Unforgettable Page 4

  “Oh, wow.”

  “I know you’ve had experience in rehab so I’d really like you to take him. He’s a pill. ‘Wouldn’t do anything in the hospital. Ten visits authorized. We can probably get a lot more. There’s a lawsuit.” I knew she was drooling.

  “Yeah. I’ll take it.”

  I finished with Harold, a stroke patient who had lost his speech. Harold hated his wife and he frequently pointed at her with his hand in the shape of a gun, pulled the trigger, then pointed it at his open mouth and pulled.

  Then he laughed. I couldn’t wait to leave.

  I went to my new patient’s home.

  It was modest. Once beautiful rose bushes lined the walk. Dead flowers were hanging off, branches broken. Life had obviously changed for the people in this house.

  A middle-aged woman, his mother, opened the door. Her hair was flattened on her left side. I’d obviously gotten her up.

  “He’s in a very bad mood today. If he gives you any crap just leave. I don’t expect people to put up with his foul behavior.” Her mouth was tight, turned down, and her hands flew, palms open, as if trying to grab at something.

  She showed me into what once was a dining room and now was a make-shift bedroom. The room smelled of disinfectant and urine.

  “Abe, this is Miss Rose. BE NICE!”

  Abe, his eyes closing, turned away. He was a thin teenager with a heart-shaped face, scraggles of a hopeful beard, and large, fiery eyes.

  “Hi.” I sat on a dining room chair with a plastic seat cover.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “What do you want?” I threw back at him.

  “Can you make me walk again?”

  “No.”

  “THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”

  “What movements are you getting back?”

  “None, you moron! I’m paralyzed. Didn’t you read my chart?”

  “I did. I majored in chart reading at spy school. And from what I read you should have some movement. In fact, I’ve worked with several people with your level of impairment who have their own apartments. They have some help but they do a lot on their own.”

  “They told me that in the hospital. They lie.”

  I sat still.

  “Well say something!!”

  Still.

  “You’re getting paid to be here now do something.”

  Still.

  “Are you just going to sit there staring?”

  He was crying and his nose was running.

  I couldn’t show him how much my heart hurt for him. His anger, right now, was his most powerful ally.

  “Wipe my nose.”

  “I don’t like snot, wipe it yourself.”

  “Wipe my fucking nose. It’s going to run in my mouth.”

  I stuffed two tissues in his hand.

  “Stop it! Help me!”

  “Yes, I will help you.”

  An invitation. What I was waiting for.

  I lifted his arm a few inches.

  “Take over. Snot’s running.”

  He moved his arm. I lifted it more.

  His face had become a roadmap of bends and folds, agony and rage. But also determination.

  He moved it. And finally we reached his nose.

  “So now you’ve fixed me, right? I’m going to cooperate. And your work is done. All hail the hero therapist.”

  “What did you promise God?”

  He stared.

  “That you’d be good? No sex? No drugs? No alcohol? What?”

  He stared.

  “It didn’t work did it?”

  “What the hell do you think?”

  I got in his face.

  “I think what happened to you is the biggest, baddest thing I’ve seen in a long time! You hear me? It sucks so bad the universe should collapse right into it! Woosh!”

  I started throwing glasses and towels and basins.

  His mother peeked in.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Doing fine.”

  She hesitated and then left.

  “What else do you want me to throw?”

  “My goddamn trophies.”

  “No, what else?”

  “All that catheter shit.”

  I did.

  “What else?”

  “The goddamn nurses’ schedule!”

  He sobbed and howled.

  “The goddamn nurses’ schedule!”

  I held him tight.

  His pain ripped through me. “I know, babe, I know. I’ve got you, I’ve got you…”

  “You don’t understand. I’m…I’m a virgin. I never even got a chance to fuck someone. Get naked…and love ‘em…and feel all of that. Never!”

  I smiled and let him go. I had wondered when this would come up.

  “You know what the biggest sex organ is?”

  He smiled.

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “Your brain. That’s where sex happens. And, you know what else you have?”

  I grinned, drying his face.

  “Your mouth,” I whispered.

  He blushed.

  “So, let’s see, we have a great brain, and a hot mouth, and shoulders, and arms. And soon you’ll be able to wipe your nose…always a plus with the ladies. You know, I know a man who is a quadriplegic, much higher level than yours, and he’s married and has four kids. Great kids. Life won’t be what you had in mind but it can still be fabulous. And sexy.”

  He giggled.

  “For real?”

  “Would I lie?”

  I smiled and helped him comb his hair.

  “Laughter’s the key, Abe. You gotta laugh every day. That’s how you beat this. I swear. Now let’s get to work instead of you sitting on your lazy ass. Let’s turn your music on. Loud!”

  He laughed again.

  It was a quarter to five before I got to Jack’s. Darkness would not be that far away.

  Sarah met me at the door.

  “Come on in, he’s in a meeting with some folks about the next movie…It’s wrapping up. I’m heading home but I left some lemon bars in the kitchen. He said to tell you that he’s sorry and he’ll be right there.”

  I went to the kitchen and Fritz walked in.

  “Jack is going to be hours and hours. These meetings are never ending. I think we should go dancing.”

  He swooped me up and began tangoing all around the kitchen.

  “Or perhaps, we should just…slow dance.” He took my hand and held it to his chest. I was warm all over.

  What was wrong with me? I must be in heat.

  “Have I told you that you are by far the most gorgeous, most titillating, most brilliant woman I have ever met?”

  He bent and kissed me.

  “I have a nice little bungalow in the back. I know you’re hungry. I’m an excellent cook. We could have some dinner, get to know each other better. Play some chess. Take our clothes off.”

  He smiled a victorious smile.

  “I don’t play chess. I never could grasp the concepts…planning ahead.”

  He held me tighter.

  “I could teach you.” He kissed me again, vibrating all the way down to my toes.

  Naked. Naked with this man. Oh, how I could see that…feel that.

  “I’ll have to take a rain check, I don’t…”

  “Get out after dark?”

  Everything stopped. How did he know?

  The killing cold within me started around the scar then moved up to my heart and face.

  Cold. Deadly cold.

  “I’d better see if their meeting’s over.”

  “Sam, that was bloody stupid of me. I shouldn’t have said that. Please, don’t go.”

  He had been so delicious. But I had to get away from him. He knew about the darkness.

  I went into the office. The people in suits were leaving.

  My body had that sick, tingling feeling you get when you step off a ripping rollercoaster.

  I asked Jack how he was doing.
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  “Great. Just negotiated a whopper of a deal. Let’s go celebrate.”

  “Jack, I’m sorry, I’ve got a terrible headache. Would you mind if we…if I just went home?”

  “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll get you something. You probably haven’t eaten again.”

  “Thanks. I just need to go home. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for understanding.”

  I hurried out the door.

  Tuesday

  I could feel the alarm was about to go off. I lay there wanting one more hour’s sleep. It had been another rough night.

  I always had the local news on while I got ready. Most of all the sound made me feel less lonely.

  “Possibility of rain today. High eighty-six.”

  I turned off the television and tied my shoes. I had a full day, seven patients before Jack. Before Jack and Fritz.

  That thought put a little giggle in my stomach.

  Someone knocked on the door. I made sure my knife was strategically placed as I answered.

  “Detective Silverman, Los Angeles Police Department.”

  Police. What were the police doing here?

  He held his badge up so that I could see it through the peep hole. I removed the alarm and opened the door.

  He was an average height man with a slight build, hair cut almost to the skin, high arched eyebrows, with surprising deep, vertical dimples. He wore a dark suit with a brown tie that was loosened.

  “Sorry to come barging in just when you’re about to go see your patients. Have a seat, please.”

  “How do you know I was going to see my patients?”

  “I have a file on you. I know that your alias is Samantha Rose but that your real name is Samantha Rose Sinclair.

  “I know that you’ve just moved here from St Louis, although you told your landlord that you come from Kansas City.

  “I know that your parents died when you were seventeen when their minivan was exploded in a head-on with a dump truck.

  “I know you were raped and tortured and mutilated two years ago by Robert Welsh, who has recently escaped prison.

  “And I know that you are running.”

  He watched my reaction. I was a squirming ant under a magnifying glass.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news, Princess. Robert Singer Welsh, is in Los Angeles. As are his two brothers, Oscar and Eddie. A great trio.” He smiled, unleashing his dimples.

  “My doorknob rattled the other night. Somehow I just knew it was him.”

  “You have to call the police when anything unusual happens. We know that Welsh is a psychopath of extraordinary type. He is a stalker. And he is dedicated to finding you.

  “He’s a big fan of yours, Princess. Yessir. He wallpapered his prison cell with your pictures, presumably taken by his brothers, or by him before he was arrested.

  “We know that he has completed the home study Jack the Ripper course. Did well, too. And we know that you are in extreme danger. And I’m here to take you into protective custody.”

  A weak “no” squeaked out of me. My spine had turned to oatmeal.

  “Miss Rose, or Miss Sinclair, you are in danger. I don’t have to tell you what he’s capable of or what his unusual little hobbies are. It is not a matter of if he finds you but when. And when he does he will do to you what he did before. Only this time you will die. Slowly. Perhaps over days or weeks.”

  “This is my battle, Detective. I appreciate all you can do for me but I will not run again.”

  He stared, the impish dimples now strained.

  “Miss Rose, are you listening to me?” he shouted. “He is going to catch you, he is going to cut you, he is going to rape you--over and over. Now I don’t know about you but that is not on my top ten list of fun things to do. Or ways I want to die!” He was standing now.

  “I can arrest you…”

  “I know.” I felt small, I could not lift my arms I was so weak.

  “Do you think these little alarms and the knife under your pillow are going to stop him?”

  “I will stop him.”

  He rubbed his face.

  “Okay, you have a cell phone, right? You program in my number…here, I’ll do it. Just give me the cell phone.”

  He programmed his numbers into my phone.

  “You call me, and you call 911 if there is ANY and I mean ANYthing unusual. If someone bumps you at the mall and you feel odd about it, you call. If someone is walking outside who looks familiar, you call. If the thread in your door is moved, you call! Hear me?”

  I nodded. He knew about the thread. This sucked. I thought I was doing so well.

  He shook his head as he walked out.

  “Call me if you move. Don’t leave town unless you call me. From now on I am your very best friend.”

  I called my landlord and asked if he would install a deadbolt for me.

  He said sure.

  I relaxed.

  For one hundred and eighty-five dollars.

  Damn.

  I told him to go ahead. I'd get the money somehow.

  Robert showered and put on the new cologne he'd bought at the gas station. He was going to pick out the restaurant.

  It wasn't far. He went in. There were cloth tablecloths and shiny crystal.

  "A party of one?" the hostess smiled.

  "Yes. One. For now. I'm going to bring my bride, Lilith here. Think she'll like it?"

  "Oh, I'm sure. Come this way. When is the wedding?"

  "Soon. Very, very soon."

  I could barely drive. I trembled all day vomiting after I tried to eat lunch.

  I reached Jack’s place at five-fifteen.

  Fritz let me in. He looked worried, concerned, when he saw me. I tried to be perky. Sam, the perky PT.

  I walked into the den.

  “How are things going?”

  “Good. How are you?” Jack had the same look Fritz did.

  I ignored it and checked his foot. Then I asked him to stand.

  “’Thought we’d do some standing exercises today.”

  “I think I need some lemonade, how about you?” He walked into the kitchen. I followed.

  “Sit down.”

  He brought the pitcher to the counter through several pivots and hops. Then he handed me two glasses. My hand shook.

  He sat down.

  “How’s the pain been?”

  “What’s wrong, Sam? You look like you’re seeing the executioner. Where are the zombies, the werewolves? Where are the monsters, Sam?”

  I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell someone. More than anything, I wanted him to hold me so I could breathe again.

  "Jack, I really hate to ask, but could you loan a hundred dollars until payday? Car's having a little trouble."

  He scowled and took out his wallet. It was fat. He handed me a fistful of bills.

  "Need more, I'll call Fritz."

  I took two fifties and thanked him.

  "Tell me, Sam. Tell me what the hell is going on. I can help you. I want to help you."

  “It’s my battle,” I whispered, my mind checking out completely. I played with a rubber band on the counter, staring at air.

  “What battle, what battle, Sam?” He held my hand.

  I felt that I would crumble into dust at any second.

  “Sorry. Just a little trouble from back home.”

  “Someone is terrifying you.”

  I shook my head.

  “You owe someone money.”

  No response.

  “A jealous boyfriend…girlfriend.”

  Nothing.

  “A controlling boyfriend…ex-husband.”

  Nothing.

  He thought for a long time.

  “Someone wants to hurt you.”

  My throat turned to iron shavings.

  I looked away. My secret was secret no more.

  “Just a little family trouble…my brother’s been arrested. Drugs. It’ll get worked out.”

 
It was the best lie I could think of. Of course I could tell that Jack knew it was a lie.

  “You need help, Sam. When you’re ready to tell me about the hell you’re living in—whatever it is--I’ve got a lot of slingshots. I can make it go away.”

  He touched my face, lightly, sweetly. I gave in and leaned into his hand. It felt so wonderful. I closed my eyes.

  I did not cry. I did not fall into his arms. I did not scream for his help.

  I trembled like a dam seconds from bursting.

  I had to leave.

  “Stay, Sam. Stay with us.”

  “Have to go.”

  Silverman picked up his daughters from school since his wife was home sick with the flu. He glanced in the rear view mirror. The same car had followed him for two days. It was obvious his boss wanted him to spot it.

  His stomach hurt.

  When he got home he took an old cell phone of his and went in the garage. He called, barely remembering the number.

  "I need a meeting with the Mayor...yes...I'm being followed. Yeah. And they're watching my girls...right...tonight...thanks Biggs."

  He walked me to the door.

  The silence was like needles scraping my skin.

  Darkness lies but so do its victims. I thought I was relatively safe. Now I realized I was almost dead.

  I heard Jack talking to Fritz as he held the door for me. “It’s time to take care of that business…call Roger.”

  I stopped by the hardware store on the way home and bought a nail gun and a hatchet with those nice crisp fifties.

  “Bring it on, bastard,” I mumbled as I walked out the door.

  I didn’t remember driving home.

  A man in worker’s orange overalls picked up trash in my apartment parking lot.

  He had a desert combat hat on. His face was covered.

  He vigorously stabbed leaves and trash with a stick and put them in a bag.

  It didn’t make sense that he had a camera swinging around his neck.

  But I was almost home. Safe. And that was all I thought about.

  Wednesday

  “Hey Abe, what’s happening? I am so thrilled to see you smiling.”

  “A beautiful lady coming to see me, how can I not be smiling? Watch this, Mom and I have been working.”

  He gritted his teeth, held his breath, raised his left arm and then his right. They were about three inches off the arms of his wheelchair.