by Mark Tufo
Mike heard the door to his room open again.
“Michael, you awake? My name is Doctor Perkins, I’m the head of the ICU unit. Can you open your eyes?”
“Can I get some water?” Michael asked.
“Sure-sure,” Dr. Perkins said as he hit the controls on the bed to get Mike into a sitting position. “Can you move your arms to grab the bottle?”
Mike looked desperately inside himself for the controls that would allow him to operate his arms but was failing miserably. “I… I don’t know how to,” Mike moaned.
The plastic straw was thrust a little too far into his mouth for his liking, but he drank greedily as the cool liquid flowed down his parched throat. Mike’s forefinger twitched as the bottle was taken away too quickly.
“Still thirsty,” Mike begged, ashamed he sounded so fragile.
“A little at a time. It has been a long time since you have had anything introduced into your system without the assistance of an IV.”
Mike saw flashes of light flit across his eyelids as the doctor lit up a penlight.
“Can you open your eyes, Michael?”
“I can, I just don’t want to.”
“You’ve sustained a significant amount of damage to your left eye Michael. For reasons we haven’t figured out yet, you have lost all pigmentation in it. Is that what is concerning you? There are contacts we can put in that will make it almost undetectable.”
“I didn’t even know about the pigmentation, doctor. When I open that eye, I don’t see right. There’s strange colors and shadows. It’s as if I’m looking at a completely different world. And…and it’s scary as hell.”
The doctor laughed a little. “I’m sure it is, but I think with time your mind will begin to repair the images you are seeing and reconcile them with what is really there.”
Mike didn’t want to get into a philosophical debate about what was ‘really’ there. What his left eye ‘saw’ was just as real as what his right eye took in. He felt he was straddling two worlds, yet he had a foothold in neither. Mike feigned extreme exhaustion so the doctor would stop asking him to see what was not there. He laid awake another hour keeping his eyes clamped shut, the darkness behind his lids was much more palatable than the light beyond them. In time, he fell asleep, remembering right as he went under to ask again about his friends.
The following morning the ICU nurse came in to inform him he was getting out of the ICU unit and would again be able to receive visitors and didn’t he feel lucky?
He didn’t.
The same doctor from the night before stopped in to sign Mike’s discharge papers to be released from his ward.
“What about now, Mike, can I take a look at your eyes?”
“My friends first, Doc—where are they?” Mike asked.
There was a longer than normal pause as the doctor sought the appropriate words that wouldn’t keep Mike any longer in his charge.
“Were they hurt as bad as me?” Mike asked, straining to keep his voice under control.
The doctor could think of no way in which to soften the blow. “They didn’t make it, Mike.”
“They?” Mike begged. “Oh, God, no.” Tears squeezed through his tightly closed lids.
“I’m sorry, Mike, they died the night of the accident.”
Mike opened both his eyes the vertigo rushed in to fill the void in his soul. Through one eye he saw a tear stained reflection of a caring individual the other, wild lights flickered all around the shadow of the man sitting in front of him. For the briefest of moments a red beam of light flickered on the side of the doctor’s head drowning out all else.
“Aneurysm,” Mike shot the word out not knowing why.
“No,” the doctor replied, perplexed. “Your friends?”
“No, you,” Mike said looking into the eyes of the doctor with one brown eye and one white.
The gaze was startling and the doctor pushed his chair away from the bedside momentarily stunned by what he felt were absolute truths in Mike’s words. “Sorry,” the doctor said, shrugging away the after-effects of what he felt, later telling himself it was merely stress. Although a month-and-a-half later when the blood vessels burst in his eye and he had time to have one final thought before his head crashed down onto the pavement outside the hospital, he realized Michael Talbot had been right.
Mike winced as the doctor flashed his penlight into his pigment-less eye. It wasn’t the brightness of the beam that hurt, it was the shadow it cast onto his mind.
“I think we need to let your eye heal as much as it can on its own without any outside influences,” the doctor said, rising from the chair. He wanted to put a patch over that all-seeing eye as much for his own sake as Mike’s. “I’ll be right back,” he said, although it was the duty nurse that came back to fit him properly with the patch.
Mike felt much better an hour later as he was wheeled down to the regular part of the hospital, where his whole family had again gathered.
“Don’t you guys have to work?” Mike said weakly. His mother laughed and cried simultaneously as she rushed to his bedside. Mike moved his right arm up to place it on her shoulder as her face was buried in his chest.
“He moved his arm!” Gary yelled.
Mike hadn’t even realized he had done it until it was pointed out to him.
“You’re so cold,” Mike’s mother said as she briskly rubbed her son’s arms.
“Is it true about Paul and Dennis?” Mike asked. The room which was a moment ago alive with pleasure quickly dimmed tosorrow.
“They didn’t suffer,” Mike’s dad said as he came up to the other side of the bed.
“I don’t think that’s what he was concerned about, Tony,” Mary said snappishly.
“How do you know what he’s concerned about? Are you all of a sudden a goddamned mind reader?”
“I know if you hadn’t been up in shit-kickerville maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” she shot back with a healthy dose of heat.
“Get out,” Mike said barely above a whisper, but the words had a force behind them.
Mary and Tony both stopped their argument to look down at their son.
“Mike, I’m sorry,” Tony said.
“Go,” Mike said with resignation.
Anthony, a former Marine who had seen combat in World War II and now ran a heavy equipment construction crew, was a leader of men, acquiesced to that simple request without so much as ‘well, how do you do’.
Tony walked through the door, and if he possessed a tail it would have been neatly tucked between his legs. Mary made sure she was second out the door as if that somehow mattered in their twisted little drama.
“They’re just concerned, Mike, we all have been,” Ron said, filling in his mother’s vacated spot.
“I’m just sick of the fighting, Ron. I don’t remember a time in my life where they weren’t bickering like schoolyard children. I’ve asked Dad before why he didn’t get a divorce. You want to know what he said?” Mike asked.
Ron nodded.
“He said he stayed because of us kids. I told him he wasn’t doing us any favors. He got pissed and left the room. I felt bad, but it was the truth.”
“Why are you telling me this, Mike?” Ron asked.
“Because maybe I realized you don’t get second chances in this life and to compromise is to give up.”
“You’re a little young to be giving life lessons aren’t you?”
“I saw the other side,” Mike said, leaving that statement hanging heavy in the air.
Lyndsey waited impatiently for more. “You can’t just say that and not continue,” she said testily.
“There were no pearly gates, no Saint Peter in long robes, no fluffy clouds, no fucking harps, it was a gray world devoid of all color. I was alone, there was no group of ancestral loved ones coming to meet me. I was naked, cold and alone – how’s that sound for an eternity?”
“Sounds more like a dream,” the ever pragmatic Ron added.
Lyndsey wa
s rapt to the conversation with fear and intensity. This went against everything all of them had been taught during their Catholic upbringing. Ron had completely rebelled and damn near broke their mother’s heart when he told her he was agnostic. He believed in a higher power, just not necessarily Jesus.
“Does this look like a fucking dream?” Michael yelled, lifting his patch up revealing his pale eye.
Ron looked slightly embarrassed or perhaps it was chagrined, but he wasn’t going to back down, either. “Mike, that happened in the accident.”
“Don’t get condescending with me!” Mike yelled. “Yeah, happens all the time doesn’t it, pigmentation leaving an eye.”
“Then what is it?” Lyndsey asked almost wishing she hadn’t, but unable to stop herself.
“I was counted, and marked,” Mike told them reverently.
“What, like your soul or something? That’s ridiculous.” Ron’s voice was rising. It wasn’t so much that he was refuting his brother as it was he wanted to deny the entire conversation’s validity.
“Who counted you?” Lyndsey asked tremulously.
“You don’t believe him do you? He bumped his head…hard. Who the hell knows what damage he did?” Ron said, turning to his sister, but she wasn’t paying him any attention.
“Your aura is tinged with red, Ron,” Mike said indifferently.
“Aw, so now you can see auras, maybe you should take your show on the road. What else can you see?” Ron asked sarcastically.
“I see lots of things…and not many of them are good.”
Lyndsey moved slightly to her right, Ron blocking her direct line of sight to Mike. She had secrets to hide and until she knew what her baby brother could and couldn’t see, she didn’t want any part of it. Even still, she saw a look of surprise on Mike’s face when he caught her eye. It happened so fast she thought she just imagined it.
“I’m getting the doctor, I think some counseling could do you good,” Ron said. He turned to leave the room.
“Cocaine’s a bad drug, Ron—wouldn’t you agree?” Mike asked him.
Ron stopped for the briefest of moments then pulled the door open quickly stepping out of the room.
Mike put his patch back in place, he almost felt normal.
“We’ll be back later.” Gary followed Ron. Glenn gave a wave and was next out.
Only Lyndsey stayed behind. “I’m only nineteen, Mike. I wanted to have my own life first.”
“It would’ve been a girl,” Mike said, rolling over on his side, facing away from his sister.
The visits became less and less frequent, whole days would go by without a Talbot sighting. At first Mike was distraught, but as each passing hour went by, it seemed like somehow this was how it was meant to be.
It was close to two months after the accident when Mike was finally going to be discharged from the hospital. He wondered if he would have to take the bus to get home. His father waited outside in the loading zone as an orderly wheeled Mike out on a cold and blustery winter day.
“Mike,” Tony said tersely.
Mike did not reply. He leaned his head against the cool glass, staring out the passenger side window. Only once did he lift his patch to see what the world had to offer outside the hospital walls. The darkness with which the world was enshrouded made this dreary day seem like a spring festival. He quickly made sure the patch was back in place before he opened his eyes again.
“You alright?” Tony asked. They were the only two words he uttered the entire car ride.
Once again, Mike didn’t answer.
***
“Michael Talbot yet lives, Mr. Black,” Simon Peter said to the dark entity before him.
Mr. Black produced a large dark ledger from his robes. He spent a moment shifting through the voluminous pages. “Ah, here it is. That is impossible. I collected him on October 11th at 3:33 am. I can most assuredly tell you he is where he should be.”
Simon Peter swept his arm, a vision of a small ranch home came into view, more importantly the lone figure sitting on the couch reading the Bible.
***
Mike looked around when he felt he was no longer alone.
***
Simon Peter swept his arm back and the image was gone. “Fix it.”
Mr. Black, his face expressionless, gave a small bow and left.
CHAPTER THREE – The Meeting
Mike stayed at home the last few weeks leading up to the Christmas break. Most of the time was spent in his room where occasionally, he would venture out to get some food. Not once did he sit at the table with his mother and father whose fighting had almost come to a standstill. It wasn’t so much that they had made peace with each other as it was a grand détente. The silence was anything but peaceful; Mike could feel the tension mounting every day. Eventually, the collection of so many negative thoughts would need to be vented, but surprisingly, Mike just didn’t give a shit. They were a toxic pair and for the life of him he could not figure how they got close enough to each other to produce five offspring. Maybe they used to drink heavily, he mused.
Lyndsey was the first to arrive on Christmas Eve. She was going to be home earlier in the week but she lied about having to make up some school work she had missed. She avoided Mike subliminally, she wasn’t even aware she was doing it. When he would come into the kitchen she would go to the living room with a platter of meat and cheese, when he would come out to get something she would go into the kitchen to refill her glass of wine, which never seemed to be empty but not for lack of trying.
Ron completely skipped the traditional Talbot get together, saying he wasn’t feeling so well. Well there was that and he was also elbow deep in two eight balls of his favorite recreational pharmaceutical.
Gary came about an hour later. He seemed the least affected by all that had happened in the recent past. Of the entire Talbot clan, he was the only one who wore a smile.
Glenn ever the trouble starter had made sure to find as pretty a psychic as he could so he could pass her off as his girlfriend. It had cost him a hundred and fifty bucks for her night of services but he considered it well worth the money and the potential for mischief she could bring to the dinner table. He had thought about ‘coming out of the closet’ this year even though he wasn’t gay just to see the reactions from his family and then this had presented itself. He figured if it didn’t go well, he would go with Plan B. It was going to be an interesting night in the Talbot household one way or another.
“Dinner in ten minutes!” Tony yelled as he placed the large turkey on the counter top. “Just got to let this rest for a few minutes then I’ll carve it up,” he said more to himself than anyone else.
As much as Lyndsey was avoiding Mike. This was more than made up for by the psychic Glenn had brought. She was constantly looking over at him; so much so, he was convinced his fly was open.
A few minutes later, Tony brought a large platter overflowing with warm succulent turkey to the table. Mary and Lyndsey were shuffling back and forth with various dishes and baskets of sides, including gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole, rolls, and everybody’s favorite that nobody eats, the cylindrical jelled canberries.
Mike was last to the table. He had taken the time to return to his room and put the Bible he had been reading back. It had been his eighth go around with the Book of Revelations.
“There’s no seat,” Mike said, looking at everyone getting ready to eat.
“Sure there is, just sit down at one. I set the table earlier,” Mary answered, never looking up.
Lyndsey stole a glance at her brother and then at everyone at the table. “There isn’t, Mom,” she answered sheepishly.
“There has to be—” Mary stopped short. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” she said never looking directly at Mike. “I didn’t know Glenn was going to bring a guest.”
“Her name is Denise, Mom, and we’re in love,” Glenn hammed up.
Mary didn’t swallow a bit of that, she was just biding her time until she figured what
her son was up to. The boy could get in trouble in a padded room with nothing more to occupy his time than a wet sponge.
“That shouldn’t have mattered,” Mike said. “Ron cancelled after you put the place settings down.”
A shiver ran up Mary’s spine and it was even more unnerving because she didn’t know why. Mary got up to get another plate and Tony rose to find a folding chair.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not all that hungry.” Mike left the dining room. His mother did not protest and within another minute the conversation became as lively as ever with a constant smattering of laughter.
It was forty-five minutes later when Denise knocked on Mike’s bedroom door. He had been wondering when she’d get the nerve.
“Hi, Mike, do you mind if I come in?” she asked as she peeked her head around the door.
“You might as well. I’ve got a feeling you will no matter what I say,” Mike answered. He was sitting up in his bed reading the Bible, searching for answers it did not contain.
“Do you know I’m a psychic?” she asked.
“Well, it was either that or a pedophile,” Mike told her.
She laughed. “So you caught me looking at you.”
“I would have went with ogling or even sight rape, but if you want to call it looking…that’s fine.”
She laughed again. It was the first time since the accident that Mike almost felt like doing the same.
“I can’t get a true bead on you, Michael. It’s like you’re not supposed to be here.”
Mike was not liking the intense scrutiny and was trying to deflect some of it. “I could say the same about you.”
This time she did not laugh, but kept peering as if she were concentrating on a particularly difficult trigonometry problem. There was no mirth in her gaze. “It’s just that no matter how I try to look at you, I’m always getting a sidelong glance. I…I can’t ‘see’ you head on and I don’t know why.”
Mike lifted his patch. Denise instantly paled.
“Ohmigod,” she gasped. Backing up, she asked if he would please put it down.
She was just regaining some color when Glenn waltzed into the room. “Come on, Denise, I didn’t pay you all that money to babysit. You need to come out and tell some juicy fortunes while we eat dessert.”
