Awake in Hell (16 page)

I
see the more children coming over and sitting down. Some of them are standing
just outside the circle listening but, haven’t yet committed. I feel a wave of
pride. I am sitting here surrounded by Hell children listening to me read.

Surrounded
by Hell children.

Surrounded.

Damn,
Damn, Damn it all!

Suddenly,
I remember where I am. These are not normal children. These are the demonic
souls of serial killers, dictators, tyrants, and psychopaths. I look around
quickly for back up. Dani is nowhere to be found. What did she say? She had a
situation. I remember that. Fuck! That’s why she said no more than three or
four kids at a time. Why don’t I listen when other people tell me things? I get
lost in my own ego and think they are underestimating me, instead of trying to
help. Which of course, was what they are almost always doing. The other adults
that are employed here are all around the room with their “buddies” doing
exactly what they should do, paying attention to their own sets of devil
charges, and to each other. No one has noticed that I’ve gotten myself into a
shitstorm
of trouble.

I
start to rise out of my chair. “Okay, break time.” I say with overt
cheerfulness. But, there’s no escaping now. They have formed a strategic circle
and three of them are standing guard while the rest descend on me. Fear wraps
around my heart as little hands wrap around my body. I hear a growl in my left
ear and turn to face it. I find myself looking into a pair of wretched,
horrific eyes. His gaze seizes mine and holds me just as each child finds
purchase on my dress or body and pulls me down. I feel the scream starting in
my abdomen and by the time it reaches my throat, so does he. His little hands
wrapped around my neck and his pale blue eyes are filled with hatred, but also
longing. He wants to strangle me to death. But I am already dead. I feel his
frustration in my gut. So, he will do the next best thing and inflict as much
pain on me as possible. They are all standing around me, cheering him on and
holding me down. My head is spinning with the words ‘why’ and ‘no.’
My
brain is reverting to its most primal urge, to survive.
I’m prying at him and slapping at the dozens of hands and knees now all over
me. I feel a stab of pain in my legs. One of them has bit me, another on my arm
and another on my shoulder. I begin to sob as I keep trying to fight them off.
There is a ringing in my ears and I think I hear Dani yelling, “get her out of
there!”  Mentally, I thank Dani, but, all that is escaping my throat now
is a ragged kind of wail, like a cat who caterwauls before he dies. The room is
getting dark. In the gray behind my many attackers, I see her, the little girl
with the bouncy ball. What is she doing here? Why would she come into this
horrible place! Can anyone else see her?

“Linda!”
I say and she looks at me. There doesn’t seem to be any reaction to the fact
that I am under attack. She just looks at me as if to say “What?” My cognizant
mind is slipping. Perhaps I’m hallucinating, but I can’t risk her really being
here. “You have to get out of here,” I say, barely whispering my words, yet she
seems to be able to hear me just fine.

“Stop
helping!” she answers in her usual petulant way.

“But
I have to. That’s my job.” I say now, barely conscious.

“What
job!” she says to me teasingly.

“The
most important job ever,” I say, not even sure that I’m speaking aloud anymore.
“My Darling Girl, the job of being your Mommy.”

And
everything goes black.

Chapter
Thirteen

 I
am sitting with Mom and Dad in the living room watching yet another episode of
‘Wheel of Fortune,’ when the phone rings. I leap over the back of the sofa, run
and stand over it breathlessly, to see the number on the caller id. Mom says
something about me acting like a teenager and I stick my tongue out at her to
prove her point. I look at my Dad and say, “I’m actually a little nervous.”

Dad
says, “
why
buy a vowel? It’s obvious, ‘You can take it
to the bank,’ you moron!” Then he turns his attention to me. “Just jump right
in front of the bullet, baby. That’s the best way.” That’s all I’m going to
get, because now he’s yelling at the next contestant for guessing, ‘You can
make it to the bank.’

I
pick up the phone and say, “Right on time! So how much do you miss me?”

Bobby’s
low raspy laugh is the only response, and even after four years together, the
sound still makes my thighs ache. “I miss you more than I miss Elvis!” His
standard answer, for which I wish rolling my eyes made a noise so he could hear
it. Bobby loves Elvis — like total-pathetic-
fanboy
kind of love. Because of all the traveling he does, he has learned to live with
very few material possessions. I drag him into clothing stores hoping this time
he will agree to a few more shirts, or a new pair of jeans. But no, he will
gladly sacrifice any sense of fashion and at least a third of precious suitcase
real estate for his miniature Elvis shrine. I always make horrible fun of him
for it, but in reality, it is just one of those quirks that make him different
from anyone else. One of those things that made him able to convince me to fall
in love with him, after years of self-induced exile in the world of romance.

“So,
what’s new in the world of amusements?” I ask breathlessly, indicating to
anyone with any powers of deduction that I am just being polite because I have
something way more important to impart. But no, he settles in and starts to
tell me about three new rides with all the features, ticket sales and whatever
else, under ordinary circumstances, would
puts
me to
sleep. Then he says, “Oh, and Sue Ann is in love with a local again,” sarcasm
dripping from every syllable.

Now,
I love Sue Ann stories. Sue Ann, bless her, is more hormonally challenged than
I ever was. She “falls in love” at least twice a month. Her heartfelt romances
usually end with her climbing out of the back of a pickup truck and swearing to
keep in touch while throwing his number away in the nearest trash can. I adore
Sue Ann. But today, even the promise of a few vicarious thrills from the girl
that took me out of the game by introducing me to my dream guy, is not enough
to keep me quiet.

“Well,
I have some big news!” I say. My mom comes rushing out of the kitchen to stand
next to me and I silently wave her off. Privacy in this house can be a
commodity sometimes. She doesn’t move, so I say, as quietly as I can, “can I
tell him on my own, please?”

“Is
that Mom?” he asks. I love how he calls my parents Mom and Dad. They love it
too.

“Yes.
She’s excited.” Suddenly, I know how to spring the news. “You see, because you
are far away, I had to tell Grandma and Grandpa first.” Then I wait.

“Grandpa
and Grandma? I thought your grandparents were dead!” He can be truly clueless,
but in an adorable way.

“They
are.” I answer.

Then,
it hits him. “
Weez
!! Really? Are you sure?” he asks
quickly.

“Yup.
Got professional confirmation this morning. You are not going to believe how
many doctors’ appointments this is going to require. I may need to go back on
drugs after this.” I say laughingly.

“We
are going to cure you of your White Coat Syndrome, yet!” he says, obviously
excited. “Is there any risk in the pregnancy?” he asks, with sudden concern.

“Dude,
I’ve been clean for almost five years!” I say, assuming he meant due to my drug
history.

“No,
I mean because you’re so....” he trails off.

“So…what?”
I ask accusingly.

“So…
OLD!” he yells into the phone laughing hysterically.

“Fuck
you - very much!” I say, back. He loves to tease me, simply because I am five
years older than he is. Stupid Jerk.

However,
having brought that up, I do have to admit that having a baby at the age of 38
was never in my life plan. “The doctor says there’s always some risk with women
my age, but, since I’m relatively healthy, he isn’t worried.” I say proudly, as
if I had total control of the condition of my body.

“Baby,
you are a testament to clean living!” Bobby says with affection, and yes...
more teasing.

“Have
I said ‘Fuck You,’ today?” I say back laughing right along with him.

“I
love you, Weasel” he says, and I know he means it.

“I
love you, too.” I answer, and so do I.

I
feel like a virgin on prom night. I am truly that nervous and self-conscious,
which is ridiculous. Bobby is coming home, as he’s done a hundred times
before.  He will hold me, and kiss me, and tell me how glad he is to be
home, where he belongs. I’m not sure if I am nesting or if this is due to the
fact that Bobby missed the entire first trimester, as well as part of the
second. I’m terrified how he will react when he sees me in my hugeness. Linda
keeps telling me to get a hold of myself and that I sound like a neurotic wife.
Linda is a bitch.

Bobby
and I are not married. First of all, I abhor the idea of institutionalized
commitment. He doesn’t agree but he loves me enough to be somewhat compliant.
That is the other thing that is bugging me. Since, he successfully got one past
the goalie and knocked me up, he has brought up the idea of marriage more
often.  But, I don’t think it’s real to him yet. It’s still a concept of
me being pregnant. Once he sees me in all my glory, I’m half afraid he’ll knock
me over the head and drag me to the altar by my hair.

Anyway,
our house is closed up at least seven months out of the year. Bobby travels,
and can only come home for occasional weekends and our fair week. I hate living
alone, so I move back in with Mom and Dad when he’s gone. Every fall, when
there is a chill in the air and I realize that carnival season is coming to an
end, I return and open up the house. But this time, I’m running around like a
chicken with my head cut off. Linda is hanging out, supposedly to help but,
mainly just, to put flame on my anxiety fire. I’ve dusted at least twice, the
windows are wide open so the crisp autumn air can drive out the musty smell,
and I’m vacuuming. I look at Linda, who took the slipcover from off the sofa,
sat down, turned on the television and has now clocked at least three hours in
front of it. “Hey! Pregnant girl doing tons of manual labor over here!” I say.

“Studies
have shown that exercise is good during pregnancy. So are you going to relent
and name your kid after me or what?” she responds.

This
is the argument Linda and I have had ever since I found out I was having a
baby. What to name it. If it’s a boy, of course it will be called Bobby.
However, if it’s a girl... well, that is still up for debate. Linda wants it
named after her. Bobby wants it named Marie, after my Mom, and I want it named
Willow after a character on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No one is compromising at
this point.

“Is
that what this is? Blackmail?” I ask accusingly. She laughs out loud.

I
look at the clock and realize we only have 20 more minutes before Bobby is due
back. I run and put store bought cookie dough in the oven. I heard once that
real estate agents do that when they have open houses because it makes people
feel at home when they smell something baking. Linda comments that Bobby will
think he’s in someone else’s home. So, I do the only thing left to do to make
my house presentable for the man I love.

I
kick Linda out.

Now
I’m in front of the TV, lost in an episode of Friends when I hear Bobby’s key
turn. I instinctively stand and grab a throw pillow from the sofa to hold in
front of me. The first thing I see when he walks in are those gorgeous blue
eyes. They still leave me breathless. You know how people say, “absence makes
the heart grow fonder?” Well, I hit the jackpot in that regard. Every single
time he walks in the door I get to fall in love with him, all over again.

He
walks up to me and snatches the pillow away. Then he looks at me as though he’s
ogling a 22 year old supermodel in a bikini. By the time those baby blues get
back up to meet my gaze they are filled with love and desire. “Damn
Weez
. You look amazing!” He leans over and kisses me
deeply.

I
wrap my arms around his neck and reply, “who knew you were a chubby
chaser?”  Then I wrap my legs around him and we fall onto the sofa. His
kiss is passionate yet his touch tender. He has always been a generous lover,
but this time he is mind-blowing, better than ever. I’m gasping for air and
riding my third climax in less than a half an hour when suddenly we both sit
up. The fire alarm is going off.

Damn
real estate agents.

Chapter Fourteen

 I’m
in the hospital. Eating lime
jello
and staring at the
most incredible miracle I’ve ever laid eyes on, my darling girl. She has
Bobby’s eyes and just a wisp of white blond hair. All she’s done so far,
besides being born, is cry and sleep. Yet, I find her fascinating. I just want
to watch everything she does every minute for the rest of my life. She is only
a couple hours old and she already has made at least seventeen different
expressions on her tiny face. I am thinking that she is going to be very smart.
The nurses come by every few minutes to press on me and check my vitals and
encourage me to sleep. But who could possibly sleep after having such an amazing
experience? Well, Bobby apparently. He’s snoring on a chaise lounge next to me.
I have just let go of the only person with whom I ever shared that much of
myself.  For almost a year she went .everywhere I went, she ate everything
I ate, she was part of me. Now she’s outside, in the world, and I will never be
able to get that close to her again. Except for feedings, she and I will never
be connected again. All of a sudden, I find myself crying. My heart is full, my
life is happy.

Bobby
wakes up and crawls in next to me in my hospital bed. He stares at her for a
few minutes and then looks at me. He wipes the tears from my cheeks and says,
“Why is it that all the greatest moments in my life involve you weeping?” I
smile up at him.

“Okay,
we have to do it.” I say

“Do
what?” he replies.

“Pick
out a name,” I say.

“We
can call her Willow, if you insist,” he says kindly.

“Actually,
I was thinking she looks like a Linda,” I say and begin to cry all over again.

Welcome
to the world Linda Marie Patterson.

My
Darling Girl.

* * *

We
are at the Easter Egg Hunt at Mom and Dad’s church. My darling girl, who we now
call
Dinny
, to tell her apart from Aunt Linda, looks
adorable in that pansy blue dress that Mom just had to get her. She’s running
around looking desperately for eggs but having no luck. I tried to be her
spotter but she gave me the whole pouting, “stop helping!” thing. So I’m on the
sidelines trying to
will
her toward the obvious
colored orbs lying within two feet of her.

Bobby
comes up and wraps his arms around me. He’s been so good lately, coming back
for holidays and giving whole weeks to his assistant so he can come home more
often. I put my hands over his and lay back against his chest. I love the
feeling of being wrapped up in him. Even now, after almost ten years, we are
still like brand new lovers. He still hasn’t managed to get a ring on my
finger, but in every other way I belong to him totally.

“Hi
ya
, Baby Daddy,” I greet him warmly.

“The
girl having any luck?” he asks

“Nope,
assuming you’re talking Easter egg hunting. Now, if you’re actually referring
to retaining her most-precocious-kindergartner-ever title, I think she’s got it
in the bag!” I reply.

“We
did make a great kid didn’t we?” he says

“Yup.
In fact, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think I can bear another letter to Santa
asking for a baby brother or sister for Christmas. Perhaps we should think
about making that happen for her?” I ask. And yes, I too have a hard time
believing I was volunteering for childbirth a second time, just in case anyone
was wondering.

“We’ll
talk about it after your doctor’s appointment.” he says matter of
factly
.

“Seriously?
I really don’t think it’s anything to worry about!” I protest.

“Weasel,
I honestly don’t care what you think, unless you have been secretly going to
medical school. What I do know is you would be willing to ignore something
serious if it meant avoiding a doctor’s appointment. Now, I love you and I
always will, but it’s time to let go of this fear and take things seriously. I’ll
be leaving on Tuesday, but your Mom promised me she would take you to the
doctor this week and I expect a full report.” He seems so determined.

“I
kinda
dig it when you go all ‘Me Tarzan You Jane’ on
me,” I say. “Fine. I will go to the Doctor and we’ll find out that it’s just a
fibrous cyst or something. Then we can get back to talk of making babies.” I
sound so much more confident than I actually am. The lump Bobby found a few
nights ago seems to move from my breast to my heart and to my throat. Every time
I think about it my stomach turns. Every time I think about the needles the
Doctor is going to poke me with in order to see what it is also makes me feel a
bit queasy. But I will go and endure whatever torture they have for me. For
Dinny
and for Bobby. For my family.

* * *

I’m
back in the hospital. More lime green
jello
, and more
nurses poking and pressing on me. This time, there is no baby to look at with
wonder. I have recently endured a double mastectomy only to find out that it
was in vain. My cancer has spread and is now incurable. This trip to the
hospital will be my last. Honestly, I have not made peace with that yet. I
don’t know if that is what is keeping me alive or if it’s just my family
sitting around willing me to live another day. I do know that I am tired. 
I feel like shit warmed over and I am pissed off beyond all reason. Linda is
sitting with me now, while Bobby takes
Dinny
to
school and Mom and Dad are home getting some rest.

“I
remember when I told Bobby I was pregnant with
Dinny
,”
I start, “he asked about the risk because I seemed so old to be having a baby.
Doesn’t it seem funny now? That seems like such a long time ago, and today I
feel so much older. But he made a smartass comment about my being a testament
to clean living.” I look at Linda, who gazes back at me with sad eyes.

“Not
clean living, perhaps. But you were always charmed, Lou. You could fall into a
pile of shit and come up with an ice cream cone.” she says with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah,
what flavor of ice cream is cancer?” I say bitterly.

“Don’t
start feeling sorry for yourself, now.” Linda chides. “When we were young you
swore you wouldn’t make it to thirty. The fact you have survived to forty-five
means that you have been on borrowed time for a while now. Look at what you
accomplished in that fifteen years.”

“That’s
the problem, Linda. I have accomplished nothing. I got knocked up, and now I
won’t even be able to see my darling girl become a teenager, let alone an
adult. I have never had a job, or a husband, or done anything worthwhile. I
have used everyone who has ever loved me. I was terrible to you and to my
parents. Now, I’m going to die. I will never be able to make it up to all of
you.” My tears are coming fast now. “I am so sorry.”

“No,
I am sorry.” Linda says grabbing my hand, her tears coming on strong to pace
with mine. “I feel so bad that you think your life means that weak description
of failures. Your life means so much more to Bobby,
Dinny
,
and your Mom and Dad. And your life means everything to me. Your life and my
life are so interconnected. I can’t imagine what the world is going to look
like without you. And it makes me scared to think that someday I may wake up to
a life that can’t be shared with you. Does that sound like a failure?” her
voice is almost pleading.

“I
think that means there is one thing I have always been great at,” I say gently,
grabbing her hand with both of mine. “I’ve always been good at picking
wonderful best friends.”

When
my family returns, they all surround me.  Linda, Hank,
Dinny
,
Bobby, Mom and Dad, along with Rev. Dawson and a couple of hospice nurses. Rev.
Dawson prays, the nurses attend, and we all cry and hug and say our goodbyes.
Bobby leans over and looks into my eyes one more time, “I love you so much, my
beautiful little Weasel.”
Dinny
climbs into my bed
and says, “Why is everyone crying Mommy?”

“Because
I have to go away, and you guys won’t see me anymore,” I answer, my heart
breaking as I do.

“Daddy
told me. He said you can’t help it,” she responds. “And that you’ll miss us as
much as we miss you.” Her beautiful face looking up at me with a sense of
understanding even though she can’t possibly grasp what is about to happen.

“Every
day, I will be looking down at you.” I say to her, knowing deep inside that I
am lying. “Every day I will say the same thing. I hope you are happier today
than you were yesterday. And, I hope all your tomorrows are wonderful!” I bury
my face into her hair and breathe deep, taking in her scent and trying to
imprint every cell of her onto my dying heart.

Mom
leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “You have always been a wonderful
daughter,” she says through her own tears.

“Mom,
now is not the time to start practicing hyperbole,” I say, laughing.

“I
know I’ve never been good at being good.” I squeeze her hand before letting go
and giving out a long sigh. I look at this lovely woman.

“Promise
me you’ll help Bobby with
Dinny
.”

“Of
course, you don’t even have to ask!” she answers.

“You
were a great mom to me. I know you’ll be a great mom to her. Please, don’t let
her forget me. Just don’t tell her that I was a bad person. Lie to her for me,
please.”

“I
will never tell your daughter a lie. She will know every day how wonderful you
are,” she says smiling down at me.

I
feel like I am finally going to sleep after a long, hard day. Only this time I
am not going to wake up. As I look into the faces of the people that not only
shared my life but were my life, I can only think of one thing to say to each
and every one of them. So, I say it over and over until everything fades away.

“I’m
sorry....I’m sorry....I’m sorry”

As
my surroundings begin to disappear, Mom leans over me once more and starts to
speak. I cannot hear her anymore. There is just a rushing sound in my head that
drowns out everything else. But I finally know what she was trying to tell me.

YOU
ARE FORGIVEN.