Re: story
Thor Cameron (my_colours@hotmail.com)
Fri, 16 Jul 1999 11:57:01 -0700 (PDT)
Oh, hell, I forgot which one Maxwell's Silver Hammer is on... Sgt. Pepper?
Abbey Road? Whatever.
Thor
>I had fun -- lots -- writing this, so I hope you have fun reading it. :)
>First one to guess which album I was listening to while I wrote it wins
>a dollar. HINT -- Late 1960s. VERY late.
>
>The Infirmity of Victor Timothy Dodge
>Jim Rovira
>
> “Doctor, it’s his heart, it’s. . .”
> “Yes?”
> “Well sir, it’s shredded, tattered. It looks like rags run
>through a
>lawnmower.”
> “That’s not possible. He couldn’t be alive. Let me see the
>x-rays.”
> Dr. Mustard concealed his shock well as he examined the x-rays, allowing
>
>himself only a slight stiffening of the neck and back, a slight tension
>in
>the hands, a deepening of the voice. “He didn’t move during the x-rays?”
> “Not at all. The first set came out the same way, and I thought
>that
>myself. So I took the second set myself.”
> “Interesting. Thank you, that’ll be all.”
> “But doctor. . .”
> “Thank you, that’ll . . .”
> “But how can he still be alive?”
> “Maxwell, get the hell out of here.” The Doctor didn’t hear the
>radiologist mutter “What an asshole” under his breath, because after the
>radiologist left the room the doctor virtually collapsed in a chair,
>shoving
>aside a small silver hammer then setting the x-rays down on the table
>next to
>him. He ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath through his
>nostrils as his hands passed over them. He looked again at the x-rays
>then
>tossed them aside. No.
> The doctor began to understand the meaning behind the blank stare
>of
>the patient he had just seen. . .alive. He began to understand the
>patient’s
>total indifference in the face of his own death. He was used to
>confronting
>denial, fear, panic, anger, any number of a host of emotions, a wave of
>them,
>but not indifference. Not an indifference so total and uncompromising.
>The
>doctor began to understand, but didn’t let himself. Instead, he stood
>up,
>put the x-rays back in their envelope, tucked the envelope neatly and
>firmly
>under his arm, then went to see the patient again.
> The hospital seemed changed somehow. This time of night activity
>was
>fairly low, none of the sounds seemed unfamiliar. The shutting of the
>door
>behind him. A cart being pushed by a nurse down the hall. The nurses’
>quiet
>gossip and jokes, their same hair pulled back into the same nets. The
>tap of
>his shoes on the pale green tile floor. The light looked the same but
>had a
>cleaner, brighter quality, somehow a purer white, he thought, but no.
>The
>same clean white walls, antiseptic chrome railings and door handles, the
>brown paneled elevators. The same perfect straightness of the ceiling’s
>lines above him, the smoothness of his coat, the firmness of his step.
>All
>the same, yet all utterly alien in the new world into which he had just
>walked. The doctor moved down the hall carefully, slowly pushed open the
>
>patient’s door then quietly stepped into the room, relieved to see the
>patient sleeping.
> Dr. Mustard sat near the bed and simply stared at his patient.
>It
>took him about three and one half minutes to stare his patient awake, who
>
>began to slowly open his empty eyes. “Doctor?”
> “Mr. Dodge, I happened to be coming by and just stepped in to
>check
>on you. How are you feeling tonight?”
> Victor Timothy Dodge read panic behind the Doctor’s tight smile
>and
>cordial voice. He saw the x-ray envelope and understood. “It’s not
>physical
>damage, Doctor, it’s a disease. Don’t worry, you can’t catch it, not
>really,
>but if you get close enough you can feel it.”
> “What?”
> “You’ve taken chest x-rays and you’ve seen my heart. It’s a
>mess, I
>know. Don’t worry and don’t try to understand. It doesn’t matter.
>Please,
>I’d like to go to sleep now.”
> The doctor was as unused to not being in control as he was to the
>new
>universe he’d just entered. “Try to get some sleep, Mr. Dodge. I’ll be
>leaving now. I’ve heard your. . .girlfriend?. . .will be visiting
>tomorrow.
>Pam, is it?”
> “Pam? You’ve met her?”
> “Yes, she stopped by yesterday. You have a big day coming, get
>some
>rest.”
> “Thank you doctor, I will.”
> The doctor left the room.
>
>***
>
> The young woman who sat herself next to Victor’s beside promptly
>at
>11:52 AM (for visiting hours began at 9:00 AM) was said to look like,
>according to the nurses, not quite enough of a near fatal accident
>involving
>Saran Wrap and vinyl. And that her hair (blonde) was, well, something
>like a
>mannequin’s. For that matter, so was her face. And her nails (PINK!).
>But
>her white go-go boots were more Barbie than mannequin, that much was
>undisputed. She tried to hold a worried expression on her face as long
>as
>she could, but soon got annoyed and poked Victor’s arm. “Hey good
>looking.
>Boy have you been hard to see lately.” The patient rolled his eyes and
>smiled weakly. “Vic, honey, how are you? The doctors said you almost
>died.
>Good Lord, what did they do to your hair?”
> “What?”
> “It’s all cut off.”
> “I didn’t even notice.”
> “Well, you look cute with that flattop.” She giggled slightly,
>then
>asked, “So how are you?”
> “I’m fine, Pam,” Victor glanced at the clock, “Boy, this is early
>for
>you.”
> “I hardly slept at all last night because of you, jerk. Are
>there
>rings under my eyes? You should see what’s left of your car! Ohmigod.
>At
>least you can finally get rid of that piece of junk. Danny said it was a
>
>collector’s item, you should get a pretty penny for it. Hey! Maybe you
>can
>buy one of the new GTOs coming out this year? They look hot. So do you
>know
>how long you’re gonna be in here, darling? By the way, is everything
>still
>there?” She started walking her fingers down his right leg, “Hmmm, lemme
>
>see, thighs, then knees, then feet. . .ewww, what’s that with your toes?”
> “It’s from playing football. Pam, the only thing I can feel
>right
>now is pain, so I’d just as soon not feel anything at all. I know last
>night
>must have been rough for you. . .Danny? When did you see him?”
> “Why, yesterday, I had to ask someone about your car. He is in
>insurance, you know.”
> “I’m glad he was there for you.”
> “Well, whaddya expect? You’re in here all laid up and I couldn’t
>
>even see you while you were in ICU. And I had to take care of
>everything,
>all the paperwork, gawd what a pain. You need to drive more careful, you
>
>know that? At least they didn’t give you a ticket.”
> “Jesus!”
> “You’re not getting religious on me now, are you? I mean, I know
>you
>almost died, but. . .”
> “Pam. Pam. You look beautiful in that, Pam. Really. I can see
>
>your face reflected on almost every surface. Get me some shades, would
>you
>dear?”
> “Victor, you beast! That’s awful. Look, if you don’t want me
>here.
>. .”
> “Nono, honey, no, I didn’t mean anything. I’m still really tired
>and
>I think it’s putting me in a bad mood. Maybe I should go back to sleep
>now,
>ok?”
> “It’s ok baby. I understand. Look, I’m gonna get going, you get
>
>some rest. I’ll be back.”
> “Thanks sweetie. Thank you for everything.”
> “Is there anything I can get for you?”
> “Maybe a couple books.”
> “Ugh. You and your books. Ok, you left the ones you were
>reading on
>your dresser?” Victor nodded.
> “Get the Baudrillard. Simulacra and Simulation.”
> “Uh, ok then. See you sweets.” Pam kissed Victor lightly on the
>
>lips then turned and walked out the room. He watched her as she strutted
>
>down the hall, starting with the line of her thighs against her tight
>white
>boots and working his way up from there, thinking how much he was going
>to
>miss the cool smoothness of her skin, that body he’d memorized by sight,
>smell, and touch, amazed at the relief he felt when she left him, as if
>she
>carried a heavy weight about her, wondering just what the hell else he
>ever
>saw in her to begin with. . .
> Mental note: Tell the nurses not to let her back in.
>
>***
>
> Victor’s phone rang almost as soon as Pam had walked out of
>sight.
>“God, just kill me now. Please.” He picked up the beige phone and
>placed it
>gingerly next to his ear. “Hellllloooo? Is there anything I can do for
>you?
> Anything, really, I mean it. Need your car waxed, ears buffed, your
>corn
>starched? I may even oil your olive. Just ask. I have alll the tiiiime
>in
>the worrrllld, believe you me . .”
> “Victor, quit jerking me around and start telling me what you’re
>doing in there?”
> “Oh, hey boss. Yesterday after work I thought to myself, ‘You
>know,
>just once, I’d like to stay someplace where the service was first rate.’
>
>Then I thought, ‘Why, shoot, a hospital, now, that’d be perfect. They
>not
>only bring you your food but if there’s anything wrong, and I mean
>anything,
>they take care of it pronto.’ And you should just see who gives me my
>baths!
> I can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner. So I wrapped my car
>around
>a semi. Sorry I forgot to call in.”
> “Nice move. Hope you got a ticket. Do you know how much of a
>pain
>in the ass this is? Bill called in sick today too. Now what am I
>supposed
>to do, hmmm? How much longer are you going to be in there?”
> “The doctor said just five more years, and I’m right outta here.
>You
>may want to get someone to replace me.”
> “You’d better believe I . . .” but Victor had slowly hung up the
>phone. He carefully drew in a deep breath, let it out, then tried to
>relax
>himself into his bed, closing his eyes.
> Just as sleep set in, his parents showed up.
>
>***
>
> Maxwell the radiologist, tired after a long and particularly
>unpleasant day at work, was grateful to slip off his shoes as soon as he
>walked in his front door, take off his smock, then remove his belt.
>Before
>he undressed any further, a worried look began to cross his face.
>“Pretty?
>My pretty? Where are you my pretty?” His hands started running through
>his
>pockets. Not finding what he was looking for, he rifled through his
>smock,
>then threw it down. In a panic, he grabbed his keys and ran back
>outside. A
>careful though harried inspection of the car didn’t produce any better
>results. “MY PRETTTY!” he screamed, beating on the car’s hood and roof.
> Had Maxwell been in a frame of mind to notice, he would have seen
>his
>neighbor peering through his window with a cordless phone in his hand.
> When the police arrived, they found him sitting on the ground
>next to
>his car, his knees drawn tightly to his chest and his hands pressed hard
>into
>his eyes, rocking back and forth and mumbling over and over again,
>“prettymyprettyprettymyprettyprettymypretty...”
> “This one’s for the hospital, John.”
> “Ya think?”
>
>***
>
> “OOOOH MY POOOOR BAY-BEE!” Victor’s mother screamed as soon as
>she
>stepped into the room. His eyes snapped wide open.
> “Oh for chrissakes Queenie he’s alive just shut yer yap for just
>a
>god-forsaken minute willya?” Victor desperately wanted to slap his
>forehead,
>but didn’t think it worth the effort.
> Queenie’s breasts descended like a pair of white cashmere
>footballs
>and hit Victor squarely in the head in her rather motherly cuddle. He
>prayed
>for unconsciousness, but since God appeared to be enjoying Victor’s
>suffering
>entirely too much to do anything about it, he did the next best thing:
>get
>sarcastic.
> “Mmrph mm mrmphr mmrr mrr.”
> “What honey?”
> “Never mind. Nice to see you Mom. You too Dad. So, what’s up?”
> “What’s up? Honey, you’re in the hospital. What are you doing
>here?”
> “I needed a haircut.”
> “You bet yer smart ass you needed a haircut. You looked like
>Cousin
>It. And don't sass your mother.”
> “You were speeding again weren’t you honey? I told you and I
>told
>you this was going to happen. But do you listen? Oh no. You just drive
>and
>drive and drive like a maniac and here you are, half dead, laying in some
>
>hospital. Were you wearing clean underwear? OH! They didn’t give you a
>
>ticket, did they?” Victor laughed a bit too hard. It hurt him, he
>doubled
>over in pain, but that hurt him more. So he just lay there stricken. A
>single tear descended from Jacob’s left eye and ran down his cheek.
>Victor’s
>mother started to cry.
> “Oh forgawdsakes now look you’ve gone and upset your mother.”
> Through clenched teeth, Victior said, “Uh, sorry Dad. But, what
>do
>you think of my new haircut?”
> “Forgetaboutthehaircutforjustagodawfulminutewillya?” Victor’s
>father
>had his hands full in just about every sense of the word comforting his
>wife.
> Queenie suddenly reminded Victor somehow of Pam, and for just a second
>his
>heart nearly stopped beating.
>
>***
>
> Unfortunately for everyone involved, Maxwell the radiologist was
>returned to the psychiatric ward of the hospital in which he worked.
>After
>being checked in by a visiting nurse he was put in a room. By the time
>the
>floor nurse came by he’d calmed down. Of course she recognized him, and
>he
>told her it was all just a mistake and that he’d forgotten to take his
>medication, would she please let him return to his workstation so he
>could
>take it? “Why, of course, just let me walk you down there. . .” but as
>soon
>as she turned her back he bolted out the door and out of the ward.
> He remembered where he left his pretty.
>
>***
>
> Dr. Mustard pulled his white BMW into the driveway with a certain
>
>abandon. It would be very difficult for anyone else to park next to him
>without parking at least a little bit on the grass. He didn’t so much
>walk
>to his house as slouched in a somewhat directed manner. Elizabeth, his
>wife,
>happened to be coming down the steps as the Doctor walked in the front
>door,
>“Well now, you look like something hit you hard. What happened at work
>today?” Her height, her leanness, her proud demeanor, and a pair of
>large
>green eyes so rare in black women gave her an imposing beauty.
> “What the hell do you want?”
> “Woah, forget it.” Hands up, fingers out. “Talk to me when
>you’re
>human again.”
> Dr. Mustard dropped his briefcase and overcoat on the couch then
>slouched over to the wet bar. Pouring himself a scotch and soda
>(emphasize
>Scotch), he proceeded to slouch toward his study. His four year old
>daughter
>Victoria sat on his left foot and squealed, “Daaaddddeeee!”
> “Please baby, not now.” He gently picked her up and sat her down
>on
>the couch next to his briefcase and overcoat, then continued to slouch
>toward
>his study. Once there, he simply sat in his favorite large leather
>armchair,
>stared at his books, and sulked. He sulked about his ignorance. He
>sulked
>over the impotence he felt. He resented the hell out of the universe,
>normally so orderly, for pulling this on him. He felt something like
>he’d
>just discovered a terrible secret about his wife, or like he was going to
>
>feel the day his middle son declared his homosexuality.
> He went from sulking to being angry, and moved from anger into
>denial. No, this is nonsense, there is no such disease and there is a
>sane,
>medical explanation. And by God I’m going to find it.
> Dr. Mustard grabbed his coat and strode out the door, starting to
>
>feel more in control already.
> No one stopped him to ask where he was going.
>
>***
>
> “HEY VIC, just what the hell is going on here?” Pam entered the
>room, but not through the front door. Victor and his parents exchanged
>puzzled looks. “The nurses wouldn’t let me in to see you, so I had to
>crawl
>in through the bathroom window. I brought you your book. Oooh, are
>these
>your parents, Vic?”
> “Mom. Dad. Meet Pam. My non-stick girlfriend.” Pam shuffled
>around to the front of the room and shook hands with Victor’s parents.
> “It’s nice to see my Timmy’s dating such a nice girl,” patting
>Pam on
>the cheek.
> “I knew you’d like her, Mom.”
> Victor’s father leaned over and hoarsely whispered, “Nice ass.”
> “I know.”
> “Oh, here’s your book, honey.”
> “Thank you, I knew you’d. . .” but Dr. Maxwell strode into the
>room.
> “Mr. Dodge, we need to talk.”
>
>***
>
> Maxwell bounced lightly off walls and was a general nuisance to
>everyone wanting to walk a simple line from Point A to Point B straight
>back
>to the room in which he’d last left his pretty, the room in which he’d
>last
>spoken to Dr. Mustard. He remembered leaving it on the table, and when
>he
>burst into the room and didn’t immediately see it he nearly went into
>shock.
>He scrambled down to the floor, and saw it laying between the chair legs.
>
>His silver hammer. Surgical steel, really, about six inches long and
>with a
>four ounce ball peen head. He called it his “silver” hammer because he
>carried it with him everywhere, being the single most important object in
>his
>life. It once belonged to his father, who left the family when Maxwell
>was
>six. Since that day he hoped his father would come back to get it. If
>he
>had it, his father would have to see him.
> But the head was bent back. Daddy wouldn’t want it now.
> “RUUUUIIIINNNNNNEEEED! You ASSSSSSHOOOOOLLLLLLE!!!”
> Maxwell, eyes filled with blood lust, went looking for Dr.
>Mustard.
>
>***
>
> “Doctor. My good Doctor. I’m so grateful to see you. Please,
>come
>in. Sit. Perhaps now’s a good time for everyone to leave?”
> “That might be a good idea. We have to have a talk about your
>heart.”
> Pam shrieked, “Vic!”
> Queenie squealed, “Tim!”
> Then, almost in unison, like a choral dedicated to pain, “Your
>heart?”
> “Doc, really, not now.”
> “I want an explan. . .” Dr. Mustard didn’t finish his sentence
>because, well, everyone in the room turned their heads toward Victor’s
>open
>door at the sound of a strange disturbance in the hallway. Before anyone
>
>knew what was happening, Maxwell burst into the room in a frenzy, silver
>hammer above his head. Dr. Mustard ducked, but Pam was standing behind
>him
>and BANG, BANG, Maxwell’s silver hammer came down upon her head. Pam
>collapsed. Maxwell jumped back in shock, dropping the hammer. Two
>security
>guards, having followed a train of upset people in the hallway, came into
>the
>room and dragged Maxwell out, one on each arm. Dr. Mustard yelled out
>the
>room for a nurse then knelt down to check Pam.
> “How is she?” Jacob was the only one able to speak.
> “Ok, I think, but we’ll see.” A stream of nurses and two
>orderlies
>with a bed came into the room and carted Pam out. Dr. Mustard followed
>them.
> Victor and his parents stared at each other, bewildered, then Queenie
>fainted against her husband’s side.
> “I think I better take yer mudder home,” patting her on the cheek
>and
>saying, “C’mon, honey, wake up.”
> “Good idea.”
> Victor was finally alone.
>
>***
>
> Early the next morning Victor was still alone. He was starting
>to
>get over it. He’d heard Pam would be alright, but. . .Pam.
>GodwhatajerkiamPam. That knock on the head didn’t hurt her nearly as bad
>as
>knowing I told the nurses not to let her see me. She crawled in through
>the
>bathroom window to give me my book, for Christ’s sake. Why couldn’t I
>just
>talk to her about how I felt? I’m the one that’s full of shit. What a
>loser. God, why was she interested in me anyhow? I gotta talk to her.
>I
>gotta end it, but I can’t play games and I can’t hurt her pointlessly.
>Jesus.
> But, uh, no one gives a damn about anyone but themselves.
> Me either.
> God my head hurts.
> Dr. Mustard, near the end of his shift, had to stop in to speak
>with
>Victor. “Mr. Dodge, now we’re going to talk.”
> “No, now I am going to continue sleeping.”
> “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Dodge. This very minute, you
>have
>no business being alive with a heart like that.”
> “Doctor Mustard, you have no idea how much I agree with you from
>the
>very bottom of my heart.”
> “Tell me what you know.”
> “I know my heart hurts most of the time. I know it’s a mess.
>That’s
>all I feel like talking about right now. Tell ya what, if you leave me
>alone, I’ll give you the name of a hospital that studied it a good bit.
>But
>you have to leave me alone. And I do not ever, ever, want to discuss
>this
>with you again.” Jacob picked up a small notepad off the nightstand near
>his
>bed and wrote the name of a hospital down on it. “They should be able to
>
>tell you everything you need to know.”
> “Thank you. Mr. Dodge, you need to learn how to talk to people.”
> “Thank you. Now fuck off.” Dr. Mustard stiffened slightly, then
>
>started to walk out the room. Victor thought he’d gone a bit overboard
>even
>for himself.
> “Sorry, doc. I’ve spent my life around people who’ve either made
>me
>feel like shit or fed it to me every chance they could.”
> Looking over his left shoulder, Dr. Mustard said, “Hm. Try being
>
>black for, oh, just 36 hours” then walked out the room.
> 6:15 AM. This is gonna be a looooong day.
> Victor heard his door open and saw a figure move slowly and
>gracefully through the darkness. A woman. She crossed the room and slid
>
>open the curtains, then faced Victor.
> “Good morning, Mr. Dodge. I know it’s early but I saw you were
>awake.”
> “Can you answer me a question?”
> “Yes, Mr. Dodge?”
> “Why can’t everyone. . .I’m sorry, anyone. . .leave me the hell
>alone? Now, tell me, what do you want me to do for you, hmmm?”
> “You’re laying there half dead and want to know what you can do
>for
>me?” Victor couldn’t make out the expression on her face because the sun
>had
>started to rise, pouring light through the window. It framed her long
>brown
>hair but darkened her face. “Mr. Dodge, there’s nothing you can do for
>me.
>I’m here to do for you. And I’m going to be a very important person in
>your
>life, Mr. Dodge, so you better get that in your head. Now, you’ve
>screwed up
>with me right off the bat, but tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going
>to
>give you another chance. I get off at 2:30 this afternoon. I’ll come
>back
>shortly after that so that you know I’m here on my own time. Nothing in
>it
>for me, ok? I’m not even getting paid. Now, you can tell me anything
>you
>want. Be honest with me. Please, God, it’d be a breath of fresh air.
>But
>don’t waste one minute of my time with that sarcastic shit or I won’t be
>back. Got it, buster?” Victor could barely make out a finger pointed at
>him
>resembling something like a small foil aimed at his heart.
> “Eh, got it. Hey, no wedding ring on your finger?”
> “Don’t even try flirting until we’ve had five minutes of civil
>conversation. After that, I’ll think about it.”
> “Could you shut the curtains?”
> “No, I think you could use some sunshine. ‘Till later, Mr.
>Dodge.”
>The woman with the long brown hair stalked out the room, gracefully as
>before. Victor watched her walk down the hallway, noticing her uniform.
>. .a
>doctor of some kind?. . .thinking there was something about the way she
>moved, and here came the sun, the rich warm sunlight washing over his
>chest
>and arms. . .
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>--------- End forwarded message ----------
>
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