his head, his face twisted with confusion—the problems in my stomach so—
Allergies are devious devils. An allergy, or allergies, can actually produce the symptoms you are complaining about and I feel it would be more effective to investigate the possibility of your problem being due to allergies before we undertake the many faceted and lengthy gastro-intestinal tests. Much more comfortable too—smiling in his best reassuring manner—And if it is an allergy your condition may be corrected with a simple pill—patting Mr Barnard on the back and smiling reassuringly—In the meantime relax and take it easy and call Dr Jansen as soon as you get back to your office. Okay?—tapping him on the shoulder.
The hangdog look clung to Barnard tenaciously, eating its way, like leprosy, under his skin, through his muscles and tendons, seeking out pathways to eat its way through his body, into his bones and their very marrow, into his blood and slowly eat away his brain; and too, like a cancer starting in the innermost parts of his body, ravenous cells chewing and clawing their way through bone and muscle, tissue and tendon, biting, ripping, devouring but not killing, but rather savoring the delicious process of painful and agonizing destruction.
There was no joy in Barnardville again that night as party pooper daddy dragged his depressed self through the front door, his sotto voce greeting being absorbed by the rug as the children ignored him and his wife grunted and mumbled, Its home.
Dessert, sir?
Huh???? Oh no, no. Thank you. Just the check.
What a heart warming smile on the mans face. It would gladden the heart of one and all who might look upon it. The man deserves to feel self-satisfied as he stands, stretches just a mite, turns his neck, rolls his shoulders, and ambles his way toward home.
It might be many, many months before he finds out what is wrong with him, a slow and continuous degeneration. Or he might slowly recover and we can have lunch again. A slow succumbing to a chronic illness. How beautiful.
But you promised, Daddy, you promised.
Im sorry sweetheart, but I dont feel well. I have to rest this weekend. Some other time.
But you said that last weekend.
Waiting Period: A Novel Page 4
