Storymania - 13 Days by Laura Dickey

13 Days
Laura Dickey

Laura Dickey
2479 Peachtree Rd., NE
Apt. 409
Atlanta, GA 30305
Home: (404) 949-0175
Cell: (404) 319-1188
Email: [email protected]
My mama always used to say that everybody’s always looking for a preacher of the new religion. Well, I’m a sinner worst than most, but I got a real good story. So grab a pew and shut up, I’m fixin’ to lay it on you.

It all started on a Friday night, just like every other Friday night. It was payday, and Ray was drunk and hollerin’ some shit about the government or Mexicans or something else that he thought he could blame for the fact that he wasn’t much more than a waste of space. I could tell what he was working up to, so I started to go down deep to that place inside me where I couldn’t feel pain or joy or sorrow or bliss, down where I was nothing, so nothing he did to me mattered.

I was almost all the way down when he hit me, WHACK, right across the temple, and I felt it all right. I felt it for about 2 seconds until my head hit the corner of the coffee table, and then it all went blank.

I woke up in a hospital bed, and there he was, crying and praying beside me, the son of a bitch. He heard me stirring, and looked up and starting crying like a baby saying how he hadn’t left my side and how he’d been praying for a miracle and it had come true. I knew full well that he’d been praying to save his own miserable hide, not mine, but I let him go on, saying how awful sorry he was. He was always sorry.

Somewhere between sobs, I heard him say something about “13 whole days” and I wanted to know what he meant. I tried to interrupt him, but I was still pretty weak and he was off on a tear, so I thought it best to just let him finish and then ask.

Then a nurse came in and saw that I was awake, and all hell broke loose. The room filled up with people in white coats and those blue pajamas saying a bunch of things I didn’t get, but what it boiled down to is that they were all surprised as hell that I was awake.

When I finally got one of them to listen to my mouth instead of my heartbeat, she said something about “severe head trauma” and that I had been in a coma for 13 days.

13 days! Are you shittin’ me? Although, I had to admit, I did feel rested. 13 days of sleep plus not getting wailed on must a done me a world of good! I thought about asking her if they could put me back under, but they were so excited that I was awake, I figured they’d just say no.

The room cleared out a bit, until it was just the first nurse that came in and saw me. She let him back in, and said that Ray had been such a trooper throughout this whole ordeal. Yeah, he’s a real prince.

Then he comes over to the bedside, right on cue, and bends down and kisses me on the forehead, and the damnedest thing happened.

I started dreaming, right then and there even though I was wide awake. I saw him at home, sitting in that ratty old chair of his. He was drunk, of course, and about to pass out like an idiot. I could see the bottle in his hand slump into his lap and spill all over his work pants. He was so plastered, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t even smell the smoke when the cigarette he was smoking burned it’s way into the carpet.

Then I saw the flames. They leapt up around him like an orange net, and the smoke rolled through the trailer until the air was thick and black. I watched as the fire pealed the flesh away from his face, melting it into a pink pile of goo. He was already dead from the smoke, so he didn’t feel it, but still, the sight of it gave me a deep sense of satisfaction.

In fact, I felt so good that I started to laugh. I was real hoarse, on account of not having said nothing in so long, so I sounded a bit like a bullfrog croaking. But I couldn’t stop, I just kept laughing, louder and louder. The nurse started to look at me a little funny, and left the room.

But Ray, just started laughing too. The dumbass! Him laughing just made me laugh harder, and I had to sit up to keep from choking. It had to be just a dream, I mean, there he was, right there in front of me, face intact. But man, it was so real! I could still smell the smoke and burning flesh – enough to make me puke if it wasn’t so funny.

I had been laughing too long and too hard because Ray was starting to look nervous. We were alone now, so he got real close down in my face and told me that I’d better not be thinking about telling anybody what happened, or there would be hell to pay. When he got close to me I could smell the whiskey on his breath – how he got that in a hospital, I’ll never know – and that combined with the smells from my dream was just too much for me and I puked, right in his face.

This of course caused me to loose it completely, so when the nurse came in to sedate me and saw Ray sitting there with my puke on his face looking pretty spooked she reassured him that this was normal after suffering from “severe head trauma.”

She stuck the needle in my arm – thank God, or I would’ve puked again – and I went back to sleep, which was fine by me. In fact, I’d spend the rest of my natural life that way, if I had any choice in the matter.

But, of course, I didn’t, and before I know it that nurse is waking me up again, trying to get me to eat something. While I didn’t particularly care for being awake, I was hungry, real hungry. The first plate she brought me smelled so good, it was like somebody flipped a switch inside me and I turned into an eating machine. They kept bringing plates, and I kept cleaning them and asking for more until the nurse laughed and said she thought I’d had enough. She was probably right, though I could’ve gone for another piece of pecan pie.

I must’ve drifted off because it scared the piss out of me when the doc barged in and told me he had some “tragic” news. He said that last night, there was a terrible fire at my place, and he was sorry to say that Ray had perished in the fire.

Well, this freaked me out but good, as you can imagine, so when I started crying the doc thought nothing of it and just put his hand on my shoulder and left. But I wasn’t crying for Ray, hell no! I was crying because I’d seen the whole thing in my dream, and it happened. It happened for real.

When I pulled myself together, I figured it was a good time to ask for more pie because they were all feeling sorry for me and were more likely to let me have my way.

As I ate my pie, I thought about it. How did I know what was going to happen to Ray? Did I see it because it was going to happen, or did it happen because I wanted it to? Did I make it happen?

This got me excited, because I had never made anything good happen before. I mean, let’s face it, I was born white trash and was likely to die white trash at the hands of my white trash, wife-beatin’, no-account husband. Even with him turned into a charcoal briquette, my next move was most likely to find me another one just like him.

But maybe not. Maybe I got changed by that severe head trauma thing. Ray always said he would knock some sense into me, and maybe he did.

I started to get a headache trying to take it all in, so I stopped all of that. Instead, I thought I would have a little experiment.

I pushed the nurse call button, and in came my little nurse friend. She was young, and new enough to still give a shit about what happened to me. Not like those old grizzly bears working the night shift. They’d let a body go into cardiac arrest if it meant they had to stop painting their nails to prevent it. No, she was young and sweet and pretty.

I tried to get a read on her while she fumbled around with the tubes pumping shit in and out of me, and nothing. I thought if maybe I closed my eyes and thought real hard I might get something, but still nothing.

She saw the face I was making, all squished up and frowny, and I suppose she thought I was hurting, so, because she did still give a shit, she put her hand up to my forehead, and BANG, I got it loud and clear.

I saw her with one of the doctors, the one who came in to tell me about Ray. They were married and living in this big-ass house on the good side of town. She was older, though she wasn’t too pretty anymore. Something about the way she looked at herself in the mirror – you could just tell she was unhappy. Then I saw her take a handful of pills and swallow them down with a mouthful of booze, as she looked one last time at the file in her hands with the pictures of the doc and that other woman doing all sorts of nasty things.

And like a flash I switched over to her again, older in a not-so-big-ass house with some other guy – I recognized him too, he had come to clean out my bed pan a few times before, bless his heart. There were children making noise in another room, when he came up behind her and put his arms around her and kissed her cheek as she was fixing her hair. Something about the way she looked at herself in the mirror – you could just tell she was happy.

Then, bang, I was back and she was talking to me saying, Mrs. Cavanaugh, are you okay? So, I said, Sally, her name was Sally. Sally, I said, don’t marry the doc, marry the orderly instead.

Well, you would have thought I stuck her with a hot poker the way she jumped back from me. It tickled me a bit, to have such an effect on somebody, so I kept on.

I said, Sally, if you marry the doctor he’ll cheat on you and ruin your life. But the orderly will give you children and will love you and treat you right.

Just like that, straight to the point. I was a little worried that I’d scared her too bad, so I just watched her to see what she was going to do next.

But pretty little Sally didn’t freak out, she straightened right up, and for a second there, I thought she might actually be taking it to heart. Then she says real low, Mrs. Cavanaugh, let me get you another piece of pie, hon, and walks out. So, I think to myself, I may be on to something here.

I stayed in that hospital for another two weeks for “observation” and in that time I managed to make quite an impression. Eventually they all came to me with some question. Sometimes they came as a group, laughing and giggling like it was all a joke, then shutting up quick when I told them something that they’d never told another living soul. Others would sneak in like bandits and then beg me to tell them the future.

And I did tell them, I told them all. Sometimes they liked it and sometimes they didn’t, but they kept coming back for more.

On the day I was finally released, I went out like a movie star. They took me out in a wheelchair, you know, and I had to stop every 3 feet and let somebody thank me for changing their life. Oh no, I’d say, I didn’t do a thing except show you the way, you changed your life. Very wise.

So, I set myself up in a little apartment downtown with the money I got from the insurance on the trailer and Ray’s life insurance - you could’ve knocked me over with a feather when I found out that bastard had a policy! If I’d known I would’ve killed him myself years ago. And I made myself a career out of telling people their fortunes.

I even set some rules for myself, which I reckon I needed to do now that I was an independent businesswoman and not a broken-down, trailer-trash housewife any more.

My first and most important rule was that I would always tell the truth. This was a tough one because, in addition to seeing the future, I could also tell what they wanted the future to be. It came in like a little shadow over the real vision, like that picture-in-picture thing on a TV, and sometimes it was real tempting to just tell them what they wanted to hear.

Like this one time, this cute little girl comes in and asks me if she should marry her boyfriend, and I see that she’s got the cancer and will be dead in a year. I told her to marry that boy and be as happy as she can because she don’t have much time. Well, she blew up at me like an A-bomb and calls me a liar and a cheat and all kinds of bad names, and I just sit there and let her blow it off until she’s spent. Then, I give her back her money and tell her, yes, she should marry that boy and don’t waste another minute thinking about it.

She stormed out, still pissed at me, but she did what I told her. She married him the next week, I saw it in the paper. Good thing, too. Her mama sent me a note after the funeral thanking me for giving her that advice with a check in it for the same amount I’d given back to her.

For the first time in, well, ever, I was feeling pretty good about myself and where things were going for me. I should’ve known that was a sign that life was about to get rocky, but I didn’t. I just enjoyed the flow.

The rocky part started when this stranger blew into town. Now, strangers don’t just blow into town around here. I mean, we got nothing worth seeing and everybody who lives here would leave if they just weren’t too lazy to do it. So, this fella made quite a splash. The whole town was buzzing with gossip the minute he hit the city limits – wasn’t he a movie star? Maybe he was here trying to get away from the paparazzi? Maybe he was thinking about buying the town, like that actress did that one time?

So, it wasn’t too long before a delegation of the local gossipy hens came around my place, wanting to know if I would go “talk” to the stranger and give them my “impressions.”

I wanted to give them my impressions of them, but I took them up on their offer. To tell the truth, I was curious about this guy too, and I wanted to get my “hands on him” if for no other reason than to get a little something different. In a little town where everybody knows everybody, there ain’t much variety in their problems, so I thought this new guy might be a nice change of pace.

So I told the ladies to let me know where he was staying – there weren’t any motels in town, but there were several boarding houses – and I would go look him up.

Turns out, I didn’t have to wait on the ladies to get back to me, even though their grapevipe is lightening-fast. Damn if he didn’t come walking right through my door.

Now, I’ve seen some good-looking men before on the TV or in the movies, and frankly, I never took it too seriously. Ray would always snort and say that the old boy wouldn’t look so damn pretty without all that make-up and hair gel and was probably a faggot, after all. Although I never said so, I figured he was probably right.

But this was the first time I had ever seen a perfect man close-up. He was tall, dark and drop-dead handsome, just like the saying goes. But it was his eyes that got to me. They were this light green that almost didn’t look right on a man with dark hair and dark skin. But that was what made you look into them and try to figure out why they weren’t quite right and pretty soon you had forgotten just about everything you ever thought you knew.

Lucky for me, I never thought I knew too much, so the effect only lasted a few seconds on me. I asked him if I could help him and he grabbed my hand and kissed it, like a prince or something, and tells me that, oh yes, he was sure I could help him.

Now, two things about this rubbed me the wrong way. First thing, ain’t no man going to treat somebody that looks like me like this. I’m not saying I’m ugly – I used to be a looker when I was younger – but Ray had broken my nose a couple of times and my jaw once, so my face didn’t sit quite right. Not to mention that I had my psychic get-up on, so I had this crazy scarf around my head and lots of clangy gold chains and bracelets. Basically, I looked like I had on a Halloween costume. I know I looked stupid, but the locals seemed to like it. It was part of the show.

The second thing that bothered me was that, when he grabbed my hand and kissed it, I got nothing off of him. Ever since my coma, I got something off of everybody I touched. Hell, a few days before a woman bumped into me at the grocery store and I had to tell her that her dog died.

This slick so-and-so didn’t give me so much as a flicker. Usually with palm to palm contact I could get the rest of their lives up to the date, hour, minute and second of their death. But this guy, he was blank and it was a weird kind of blank, not just empty but dark and deep and cold. It made me remember the place I used to go when Ray would beat on me.

I must’ve shivered because he asked me if I was cold. I said no, though I pulled my shawl a little tighter around my shoulders. He said that he heard I was a seer. I’d never heard that word before, so I thought he said Sears, like the store, and I told him it was down the street. It was a stupid thing to say, but Romeo had me all flustered.

He laughed, and all I wanted to do was tell him another one to keep the laughter rolling out of his perfect mouth. But I couldn’t think of anything to say, so he stopped laughing and I actually felt bad about it, but only for a second because he got me again with those eyes of his.

He put both of his hands out, palms up, and told me he wanted me to see his future. I told him that I wasn’t going to get anything from him because if I was, I would’ve got it when he kissed my hand. He told me I should give it another go and laid this big wad of cash down in front of me.

There must’ve been a thousand dollars in that wad, but that wasn’t why I did it. I did it because something inside me told me that this was a very bad man, and if I didn’t get into his head, something real bad was going to happen. So I thought to myself, okay asshole, I’m giving you all the juice I got.

And I took a deep breath and grabbed his arms at the wrists, passing up the palms he had offered me. In my grip I could feel his pulse. It was fast like a race car, and he twisted around like he didn’t want me to know. But he wasn’t getting away from me. I closed my eyes and bore down harder on his pulse – I was going to get the truth out of him if I had to break his goddam wrists.

Then, all of a sudden, there it was, as big as a screen at the drive in movies. I saw I was right, he was a bad man. The many crimes and sins of his past came at me so fast I couldn’t make them out. I only got this sick sense of murder, mayhem and evil.

And then the rush stopped as quickly as it started, and everything was black and empty again, except for one little thing way over in the corner of his mind that he was trying to hide from me. I dug my heels in and grasped at it, a cold little ball breathing heavy and deep in a place where there was no pain or joy or sorrow or bliss.

There I was, plain as day looking back at myself reflected in this man’s green eyes. Now I remember you, I said to him in the dream.

Yes, he said back. You used to visit me quite often. The last time you were here you stole something from me, and I think you know what it is. I came here to get it back.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I lied – I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I wasn’t about to give up the one good thing that ever happened to me.

And those green eyes flashed at me, but I wasn’t scared. I knew that he couldn’t do shit to me, or he would’ve already done it.

He laughed again, but this time it was better because I was inside of it and I felt the echo all around me and, just for a second, the dark place didn’t seem so dark.

You’re a pistol, he laughed, and felt him relax. Just for that, I’m going to give you another gift.

Now, I’m not what you’d call experienced. I’d been with a couple of boys before Ray and none since. Ray didn’t do much to educate me. If I had a nickel for every time that son of a bitch passed out on top of me, I’d be set for life.

But this guy really knew his business. I stopped caring about whether he was good or evil about 10 minutes into it, and I’ve never given it a second thought. I didn’t know what part was real and what part was a dream, but it was all good.

The next day I woke up in bed alone feeling like I’d been rode hard and put up wet. He was gone without a trace, like the last little part of a dream evaporates as you amble your way from sleep to waking.

I went about my merry way for a couple of months, working my mojo with the locals until I got sick with the stomach flu. I went to the doc, and he told me it wasn’t the flu. You guessed it! That son of a bitch knocked me up!

After I got the news, I went to the park to think things over. I got to tell you, I was pretty worried. I mean, I am fairly certain that the father wasn’t entirely human, not to mention the fact that I’m not so normal myself. What would that mean for a child? What on God’s green earth would it be like?

Then I got an idea. I’ve never been able to work my gift on myself – otherwise I would’ve seen that dark stranger coming and would’ve gotten the hell out of here! But I wasn’t really doing it on myself, now was I.

So I put my palm flat on my belly and waited. Sure enough, faint and strange, I got something. It was a girl, and, yeah, she had it too. The rest was a little peculiar, I guess because she was a still so tiny, but I did get an interesting view of myself from the inside.

But she was happy, definitely happy. I had never been there myself, but I knew it when I saw it. Then she spoke to me, she said, mama, don’t you worry, everything is going to be just fine, you’ll see. And I did see.

She’s due any day now and I’m on my way down to Florida, if you can believe it. I think we need a change of scenery, and so does Star, that’s her name, Star. She picked it out herself.

There’s a colony down there where everybody’s a psychic. I know, it sounds like a load of horseshit, but we think it’s worth checking out.

Sometimes, when Star’s asleep after a long night of playing kickball with my bladder, I think about those 13 days I was in a coma and I wonder if I’ll ever sleep that good again. I’ll admit, part of me misses the dark place and feeling like nothing. The world is just so raw to me. It’s like walking through a forest where everybody’s thoughts are tree branches that whip at you or brush lightly against your cheek.

I worry about Star and how the world will seem to her. That’s why I’ve got to stay sharp, I’ve got to teach her how to keep the world at bay, so she’ll find room for her own feelings without everybody else’s trampling all over them. I’m here for her now. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.