by B Anders
Harper actually laughed. "You're a riot. My house. Take me to my house. It's 238 Wes..."
"I’ve already loaded your address into the GPS. I swung by your house a couple of times today looking to see if you were home. Your neighbors probably think I’m your half-crazed stalker girlfriend or something. Anyway, going home is the worst idea you had today." Courtney paused before correcting herself, "Second worst idea."
"You said you'd drive me anywhere I wanted, so drive me home. That was the deal. I get in the car, and you drive me where I want to go, and I want to go home."
Courtney shook her head. "No, I can’t leave you alone. Let's go to your Mom's, okay?"
"So she can take care of me?" Harper laughed louder than she needed to. "She'd have to put her Scotch down first, and my Mother puts down her Scotch for nobody. My dear old Dad is in the midst of his midlife coming out of the closet partying. He’s too busy banging my eighteen-year-old stepfather to help out a mistake from his previous life of lies. Can't really blame them for the fuck-a-thon. They got married last month so technically, they’re still on their honeymoon."
"What about a friend?" Courtney asked undeterred. “There must be someone who doesn’t hate your guts?’
Harper grinned. It was a grotesquely wounded effort. "None of them would be thrilled to see me in the wee hours of the morning. Besides, if they’re not stoned out of their gourds or dead drunk on the floor they won’t be home right now anyway. They’re all probably at some club partying hard and making plans to hit an after-hours joint. Can't spoil their fun now, can we?"
Courtney bit her lip in thought before breaking into a big grin. "I know. I've got the perfect solution."
Courtney started the car and was shifting into drive before Harper got the words out. "What solution? I don’t need a solution from you. I just need you to take me home. That's all you got to do."
"Settle down, I've got this under control."
Harper was pissed when Courtney turned left instead of right out of the parking lot. "I thought you said you programmed my address into the GPS. You're taking the wrong turn."
"No, I'm not. You're coming back to the hotel with me. There are two queen beds and round the clock room service." Harper opened her mouth to object, but Courtney silenced her with a glare. "Listen, Harper. This isn't negotiable. I didn’t drive around all day so I could pick you up at the hospital and drop you off alone at home for you to try and hurt yourself again. I don’t need this shit on my watch. What I need is to be sure you’re safe tonight. Just go along with me on this. Otherwise, I'll have to call the police about the suicide note."
"I wrote that note weeks ago!" Harper bellowed. "It has nothing to do with what happened today."
"Right, sure, tell that to the cops when they come talk to you about it," Courtney countered calmly. "I am sure the Boston Police Department..."
"Lot you know! We're not even in Boston. We're in Brockton," Harper shouted.
Courtney was unstoppable with her sarcasm. "Wherever the Hell we are shit hole city police department will be reasonable, I'm sure. They'll see the note for what it is. Just a little gag, right? And, I’m betting that frumpy psych doctor and the ER nurses will vouch for your sanity. Oh, wait, maybe not. I hear you were quite the bitch in there tonight. They'd probably be glad to get you back in restraints, wouldn't they?”
"No need to be flip." Harper glared at the woman noting the firm set of Courtney’s jaw. "Thought you said you deleted my note."
"From the shared folder. I copied it onto a thumb drive."
Taking a deep breath, Harper asked. "So how long are you going to blackmail me into doing what you say?"
"Long enough for me to figure out if you're going to try to hurt yourself again."
Harper settled her head back against the warm, comfortable seat. "Good luck with that one. Even I don't know that answer. This project of yours could take years."
***
Dad strode over to the phone. I'm going to order room service. Your eyes sparkled. 'Yes, room service for room 237. Yes, I'd like two Bud Lights, two scotches, and two chocolate milks.' Mom looked right at us and said, 'I could get used to this kind of pampering,' as she unpacked the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the cooler for dinner.
If Harper was going to be honest with herself, going back to the hotel with Courtney was not a half-bad idea. She didn't relish the thought of Ms. Corporate Troll recording her every hiccup in that little blackberry, but the bed was soft, and the sheets were clean as a spring breeze over fresh cut grass. Harper closed her eyes and savored the warmth of a memory so old it must have belonged in another lifetime.
“Perhaps,” She reminded herself in a half mutter, “it did belong to someone else. I must have seen it somewhere in a book and stolen it away. That would be my style, stealing someone's happy memory and pretending it’s my own.”
She was aware of the light on the stand next to the bed clicking off, but did not raise her eyelids even a crack to see where Courtney was standing. Harper knew she had to be close. Harper expected the woman was hovering over her this very moment, like flies over road kill.
‘I wonder what she sees looking down at me? Some pathetic, useless excuse for a human being. I must disgust her.’
The unanswered question flooded Harper's head with alarming, nightmarish visions. Harper suppressed a shudder as she valiantly tried to shake off a lifetime of self-loathing. She knew she didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in her own misery, not with the troll holding her suicide note as a bargaining chip.
‘Why is she blackmailing me? But, why bother? What’s the point? Why not just give that damn note over to the hospital and let them drug me up to the eyeballs and send me home with papers to apply for SSI?’ The thoughts came fast and furious.
"Why didn't you just tell the hospital about my note? What the shit do you want with me?" Harper blurted out her fear aloud into the darkness.
The peaceful quiet of the dark room was interrupted by a loud thud.
"FUCK! Ouch! What did you say? I was in the bathroom. I couldn't hear you. Oh, crap this hurts. Fuck! Could you turn on the fuckin’ light?"
Harper lay still on the bed, pretending to be asleep until the sound of Courtney’s angry curses grew too much for her to take. Grudgingly she sat up and fumbled for the light.
“Gimme a second, OK? Nice mouth, by the way. Who the hell brought you up? A gang of Tarantino wannabe's?”
Harper's question was cut short by a pause followed by a loud guffaw as she bowled over with laughter. Laughter that came deep from the bottom of that miserable heart of hers. She imagined it originated from the sealed chamber she had locked away all the good things life could offer. Harper shut that part of herself away ages ago determined never to enjoy another minute of her life again. But the image of the woman sprawled on the floor before her had somehow breached the prison walls allowing her laughter to break free.
Courtney's face was a mask of green, cold cream. Her hair held back by a red and white bandana tied at the top. The white tank top she was wearing had run up her skinny butt to exposure her Winnie-the-pooh print bikini underpants.
"Oh boy, this really hurts. FUCK!"
Harper continued laughing unable to stop in spite of the daggers Courtney was throwing her way. "I'm sorry. Really, sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but you just look so..."
"Injured! I look so fuckin’ injured. What the fuck is it with you? Stop laughing and help me up. I think I twisted my ankle." Courtney said.
If Harper didn't feel a twinge of guilt for laughing at Courtney, she would have rolled over, told the other woman to stop whining and go to sleep. Instead, she put on her very best somber face and climbed out of bed. Ambling over to Courtney, Harper kneeled down next to her. Courtney’s foot was caught in the long straps of her computer bag. With an unusually light touch, Harper untangled the strap from Courtney's swelling ankle.
"You want me to call the house doctor? I don't think it's broken, but it does
look pretty bruised," Harper said.
Courtney shot back, "Thanks for finally noticing Ms. Ha-Ha. And, no thank you, I don’t need a doctor. It'll be fine if I elevate it. Could you help me get up and back into the bathroom?"
"Why don't I grab some pillows from the closet and we'll get the foot up." Harper bit her lip as she looked around the room, "I thought I saw an ice bucket some place. You could put some ice on it."
"I need to get back into the bathroom pronto," Courtney said. "This cream has to get off my face in thirty-eight seconds."
"I'll grab some towels you can do it out here," Harper offered.
"Okay, be like that. Don't fuckin’ help me," Courtney swatted Harper out of her way. "I don’t need your help. I'll crawl back on my own."
Harper sat back and watched Courtney crawl to the bathroom. Any reasonable person would have offered Courtney a hand. Harper knew that. Any sane person would have offered to help. Harper knew that too.
Quietly Harper got back into bed and pulled the covers up over her head.
***
The alarm went off with a catchy show tune from an ancient Broadway musical. A delightfully chirpy and optimistic outburst proclaiming the joys of tomorrow.
"Can you shut that shit off?" Harper bellowed as she buried her head deeper under the covers. "I'm trying to sleep here."
Courtney cleared her throat. "Good morning to you too. Glad to see you’re up bright and cheery today. Now get the fuck out of bed.”
The music clicked off after a few minutes, and it was blessed silence until Harper heard the bathroom light flip on. The exhaust fan began to hum. Once the door closed, Harper sat up. Courtney's bed was empty and other than the blanket, folded away neatly on one side, the bed looked like nobody had slept in it. In contrast, Harper assessed the damage done to her bed during the night’s wrestling match with her inner demons. One pillow was missing in action while the other was wet with tears, and the mattress was totally exposed on the lower left side with the top sheet twisted around her hips. There were also fresh scratches on her arms and some spots of blood on the blanket.
"Looks like I took on King Kong and lost. No wonder I'm exhausted." Harper sighed as she slowly started to unravel the sheets from her body.
She was almost free from the tangle of sheets when Courtney emerged from the bathroom. The woman walked gingerly back to bed, trying to conceal her awkward limp. Her eyes were dark with bags. Harper wondered what time Courtney eventually went to bed. It looked to Harper like she didn't sleep a wink last night. The yawn she tried to swallow as she sat down confirmed as much.
"So how are you feeling today?" Courtney asked.
Harper smiled. "Excellent! Ready to start the first day of the rest of my life."
"How long a life is that going to be, Harper? Long enough for you to get out that door and try to drown yourself in the swimming pool?"
"Very direct," Harper observed. "You don't beat around the bush, do you? They must love you at Corporate. Well, to answer your question, I'm no doctor, but I suppose my life expectancy is pretty much the norm for an average American female with my height and weight." Harper gave a wink, "Barring accidents, of course."
"Which means you are going to try to kill yourself again, and you’ll try as soon as I let you walk out of here alone.”
"Why in Hell do you even give a flying fuck? I'm not your fuckin’ problem remember? You fired me yesterday. So, why don’t you just shut the fuck up and let me get the fuck home and on with the business at hand? I’ll even write you a note releasing you and the company from any responsibility if anything happens to me. That’s what you actually want, isn’t it? You need to protect your own fuckin’ pathetic ass." Harper dropped any pretense of being rational.
"You and I know it's not going to go down that way, Harper. We are going to come to a mutual understanding about your wellbeing." Courtney said calmly as she reached for the room service menu. "This is your come to Jesus moment so sit back and enjoy the ride. God, I need to remember to check the time zones on my alarms. It's only five in the morning. You want pancakes or are you a French toast freak?”
"For cripes sake! Forget breakfast and answer my question. Why do you even bother? Why didn't you just give the hospital the suicide note? Why not just walk away and let them section me?"
Courtney shook her head. "Giving the doctor your note would have gotten you exactly seven days inpatient and thirty days follow up care under the Company’s out-patient healthcare benefit. You are still covered for the next thirty days, by the way. So, do you think that will that be enough time for you to stop trying to kill yourself? Get you on the straight and narrow again?”
"I'll never be..." Harper felt a tear run down her face. "I'm not normal. Fuck you for asking. I'm dead and rotting away on the inside only my body doesn't know it yet."
Courtney grabbed her cellphone from the nightstand and hit the speed dial. She waited patiently for a response at the other end.
"Hi, Omar," Courtney said. "Yes, I know it's early, but I figured you'd be heading for the airport. Sure, everything's fine except for a minor snag in my plans. After I emailed the report to you last night, I did the damnedest thing. Tripped over my own computer bag. Yeah, it’s bad. The ankle looks like a Macy's balloon. I can’t put any weight on it, so I’m thinking of taking a couple days off. I know I need to be in Orlando for Walden’s presentation, but I can’t let Bill see me limping all over the place. You know how he is with corporate image. Since HR has been a bitch about me not taking my mandatory vacation days. A few days off now will kill two birds with one stone."
Harper was certain Courtney had called the police and was speaking to them in some kind of code for them to come and get her. Harper closed her eyes and steeled herself for what she was sure was coming. She wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She just needed to fake normal for seven more days. Then she'd get out and finish what she started. The feverish thoughts racing through her brain made her head ache.
"I completed the due diligence yesterday. Yes, it’s all there in the report. So far, everything looks good. Yes, you can move the operations straight over to Norman. Sure, I can be his point of contact. No problem. Right. Of course. Thanks, Omar. Talk to you in a few days."
Courtney sighed as she ended the call. Harper could see just how tired the other woman was. It was a bone weary exhaustion that Harper knew well.
"Ok, I just lied to Omar." Courtney said. “If that shithead ever finds out, he’ll crucify me, and boy would he love to do that, the asshole.”
"You didn't get the office pulled together?" Harper asked in confusion.
Courtney rolled her eyes. "No, I lied about not being able to walk right and needing a few days off. I could make it to work even if I had to snap a foot off and cauterize the wound with a cigarette lighter. Bill’s been talking about a corner office in NYC for me. I don't really want to screw that up." Courtney was emphatic, "The mess, at your office, took exactly three hours to clean up. If you had just called in a favor with Omar, he would have sent a number cruncher to help you sweep it all under the carpet. All this heartache could have been avoided, and you'd still have your job."
“Just like that? Easy as pie," Harper smirked. "Except I can't think straight. If I could have solved everything just like that, I wouldn't need to kill myself.”
Courtney whispered, "All you have to do is open your mouth and ask for help, Harper."
"I know."
The room fell silent. The silence was heartbreaking for both of them.
***
Harper did not utter one word to Courtney as they went about their morning routines. Courtney tried several times to start a conversation during breakfast, but Harper continued her silent vigil merely nodding now and then to acknowledge the other woman’s presence.
Courtney didn't bother to say where they were going when they left the hotel, and Harper was happy to follow in her footsteps. It was better than thinking, and Harper was sure her
next thought would crack her skull in two.
It wasn't until they pulled up to Harper's front door that Courtney finally spoke. "I have your keys. One of the nurses passed them to me at the hospital. I also have an offer for you. If you hear me out, regardless of your reply I'll hand over the flash drive with your note on it."
"Deal," Harper said and got out of the car. “Come on in, me casa, su casa.”
The stale smell of unwashed clothes and beer wafted out like a toxic cloud as Courtney unlocked and pushed open the front door. Although the stench was almost visible, Courtney, to her credit, didn’t flinch. As Harper walked into the dank living room, Courtney fumbled for the light switch by the door. One click illuminated the darkness that had engulfed Harper.
The place looked as bad as it smelled. There was soot marking the walls indicating the chimney was stuffed with crap just like the rest of the house. There wasn’t much floor space uncovered. Just enough to walk from one room to the other. Boxes crammed with books and papers and bags filled with trash and returnable bottles filled every available square inch of the floor. The furniture was nothing more than shapeless mounds covered by laundry. It was unclear if the clothes were clean or dirty.
"As you can see, the housekeeper sucks," Harper muttered as she walked to the only chair not covered with debris and dropped into it causing a slight cloud of dust to rise around her. "I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see this is the only one left unoccupied."
"Not a problem, you need to get the housekeeper to open the windows and let some air and light into the room. Otherwise, you’re going to get black lung or carbon monoxide poisoning," Courtney said. Her face was an unreadable mask reflecting none of the horror she must have felt at Harper’s unsanitary living conditions. "Harper, in five days I have to be in Orlando. There's a very big event at the Graeme Convention Center."
"The most funnest place in the galaxy?" Harper laughed, "You know, there is something really inappropriate about corporate events in Graeme’s World."
