“And when did everything become different? Do you remember what time, how long ago?”
That was easy. Mandy recounted the whole story, throwing in lots of details just to show her mind was sharp.
Angela listened, nodded, then asked, “Do you remember being in any accidents where you hurt yourself, where you may have hit your head?”
“My girlfriends and I went on some rides at the fair.”
Angela perked up a little at that. “What kind of rides?”
“Uh … the Tilt-a-Whirl, the Chair-O-Plane … and that thing that looks like a hammer on both ends and the cars tumble around while the big hammer spins—you know what I mean?”
Angela stepped back and looked her up and down. “Have you ever heard of a CAT scan?”
“I don’t think we went on that one.”
“Well, I’m talking about—”
“I’m kidding. But can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
“What year do you people think it is?”
Angela looked around the room until she spotted something. “Let me show you, and you tell me what you think.” She stepped over and moved an IV pole that had been half covering a wall calendar, one of those charming calendars with a Norman Rockwell painting for each month. She pointed at the precise date. “Today is right here, September seventeenth, 2010.”
Mandy studied the calendar. The year 2010 was printed plainly over the month. No doubt she could touch that calendar and it would really be there. She was a little surprised at her own reaction, a strange, incredulous chuckle. Why shouldn’t it be 2010? By now they could have told her she was on Mars in an experimental futuristic city under a huge plastic dome with artificial weather and that would have fit in just fine with everything else. “What’s a cat skin?”
chapter
4
FIERY WRECK KILLS MAGICIAN
Mandy Eloise Collins, best known as the witty and offbeat wife and partner of Dane Collins in the magical duo Dane and Mandy, was killed yesterday and her husband, Dane, injured when the Collins’s car was sidestruck by another motorist, also killed in the crash. Dane Collins, riding in the passenger seat, escaped and was subsequently injured trying to rescue his wife from the burning vehicle… .
The news story went on recapping their career, identifying the drunk driver, quoting a police spokesman, covering the lesser details, blah blah blah. Dane could read only so far before the real world with its real pain returned, overrunning the stupor of the painkillers and the drug-induced oblivion of the previous night.
The photo was difficult enough. Arnie sent the Las Vegas Sunsome promo pictures and an eight-by-ten for them to crop, resize, whatever they wanted, but of course it was the wrecked BMW that made the newsy photo, caved in on the driver’s side, gutted and charred throughout. The seats were reduced to misshapen steel and wire frames, and the floor was burned down to the metal. Half the roof was gone—that was how the rescue team got Mandy out.
Dane let the paper fall to his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. Yeah, there was that sick, crushing feeling again, the head-bashed-against-concrete, immovable, immutable cruelty of the real world. Good morning, Dane. Glad to have you with us.
Earlier, by now another world away, he woke up by gradual degrees and found himself in a place that could not have been real, only a dream he didn’t have to believe. No, this didn’t have to be a hospital room. He wasn’t really hurt. The pain was only sunburn and maybe a charley horse here and there.
And any moment, Mandy would walk into the room, look down at him, and say, “Wow, that was a close one!” And he would say, “Yeah, sure was,” and then they’d take each other’s hands and thank God together that they made it through another one. God was taking care of them just as He always did. Remember that spinout we had on Donner Pass the winter of ’73? Got away without a scratch. Hey, what about that fall you took from the stage in Pittsburgh? If that nice gentleman had not been in the front row for you to land on …
But the sorrow was, he continued coming around. His eyes roamed in small circles, then greater, and everything he saw he discovered for the first time and then remembered: the bed in which he lay, the remote that raised and lowered the bed, the call button for the nurse, the television on the wall, the food tray waiting for breakfast or his next dose of pills, the graduated drinking mug with the hospital’s name on it, the happy face to miserable face pain chart, stripes of sunlight coming through the slatted blinds, and the flowers. Everywhere, the flowers. The room smelled like a florist shop—or a funeral, either one.
Oh, right.He’d had visitors bringing bouquets, loving words, comforting touches—on his left side only. Bouquets stood on the shelf, the sill next to the bed, the windowsill, even the floor below the window.
The daisies. Ernie and Katelynn Borgiere brought those because Mandy always liked them. Ernie was a stage magician in the classic style. Some of Mandy’s favorite dove tricks she got from him, and he was honored.
The red roses, pink lilies, and purple asters in the tall basket came from Pauline Vitori, musical director for Dane and Mandy’s six-week run at the Las Vegas Hilton. That engagement was five years ago, Dane and Mandy hadn’t seen her in all that time, but she was here yesterday, teary-eyed and bringing a bouquet so big it had to sit on the floor.
Chuck and Cherry Lowell, Dane and Mandy’s pastor and his wife, were there for a great part of the day and brought the dozen roses and baby’s breath. The card read, “For a grand lady at the close of a great performance.”
Preston and Audrey Gabriel sent roses and a heartfelt letter. Preston, a veteran magician and innovator of magic, was the wise old man in Dane’s life. Now hosting a television show on A&E, he was making quite a name for himself debunking phony psychics and faith healers. He was always good for a deep discussion.
Carnations. Orchids. Lilies and birds-of-paradise. Greens shooting out of the vases and baskets like splashes. Ribbons. Cards.
So yesterday really happened.
Didn’t it?
Then Arnie arrived with a fresh change of clothes to replace Dane’s bloodied and burned ones, and handed Dane the morning paper.
Guess it did.
Dane went back to the photo and studied the car’s blackened frame, broken windows, collapsed steering wheel. It was time to face it. What happened, happened. No option, no escape, no denial. It happened, and the sooner he came to grips with that, the sooner he could learn to live with it. He studied the photograph until his stomach turned and his hands shook.
Arnie took the paper away from him. “That’ll be enough for today.”
He sank forward, elbows on knees, hands over his face, sitting on the edge of the bed, recovering, breathing. He didn’t cry this time, he didn’t know why. Maybe his whole body was tired of crying. He just ached, felt sick, felt as if he could never eat again. He wanted to stay in the dark behind his hands.
“You need help tying that shoe?” Arnie asked.
Dane let his hands drop from his face and the light of today’s world flood his eyes. He reached down, but stopped and grimaced halfway.
“Let me do it.” Arnie knelt down and tied the shoe, which was just as well. The other shoe took Dane a painfully long time.
“So what’d they do with the car?” Dane asked.
“Police have it. I talked to the insurance agent. It’s all in the works, don’t worry about it.” Arnie stood. “You all set?”
Dane nodded. He’d had his talk with Dr. Jacobs, the primary physician. He had his plastic tote bag with the hospital logo containing his patient discharge instructions, a bottle of painkillers, a bottle of cream for his burns, and a prescription for more of either one if needed. He was dressed and now both shoes were tied. “Let’s do it.”