After all, a guy gets married only once. At least, a man who has a girl like Jane Pemberton in love with him gets married only once.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened Sunday. He saw Jane and again had dinner with the Pembertons. And every time he looked at Jane, or touched her, Charlie had something the sensation of a green pilot making his first outside loop in a fast plane, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. The poor guy was in love.
BUT ON Monday—
Monday was the day that really upset the apple cart. After five fifty-five o’clock Monday afternoon, Charlie knew it was hopeless.
In the morning, he made arrangements with the minister who was to perform the ceremony, and in the afternoon he did a lot of last-minute shopping in the wardrobe line. He found it took him longer than he’d thought.
At five-thirty he began to doubt if he was going to have time to call for the wedding ring. It had been bought and paid for, previously, but was still at the jewelers’ being suitably engraved with initials.
He was still on the other side of town at five-thirty, awaiting alterations on a suit, and he phoned Pete Johnson from the tailor’s:
“Say, Pete, can you do an errand for me?”
“Sure, Charlie. What’s up?”
“I want to get the wedding ring before the store closes at six, so I won’t have to come downtown at all tomorrow. It’s right in the block with you; Scorwald & Benning’s store. It’s paid for; will you pick it up for me? I’ll phone ‘em to give it to you.”
“Glad to. Say, where are you? I’m eating downtown tonight; how’s about putting the feed bag on with me?”
“Sure, Pete. Listen, maybe I can get to the jewelers’ in time; I’m just calling you to play safe. Tell you what; I’ll meet you there. You be there at five minutes of six to be sure of getting the ring, and I’ll get there at the same time if I can. If I can’t, wait for me outside. I won’t be later than six-fifteen at the latest.”
And Charlie hung up the receiver and found the tailor had the suit ready for him. He paid for it, then went outside and began to look around for a taxi.
It took him ten minutes to find one, and still he knew he was going to get to the jewelry store in time. In fact, it wouldn’t have been necessary for him to have phoned Pete. He’d get there easily by five fifty-five.
And it was just a few seconds before that time when he stepped out of the cab, paid off the driver, and strode up to the entrance.
It was just as his first foot crossed the threshold of the Scorwald & Benning store that he noticed the peculiar odor. He had taken one step farther before he recognized what it was, and then it was too late to do anything about it.
It had him. Unconsciously, he’d taken a deep sniff of identification, and the stuff was so strong, so pure, that he didn’t need a second. His lungs were filled with it.
And the floor seemed to his distorted vision to be a mile away, but coming up slowly to meet him. Slowly, but getting there. He seemed to hang suspended in the air for a measurable time. Then, before he landed, everything was mercifully black and blank.
“ETHER.”
Charlie gawked at the white-uniformed doctor. “But how the d-devil could I have got a dose of ether?”
Peter was there, too, looking down at him over the doctor’s shoulder. Pete’s face was white and tense. Even before the doctor shrugged, Pete was saying: “Listen, Charlie, Doc Palmer is on his way over here. I told ‘em-“
Charlie was sick at his stomach, very sick. The doctor who had said “Ether” wasn’t there, and neither was Doc Palmer, but Pete now seemed to be arguing with a tall distinguished-looking gentleman who had a spade beard and eves like a chicken hawk.
Pete was saying, ‘Let the poor guy alone. Dammit, I’ve known him all his life. He doesn’t need an alienist. Sure he said screwy things while he was under, but doesn’t anybody talk silly under ether?”
“But, my young friend”-and the tall man’s voice was unctuous-“you quite misinterpret the hospital’s motives in asking that I examine him. I wish to prove him sane. If possible. He may have had a legitimate reason for taking the ether. And also the affair of last week when he was here for the first time. Surely a normal man-“
“But dammit, he DIDN’T TAKE that ether himself. I saw him coming in the doorway after he got out of the cab. He walked naturally, and he had his hands down at his sides. Then, all of a sudden, he just keeled over.”
“You suggest someone near him did it?”
“There wasn’t anybody near him.”
Charlie’s eyes were closed but by the psychiatrist’s tone of voice, he could tell that the man was smiling. “Then how, my young friend, do you suggest that he was anesthetized?”
“Danunit, I don’t know. I’m just saying he didn’t-“
“Pete!” Charlie recognized his own voice and found that his eyes were open again. “Tell him to go to hell. Tell him to certify me if he wants. Sure I’m crazy. Tell him about the worm and the duck. Take me to the booby hatch. Tell him-“
“Ha.” Again the voice with the spade beard. “You have had previous…ah… delusions?”
“Charlie, shut up! Doc, he’s still under the influence of the ether; don’t listen to him. It isn’t fair to psych a guy when he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. For two cents, I’d-“
“Fair? My friend, psychiatry is not a game. I assure you that I have this young man’s interests at heart. Perhaps his…ah…aberration is curable, and I wish to-“
Charlie sat up in bed. He yelled, “GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I-“
Things went black again.
The tortuous darkness, thick and smoky and sickening. And he seemed to be creeping through a narrow tunnel toward a light. Then suddenly he knew that he was conscious again. But maybe there was somebody around who would talk to him and ask him questions if he opened his eyes, so he kept them tightly shut.
He kept his eyes tightly shut, and thought.
There must be an answer.
There wasn’t any answer.
An angelic angleworm.
Heat wave.
Duck in a showcase of coins.
Wilted wreath of ugly flowers.
Ether in a doorway.
Connect them; there must be a connection. It had to make sense. It had to MAKE SENSE!
Least common denominator. Something that connects them, that welds them into a coherent series, something that you can understand, something that you can maybe do something about. Something you can fight.
Worm.
Heat.
Duck.
Wreath.
Ether.
Worm.
Meat.
Duck.
Wreath.
Ether.
Worm, heat, duck, wreath, ether, worm, heat, duck, wreath
They pounded through his head like beating on a tom-tom; they screamed at him out of the darkness, and gibbered.
HE MUST have slept, if you could call it sleep.
It was broad daylight again, and there was only a nurse in the room. He asked, “What—day is it?”
“Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Wills. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Wednesday afternoon. Wedding day.
He wouldn’t have to call it off now. Jane knew. Everybody knew. It had been called off for him. He’d been weak not to have done it himself, before—
“There are people waiting to see you, Mr. Wills. Do you feel well enough to entertain visitors?”
“I—Who?”
“A-Miss Pemberton and her father. And a Mr. Johnson. Do you want to see them?”