My body leaking, my head disappearing along with the world.
Rolling on a gurney past a strange little girl hopping up and down near me. The rope flying over her head and beneath her feet so fast it disturbed gravity, permanently lifting her off the sidewalk.
She was a signal, acknowledging my wonderings about secrets, hinting there were answers.
Then I was half-awake, knew the watcher in the chair still sat near, and I slowly faded back into the dream, reliving my death all over again.
Opening my eyes to a night-filled room, unable to move my left arm, I scratched dully at the top of my head with my right as I came to the realization I was alive and staring at the blackest of black shadows. I hadn’t sensed the ancient darkness since I had lain, worrying about my violent soul, in the motel room in the Poconos.
“There are paths you must follow.”
With those words, I pictured a trillion billion stars weaving an eternal tapestry of light across existence.
How will I find my way?
In answer, I drifted back to sleep, my dreams evolving into a scene where my right hand became a glowing blue light. Although fascinated with the phenomenon, I connected its appearance with a despair and trepidation that bubbled within my heart.
The next time I awoke, Teresa was sitting in the chair, reading a book. Her face opened in relief and happiness as our eyes met. She wore black leotards and a red skirt and blouse with black polka-dots. Two ping pong balls, painted silver, stuck up on pipe cleaners from a plastic band looped over the crown of her head.
“I’m still seeing things from these drugs they’re shooting me up with. You look like a bug.”
She tilted her body in a exaggerated sexy pose, flipping her hands playfully out and upwards as if they were an extension of her skirt. “I’m a ladybug. It’s Halloween. I’m going partying with my new best friend, Maureen.”
“Wow. I guess there’s been changes while I was out.” I grimaced. “Man, my neck hurts.”
“Well, you’re one lucky...” Teresa squeezed her lips tight, but the words escaped, “...horny bastard.”
I twisted uncomfortably from not only a throbbing pain in my shoulder and jaw but also with the realization that Teresa knew about Brenda and probably Lola too.
Placing her hands lightly on my chest, she softened. “Deets, that knife came within a whisper of your jugular. You lost a ton of blood from a deep wound in your shoulder. Just get better now.”
“I really screwed up.”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. I can understand and even accept you wanting to be with other girls. What I want to tell you, no matter what I decide, is that when the doctors told me you’d live, I cried for everything we’ve been through together. I’m so thankful that you’re still here on this crazy world that I live in.”
“Me too.”
“You’ve been dozing for two days. Maureen and I have been taking turns sitting with you. We’ve had lots of long talks and even got a little tipsy at dinner together last night.”
“Is there going to be pot at this party? You should let her know. She’s cool but straight.”
She shrugged. Her antennae jiggled.
“Maureen saved your life. She staunched the blood flow while managing to call the police for help. Officer Al’s patrol car had just turned onto her street when he got the alert, so he was there immediately. The girl you were with, well, one of them, the one who stabbed you, escaped at first but was arrested about twenty minutes later. She was naked and covered in blood and attacked another man about five blocks away. Maureen and I can’t figure out how she got so far completely nude. Weird, isn’t it? How many other people are running around out there with no clothes on?”
“She attacked somebody else?”
“Not with the knife. It was still stuck in the door. The guy wasn’t hurt and managed to subdue her.” Teresa drummed her fingers on my chest. “How did you get involved with such a creep?”
Maureen peeked her head around the hospital room door. Teresa waved her in. She fussed over me, tears welling up and ruining the heavy vampire makeup she wore. Teresa helped clean and touch it up, and the two of them went off trick or treating, laughing and gabbing while I lay in bed, goblins in my head.
The following day, Detective Castillo walked in for an official interview. He asked me to relate the events leading up to the attack and told me that Brenda was in Bellevue for psychiatric evaluation.
“Why do you think she stabbed you?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t pay enough attention to her.”
Castillo kept his gaze cool. “Parker, your stories match. There’s no charges against you. You thought you had it made, though, didn’t you, being with two women? You kids think you can do anything these days. Let me tell you, eventually someone always gets hurt.”
I was thinking Brenda had stabbed me for how I treated her last winter, and now, as the detective lectured, I thought of what Teresa’s pain must have been when I had repeatedly released my passion into Sam and not her.
Maureen visited again and, in a scathing rant, called me a fool as she inventoried my reckless attitudes and abysmal behavior. When her vehemence subsided, she recounted how miraculous it was that Officer Al had appeared so quickly.
“He told me later that he was in the neighborhood responding to a report of a little girl who had been playing in the street, ignoring traffic.”
“Jump-roping, right?”
“Uh, yes, I think so.”
My parents showed up and were surprised I hadn’t heard that Richard’s trial had resulted in a hung jury. They expressed the hope that the case would be dropped.
I erupted angrily at their attitude. “What? You think he deserves a party or something? He did it.”
My father put his coat back on and walked out of the room while my mother admonished us both for making a tense family situation worse. During her visit she kept stepping out into the hall to insist he come back and speak to me. He finally relented, though he eyed me gruffly. His intolerance with my opinion about Richard’s situation was obviously battling the natural sympathy he felt for me.
My mother tried hard to smooth out the awkward reunion. “How did this happen? Teresa said a girl attacked you and another man.”
“Yeah, a nutcase.”
“Where were you?”
“At Maureen Somerfeld’s apartment.”
“The world is just so violent. First, Richard being accused. And now you being attacked.”
I reminded them that Teresa was nearly raped last spring and that I had to testify at a trial in a few weeks about why I had knocked the teeth out of one man and broken the shoulder and wrist of another.
“Well, yes, but you had to. You were fighting for your life and Teresa’s in self-defense. No one faults you. That was heroic. You saved her life.”
“I’d do anything for her.”
Lola stopped by, and, damn, if I didn’t almost rupture my stitches when she slipped her hand momentarily under the covers, laughed, and said, “Just checking to be sure nothing got damaged down there.”
She lit a cigarette for me and told me what she knew about Brenda. “She’s from California. She never let on, but I’m pretty sure she runs smack and meth between here and San Francisco. My guess is she’s just a driver, not a dealer. I never saw that wacko killer streak, though. I mean, I knew she was weird, but we all are. Not like her, though. Man, to think I was living with her.”
She flipped her hair slightly, nonchalantly, gave me an inviting smile, then took the cigarette from my mouth, and flipped the ashes into an ashtray. “I’m sorry this happened. I promise I’ll make it up to you when you’re feeling better. Just you and me at our own party.”
She stuck the cigarette back into my mouth. I took a long drag while trying to fight back the realization t
hat I was scared, not of Lola’s tantalizations, but of myself and the violence that swirled around me. I sensed its grip and felt it wasn’t lessening, but tightening. Every step I took, trouble interfered or someone suffered.
When my nurse came in to replace the bandages on my neck and shoulder, I went into the bathroom and looked at my slashes and stabs in the mirror. They looked as mangled and damaged as my soul felt.
Chapter 59
The week after I was released from the hospital, Teresa and I had to drive to Wilkes-Barre for the trial of Drake and Gus. After a few hours of her behind the wheel, I told her to take a break while I took over the driving.
“No, I don’t want to see those stitches on your neck.”
“What? You gotta live with it. I’m going to have a wicked scar there.”
“I don’t have to live with it. It reminds me what a bastard you are every time I see it.”
“I thought you said you didn’t mind if I slept with other women.”
“Maybe I don’t care what you do anymore, but you cheated on me. It’s one thing when I was in on the decision, but what were you going to do? Just live with me and screw anyone you wanted to?”
I had never thought that far ahead, just reacted to Lola’s sensuality.
We rode on in silence.
About an hour up the road, Teresa pulled the van over to the shoulder. Staring through the front window, she spoke softly. “Philosophically, I see no reason for us not to have sex with other people. It could be a real groove. There are moments when I can shrug and say that’s the way it should be, but deep down, I’d be denying hurt and pain and all the baggage that comes with jealousy. I can’t suppress those feelings any longer. The last few months have been hell.” She restarted the motor. “I thought we could work through our problems about Sam because I helped bring that about. But now, you destroyed trust and love. You betrayed me. After all we’ve been through together, it’s like your knife wounds are minuscule compared to the injuries I feel inside.”
The trial was a humiliation for Teresa as the defense attempted to paint her as a bohemian whore with no morals. She slept with men even though she wasn’t married, sold drug paraphernalia to beatniks, and consorted with artists and musicians who were of doubtful character. The defense lawyer, a mousey-looking man with a crooked toupee, weaved a fabrication about the events at the Poconos cabin, proclaiming Teresa’s promiscuous nature enticed two passing strangers, the defendants, into a sexual situation. But then I had discovered her wanton behavior, become enraged, and attacked Gus and Drake.
When I was called to relate my version of the horror, the mouse man seemed to twitch his whiskers in smug delight at the stitches on my neck, turning to the jury and insinuating my fresh wounds attested to my life of violence. The prosecutor objected, and the judge gave the defense a stern warning.
Although the two day trial was long and grueling for Teresa and myself, the evidence was overwhelming, our sincerity believable, and the rest of the testimonies were wrapped up quickly. Gus insisted on testifying, resulting in a foolish but revealing scene as he argued with his lawyer and the judge. When the judge reprimanded him, he pointed at Drake and yelled hysterically, “It was his idea to go snatch hunting for her that night.”
Drake didn’t flinch. He had a perpetual sneer on his face during the entire proceedings, except for once, when he yawned loudly, and stretching his legs out, cupped both hands behind his head and leaned back into them.
The jury took only fifteen minutes to come back with a guilty verdict for Gus and Drake.
Teresa was a mixture of tears and rage on the ride back to New York. At moments, I believed we were bonding again through the shared memories, beautiful or terrible, of our time at the cabin. But the lies during the trial about her sexual character, and her lifestyle being ridiculed and twisted in public for others to pronounce judgement on, had caused her to throw up a protective wall around herself.
I knew she had lumped me onto the other side of that wall along with her attackers, accusers, and a society that abused and discredited her sexuality while lusting for it.
Unable to connect, needing a distraction, I flipped through AM radio stations, scratchy with static, settling on a sudden, but brief, clear signal of a melancholy song I’d never heard before. A guitar tolled like a lonely bell, and the lyrics drifted with the mists trailing down the mountain sides around us.
“This dream’s too lost
To see you go searching...
At such a cost
Such a cost...
When I hear you say
You’ll be back someday...
It’s such a cost
Such a cost...”
The radio crackled and the loving, sad voice disappeared.
Sam had let herself into our apartment and sat waiting for us.
Nearly midnight, we were tired, feeling down, and astonished to see Sam after not having heard from her in two months. Conflicting emotions jackknifed and somersaulted between the three of us. Teresa was glad to have a woman friend to hug after the turmoil of the trial. Simultaneously, the widening discontent between Teresa and I suddenly seemed a chasm. I felt subdued by the entanglement of our triad, wondering how to greet Sam—the last two times we had immediately stripped. So many difficulties had transpired since those encounters. Awkward with memories of the sexual liberties that now seemed transgressions, I tried to find a way to protect Teresa—from me, I realized. Sam looked serious, fixed her concerns directly on me. Drawn into the intensity that sprung from her, I sat next to her on the couch.
She took my hand, glanced at Teresa.
The moment felt unbalanced.
“I’m pregnant.”
Stunned, I looked to Teresa when I should’ve looked to Sam, and to Sam when I should’ve been there for Teresa.
Teresa sighed loudly, patted Sam on the leg, then moved to the bedroom door.
“I guess you two have a lot to talk about.”
Sam grimaced, then offered sincerely, “Stay, Teresa. Maybe we could all raise the baby together. You were with us. It could have been you.”
“No, not me, not on those nights.” With a blank look of defeat, she closed the door.
Sam turned to me and shrugged. “I guess it’s just you and me then. I hadn’t slept with a guy for about two years, ever since Rebecca and I have been together. And now I’m pregnant.”
“I don’t want a baby.”
Sam’s jaw clenched. Her eyes dismissed me with a determined glare. “I’ve thought about it. I’m going to have the baby.”
I looked at the future mother of my child. She was in her male persona with baggy men’s khaki pants, a madras jacket, a slim black tie, and plain white dress shirt. With no make-up and her hair pulled back, she looked like the first time I saw her—a pretty man.
We didn’t see each other enough to be much more than pot-smoking friends. Yes, we had partied together, shared harmonies playing music, but I knew little about her. We had a common sympathetic bond of having been in a mental hospital and had revealed our bodies and appetites to each other in bed, but I didn’t know her last name, where she was from, her childhood stories, or her dreams of the future.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I’m Catholic, I know a place I can go.”
“You mean you’re moving away to have the baby?”
She took one of my Kools, and I held my cigarette against hers as she dragged on it until it lit.
“Yeah, I have to. Rebecca has been a monster to me ever since she found out. She noticed I hadn’t had my period in two months, and I told her I had been with you. I still lied to her though. I didn’t mention Teresa. She’d be even more bent out of shape if I told her I’d been with another chick. But I wish Teresa would have stayed and talked, so we could’ve worked something out
between the three of us.”
“Teresa and I aren’t doing too well these days.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard the stories going around.”
My body ached from the long ride. My head was a nightmare of pain. A slight tremor ran through me as my nervous system revolted at the stress of our conversation.
“A baby… What’re you going to do? Adoption?”
“You really are totally disconnected, aren’t you? I don’t know all the answers yet, but it’s obvious you’re not going to be involved.”
The front door looked tempting—I could open it and leave, let everyone piece together their shattered lives separately. I didn’t consciously know how to solve anyone’s problems, bring them happiness, or ease their pain, except by handing them a joint or, up to fairly recently, making love with them.
Sam and I sat in silence, brooding, the tension of our uncertain future sucking the air from the room.
“Don’t think you have the right to sleep with me anytime just because I’m going to have your child.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“Well, then I’m going home.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uh, all right.” She stubbed her cigarette out in frustration. “I thought you two would be happy for me. I was hoping the three of us would celebrate. I can’t get any more pregnant, but Teresa’s in a jealous funk, and you don’t give a damn, so I’m leaving. Looks like I’m the only one who’s willing to feel the joy of life.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“I guess that’s all you’re capable of.”
Rebecca ripped open the door as Sam and I reached her landing.
“Have you two been screwing again?” She lunged forward and pulled Sam roughly past her into the apartment. Poking her finger into my chest, her eyes flaring, she threatened me with a demonic snarl. “If you ever touch her again—”
Mayhem (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 1) Page 30
