At the Seams

Chapter 14: Day 4 - 9:02 am

Chapter 14: Day 4 - 9:02 am

Mary’s mind ascends and she steels herself, already feeling needles deep in the meat of her useless muscles. She enters, an alien in her own body. She yearns to writhe, to ease the lethargy torturing her every fiber. The physical frustration of her paralysis sickens her. She stays her panic. She won't be here long.

Mary tries to inventory herself. Her left eye is useless, blind. Her throat still feels strangely full, a blockage that could be nothing other than a feeding tube. Her lungs fill and flatten rhythmically with the aid of her ventilator. Beeps and whistles surround her head like an electric halo. Peripherally, Mary can see the heart monitor and EEG. She wonders, do I really need all this?

Mary looks down at her body on the bed. Her breasts have withered. The arm draped across Jay's neck is the color of canned tuna, not the lovely caramel she remembers.

Jay! Mary's heart skips when she sees her baby, asleep next to her. Jay's head pops up and around sharply, as if she had shouted his name. They stare at each other. Oh, Jay, Mary thinks, the voice in her head moaning, how I wish I could hug you. You're my loyal boy.

Jay barks, surprising Mary. She wonders briefly if his uncharacteristic noise would bring anyone, then wonders intensely whether she still wants Sam to know she's present. Would it be cruel to tell him I'm in here, when he can do nothing? I can't stay in this stinking sick-bag to be with him. Perhaps it is best if Sam never knows.

Mary knows she cannot prevent Sam's understanding. She considers leaving her body, without saying goodbye, to spare him even the possibility. In the end, she is selfish.

Jay barks again, yammering up a storm. Mary never would have guessed Jay capable of such noise, but he schools her now. Jay, be quiet, Mary thinks, curious when he tapers off into a whine. Jay, it's time to say goodbye. You have to take care of Sam, when I go. He'll need you. Love you, boy. Always will.

Jay wriggles, mewls, licks her face, her arm, even takes her hand gently between his teeth. Tears drench Mary’s face. Bitterness, sharp as barbed wire, wraps around her throat. How cruel that she cannot comfort Jay, her Jung, undoubtedly the most loyal man in her life. How cruel that she, and he, must settle for such a lame farewell.

Mary's tears abate when Simon enters her vision from the master bedroom, where Mary used to sleep with her love. A female voice from that direction inquires if all is well, to which Simon replies, "It's all good babe, I got it." Mary is wholly unsurprised to hear a female voice coming from Simon's apparent temporary quarters, even under the circumstance.

"How you doin' Bug?" Simon asks as he pulls up one of the bistro chairs and sits, checking Mary’s IV. Jay's head, ears slightly back, pops up and he stares at Simon. Simon doesn't notice anything, but Mary knows Jay’s look: he is nervous and about to bite. Jay, no! Mary thinks, hoping he will not attack Simon.

Jay does not, but glares as Simon prods Mary gently. Once Simon is finished checking her tubes and mechanisms, he sits back in the chair, crossing both his legs and his arms, propping his chin on one furry-knuckled fist. Mary laughs inside, her mind cycling through decades of memories of Simon sitting just so. Simon… Mary thinks, but where to start? This man has been her Shiva, her man of many arms—a warrior, a wise advisor, a guru, even a mother. Mary cannot remember a time of her life in which Simon’s influence was not both pivotal and apparent.

Mary’s family visited with Simon several times a year since she was born. Then, when she was eight, Mary fell hard for her Godfather. She clearly remembers the peculiarity of her heart taking over for the first time. On the day everything changed, Mary was with Dad, picking Simon up from the airport. Simon—all California tan and face-consuming grin, his salt and pepper hair shaggy and tousled, huge Ray-Bans lending him an air of celebrity—floated out of the throng of people, an angel with strong, open arms that swept her into a smoky, spicy embrace. Mary remembers thinking, lust a voice in her head for the first time, now, that's what a man smells like.