Fractured Eden

by Steven Gossington

  Aaron was about to enter a patient room when Stella stopped him.

  “This guy is an odd one,” she whispered. “Be ready for a wacky story.”

  “What was his name? I saw it on the computer.”

  “Cam Fillmore.”

  Aaron nodded and walked into the room. A lanky man with long dirty blond hair sat on the examination table, a guitar hanging from his neck.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Fillmore?” Aaron said.

  Cam strummed a few chords. “I’m out of my medicine. I haven’t taken it for a while. My doctor says I need it.”

  That’s easy enough, Aaron thought. He’d read in the patient record that the man was on an antipsychotic medication.

  “I can help you with that, and I’m glad you’re following your doctor’s wishes.”

  He strummed a few more chords. “Sometimes I don’t think I really need the medicine.”

  “Just remember, it helps you think straight.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Where is your doctor?”

  “Montana.”

  “You’re a long way from home.”

  “I moved here not too long ago.”

  “Montana must be a nice place. Why did you move away?”

  Cam strummed more chords, louder this time. “I had to get away.”

  “So it was time for a change.”

  “I had to get away from them.”

  Aaron raised his eyebrows. “I see. Anyone in particular?”

  “The police.”

  A fugitive from justice?

  “They follow me everywhere. They try to zap me with beams.”

  “What beams?”

  “Beams of radiation. They’re trying to boil my blood with their beams. Here, feel my arm. Feel the heat from my hot blood.” He looked at Aaron with wide eyes.

  Aaron touched the man’s forearm. “They followed you here?”

  “Yep. They were outside my house a few days ago. They didn’t know I was home.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Gone. As long as I’m behind my beam blockers, I’m okay.”

  “Beam blockers?”

  “Sure. Drive by my house and I’ll show them to you.”

  “I might do that. Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, Aaron handed him a prescription. “Be sure and take your medicine.”

  “That’s what everyone tells me.” He jammed the prescription into his pocket.

  “By the way, is Cam short for something?”

  Cam strummed one last chord. “No.”

  After work, Aaron drove to Rocky Donnigan’s auto shop on the outskirts of town. He checked his rearview mirror more than usual but saw nothing suspicious.

  Aaron parked near the door to the small lobby of the shop and walked inside. Rocky stood by the counter. “Hi, Doc.”

  “Can I get maintenance on my car?”

  “No problem. I’ll take care of it,” Rocky said.

  “My Volvo is a good car, but I’ll bet you miss the old days. It must have been easier to work on cars back in the day.”

  Rocky looked out the window. “I do miss the old classics. They were fun to fiddle with.”

  “What’s your favorite classic car?”

  Rocky scratched his chin. “Can’t go wrong with a ‘57 Chevy. That was a beauty. But if I could have only one, I’d make it a red ‘64 Pontiac GTO two-door convertible with a four-speed transmission. Those were fun cars to work on and drive.”

  “You have fond memories of that car?”

  “One of my good buddies back then had one, and we used to drive around town showing off.” Rocky sighed. “Well, back to work. I’ll get to your car soon.”

  “No problem. Take your time.”

  Rocky finished work on a Toyota Camry, and then he drove Aaron’s car into the garage and power-lifted it off the ground.

  He motioned Aaron to walk to the edge of the car bay. “Volvo is a real sturdy car,” Rocky said. “They’re like tanks.” He walked around and underneath the car, checking various parts. “You’re going to need new tires soon.”

  Aaron nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Folks go through lots of tires around here.”

  Aaron watched as Rocky maneuvered around the car and through the engine, every step and hand action choreographed with no wasted motion.

  After a short while, Rocky straightened and stood tall, wiping his hands on a towel. “I’ll clean it up, and you’re good to go.”

  On his way home, Aaron slowed his car in front of a house set back from the road.

  What in the world is that?

  Several shiny silver rectangular partitions stood upright in the front yard. Aaron stopped at the side of the road, and a gangly man walked between the partitions and waved, a guitar hanging from his neck.

  It’s Cam Fillmore, my schizophrenic patient.

  Aaron pulled into the driveway, and Cam leaned down to Aaron’s window.

  “Hi, Doc. How do you like my beam blockers?”

  “Do they work?”

  “They sure do. I covered some wooden planks with aluminum foil, and they do the job real good. My skin doesn’t heat up when I’m behind them.”

  Aaron studied the foil-covered partitions. “They look sturdy, put together well.”

  “It was a snap. I’m a carpenter.”

  “Are you taking your medicine?”

  “Sometimes I forget.”

  “You should remember. The medicine helps you think clearly.”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  “Did you recognize my car just now?”

  “Yep. I know your car, and I watch the cars on this road, for my own protection.”

  “But you can’t possibly spot every car that passes by.”

  “I don’t have to. When bad guys get close, my beam blockers signal me. They start to jiggle.”

  “I see.”

  Aaron shook hands with Cam. “I’ve got to move along. Stay healthy.” As he backed into the road, pleasant chords from Cam’s guitar floated on the air through his window. He felt Cam’s eyes on him as he drove away.

  Aaron pulled into Marley’s driveway that evening, singing words from a song he’d just heard on the radio: ‘Begin Again,’ by Taylor Swift.

  He rang Marley’s front doorbell, and his heart pounded as the door opened.

  Marley stood in the threshold in a flowery sundress, a black cowgirl hat, and red boots.

  Aaron caught his breath. “You look great.”

  Marley smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

  Thank goodness I wore my boots, he thought.

  Aaron drove to a popular steakhouse restaurant about twenty minutes away. He held the entrance door for Marley and glanced around inside the dining room. He didn’t spot any suspicious bald men.

  They were escorted to a table and Aaron pulled out her chair.

  “I read ‘The Great Gatsby’ again,” Aaron said as their Caesar salads were served.

  Marley shook her head. “Daisy had problems. She didn’t seem to care much for her child.”

  “You wonder how that child would’ve turned out later in life.”

  “I’ll bet an unhappy person, because Daisy was probably not a good mother.” Marley put down her fork. “I don’t want to be like her.”

  Aaron nodded. “And Daisy got away with murder, or at least manslaughter.”

  “She let someone else take the blame. I wonder if I’d be weak like that.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think so.”

  Marley’s face beamed.

  She sipped her iced tea and then leaned toward him. “Race Taggett had a difficult childhood. Have you been able to check on that family?”

  Aaron coughed into his hand. “Race is one disturbed man.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t let that stop you. You might make a real difference with them.”

  Aaron’s chest swelled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I am checking on so
me things about Sid Taggett.” He didn’t remember later how his entree tasted.

  “Are you ready for some line dancing?” Marley said as they left the restaurant.

  “Let’s do it.”

  Marley directed him south of their town to a dance hall and saloon in Beaumont. As they walked to the entrance, Aaron heard music and laughter from the festive dancers inside.

  “Let’s watch first, so you can get the hang of it,” Marley said.

  They sat at a small table and ordered drinks. Aaron studied the dancers as they stepped and turned to the music. “They don’t touch each other while they dance,” Aaron said.

  “Usually not.”

  They watched the dancers through several songs, then Marley grabbed Aaron’s arm. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s join in. This song is a dance classic: ‘Boot Scootin’ Boogie,’ by Brooks & Dunn.”

  Aaron got into the flow of the synchronous leg and body motion.

  “You catch on quick,” Marley said.

  Aaron pointed at her. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

  After several songs, Aaron was a bit out of breath. “This is fun, and it’s good exercise, too.”

  “I figured you’d enjoy it.”

  “I’m glad the AC works good in here. I haven’t even broken a sweat.”

  They walked back to their table.

  Aaron clapped his hands. “I’m getting into this. Let’s close this place down.”

  Marley laughed. “That would be fun, but it’s time for me to get back home.”

  Aaron smiled. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  As Aaron walked Marley out of the dance hall, he didn’t notice Constable Keller Greevy following them out into the parking lot.

  Aaron drove back to Marley’s house. “How much time do we have?” he said as they walked in the front door.

  “I have to pick up Cristal in thirty minutes.” Marley turned on her stereo with country music.

  Aaron embraced her, and she responded with a tight hug. He sensed a faint pleasant perfume. Some kind of flower. Maybe honeysuckle?

  She laid her head on his shoulder as they slow-danced. He felt wetness through his shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” Aaron said.

  She lifted her head. “I don’t know. I need more time.”

  “I don’t want to let you go.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “Are you really expecting him to come back?”

  “I think I want him to. I know Cristal wants him to.”

  They danced to the music of several songs.

  Marley sighed. “He was always attractive to women, since high school. He can’t say no. But I think he still loves me.”

  “Has he called you since he left?”

  “No, but he’s done this before.”

  Aaron stopped dancing. He held her hands. “How can you put up with him?”

  “I know him better than anyone else does. He always comes back. Other women get tired of him.”

  “I’m not sorry to say this. I think he’s an idiot.”

  Marley led Aaron to the living room chairs. Aaron noticed that she sat in her characteristic position with her leg bent beneath her. “He was our high school quarterback, and he got a bad concussion and had to quit football. He was in a coma for several days.”

  “Wow, that was a serious injury.”

  “It changed him. It affected his thinking. He was embarrassed in school, his grades got worse, and he didn’t even try for college. The high school just let him graduate.”

  “What kind of future can you have with him?”

  “Deep down, he’s a good man and only I know how to take care of him.” She looked down. “I know he’ll settle down someday.”

  “I … I want to ask you something.” Aaron held up his hand. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “What?”

  “Is it my face?”

  Marley’s jaw dropped. “Of course not. You’re a good-looking man, in a rugged way.”

  “Okay. Rugged is good.”

  ****

  From his parked car, Constable Keller Greevy watched Aaron drive off down the road. He stepped out but didn’t close the door, and he stood and watched Marley’s house. After several minutes, he shook his head.

  What in the world was crazy Cajun Tucker Boudreaux babbling about in the street yesterday?

  He stepped back into his car and drove away.

  It was probably just Tucker’s idiot nonsense.

  ****

  Marley sat on the edge of her bed, alone in the darkness. Cristal was asleep in her own bedroom down the hallway.

  Marley put her hand over her eyes and bowed her head, sobbing into a tissue. Some tears escaped and dripped onto her thighs.

  “God, what should I do?”

  She shouted and stiffened as something touched her leg.

  “Cristal, angel. You should be asleep.”

  Cristal gazed up at Marley and hugged her thigh. She climbed up into Marley’s lap and rested her head against Marley’s chest.

  Marley dried her eyes with tissue and stroked Cristal’s hair. After several minutes, she heard Cristal’s soft snores.

  As Marley stared ahead, her vision cleared, and she gave a faint nod.

  She lifted Cristal across her arms, kissed her forehead, and carried her to her bedroom.

  “Everything will be fine,” Marley whispered as she pulled the sheet over Cristal’s chest.

  ****

  Aaron lay on top of his sheets. His eyes were open, but his mind was elsewhere.

  That’s it. I’ll book a cruise. Maybe a Caribbean cruise, or one to Alaska. I’ll bet Cristal would like Alaska.

  Chapter 15

  With vacant eyes, V. Brad Benningham sat on his living room couch and stared out the window. Orange and caramel colors washed over the evening horizon.

  He leaned forward to a table and opened an album of photos. Leafing through the pages, he studied family images from the past, pausing at times to stare at certain photos of his son, Preston, before the days of the addiction.

  Myra walked into the living room. “Dinner is ready.”

  Brad didn’t look up. Myra sat down beside him on the couch.

  Brad continued to gaze at the photos, page after page.

  Myra smiled and pointed to a photo of Preston with her. “There’s Preston in his Tiger Cub shirt. Remember that?”

  Brad closed the album and walked to the window. “I wasn’t there for him.”

  Myra joined him and put her hands around his arm. “You’re there for him now, and he needs you.”

  “I hope it’s not too late.”

  “He’s coming home tomorrow. Maybe this time, he’ll be okay.”

  They looked out of the window until the colors of the sunset faded.

  It was a hot, muggy day when Preston Benningham came home from rehab.

  Brad pulled into the driveway of their house. He and Preston had spoken only a few words on the trip back from the rehab center.

  Myra greeted them at the door, and Preston carried his suitcase to his bedroom.

  “How is he?” Myra said.

  “It’s too soon to tell.”

  After a few minutes, Preston walked into the living room.

  Brad turned to Myra. “We’re going to see the doc. Preston wants to apologize.”

  Chapter 16

  Stella fanned her face with a clipboard as she escorted Brad and Preston into a patient room. “I’ll get Dr. Rovsing.”

  Aaron entered the room. “Hello, Preston. You’re looking better.”

  “Thanks. I’m doing okay.”

  “I can tell. You’re headed in the right direction.”

  Brad cleared his throat. “Preston has something to say.”

  A pasty-faced Preston looked at the floor. “I was out of my head that day. I’m sorry I pointed a gun at you.”

  “You’ve got an illness that has to be managed. There’s a lot of help around
for you,” Aaron said.

  Brad put his hand on Preston’s shoulder. “We’re going to make it.”

  Preston sighed and looked up at Aaron. “Addiction is rough, isn’t it?”

  “It can take complete control of you. It can ruin your life.”

  “You must see other patients like me.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Some of them recover, don’t they?”

  “They can recover, with the right kind of help.”

  “Isn’t everyone addicted to something?” Preston said.

  “Everybody has the potential to fall into some kind of addiction.”

  Brad looked up. “Heck, some people are sugar addicts. Right, Doc?”

  “I agree.”

  “Does it ever go away?” Preston said.

  Aaron shook his head. “The trap will always be there.”

  “For the rest of my life?”

  “It’s best to assume that.”

  “That’s what they told me in rehab. I guess every day is going to be a battle.”

  “Yes, it can be, but it’s a battle you can win, one day at a time.”

  Brad patted Preston’s shoulder and nodded. “That’s why we need doctors and counselors.”

  Aaron stepped closer to Preston. “Can I ask some personal questions?”

  “Fire away.”

  “Did you grow up around here?”

  “I was born here,” Preston said.

  “You must be about the same age as Race Taggett. Did you go to school with him?”

  Preston chuckled. “Now, there’s a guy with real problems. He was a year ahead of me. I don’t think he finished high school.”

  “What was he like?”

  “A loner. He didn’t have any friends that I knew of. He skipped class a lot.”

  “Did he talk to people?”

  “I guess so. I talked with him a couple of times. He didn’t have much to say, and he acted weird sometimes. Word went around that he used to cut himself.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened. “You mean, like with a knife?”

  “Yeah. I remember seeing bandages on his arms.”

  “I’m sure the school tried to work with him.”

  “Maybe so. He was really good in sports. He was strong and fast. He could’ve been a star athlete.”

  “I believe that.”

  “He never had a girlfriend, either, at least that I knew of. Some of the girls used to make fun of him, all the time. They were worse to him than the guys. Once he tried to hug a girl, but she screamed and called him an icky freak.”