WISHBONE (36 page)

Sarah ignored the question, instead tugging at his arms and attempting to draw him up to a sitting position. His eyes were dry and hot, the bright light felt too much to bear. Through the burning he tried to see her.

“The lights,” he asked. “Shut the lights.”

Sarah continued to ignore him. She held onto him, keeping him from falling over. She moved closer, her arms beneath his, she was determined to get him back on the bed.

Where had she been?

How long have I been here on the floor?

What does it matter?

“No,” he said, pulling away from her. Slumped against the side of the bed, he sat propped there like a child’s toy that refused to cooperate. Sarah got to her feet annoyed and pulled at him forcefully. He had forgotten how strong the petit girl could be. He was not going to win any fight today, especially against Sarah.

“Okay, okay,” he struggled. “Wait. I’ll get up.” He tried to grip the bed but found no momentum. It was hopeless. His hands could hardly close around anything, nevertheless the narrow edge of the mattress. The more he tried and failed, the more Sarah grew impatient. She watched him struggle for a while before grabbing hold of him from behind and hoisting him to the bed in a quick maneuver. His pain tolerance, like his body, failed him once again, and he lost consciousness.

* * * *

Julien felt someone tugging at his hand and opened his eyes. He groaned; the room was still spinning. Sarah sat beside him pulling at him repeatedly. He couldn’t respond. His eyes fluttered again and he caught a glimps of her. Her hand outstretched and holding the quarter he had given her after the magic trick. He felt the icy coin being placed in his palm. He couldn’t grip it, his hand only slid down onto the blankets. She tried again. Julien wanted to tell her, he tried to formulate the words, but his eyes fluttered and his head rolled back having never uttered a sound.

* * * *

Julien thought he had been unconscious for only a few moments; though he couldn’t be sure. He woke to ice-cold water being mopped over his stomach, chest and neck. Sarah had surrounded him with towels and was attempting to either bathe him or break his fever; he didn’t know, but it felt good and he had no longing to fight her. He was more lucid now.

Maybe she is doing something right.

Keep her happy.

Julien switched tactics once more, “Thank you, Sarah. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She looked up at him, paused, then returning to her task with a gleam of pride in her eye. She dried his torso and face then scooted down further on the bed again pulling back the sheet. He quickly realized he was nude and snatched the blanket from her hand covering himself immediately.

Having assisted her father in his medical practice for years, Julien’s reaction made no sense to her. She stared down at the blanket still tight in Julien’s grasp and cocked her head, confused and taken aback. 

He couldn’t imagine being in worse circumstance; naked, unable to dress himself, unwilling to be dressed by Sarah, falling in and out of consciousness and in unbearable pain. She couldn’t have him any more imprisoned and helpless than he was at this moment.

Sarah moved a few feet further along the bed and slowly uncovered his leg. Julien refused to see it this time. He turned his face away and focused on her reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

“What are we going to do?” he asked calmly. “Where do we go from here, Sarah?” His frustration was mounting. 

Where is Arlette?

The doctor?

Rachael?

“Are you going to keep me like this forever?” he asked. “I never meant to imply that I no longer needed you. We can live happily ever after, Sarah. I don’t need to be like this for that to happen.”

Sarah stopped ringing out the washcloth at the moment she heard him say
happily ever after
. She regained composure and returned to her task. She allowed him to remain covered about the waist. Julien held onto the sheet just in case she suddenly changed her mind. He turned to see what she was doing. He caught sight of his leg and cringed. He felt a wave of nausea and he knew that even if he managed to get away alive he would lose the leg—
unless he could convince her to wish things different.

Out of nowhere, a flash of memory came to him. He told Arlette to give them back their money
and they would leave.
Sarah had been standing there on the porch with them, hanging on his every word.

How do you convince a child to give up a favorite toy?

He shrank back into the pillows knowing what was coming. He prayed for her to be quick. Again, he struggled to remain stoic knowing that upsetting the girl would only make matters worse. He imagined Jérome paying a visit now and was overcome by a burst of delirious laughter until a loud noise errupted downstairs.

“Rachael?” He sat up quickly and called past Sarah who didn’t seem fazed by the clatter; if she had noticed at all, she gave no sign.

“Rachael?” He waited, but there was no response.

She didn’t believe a word I said.

It was all an act to lull me to sleep so they could do this to me again.
 

He had believed that she finally saw the truth. That witnessing Sarah’s powers on the porch and turned on her own family had been enough to prove his case. Yet here he was in the worst condition imaginable. Rachael had left him for Sarah to play with while she and the baby went on with their lives in other rooms, ignoring his pleas for help. Everything he did was pointless. Arlette was not about to allow them to remain on the property forever and in the end she would convince Sarah to do her bidding as she must have with the previous occupants of the Victorian. He and Rachael were merely the next victims.

A sudden chill ran through him and he began to shiver. Sarah took away the wet towels.  She moved to cover him.

“Clothes Sarah,” he said. “I need clothes.” She turned away and rummaged through his drawers. He gave in defeated and having lost his pride, he allowed her to help him dress.

He sat forward with her assistance and she tried awkwardly to pull a sweatshirt over his head.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ve got it.” He took it from her hands.

She covered him with clean bedding. The weight of the dense blanket was too heavy against the device driving the screws into his decaying flesh. He began to protest, but chaos erupted on the first floor again followed by fumbling on the stairs and a thunderous pounding in the hallway. 

Julien looked up just in time to see the dog skid sideways into the doorframe, panting. It stood there staring at them for several seconds then bound onto the bed. Julien lurched forward attempting to protect his leg, but the dog was all over the place leaping in circles, excited to greet them.

In its frenzy, Julien wrestled the dog down. Sarah got to her feet hopping up and down and clapping her hands excitedly. He managed to pin the dog’s upper body to the bed, its rump high in the air and ready to go berserk at the first chance it was given.

“Stay. Sit. Stop. Down!” Julien tried every English command that came to mind desperately attempting to subdue the oversized puppy.

Wildly it gnashed its teeth at Julien’s hand. Chomping on his wrist halfheartedly, it tried to break free from his hold.

Julien launched French expletives. The dog now in a panic, it tugged in reverse and nearly slipped its collar. Julien let go and it toppled backwards off the bed before darting from the room at breakneck speed. He was relieved to hear it thumping and tumbling down the staircase.

Julien took a deep breath and fought off another coughing fit. “Ah! Sarah, you are going to kill me, you know?” he said with an air of detachment—as if it were a joke. He settled back on the bed.

Sarah ran to the door and watched the hallway for a while, but the dog did not return. She smiled brightly, looking back at Julien for reassurance but his eyelids were growing heavy. She returned to his side and crawled up beside him. He felt the mattress dip and opened his eyes distrustful of her next move.

Sarah leaned close and kissed his cheek then rested her chin to his chest. There she was, her body bowing, rump high in the air, just as the dog had done.

She doesn’t know.

She absolutely doesn’t understand what she is doing.

Sarah hopped over him spastically; his leg fell from the pillows again. He was growing immune to the intensity of the pain. She pressed herself close to him and inhaled deeply. Through flared nostrils she took in his scent as if to consume as much of him as possible. Julien shook his head and closed his eyes allowing Sarah’s body to keep him warm.

* * * *

Sarah drizzled water into his mouth and Julien choked. He was drenched with perspiration once more and his field of vision was again speckled with dancing black spots now mingled with bursts of white flashing light. He grabbed her hands and urgently sucked at the cup; half of the water spilling from the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t take in the water fast enough and Sarah poured him a second cup which he quickly drained. He blindly reached for the drawer. Sarah watching him closely as he probed around for the bottle of pills. Sarah took it from his grasp and opened it. She removed one capsule and put it to his lips; he swallowed and gestured for another. She fed him a second. He knocked at the bottle with the back of his hand asking her for a third capsule, but Sarah paused. He groaned louder, once again unable to speak, and she gave in feeding him a third then offering him more water. He sucked the cup dry. He fell back to sleep almost instantly and willing to accept any fate.

* * * *

He didn’t believe it possible that the pain could get worse, but it woke him violently. His eyes opened to Sarah cleaning the screws imbedded in the decomposing tissue of his leg. He was lucid again, awoken by a level of discomfort that this time he couldn’t bear. He pleaded for her to stop, but she continued to pointlessly clean the unsalvageable limb. It felt as if the remaining flesh was peeling from his bones as she worked. His previous tactic of stoic lip-biting had degenerated into agonized moaning and whimpering pleas. He forced his eyes open long enough to see that it was dark outside. He had either slept the entire day or, for all he knew, he had slept for several days. He knocked his fist against the drawer of the nightstand; Sarah knew immediately what he wanted. She found the bottle of pills and tried to slip two into his mouth. He swallowed the first, but the second fell from his lips. Sarah panicked and shook him, jolting him with searing pain. Without forethought and propelled by endorphins, he found the strength to bring his hand up and backhand the girl, knocking her off the bed and to the floor.

Sarah clapped a hand to her cheek, jumping up and fleeing the room. He could hear her bawling as she ran the length of the hallway and galloped down the stairs.

Big mistake.

Alone, he closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do about this now.

He drifted off instantly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Sarah sat at the foot of the bed with her back to Julien. She rocked herself as she hummed. Julien cleared his throat to get her attention. Startled, her body tensed and she froze. She was reluctant to turn around and face him. Julien felt stronger. He was tired but his fever was gone and his thoughts clear. He glanced around the bedroom. It was daylight, though the sky beyond the windowpane was dreary and hinted at rain. It dawned on him that something else felt very different as he lay assessing his surroundings. He slowly looked down at his leg. He remembered what it looked like, how the limb had been decaying before his eyes, the excruciating pain he had experienced, how his heart had been thumping erratic and compromised in his chest, the rattling, congestion in his lungs, and now it was all gone. He flipped the blanket back. The device was still there, but there was no oozing, no festering infection. The pain was bearable, minimal. He looked at Sarah’s reflection in the mirror above the dresser. She was staring back at him with a sideways gaze into the glass. She looked away quickly and began rocking once again. He knew the miraculous improvement to his condition could not be due to the four or five antibiotics he had consumed intermittently. The leg had been too far gone for oral antibiotics to save him. Suddenly, another memory flashed before his eyes.

I hit her.

Was that last night?

Why? 

Why did I hit her?

He remembered her running off in tears; she could have killed him, yet here he lay recovering and the miracle had to be Sarah’s doing.

As if she were hearing his thoughts, she craned her neck, peeking back at him over one shoulder. Again, she looked away in a hurry. Rocking harder, her humming louder, she nervously twisted her fingers in her lap. Julien shifted himself back against the headboard to sit up. He reached into the open nightstand drawer and removed a pack of cigarettes and his Zippo.  From the corner of her eye, she was watching his every move in the mirror. This time, he pretended not to notice her and lit his smoke nonchalantly taking a long, deliberate drag as he scanned the room for the pair of crutches which
were nowhere to be found.

She doesn’t want me going anywhere.

“I need the crutches, Sarah.”

Sarah looked away from the mirror and stared ahead motionless.

Having slapped her and living to talk about it, he thought perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.  Her reaction to his violent outburst had been to kowtow and improve his situation; the girl was so used to being controlled in an aggressive manner. It mattered to Sarah that Julien was angry with her. She wanted him to herself, to be needed
by him, and to be in his good graces. In her mind they were only playing. After all, if he should die, she could wish him back again. If she grew bored with him, she could wish him gone. For all he knew he had lost the fight at some point throughout his suffering and Sarah had simply brought him back to life. He would never know. For now, what he needed most where those crutches. He had to find Rachael and the baby; he had to be prepared to defend himself.