is 11:17 PM by the
glowing dial of my watch. I sit on the back porch sipping a glass
of Cabernet and watching the moon rise above the water. Almost
time, almost there. The quiet is fulsome; no radios or television
sets blaring in the background, no sounds of dishes being washed
or showers running, no soft murmurs or sounds of naked bodies
brushing up against one another. There is only the sound of the
waves, one after the other, inexorably pounding the white sands,
black in the moonlight.
Black sand, sand man, man overboard, bored life, life is a
bowl of cherries, cherry pie, pie to buy … bye-bye. Laughter
gurgles out from somewhere inside me, hysterical and grating, but
there is no one to hear, no one to care, no one to tell me it will
all soon be over. It will never, ever be over.
A lone seagull screeches like murder at the bottom of the cliff,
and soon another four have shown up, all feasting upon a piece of
rotting, decomposing meat. Wings flapping and beaks thrusting,
they pull gristle and tendon and muscle apart to ingest the bits
of protein left on the bone. I feel empathy for the animal,
whatever it once was. The gulls push at one another, heads bobbing
and feet dancing on air as they feast on flesh.
A small clicking sound bursts through my reverie. 11:30 PM. It
won't be long now.
I swirl my wine glass, watching the rivulets run as Jack taught me
so long ago to do. Taking a large mouthful, I roll my head slowly
around in circles, letting the wine touch every part of my mouth,
allowing the aroma to seep up to my nose, and to numb the back
part of my upper lip. Oak trees, lemon groves, cinnamon,
sassafras, cherries and magnolias fill my senses and I close my
eyes, falling slowly into fields full of flowers, their petals
reaching out to take hold of me, envelop me in soft fragrance and
carry me ever so gently to the mossy ground. They undress me,
shower their beauty down upon me to cover my nakedness. I allow
their smooth, sweet aroma to imbue me, body and soul, and I feel a
sense of peace at last.
A wave crashes below like a shotgun in my head. My eyes fly open
wide and I return to the present, noticing that the five gulls
have become three, searching for last tidbits. I can see nothing
left of the animal, whatever it was.
A one-eyed Rastafarian boy flies into my mind. Twenty-one years
old to my twenty-four. I had liked younger boys, and this one had
been so sweet and attentive, but then Jack had appeared--twelve
years older and … in charge. What had his name been, that young
boy? No matter. Midnight has arrived. All Hallow's Eve. It's time.
I watch my fingers slowly peel themselves back from the stem of
the wine glass until it slips from behind the last finger, crashes
to the floor and shatters, each tiny broken piece reflecting its
own special ray of moonlight meant only for it. Everything
deserves to feel special sometimes.
I rise from my chair and walk toward the railing, feeling the
glass crunching beneath my feet. The railing bites into me as I
heave myself over its edge. One foot catches beneath the rail and
there I dangle, head down and skirt billowing in the wind like an
obscene advertisement for laundry detergent. Finally my toes slip
back and I sink without sound to the sand and rocks below, bones
shattering upon impact.
Consciousness wavering, I feel the gulls arrive and begin to pick
away at my flesh, their wings grey as night. I peer one last time
up toward the moon, but find instead a balcony, lit from behind,
and a small figure sitting, rocking back and forth, a wine glass
in one hand.
It's okay, I tell myself. It's early times yet.
Checking the glowing dial of my watch, I pour myself a glass of
wine and lean back in my chair, content for the moment. I can't
remember what I am waiting for, but I feel sure within myself that
it will come. I am as sure of that as of anything else.
"Isn't that Adele Murphy?" asks Colleen Travers of the night nurse
who is training her to properly make the rounds.
"Adele Murphy, yeah. I'm surprised you remember her."
"Are you kidding me? Halloween '97 she finds her husband in bed
with another woman, stabs him to death, breaks the woman's neck
with her bare hands and then throws them both off her balcony. I
had nightmares for weeks and gave up trick-or-treating for good.
Whatever happened to her?"
"She never stood trial," says the nurse. "They just sent her
straight here, her mind mostly gone. She just sits there like
that, over by the window, day in and day out. She's a complete
vegetable, except that every night at midnight she leaps up out of
her chair onto the floor and just lies there until someone comes
to pick her up and put her back in."
"Did you ever try strapping her into the chair?"
"Yeah, we tried that and the next night she hollered so loud you'd
have thought she was getting flayed alive. I never want to hear
sounds like that again. It's much easier to just let her do her
thing. She's actually a lot less trouble than most of our
clientele here. Anyway, you'll get used to it. It's after twelve
now, so she's done her piece for tonight."
"Jeez. I guess every night is Halloween around here."
The two nurses move on down the corridor, shutting the common room
door behind them.
It won't be long now, I think quietly to myself. By the glowing
dial of my watch, I can see there are only twenty-three hours and
forty-three minutes to go. It won't be long.
©
2006 Joy Pincus