Broken Butterflies (14 page)

As he continued to fight and refuse to drink the black liquid, his speech became more slurred and erratic. They were forced to put a nasogastric tube down to his stomach. After the dose was administered they left him in the room with a tech. She poked her head out and said, “He’s ready to pop.”

Ilisha walked through the door just in time to see him fill a pink, plastic, bedpan with black liquid. Jimmy gagged several times after. She handed him a wet paper towel and slid a stool up beside his emergency gurney.

“You ready to talk?” she asked placing a clipboard holding a paper chart and pen on her lap.

“Fuck off.” Jimmy rolled over and turned his back.

“Have it your way.”

Rich waited to see if she got any info. She shook her head no.

“Well, they have a bed ready in the psych ward.”

“I hate these fake suicides,” Ilisha said sliding the chart back in its slot.

“Fake?” one of the techs asked.

“Yeah, if they really wanted to die they would do a better job. It’s just a cry for attention,” Ilisha explained.

Once Jimmy was finished puking up charcoal the psych ward assigned one of their biggest techs to come and get him.

Hours passed and nothing else was happening. Ilisha grabbed her bag and walked to the cafeteria. She paid for a soda and some chips and walked back down the hall. One of the lights, further down the hall, flickered. As she passed below it the buzz rang in her ear. For a split second it went completely out. Ilisha watched a shadow move a few feet down the hall. It was free standing and nobody was at the other end. She felt panicked for a second, but the light came back on and Ilisha put on a brave face. Determined not to let Damon get to her she continued to walk ahead. Bram appeared in front of her, causing her to jump and drop her bottle of soda.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded.

“Damon, he’s watching you from afar.” Bram pointed down the hall. “Don’t ever go after him.” His eyes were stern.

“I’m not going to live my life in fear.”

“You can’t beat him, Ilisha, you need to understand that,” Bram spoke softly, but firmly.

She bit her lip annoyed.

“I’m sorry I’m being so brash, but he will kill you. Don’t make me battle in public.”

“I know, but I’m just sick of this.”

“Let’s get you another soda.” He took her hand and walked her back to the cafeteria.

It was no surprise when Bram ordered a couple sandwiches. They sat at a table in the corner away from everyone.

“Sorry the night’s boring,” Bram said taking a huge bite of his sub.

“It’s just typical ER work. Sometimes it’s crazy busy, other times you sit around with nothing to do.”

“Mmm, this is good,” he said taking another bite.

“You’re the only person I know who likes hospital food.” He took another bite. “Talk about boring, you’ve just been standing around watching me.”

“I get to see you, so that makes it un-boring.” Bram smiled softly.

“Eventually you’re going to get sick of being around me. It’s like those couples that work together and live together. By the time they get home they retreat to opposite sides of the house.”

“I’ve been with you all day every day since you were born, I don’t think I’ll be getting sick of you anytime soon.”

She waited until he finished his food and walked back to the ER. Everyone was sitting around the nurses’ station reading, or doing puzzles. “Still nothing huh?” she asked taking a seat.

“It’s a full moon so it will pick up, trust me,” Rich said.

“So true,” Ilisha said taking a drink of pop.

“Why are all of us medical peeps superstitious?” a tech named Mandy asked turning the page of her magazine.

“Because it’s all true,” Rich said.

Just as he spoke the receptionist came in looking frantic. “Someone get out here, there’s a weird guy walking around talking to himself,” she whispered urgently.

“So it begins,” Rich said.

Ilisha and Mandy followed Rich. When they opened the door the man was standing in the corner carrying on a one way conversation, peeling the wallpaper off the wall.

“Hey buddy, what’s going on?” Rich asked casually.

The man turned, startled. “They’re after me.” His eyes were dilated and bulging.

“Who’s after you?” Rick asked.

“The Secret Service. I killed the President.” The man leaned into Rich as he spoke, which caused Rich to lean back.

Ilisha could smell the man from where she stood. She was sure he hadn’t showered in weeks.

“Come with me.” Rich put gloves on and took the man’s elbow.

“Hide me,” the man insisted.

“No problem, come on.”

The man followed Rich to a room, without a fuss, but as Ilisha crossed the threshold the man, who had seemed gentle, lunged for her. She dodged him and he fell to the ground, face first, breaking the skin. Blood ran from the wound around his eyes. He screamed hysterically, grabbing for her legs. “You’re going to die soon,” he snarled.

Ilisha stepped back shocked. She stood there staring at the man.

“Ilisha, what’s wrong with you? Get security down here!” Rich yelled.

She forced herself to blow it off and ran for the phone.

Security and the psych ward were called. Four men showed up, out of breath. They jumped on his back like the man was a gator that needed to be restrained. Dr. Vandor had already ordered the drugs and the psych nurse jammed a needle into the man’s thigh. They held tight and waited for the drug to take effect. As soon as it did, the staff placed him on a bed and wheeled him out.

“Well, apparently he didn’t like me,” Ilisha said, willing herself to believe this was just a random incident.

Rich gave a chuckle. “It is a full moon.”

Ilisha looked up at the clock and cracked her knuckles; it was time for her shift to end. She was use to crazy events, but they still zapped her energy. As she walked to her car the early morning sky caught her eye. She lingered for a moment as the dark blue horizon began to show hints of orange popping through from the rising sun. A better sight was waiting for her when she turned back toward the parking lot. Bram leaned against the car waiting for her.

“You made it through your first shift,” he said pulling her into a hug.

“There is nothing like a couple of crazy people to make things interesting. Please tell me that last guy wasn’t Damon.”

“Damon was speaking through him, yes. The guy is schizophrenic and Damon used that to his advantage. There was nothing I could do to stop it without causing unnatural things to happen.”

“Like what?”

“Like slamming the guy against the wall to knock him out so Damon couldn’t use him.”

“Yeah probably better that didn’t happen.”

Bram took the keys from her hand. “You sit back and relax.”

The drive home took only a few minutes, but Ilisha was so tired that she could barely keep her eyes open. Going through the motions she showered quickly, threw on some PJ’s, and then collapsed onto her bed, her wet hair fanning around her on the pillow. Bram pulled the shades down to block out all the light, then curled up beside her.

She woke five hours later feeling refreshed. Her eyes blinked against the dark of the room, as she stretched her arms. She rolled onto her side. There was only empty space where Bram should have been. She rolled over and saw the green and purple neon of his delicate butterfly wings bobbing up and down as he perched on the dresser top. Ilisha knelt down so she was at eye level to him. He was no bigger than her palm and his butterfly form was beautiful to her.

She adjusted the shades a bit. A small line of sunlight was inches from Bram. She walked out quietly and let him sleep.

Two days later Ilisha woke in the same clothes she had on the day before. Her arms wrapped tight around her pillow as the soft morning light hit her face. Once again Bram was not beside her. The blankets were smooth and the pillows had no indentations. She walked down the stairs to see him sleeping on the couch, face down, wings stretched out. Kneeling beside him on the floor her hand stroked the soft feathers. A smile came to his face before he opened his eyes. He pulled his wings in. The skin on his back opened as they retracted, then closed over them.

Bram rolled over. “Did you sleep well?” he asked groggy.

“Yes, but why are you down here?”

“I kept seeing that Damon would make another move, but it didn’t happen.” His hand stroked the side of her face.

“Thank you for always looking out for me.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips. “We need to get ready.”

Once cleaned up, they walked over to Dena’s house for Sunday breakfast. Her mother was hobbling around the kitchen on her crutches as if they were a normal part of her anatomy. Ilisha looked at the amount of food.

“Mom, it’s just the three of us.”

“You said he’s a big eater.”

Ilisha nodded her head.

Bram came into the kitchen, eyes wide. “Wow, this smells great.”

Ilisha grinned.

“Will you two grab this stuff and put it on the table,” Dena asked.

In front of them was French toast, eggs, sausage, hash browns, toast, biscuits with gravy, and juice. The warm smells were inviting.

Dena asked Bram to bless the food and Ilisha knew she was testing how religious he was. It almost made her chuckle. Bram was more in touch with God than her own mother. When he finished Dena had a huge smile on her face.
You finally like one of my boyfriends and all it took was a prayer
Ilisha thought
.

Bram loaded his plate while Dena talked. “So Bram, what do you do for a living?”

Ilisha tensed. She hadn’t prepared for basic questions like this, but Bram was flawless in his reply.

“I’m helping restore the old church.”

Dena thought for a second. “You mean that old rundown place outside of town?”

“The very one.”

“How commendable,” Dena replied cutting a link of sausage. She turned to Ilisha. “How’s the job, honey?”

“It’s going good. I’m glad I took it.”

“I’m just glad to have you back in town.”

Ilisha followed her mother into the kitchen, her hands full of plates from the table. Dena leaned against the counter and let her crutches fall. Her hand went to her chest and she hung her head. Ilisha was immediately at her side.

“Mom, what is it?”

When Dena looked up her face looked pale. “I just don’t feel very good.”

“Maybe you should sit down.” Ilisha turned to grab a stool and Dena fell to the floor.

Bram rushed through the dining room door at the same time Ilisha fell to the floor beside her mother. Clouds moved in front of the sun, darkening the room. Appearing through the kitchen door was a bright pink butterfly; its neon wings propelling it toward Dena. Ilisha’s mouth fell open and she began to shake her mother. Bram’s eyes filled with pity as he ran to the phone, dialing 9-1-1.

Ilisha’s fingers pressed into Dena’s jugular as the butterfly landed on her chest. Her arms swiped at it trying to remove it. Over and over they passed right through it, making contact with nothing.

For the first time in a medical emergency Ilisha panicked. “No, no, this can’t be.” In her attempt to rid Dena of fate Ilisha pounded on her chest where the butterfly sat. Bram grabbed her arms, slightly shaking her.

Pitiful and helpless, Ilisha sat on the floor as tears poured down her cheeks in long black mascara streaks.

“You knew, didn’t you? You didn’t tell me,” she accused.

“I didn’t know.” He put his hand on Dena’s chest and closed his eyes. “Her heart is slowing,” he said softly.

Ilisha pushed him away, furiously digging her hands into her mother’s chest. She quickly began to administer chest compressions. “Give her breaths when I tell you!” she ordered.

Bram knelt by Dena’s face and got ready. Ilisha finished the set and said, “Now, give her two breaths.”