The Killing Vote

by Bette Golden Lamb

Rudge’s decision not to go away to college had been an easy one‒they lived in Davis, home to a University of California campus. He could attend and still remain close to his sister.

  Over the years he’d watched her grow weaker. His mother and father accepted her fate, but he never could.

  Was there a God? He didn’t think so.

  Rudge thought about pouring another drink. Instead, he sprawled naked on the king-size bed and closed his eyes, drifted back to that last weekend with Evelyn.

  * * *

  For their twentieth wedding anniversary, Rudge’s parents left the house late Friday afternoon to spend a long weekend alone at a friend’s beach-front house in Carmel.

  Almost from the moment the door closed, Evelyn demanded that her brother join her for a “hush-hush”—their term from childhood for a secret twins’ talk.

  Stretched out on the living room sofa, she motioned for him to sit on the floor next to her. He plopped down and made their secret sign, assuring her that he was sworn to secrecy—it was the kind of kid stuff she held onto. He took her hand and noticed how pale her skin had become.

  As he looked into her faded grey eyes, he knew ... knew his sister would be gone soon.

  “Garr,” she said softly, squeezing his hand, than added in a rush, “I want someone to make love to me.” A long moment passed. She cleared her throat, whispered, “I want to have sex .”

  He leaned back, pulled his hand away. “Geez, Evie! What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about an intimate relationship, Garr,” she said, chin held high. “I need you to understand, help me.” She reached out, made him take her hand again. “You’ve been on dates, lots of them, right?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever gone all the way.”

  “I ... uh ... well...”

  “Of course you have. I can feel it. I’m your twin and we know everything about each other. S o don’t lie, not now.”

  “Okay ... okay. Maybe a few times.”

  “Well, no one has ever made love to me, Garr. I’m nineteen years old and I’ve never even kissed anyone except you and Mom and Dad.”

  He started to object, but she shushed him.

  “I’m going to die soon; we all know that.” When he tried to object again, she squeezed his hand harder. “Mom and Dad won’t talk about it, but I have to have someone to share my thoughts with. So, like when we were little and played play tag, you’re it.”

  He hesitated, then nodded.

  She turned her head, stared out the window. “For a long time I was afraid of death, but that’s gone now. What I feel is … cheated. No, make that pissed. I’m pissed about all the things I haven’t been able to do, things I’ll never get to do.”

  She ran fingers through her limp hair, hair that was dull and lifeless.

  “I knew almost from the start I’d have to give up my dreams of climbing mountains, chasing rainbows.” She laughed. “For a long time I fooled myself into believing I would get to do at least a few ordinary things, like go to school dances, attend parties in funky clothes … have a boyfriend.”

  She turned back to him.

  “I’ve even fantasized about running away all by myself, backpacking, eating and sleeping under the stars. But, Garr, I would have been happy just to ride a bicycle, or go to a movie with other girls and act silly.”

  She doubled a fist and pressed it hard against her mouth to keep from crying.

  “Lately, my thoughts have been stuck on just one thing—I need to know what it would be like to have someone hold me, kiss me, want me. I ... I—”

  “Evie! We couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

  She looked at him, shook her head slowly from side to side. “I didn’t mean you and me!” Tears spilled softly at first, then in torrents.

  “Don’t cry, Evie.” He got up, sat on the edge of the couch and wrapped his arms around her. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Garr.” She hugged him to her and whispered in his ear, “You can understand what I want, can’t you?”

  Rudge held her for a long time, confused, uncertain. He whispered, “I love you, Evie, You know that. I’d do anything for you.”

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. “And I need you to do this ... find me a lover.”

  * * *

  Evelyn created the mood for the rest of the weekend.

  Under her direction, Rudge used Saturday morning to turn the upstairs into an intimate retreat, complete with incense and scented candles in every room. He found a black, lacy nightgown and negligee for Evelyn in their mother’s wardrobe.

  A little past noon, they shared a joint. It was a habit they’d gotten into of late, whenever their parents were not around. There had been some parental sniffs and frowns, but no comments, no questioning.

  Self- conscious at first, they avoided each other’s eyes, but the marijuana relaxed them and they began to giggle.

  “Have you thought of someone?” she asked.

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Evie? With a complete stranger?”

  “If it’s someone you know, someone you vouch for, then he won’t be a total stranger, will he?”

  “I suppose not.” He took a drag from the joint, held it, and let it out slowly. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I have been giving some thought to one of my fraternity brothers, Nolan Rhodes.”

  “Oh!”

  It was the first time he’d seen even a tinge of sparkle in her eyes in a long, long time. “Yeah ... nice guy ... a bit shy. Don’t think he dates much, though.”

  “Ugly, huh?”

  Rudge laughed and handed the one-drag-left joint to Evie. “No, not ugly. Not at all.”

  “And?”

  “If you’re thinking of tonight, there’s not that much time left to get hold of him.”

  She nodded.

  “Okay! He’s a townie so maybe it won’t be all that difficult to chase him down.”

  It only took two phone calls.

  “I’m going out to meet with him, Evie. I should be back within an hour or so.”

  * * *

  “We agreed on eight o’clock,” Rudge said when he returned home. “Is that okay?”

  She blushed. “You ... you didn’t have to ... to pay him, did you?”

  “If he’d asked for money, he wouldn’t have been the right guy.” He took a deep breath. “My God, Evie, I would never, never embarrass you like that.”

  She blushed again and gave him a soft smile.

  “So what’s next?” he asked.

  “Would you think me terrible if I asked you to help me with a bubble bath?”

  * * *

  About 6:30, Rudge filled the sunken tub in the master bath with mounds of scented bubbles. Evelyn was light as a feather as he carried her to the tub and lowered her into the steamy water. There was no embarrassment between them ‒he’d seen her nude many times since she became ill, more saddened each time as he watched her body waste away.

  Heady aromas swirled around her; bubbles caressed her now hidden body.

  She flicked the fingers of one hand at him. “Out, Garr! Allow me to soak and dream for awhile.”

  * * *

  When Rudge’s fraternity brother arrived‒right on time‒the two of them, both nervous, exchanged a few pleasantries before Rudge led Nolan up the stairs. The soft beat of erotic African music came from the master bedroom.

  When the two of them entered, Evelyn was sitting on the edge of the king-size bed, smiling. She had draped the black nightgown and negligee around her to cover as much of her as possible.. Rudge couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his sister wearing makeup, and even now she’d used only light trace of color for her lips and eyes. Her hair was a delicate frame around her face.

  “Nolan, Evelyn; Evelyn, Nolan.”

  Rudge turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  * * *
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br />   Rudge awakened, startled. Someone was poking him in the ribs. His parents! They’d come home early!

  He twisted around on the couch, saw the family room TV was on, playing some unrecognizable movie. He looked up and saw Evie standing over him, wrapped in an old flannel robe, a silly grin on her face.

  “What time is it?” he mumbled.

  “After two,” Evie said.

  “Oh ... oh! Nolan! Is he still here?”

  “No, silly, he’s gone.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “You know ... the two of you. What happened?”

  She squatted down, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed each cheek several times.

  “Garrett Rudge, you are the most wonderful brother of all time.”

  He gently pushed her out to arm’s length and said, “So tell me all about it.”

  She sat back on her haunches and gave him her evilest Evie scowl. “You’ve got to be kidding.

  “The only thing I’m going to say is that at the start, it was kind of awkward, for both of us. And then it became the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  Rudge could breathe freely again; the worry, the strain were suddenly gone. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

  “No, I want you to fix me some scrambled eggs, toast, and hot chocolate.” She stretched up onto her toes, arms spread wide. “I don’t know why, but I’m famished!”

  * * *

  Rudge, dressed in a custom-tailored black cashmere sport coat, sharply creased dark gray wool slacks, and a soft, silvery silk shirt, sipped champagne from a tall crystal flute. He moved casually through the large room, from person to person, engaging in brief conversations, mostly with people he’d been introduced to at similar gatherings during the past couple of years at “The Residence.”

  It was an exclusive club, admission by invitation only. Most of the people in the room held positions of great influence, either in business or government.

  There were no women present.

  Rudge settled into a sofa covered in rich brocade, one of many scattered throughout the salon. A young pianist fingered Bach on a Steinway concert grand, illuminated by the flickering light of a ceiling-high fieldstone fireplace. A sweep of original Georgia O’Keefe tumescent flowers decorated the expansive walls.

  Rudge, like the others, paid little attention to the décor, more captivated by a portable stage set at the far end of the long room. Most of the platform was concealed by black silk curtains. But with each passing minute, there was a growing sense of anticipation until the atmosphere became charged with unbearable excitement. The men talked louder, telling ribald jokes with champagne-relaxed tongues. Eyes darted back and forth between the stage and a huge grandfather’s clock set off to one side.

  Seconds before the hour, the hubbub tailed off to near silence. Tension gripped the room as a deep, resonant chime sent everyone searching for a seat. On the tenth gong, a woman entered at the back of the room and glided majestically toward the stage. Everyone stood to watch her slow, sensuous promenade.

  She was tall, more than six feet. Coal black hair cascaded across her shoulders in stark contrast to her milky white skin. She glowed with a silvery luminescence; her thin, sharply crested lips glistened in dark pinot noir red.

  Rudge, like many others, was captivated by her angular face—chiseled high cheekbones melded into deep facial caverns, bisected by a prominent nose with flaring nostrils. He felt small as he looked across the room at her dark turquoise eyes.

  As she cut a path through the audience, every movement was accented by the flick of a black velvet cape wrapped around her body. The dominatrix stepped onto the small stage.

  No! Not tonight!

  Rudge turned, and without a single excuse me or sorry, or pardon me, he wedged and bumped his way toward the now-closed double entry doors.

  Once in the lounge area, he made his way to a dark corner of the room and collapsed into a burgundy, overstuffed, leather chair, and closed his eyes. Never before had he shied away from The Residence’s sadistic program of chastisement, punishment, and humiliation in this grandiose room filled with influential men, men he admired and attempted to emulate.

  The audience did not know what he had done in his life to willingly subject himself to such exposure and pain, nor did they care. Like him, they were there of their own free will to endure excruciating physical and mental pain that would drive out debilitating memories that interfered with moving forward with their lives.

  Unlike other visits to The Residence, this time the image would not go away ... an image of Evie, sitting on a kitchen stool, happily licking butter from her fingertips, a tan moustache of melted marshmallows decorating her upper lip, and jibber-jabbering about everything and nothing.

  The scene always segued to Evie’s funeral. She had died two days after her date with Nolan Rhodes.

  The less-than-confident medical diagnosis was that she had died from over-exertion. The doctor’s words were seared into Rudge’s brain forever.

  Rudge believed then, and continued to believe, that he was responsible for his twin sister’s death.

  Chapter 16

  Sarah Silva was signing off on Della Paoli’s nurse’s notes when an end-of-shift lassitude hit her hard and kept her from concentrating, Words blurred as she tried to read what she’d written. She finally turned away from the computer.

  “Better hurry, it’s almost time for report,” her team cohort said, “That is unless you plan on clocking in for the next shift. Our adorable Supe would love you for it.”

  “No thanks.” Sarah crossed her eyes and gave her a goofy smile. “I’ll get it together in a minute.”

  It was a silly act. She was worried. Thinking about the committee meeting earlier in the day was slowing her down. The heated discussion continued to run through her head, leaving her troubled and undecided.

  She leaned back into her chair and looked at the patients scattered among a maze of equipment that crawled in, out, and around the room: Monitors reported cardiac, pulmonary, arterial, chemical functions. And there were IV tubes, feeding tubes, tubes that probed and poked like a moving jungle of hungry snakes, burrowing into noses, throats, chests, arms, legs. And over it all was the constant rasp of suction that was loud and constant, like a demanding animal requiring constant feeding.

  Sarah wondered what it would be like to wake up enclosed in all of this equipment that winked and blinked at you as it sent out alarms and buzzers that meant someone’s life, maybe your life, was in danger.

  She looked over at one of the other patients, Myra Jackson. The woman had gone through six hours of surgery. It was as though some freak must have thought she was a blood-thirsty vampire and tried to drive a stake through her heart.

  Crazy world.

  “How’s Jackson doing?”

  The other nurse looked up and frowned at Sarah. She didn’t like anything that distracted her from her notes.

  “Hey, I’m trying to wind up here. I’ve got plans for later on.” But she shrugged, pulled up her computer notes and looked at the screen. “We keep pumping the blood in, she keeps leaking it out. A nicked lung, stomach, and a bruised heart, to say nothing of the crap that’s still hanging around from that chunk of wood. None of it’s doing her any good. She’s lucky to still be with us. Things don’t look too great.”

  “Poor woman,” Sarah said.

  “She’s lived to almost 80. Be grateful and call it a day.”

  Sarah thought about the committee again. “Do you really feel that way?”

  “Hell, yes. We all have to go sometime. Why should she lie there and suffer?”

  “Maybe Myra Jackson doesn’t feel that way,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, well, those are the breaks. Someone upstairs …” she pointed at the ceiling “… said it was time.” She went back to finishing her notes.

  Sarah turned back to the computer screen and looked at her entries. She was almost finished.

>   The ICU unit was equipped to handle up to fifteen patients, but Galen didn’t have the staff for that kind of census, and hadn’t in the three years she’d been there. Most of the time, she was forced to float from unit to unit. Lesser skilled personnel picked up the slack, but the responsibility always fell back on the nurses’ shoulders.

  Sarah stood and stretched before making her final rounds. Then she was up and moving among her three patients.

  Standing next to Della Paoli’s bed, she looked at the sweat-drenched hair cemented to the patient’s skull. Tears rolled down the woman’s cheeks.

  “It’s all right.” Sarah squeezed Della’s hand. “I know you’re frightened, But you’re safe with us now.” Della’s respirations slowed. Several seconds passed and Sarah pulled a syringe from her pocket.

  “I’m going to give you medication to help you sleep.” She injected the med slowly into one of IV ports and continued to observe the woman. Her breathing became slower and deeper.

  When Sarah returned to the nurses’ station, she greeted the first arrivals of the swing shift before signing off on her notes. Now she was ready for the evening report.

  * * *

  Della tried to fight the sedative. But she was rising, drawn into a vortex of swirling colors, The brilliance undulated through a rainbow, swelling into an array of blues that danced before her eyes. The colors changed, turning into tinted wisps of pink that doubled back, evolving into puffs of purple.

  In the distance, a shimmering form emerged, morphed into an enormous butterfly that swooped her up and carried her above the clouds where she was surrounded by a swarm of golden butterflies.

  Far below, she could see herself walking hand-in-hand with her father, laughing as they strolled through the park. She was happy as they rolled in the grass and stared at the puffy clouds riding across the sky; to Della they looked like heavenly flowers scattered far and wide.

  Daddy was calling her, “Della, stop chasing the butterflies, Leave them alone!”

  Glass jar in hand, with the warm sun beating down on her, she looked at all the yellow butterflies floating near her. And the most perfect one hovered over her head. She studied the velvety body, the delicate wings.