Dear Life, You Suck (24 page)

Whitecaps roll across the sky like storm clouds. The silence is deafening. There’s not a single sound. Except it’s noisy as hell. The noises are muffled. Dings, beeps, murmurs, and squeaks. Rolling over me like a distant thunderstorm. One sound is distinct. Her voice.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.

The merciful. Mother Mary Merciful. I should put in a good word for her with the Big Guy. If I can ever get a word in edgewise. Boy oh boy, God sure does talk a lot in the Bewildering Beyond.

Blessed are the clean of heart: for they shall see God.

I guess that’s why I ain’t seen Him yet.

Wait a minute. Why am I thinking He’s a Him? It’s a woman’s voice I’m hearing.

I gaze down at the sky and up at the sea. Then it hits me. This ain’t Heaven! It’s HELL! All has been reversed! And revealed! Why was I thinking this was Heaven? What the hell would I be doing in Heaven? Whatever made me head-hanker the nebulous notion I’d be heading north for the winter of my discontent?

But if this is Hell, why’s God speaking to me? What the devil is She doing here? Then it really hits me. That ain’t God tongue-wrestling my ears a deafening fancy. It’s Satan! God ain’t a chick. Beelzebubbies is! Holy vaginal variations, Phatgirl.

Now ALL has REALLY been REVEALED.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called children of God.

Children of God.

Then it really, really hits me. Harder than anything ever has. And I’ve taken some hard-ass hits. I know why I’m here.

I scan the cliffs for his little body. Is he here? Fuck, no, why would Eli be here?

That’s when I decide to lie on a boulder and call it a day. And by
day
I mean
eternity.
I start crying and can’t stop for anything, but I don’t care ’cause I’m alone.

Blessed are they that suffer persecution for justice’s sake:

Blessed are they that suffer persecution? Are you fuckin’ shittin’ me?

I step to the edge of my Silky Jets and take one last look at the noble sea swaying above me like a vast, watery veil. I look down, pick a cloud, and jump.

I fall and fall.

For theirs is the kingdom of Heaven
.

Shit, the Little Ones. What will they do without me?

LutherHarrySheldonCameronRobertJeffThomas
IanJayDanteJohnChristopherJackAldenMizu
FrankArnoldBillyStephenRichardPaulNic
EugeneMattBrianDrewAlexTimMark
RyanJakeMichaelBobbyJames
ConnorRileyTannerDale
JustinArchieSherman
GregoryAaronSam
AndrewBernie
Charlie

I land in the sea. Darkness swallows me. The pressure crushes my skull. The salt water burns my eyes. The pain brightens in the blackness.

I hear Her voice one last time.

Because this my son was dead and is come to life again, was lost and is found.

Everything’s gray and fuzzy. My tongue’s furry. I’m thirsty. I pry my lips apart and try to speak. No words come out, just a groan. A black figure looms over me. The pain in my head makes my eyes water. I close my eyes.

“I’m thirsty.”

Mother Mary’s eyes are bloodshot, and her face is chalk white. She’s propping up a scared smile with cracked lips, clutching a Bible to her enormous breast. She opens it and starts rifling through the pages.

Oh, no, please. Water, not parables
.

She clears her throat. Her voice is gritty and worn. “And when Jesus was come into the house of the ruler, and saw the minstrels and the multitude making a rout, he said, ‘Give place, for the girl is not dead, but sleepeth.’ And they laughed him to scorn. And when the multitude was put forth, he went in, and took her by the hand. And the maid arose.”

I croak my words. It hurts to talk. “You calling me a fucking girl?”

Her face collapses. Then explodes. She squeezes the Bible to her breast. “He’s back!”

A nurse hands me a cup but yanks it away after only two sips.

“What the frig?”

“You have to go slow. You’ve been out a long time.”

My stomach flutters.
A long time
. I feel like Christopher Walken in
The Dead Zone.
“When I woke up, my girl was gone, my job was gone, my legs are just about useless. Blessed me? God’s been a real sport to me!”

“How long?” I croak.

“The doctor will be here in a minute.”

I try to grab her arm, but my arm won’t move. I turn to Mother Mary. “How long?”

She looks at her watch. “Fifty-eight and one-half hours, my son.” She sniffles and leaves the room.

I drop my head back and sigh.
Shit, that ain’t nothing
. I was afraid it was gonna be like ten years, and the next news was gonna be that Wynona’s married with three kids or something.

There’s a commotion in the hallway. Mother Mary’s talking to some cops, and there’s a bunch of other nuns from the Prison and a bunch of administrative people from the school, who I recognize on account of being sent to LaChance’s office so often. There are some teachers, too, and Dr. Merewether. I see a flash of black and wonder if it’s Caretaker. Principal LaChance is out there too. He probably came to expel me for missing fifty-eight and one-half hours of school.

I suddenly remember why I’m here. Grubs. I look at the bed next to me. It’s rumpled but empty. He probably got out already.

My insides feel like they’re being twisted like a wet rag. I yell to the nurse. “Nurse Ratched, can I get some drugs or something? My body’s killing me.”

She scowls. “The doctor will be right in.”

Bitch. What the frig is she so pissed about?

The doctor comes in. He looks about twenty years old. “How are you feeling, Cricket?”

“Like shit. Can I get some pain pills or something? Everything hurts wicked bad.”

“Your body has experienced a great deal of trauma, Cricket. Cracked ribs, a broken arm, bruised bones. And we sewed up your head with twenty-two stitches. But even with all that going on, a great deal of the discomfort you’re experiencing is from the muscle spasms. They’re tensing to protect the bones and organs.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson, Doc, but can I just get some friggin’ drugs?”

The doc smiles. “We already have you on a morphine drip and a muscle relaxant, but we can up the dosage and see how you feel.” He rattles some technical mumbo jumbo to Nurse Poleupherass, and she injects some juice into my pain cocktail.

“Hey, Doc, how’s Grubs?”

The nurse yanks the needle out and glares at me like I pinched her ass.

Heads in the hallway turn, and Mother Mary walks in. The doc looks at her like he’s asking her something with his eyes, and she nods.

Oh, shit. How many times have I seen that exchange?

The doc steps to the side of the bed and puts his hand on the rail. “I’m sorry, Cricket. Gregory Dillar passed away before the ambulance got him to the hospital. I’m very sorry.” He pats my shoulder and leaves the room.

I don’t feel anything right away. My head’s woozy, but that’s probably from the drugs. I immediately start running reels of memories of all the shit we did together in the hopes of building up enough pressure to blow the lid off my emotions basket. The memories fill me up but just make me feel nauseous. No explosion.

Mother Mary puts her hand on my shoulder where the doc’s was, like she’s trying to stop some bleeding.

Grubs is dead
. I can’t get the words out of my head.
Grubs is dead
. And I was with him. I reckon that’s why all the cops are hanging around. Speak of the devil.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cherpin,” a mean-looking cop says. “How are you feeling?”

The extra juice is starting to kick in, so the edgy part of the pain is gone, but everything still throbs with a dull ache. “Fine.”

“Are you up to answering a few questions about the accident you and Mr. Dillar were involved in on Saturday?”

My gut shrivels.

“You’re not in any trouble. We’re just hoping you can fill in some of the blanks.”

I don’t trust this slick-haired douchebag. “Do I need a lawyer or anything like that?”

“We’re not charging you with anything, Mr. Cherpin.”

Mother Mary steps to the other side of the bed and jabs a chubby finger in the cop’s bony face. She looks pissed. “I’ll be holding you to that, Tommy. If there’s any funny business down the road and you press charges after questioning him without a lawyer, you’ll be answering to me and the attorney general. You hear me, Tommy? I’ll have your ass.”

Holy shit, look at that. She looks like she’s gonna wallop him.

“Yes, ma’am. I assure you we have no intention of bringing charges of any kind against Mr. Cherpin.”

“Fine. Go ahead, Cricket. Tell him what you remember.” She squeezes into a chair beside the bed. “You don’t mind if I listen in, do you, Tommy?”

“No, ma’am, not at all.” The cop’s voice is shaky.

That cracks me up. Mother Mary can scare the shit out of anyone.

I tell the cop everything I remember about Roller Coaster Alley and the dump truck, and Grubs trying to save us. I don’t say nothing about the beer or the drugs, but the cop probably already knows about that. He writes everything down in a fairy-sized notebook and asks me a bunch more questions. I can answer some of them. Some of it’s just a blur. Not the part about the headlights coming through Grubs’s window, though. That son-of-a-bitch is crystal.

The cop leaves. Mother Mary smiles a sad smile and follows him.

The folks in the hallway stream in and out of my room like a funeral procession, blabbering greeting card messages like “Get better soon” and “We’re all rooting for ya” and crap like that. Their crinkled grimaces make me realize I must look pretty fucked up, which makes me think two things. One, I have no interest whatsoever in checking myself out in a mirror, and two, Mother Mary didn’t flinch at all at my appearance.

The ladies from the school front office cry as they bring me a giant purple plant, and Sister Gwendolyn fights back tears as she squeezes my unbroken arm. Even La-di-dah LaChance pats me on the shoulder and tells me to hang in there. Funny how no one wanted me to hang in there all them times I was sitting in LaChance’s waiting room.

Once the platitude parade has passed, I crook my head to improve my view of the hallway.
Is she out there? Why isn’t she out there? If it was her in here, I’d be out there
.

Then she appears. In the doorway. Like an angel. Like a vision. I know that sounds corny, but that’s how she looks in her cloud-colored clothes with the bright light behind her and her face so pretty, it doesn’t look real. She’s bawling like crazy. Her eyes are red, and her face is soaked, but there’s joy beaming through the sadness like sun streaks through tree branches.

She runs at me with this look on her face like she’s gonna leap onto the bed and grumble me a hot and horny tumble right here and now in front of the nurses and cops and nuns and God and everyone. She screeches to a halt beside the bed and buries her wet face in my chest.

I cringe from the pain but don’t move. I think I’m smiling, but I’m not sure.

The doc must have dripped some sappy, sinister fairy dust into my IV bag, ’cause my eyes are swelling like I’m friggin’ Tinker Bell.

I catch a glimpse of Mother Mary in the doorway. She’s got one hand over her mouth, and her eyes are glossy.

After Wynona shakes and shivers all her tears out, she lifts her head and glares into my moist, stupid, faggot eyes. “I was so scared,” she says. That’s all she can get out before she starts bawling again. She drops her head on my shoulder and cries into my ear. I can hear all the gurgly hacks and sniffly snuffs real good, and it’s kinda gross but okay. I wipe my eyes with the sheet when she’s not looking.

Her crying gets me thinking. I ain’t never had anyone cry over me before. It’s always been the other way around. And she’s not bothered by my messed-up face either. She’s snuggling up to me like I’m the cutest little huggy bear in the world, when in reality I must look like friggin’ roadkill. I think I’ll check out the hospital cafeteria to see if they have upside-down cake on the menu.

Just then, Moxie Lord pushes through the crowd and enters the room. She’s wearing a purple dress with giant yellow flowers on it. She looks like she just flew in from Bermuda. Once she’s close enough to get a good look at my face, she freezes. She crosses her arms over her chest and scrunches her mouth like she’s about to send me to the principal’s office. Her voice is chalky. “If you think this little stunt is going to get you out of meeting with me about those college applications, think again, wiseass.” Her face starts to shake, so she pretends to scratch an itch on her forehead. She reaches into her pocketbook and yanks out a folded piece of paper. She steps forward and thrusts it at me. “I want this homework assignment on my desk by Friday. I don’t care if you have to dictate it to your better half here. I want it by Friday.”

Wynona takes the paper from her and unfolds it. Then she reads it to me. “Write a letter to someone you’ve always wanted to thank for something but never had the nerve.”

I look at Mademoiselle Lord. Her eyes are puffy and her face is pale. I raise my unbroken arm.

“Yes, Mr. Cherpin.”

“What about teachers?”

Foxy Moxie flashes me a slippery grin.

Damn, Lambikins Lord wants me
baaaad.

She points a quivering finger at me. “Friday.” Then she turns and leaves.

I watch her squeeze her way through the crowded hallway.
The crowded hallway
. I mean, I know some of them are here for legal shit on account of Grubs dying, but not all of them. Not the teachers and administrators and nuns. I mean, why would they come if they didn’t care? At least a little.

Caretaker walks into the room and stands beside Wynona. He doesn’t flinch at my appearance. He extends his hand and I shake it. Before he lets go, he pats the back of it with his other hand. He’s never done that before. “How you holding up, Shirley?”