Body of Immorality (23 page)

A hand rubbed his shoulder, Mary’s hand. Footsteps walked away. He was alone with Mary now.

He was trying to say, “Want you to leave.” But it came out like, “Aaaant ooo ooo eeeve.”

Mary understood perfectly.

“How can I leave you now, Reginald? There’s no way I’ll
ever
leave you. You need help. You need to be taken care of.”

“
Gaaaaa!”
he cried, in defiance.

This wasn’t happening, he thought. After all he’d done, all he’d gone through,
this
was how she repaid him? It couldn’t be! It
had
to be a dream!

“We’ll get someone to come over. I don’t know if I can bear the thought of you in an institution. I don’t know how they’ll take care of you there. We’re going to go home, and we’re going to live our life. And we’re going to get you well again. Everything will be okay. You’ll see. Everything will be fine.”

A long pause followed.

Then:

“I love you too much Reginald. Even if you still don’t see it. You will someday. And you’ll be thankful I was here for you. You’ll be thankful it was me. That it was
me
taking care of you.”

“
Iiiii happaaiii,”
translated into, “Isn’t happening.”

“I know it’s hard for you, Reggy. But it
will
get better. Someone will always be there to watch over you. Always. You’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford to hurt yourself anymore. I can’t afford to
have
you hurt yourself. I love you too much, Reggy.”

Horror, the dawning, nightmarish reality of it all sunk in. Not just all he’d done, but Mary, too. He could walk, see, talk, move another arm, have an unblemished chest, if only he could see what Mary saw. If only he’d had the strength and power to accept his marriage, he could live a happy, healthy life. Didn’t he understand that people dreamed of this, dreamed of having someone
like
Mary in their lives? Someone who loved and cared about them as much as Mary did?

People would kill to have that.

Or mutilate themselves,
he thought.

He hadn’t done it for that reason alone. He’d wanted her to leave, and she wouldn’t. It was as simple as that. Now more than ever, she would
never
leave.

He died a little inside. He could’ve made it easier. He had it in him now to beat her, he knew, cheat on her. But who would have him the way he was now? And how would he beat her if he couldn’t
find
her, hobbling around, swinging at empty air? He had one good leg and one good arm. But he was blind. She would hear him coming. He wouldn’t be able to find the kitchen knives. No doubt, she’d hide everything from him. God, what had he done?

In reply to his own thoughts, he made painful, gagging sounds.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mary said. “It’s okay. I know it hurts.’’

But she didn’t. How
could
she?

An arm went around his shoulder. He smelled her perfume. She kissed his cheek.

This was Hell. This was worse than death. This was worse than Hell.

I could cheat on you now,
he thought. But he knew the words, like the darkness behind his lids, were empty.
I could beat you now, if only you’d let me. If only you’d give me a chance. I can do those things and more. I know I can.

What he should’ve done was cut out his ears, make himself deaf. He should’ve taken the welder and sealed them shut.
That
would’ve been bliss.
That
would’ve been perfect.

Maybe,
he thought.
Just maybe…In the time she’s away, I’ll find a way to melt my ears shut, seal up my nose...

It was good to hope.

It was good to dream.

Pieces of Destiny

Franklin Bonner’s life changed drastically when he met Sarah Radcliffe. Love only began to scratch the surface. Rapture danced through every molecule of his being, every pore, blood vessel, and blackhead. Mom always told him someone out there was meant especially for him, only Franklin had never believed it.

Then came Sarah.

Fairy powder fell to his shoulders. Visions of romance danced through his brain, palatial kingdoms. Was it possible to feel
more
alive? he thought.

His life had taken grim detours along the way, so love was welcome. His father had walked out when Franklin was twelve. His mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer shortly afterwards and died a year later. They hadn’t caught it in time. Franklin went to live with his Uncle Walt and Aunt Hillary in Oregon until he was eighteen. Then he’d moved back to Denver. For six years, he took odd jobs around the city, never fully satisfied. He thought about moving back to Oregon again. He didn’t know what had brought him back to Denver, if only to honor the memory of his mother, but he didn’t enjoy the city. During his stay, he’d walked in and out of failed relationships.

Then Sarah came along….

She couldn’t have come at a better time. Just when he thought of giving up, of throwing it all away, Sarah had saved him. Angels
did
live on earth, Franklin realized. He even considered popping that all important, life-changing question.

Winning the Super Bowl, the Nobel Prize, must feel similar, he thought. Thousands of lightening blue watts of electricity charged Franklin’s veins. A righteous wave of pity washed over him for everyone who
wasn’t
in love. If he could dispense these feelings, he would. He had more than enough to go around. It didn’t seem fair to feel so good while everyone else seemed so hopelessly starved for romance. True love, for most, seemed forever out of reach, after all. For the first time in twenty-four years, Franklin Bonner had discovered love’s true bliss. It
did
exist. His life—Sarah—proved it.

During the late, warm spring of 2008, Franklin—like a second grader—ran down the sunny avenues of Denver, Colorado kicking up his heels. Pigeons took to the sky, paving the way for him. People looked at him, shaking their heads in envy. Or was it disgust? If he weren’t careful—because of the city—someone would probably shoot him.

He was popcorn and candy, a child experiencing his first carnival ride or circus event. Joy made his chest warm. No one else bounced with that same step, that same jocular tone in his or her voice. Why did it seem
he
was the only one smiling?

“Sarah,” Franklin said aloud, not caring how he sounded or
who
was listening. “Salvation too sweet to be simply sublime. Sarah, my darling dear. My Clementine.”

He could enunciate poetry whenever the mood struck. Sarah Radcliffe was a tyrannical beauty, usurping him from the humdrum of everyday existence. He and Sarah had been destined to unite since stars exploded across the sky. The bookstore visit, where they’d met, had been fateful. A mystical force, he realized, had been guiding him even then.

Something about the sadness of the world, Franklin thought. Good things were bound to happen to
some
people. Ruin and harmony intertwined when lovers met. He loved simply thinking about her.

Sarah was a stunning, ghostly beauty. Her hair was like sable waves of midnight, striking blue eyes, creamy skin like buttermilk. He loved the way her lithe arms and soft hands moved up and around his neck. Franklin was a puppet, and Sarah pulled the strings.

Yes, dear. Of course, dear. Anything you say, dear. Just let me gaze forever at you, dear.

As with many relationships, however, difficulties arose. Franklin wasn’t worried, however. They knew each other well enough by now. How long had they been dating? He couldn’t remember. He tried building up the nerve to ask her—not to marry him—but to relocate to Oregon. He’d been fretting about it for several days now. He wondered how he
would
ask her, what her reaction would be.

He’d always been close to his Aunt Hilary and Uncle Walter. Walter was his mother’s brother. Franklin realized he longed for Oregon again. He’d discussed it over the phone with them, and they were just as excited. The city had been fun and entertaining for a while, but it wasn’t for him anymore, Franklin had said. His aunt and uncle agreed.

The idea, much like Sarah, gave him a renewed sense of life.

Was that the definition of Destiny?

Walter, too, said he could line up some prospects for Franklin. Denver wasn’t doing Franklin or Sarah any good, Hilary had told him. People were shot and killed everyday for no reason, babies left in dumpsters, sex and drugs on every street corner. How could
anyone
stand it, she’d asked? Franklin wanted to tell her Denver wasn’t New York or Los Angeles, but he’d held his tongue.

“Can I bring, Sarah?” Franklin had said, the phone pressed to his ear.

“I didn’t know you were serious, Franklin,” Walter had said.

“Yes. We’ve been pretty serious for a while.”

“She’s okay coming out?”

“Yes. But, I don’t want to—”

“I think it would be
great,
Franklin. Hilary could use another gal to talk to.”

He’d talked to Hilary as well:

“Well, the city is just
terrible,
Franklin,” she’d said. “All that
violence
and
crime
and dirty air! All those cars and
people!
I understand how you feel. I’d love to have someone help me in the garden. Is she there with you? Can I talk to her? We never had kids, you know, Franklin? Is she there?”

“I’m afraid not. But you’ll meet her. You’ll like her, Auntie.”

Aunt Hilary giggled. She liked it when Franklin called her Auntie.

Love, it seemed, was coming out of the woodwork! It poured through the air in a flash flood! It structured the road ahead! All he had to do was keep walking.

Franklin anticipated the flight to Portland with glee. He and Sarah would begin their life together, taking in Oregon’s paradise. He wondered how good the fishing was.

Skipping down Logan Avenue with his apartment just ahead, Franklin thought about walking hand in hand with Sarah along Oregon’s coast lines, the sun going down behind the ocean, seagulls dipping toward the water. He thought about pulling the ring out and asking her to marry him. It seemed appropriate, perfect even. The streets of Denver were happy for him, despite him having to say goodbye. No hard feelings, the streets seemed to say. It’s springtime. Was there a better time to be in love?

*

Something was different about her, though. The girl sitting next to him was not the Sarah Franklin knew.

Was it them, their relationship? Had he expected that spark to last forever? Where was that golden aurora, never changing?

Franklin felt like a character in a stranger’s dream. He looked around for that
other
Sarah, the one he’d fallen in love with, but she was nowhere around.

It was warm out, 10:00 am on a Tuesday in late May. The sky was bright blue with white gossamer clouds. Cars sped back and forth in front of them on Speer Boulevard. Sparrows chirped and dipped in the air, flocking in nearby trees, then took to the sky again. A middle-aged couple glistened in sweat as they jogged by with two black Labradors on leashes. The female jogger smiled at Franklin and nodded, but Franklin ignored her.

He and Sarah sat side by side on a green park bench. Sarah was dressed appropriately for the weather in dark blue shorts, tennis shoes, and a matching snug shirt. Her hair was in a ponytail. She was staring at the gutter with an expression Franklin couldn’t read. Five minutes ago, he’d asked her about moving to Oregon, but for some reason, Sarah was acting strange. She had a life
here,
she’d told him.

Franklin was devastated.

“I don’t understand,” Franklin said, in desperation. “I thought you’d be excited! Away from this. Oregon is everything people dream of! And if it’s not, we can always come back. I promise, Sarah!
Please!
We can give it a shot! Okay?”

“Franklin,
please,”
Sarah said.

He was spellbound, dumbstruck. He didn’t know who this girl was,
this
Sarah. He didn’t recognize her. His heart bled, breaking in two. Hadn’t he been soaring with love only minutes ago? Weren’t those his wings to fly?

Baffled, Franklin sat on the bench looking for the ‘other’ Sarah. Maybe she was across the street getting a sandwich in a nearby deli. Maybe she was stepping out of a cab over there by the television station. The Sarah sitting next to him now was not the one he’d fallen in love with, the girl he’d met at the bookstore.

He hated himself for crying, but he couldn’t help it suddenly. His eyes glossed with tears. He combed a lock of black hair out of his eyes. His clean-shaven chin trembled with emotion. She was so goddamn pretentious, the tone she’d used! Everything he felt, all he’d
done!
How could she
do
this to him?

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Sarah said. “I’m not leaving. I’ve made a
life
here, Franklin! Don’t you
get
it? There’s nothing for me in Oregon, for God’s sake.”

Hadn’t they discussed this before? Hadn’t she agreed? Could he have
imagined
it? They were
meant
to be together! The stars said so! They even
looked
similar, the same fair skin and dark hair. They could’ve been brother and sister! She’d said she
loved
him! How long ago was that? How come she couldn’t
see
their love the way he did?

Franklin sniffed back tears.

“But there’s so
much,”
he tried to say. “That’s the
point.”

Sarah shook her head, watching the cars going by on Speer Boulevard. Why was she so defiant suddenly? Her body language troubled him: legs stretched out in front of her, arms across her chest. She looked at the cars as if wanting to set them on fire.

Taking a deep breath, Sarah turned, uncrossed her arms, and looked at Franklin, as though she wanted to set
him
on fire.

“My life is
here,
Franklin,” Sarah said, firmly. “You
know
that. I’m going to school and working for the magazine now. It’s everything I’ve been wanting to do. What would I leave for? My life isn’t recklessly meaningless like yours. Go,” she told him. “Move. The change will be good. You
need
it!”