“Yeah, it’s Polly. Why are you saying it like it’s a question, you big dummy?” She smiles broadly. “It hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen me.”
“How long has it been?”
“Are you serious?” She crosses her arms, but the smile remains.
“Sorry, Polly. Time has been weird for me lately.”
“Yeah, I guess it would be.” She uncrosses her arms and pats my left leg with her right hand. “I told you not to do that show. Everyone says they mess with your head.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I say, returning her smile. “Where are you headed?”
“It’s time for the quarterly visit to my dad’s. He’s in Milford now. Just moved from New Haven last month. I haven’t seen his new place yet. Hopefully this one is better than the last.”
A room pops into my mind. It’s a small kitchen with dishes piled in the sink. Take-out containers and mail cover the countertop. Then a small living room. A fleece blanket thrown over a tweed couch.
“Yeah, that last place wasn’t too awesome,” I say.
“He’s back on his meds, so hopefully he’ll take better care of this one. It’s a little bigger, so it will be comfortable enough if I have to stay a few days and help him.” Polly is still smiling, but there is a touch of sadness to her smile.
I wrap my arm around her and pull her close. I can tell I’ve done this hundreds of times.
“I had a bad day, Polly,” I say quietly.
“You didn’t go see her, did you?”
“I went to see Rochelle.”
Polly turns her body to face me. We’re no longer touching.
“You are such an idiot sometimes. I love you. But really, you’re an idiot.”
“I had to see her. I thought we were having a baby.” Tears form in my eyes. Should I cry? Would Andy let himself cry? Why am I thinking of myself in the third person?
She slowly returns her body to its previous position. She stares straight ahead, processing my words.
“So, it’s not yours?”
“Nope.”
“I hate to say I told you so,” she starts.
“But you will anyway?”
Polly leans her head on my shoulder and says, “I really am sorry. I promise you if neither of us has a baby by the time we’re thirty-five, I’ll happily bear the fruit of your loins.”
I lean my head against hers. “Thank you. That really does help.”
“Repeat after me,” she says. “I, Andy Sullivan.”
“I. Andy Sullivan.”
“Will no longer.”
“Will no longer.”
“Put my penis in young actresses.”
“I don’t know if I should make such a bold statement,” I say.
She raises up and says, “You need to trust me on this one, dude. Name one time that shagging a starlet has brought you anything good besides an orgasm.”
I concentrate, searching for a memory that might not exist.
“Well, to be fair, Rochelle brought me several orgasms.”
Polly punches me playfully in the ribs and puts her head back on my shoulder. I breathe in the lavender, and I feel okay.
Chapter 37
We’re in a nursing home. And not a nice one. I’m really glad I can’t smell anything. There is an ancient man in a wheelchair next to me with a catheter bag hanging off the side in plain view. A woman with bright red hair and bright pink lipstick on her lips and the surrounding creases sits across from him in a plastic folding chair. She’s smacking gum loudly and staring at him.
“Who are we here for?” I’m really hoping it’s not for the old man. I don’t want to see him cry.
“My dad.” Nolan nods toward the old man.
“Shit,” I say.
“Watching him deteriorate the last few years has been hell. Really didn’t help me want to make it to old age.”
“Who’s the classy lady?”
“I think that one is Linda. He has a string of classy ladies,” he says.
“How does he manage that?”
“He used to be famous. Ever heard of the Leather Tones?”
“That really old country band?”
He nods and says, “That’s the one. He was the lead guitar. Some women think that means he has money. He lets them believe it.”
“But if he had money, wouldn’t he be in a nicer place?” I ask.
“Of course. But the women he’s pulling in aren’t exactly the best and brightest.”
Linda pulls a tissue from her purse and wipes under the old man’s nose.
He swiftly pulls the tissue from her hand. “I can do that myself.”
“I didn’t expect that,” I say.
“He’s doing better than the last time I saw him,” Nolan says.
“Seriously, Mel. No need to be a dick. I was just trying to help,” Linda says. She pulls another tissue from her purse and puts her gum in it. She wads the tissue into a little ball and puts it on the table next to her. She stuffs a fresh stick of gum into her mouth and starts smacking again.
“Why are you still here?” Nolan asks.
“Because this is your last one and I’m making sure it goes smoothly.” I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
Nolan shrugs and says, “He’s old as hell. He ran out of charm years ago.”
And I can’t say that I blame him. I was crotchety as soon as I woke up as Juniper, and she wasn’t nearly as old as this man.
“You know what?” Linda stands up and grabs her handbag. She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t know why I’m still here. I don’t know why I still bother with you, you old sonofabitch.”
“See you tomorrow, Linda.” He smiles at her in a way that tells me this is their routine.
The old man reaches toward the table next to him and flips on a radio. Willie Nelson sings “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.” Tears flow from his eyes.
“I knew he’d be easy,” Nolan says right before we are pulled away.
Doris stands before the judge. She looks down as the judge speaks.
I’m sitting between Ernesto and Edgar. I reach for each of their hands.
Several gasps sound throughout the boardroom when the judge says, “You are hereby sentenced to eternity in Oblivion.” I’m surprised that so many of us still gasp.
Doris turns to her audience before the Shadow arrives. She looks at me with a glint of malice in her eyes. A chill runs up my spine and I don’t know if it’s from her or the Shadow.
“Clear the boardroom,” the judge says as the Shadow approaches Doris.
“No!” she says. “Make them watch.”
The judge shouts and bangs the gavel and we all stare helplessly as the Shadow wraps itself around Doris like a Python. It squeezes her, but she doesn’t scream.
The Shadow twists its face in front of Doris’ and wraps its lips around her head. Cracking and sucking noises ring out like someone is eating a giant crawfish. I don’t look away. I’m here to bear witness to her demise. To see exactly what will happen to me if I do things the way she did.
When it’s over and the Shadow has sucked Doris down its throat and nothing lingers but the chill, I realize that only Edgar remains with me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod and say, “You?”
He nods and leans forward in his chair.
“Should I be afraid?” I ask.
Edgar looks at me and says, “Not afraid. Cautious.” He tosses a notebook to me. I flinch out of habit.
The notebook floats into my open palm. “What’s this?”
“Your boy Luke started writing things down when his memories began to fade. Thought you might want it.”
The first couple of pages are just a list. “Daisy, Tom Waits T-shirt, Marlboro Lights,” etc.