Half to Death (4 page)

*******

I ate breakfast according to Jade’s meal plan, then I went to the store and opened up. I felt good, energized, ready to face the day with the loneliness of night far behind me. I’d no sooner sat down to craft another necklace when a couple of women walked into my shop. They were middle-aged and wealthy looking, perhaps a couple of snowbirds looking for a few things to spruce up the winter nest before flying to their summer homes in cooler climates. I greeted them with a smile and gave my usual spiel, “Look around and let me know if you need anything.”

One came to the counter where I was working. “How much are the Adirondack chairs out front?”

“They’re seventy-five, unless you’re looking at the ones that are painted, and they’re a hundred. Buy two of either and get twenty percent off.”

The woman with way too many dangly bracelets looked back at her friend, who nodded. “We’ll definitely take two of the painted ones, but I’ll have to come back this afternoon when my husband comes in from fishing. He has the truck, you see.”

I nodded and smiled.

“You’ll load them, won’t you? He has a bad back.”

“Yes, ma’am, of course.”

Her gaze moved to the rack of necklaces I had painstakingly hand-woven the best shells I could find into. The corner of her mouth sagged. “Chintzy.”

And I said in my mind only,
Asshole
.

She strolled off looking at other things, then called to me from somewhere in the back of the store. When I found them, she and her friend were admiring an antique surfboard mounted on the wall too high for them to reach. “That would look perfect on the wall of my sun porch. Could you get it down for us? I’d like to have a closer look.”

“Certainly.” I grabbed my footstool, took the board down, and held it for their inspection.

“Is this real or is it just made to look that way?”

“It’s real—” The air went out of my lungs in a rush when the woman laid her hand on my arm to ask another question.

I was in an office, and a man in a white lab coat was sitting next to me. He gently took my hand in his. “I know the chemo and radiation were hard to endure the last time—”

I felt her sadness, worry for her husband and children. She spoke, and I could feel the words passing over my tongue as if I’d said them myself. “Not this time. I’m going to live out my last days doing things I enjoy, not lying in bed or hovering over a toilet. When the pain becomes too unmanageable, you’ll help me with that, won’t you?”

The connection broke when she released me. “Miss, are you okay?”

I stared at her speechless for so long that the women exchanged nervous glances. “I’m sorry,” I said with a shake of my head. “Got a lot on my mind, lost my train of thought.” My hands trembled as I looked down at the board. Had she told me she was dying, I’d have felt sympathy, but to see it, experience it tore a hole in my heart. “I’d like you to have this…if you want it. Free of charge.”

The women exchanged glances again.

“I got it cheap.” That was a lie. “And since you’re buying the chairs, I’d like to throw it in. It’s perfect for a sun porch.”

“Well, thank you,” the woman said, still looking stunned.

“I’ll put it behind the counter, and when you come back for the chairs, I’ll load it for you.” I walked away before I started crying.

*******

“You finally sold the board.” Miranda walked into the store and looked at the bare spot on the wall. “Bet you lost money on it.”

I stared down at the counter. “I did.”

“How much? Was it bad? Does your ass burn?”

I laughed at her choice of words. “I gave it away.”

“What?” Miranda’s jaw sagged. “I’ve been hounding you for years to let me buy that board for what you paid for it.”

“I know.” I looked at her sadly. “She touched me.”

Miranda was winding up for a tirade. Her face fell. “What did you see?”

“She’s terminally ill with cancer, I think.” I shivered as that memory flashed through my mind again.

Miranda swallowed and smacked her lips. “I see. Maybe…you really should consider the welding gloves and perhaps a suit of armor.”

I scrubbed at my face. “Maybe I should hire someone to work in the store full time and I’ll stay home.”

Miranda looked at me and said sarcastically, “You can’t afford to, especially now that you’re giving all your shit away.”

“What am I going to do?” I asked miserably. “I can’t always avoid human contact unless I hide away.”

“Not an option you should consider. I mean, I won’t let you consider it.” Miranda reached out to touch my hand and hesitated. I watched as it dawned on her just how dismal my situation was becoming. “We have to figure this out.”

“How’re we gonna do that?” I hoped she’d done better at figuring it out than I had in the last two months.

“Practice on me. Let’s get together after you close the store and see what we can do.”

Miranda spent one of two days off milling around the store with me, and she took care of the few customers who came in. After, we loaded the Adirondack chairs for the customer I’d given my surfboard to. Miranda hugged the bewildered woman twice and her husband once. We went back to the house, and I whipped up dinner according to Jade’s meal plan. I didn’t have to ask if Marty minded coming home to an empty house. She’d grown used to having to share Miranda with me.

I wasn’t as enthusiastic as Miranda was, but by the end of dinner, I did have an inkling of hope. Maybe I could control it, at least enough to tolerate brief contact and maybe even a hug. I watched as Miranda took our plates to the sink and stuffed a cucumber slice into her mouth. When she returned to the table, she was all business.

“I think you should touch me for a minute and get used to it. Then clear your head and touch me again but briefly until you can get a grip on your mind.”

“Okay.” I watched as she put her hand on the table in front of me. I glanced at her face, and she gave me that “go ahead” look. It didn’t matter if I touched her with my fingertips or entire hand, the second my flesh contacted with hers, the movie began.

Through Miranda, I was standing at the graveside of Momma Donahue alone. The crowd that had gathered there had all slipped away, leaving me to stare at the last thing I would remember of my mother. A sob escaped my chest as the summer breeze caressed my skin, and the smell of flowers filled my senses.

I knew she was sick. I knew she was dying, and as prepared as I thought I was when that day came, it took me completely by surprise. Nothing prepared you for the loss of a parent, especially when you’d only had one your whole life. I looked back over my shoulder…and there I stood. Seeing myself through Miranda’s eyes was a shock. I looked so small standing there in my black suit, my hands going into pockets only to reappear seconds later. But on my face was the same pain that was tearing Miranda up inside, and she knew it. Miranda walked over to where I stood and took me in her arms. I felt what it was like to hold me, such an odd sensation. Probably the most stunning thing I gleaned from the vision was Miranda’s feelings. During that hug, she accepted as I did on that day that we only had each other.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I sat back in my chair feeling like I did the day of the funeral.

“What did you see?”

“You at Mom’s funeral. Remember when we were alone at the graveside and we hugged?”

Miranda nodded and averted her eyes. Her mother had been gone for nearly eight years, but she still couldn’t talk about her without getting misty. “So you saw me in the cemetery.”

“No, not just saw you. I was you. I felt everything you felt in those moments. I think that’s the real downside to this. I’m in your body. I feel and see it all as if we were the same person.” I scratched my arm for an itch that wasn’t there, needing something to do.

“I was thinking about that time we collected all those glass drink bottles and turned them in for the deposit so we could buy cigarettes.” Miranda grinned. “As I recall, you puked after the first puff.”

I smiled at the memory, but my mind was on my problem. “You know what’s weird? When I first touched you, I felt your excitement over what we would come up with, then it all switched like it does in a dream. I feel your emotions now and the ones you had in the cemetery then.”

Miranda looked at me for a second, clearly not listening to a word. “Touch me again, but this time, focus on the memory of us smoking. I’ll think of it, too.”

I did as she asked, and soon I felt the burning in my chest and the roiling of my stomach as I in Miranda’s body inhaled the smoke. It tasted nasty in my mouth, but I was determined to look cool. Watching through Miranda’s eyes, I saw myself inhale from my own cigarette, my face contorted, but I made another attempt. Then I was retching. I felt Miranda’s amusement, felt the laugh rumble from my chest and my stomach whirling.

“You were sick, too, you ass. Why didn’t you tell me it nauseated you?”

Miranda looked at me in surprise as I smacked my lips with the taste of the cigarette still on my tongue.

“See, you can control it. You picked a memory, then you were there.” Miranda slammed her hands on the table. “First experiment successful. Now, part two. Touch me again, and whatever comes to your mind, reject it. Do it quickly at first.”

I touched her hand again and looked down at myself lying in a hospital bed. I knew I was okay, but I needed…I needed to be close and hand holding wasn’t enough. I felt my knees press into the mattress…

“You’re not stopping.” Miranda pulled her hand away.

“I can’t help it. It’s just so weird when I’m looking at myself.”

Miranda put her hand back down. “Try harder.”

I lay mine atop hers, and I immediately saw myself in that hospital bed again. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to push the image away, and it worked when I pictured my favorite spot on the beach. What did not fade were the feelings. The internal pleading,
Please don’t leave me. Please don’t ever leave me.

I shoved away from the table angrily. “This isn’t going to work. I’m so screwed!”

Miranda watched as I paced back and forth, then spoke softly. “It’s not going to work the first time. It’s going to take practice.”

“I don’t want to practice.” I paced some more and finally calmed. “Not tonight. No more tonight, please.”

“I should be getting home anyway.” Miranda stood and stretched, then she held out her fist. I looked at it a moment before I banged it with mine. For a fleeting second, I felt her disappointment in me.

Chapter 4

“I hate lunges.” Miranda grunted alongside me. “All this equipment and we’re squatting around like chickens trying to lay an egg. And all the protein she has us eating makes me want to fart twenty-four seven.”

“How nice for Marty.”

“If I blow one, I’m blaming it on you.” Miranda grunted again, and I feared she would deliver on her promise.

“Looking good, ladies,” Jade said as she passed by. “Keep your backs straight.”

“Piss off, P.P.,” Miranda said under her breath.

“I wonder if she does lunges and how many she had to do to get that tone in her thighs.” I watched the muscles flex as she moved more with envy, less lust.

“She probably does all sorts of shit.” Miranda stood up straight with a groan when we reached the wall. “Obviously, she’s a masochist and gets off on the pain. Or maybe she’s a sadist and likes hurting us.”

“Shut up,” I said as I saw Jade head our way.

“I think y’all might be sweating more than usual,” she said with that crooked smile that only showed a couple of teeth and never reached her eyes.

“Then I guess we’re doing it right.” I looked at Miranda, who grunted. “You have to at least give us an A for effort.”

“Absolutely.” Jade put her hands on her hips. “I suggest soaking in a tub with some Epsom salt for the soreness.”

“Getting out of the tub is going to be the problem.” Miranda rubbed her lower back, then her neck. She jerked a thumb in my direction. “Unlike me, she doesn’t have anyone to pull her out, and I’m in no shape to rush over and do it.”

Jade shot us that grin again. “Well, there’s always the fire department,” she said as she sauntered off.

Miranda stared after her. “Ya know, I thought she was really nice when she offered to do our plans, but the more I get to know her, I think that bitch has it in for us.”

I was inclined to agree. After talking to a person, I kind of got a bead on their personality, sort of had them figured out, but Jade was an enigma. One minute, she was brash, bordering on flat-out rude, then the next, friendly, almost caring, then right back to butthole.

I caught her watching us a few times when we were going through the program. She would give a slight nod when our eyes met. And then I found myself contemplating something that astonished me. I had actually begun to think of ways to touch her. Maybe a casual bump, but that wouldn’t be enough to see what was in that head of hers. I realized what I was thinking was the equivalent of putting my ear against her office door or listening in on a private phone call. I chastised myself accordingly and focused on my self-imposed torture.

But the opportunity presented itself anyway, and shamefully, I took it. As if in slow motion, I watched a man turn with one of those steel hand weights. Jade was focused on a client, and they collided. The weight dropped onto her foot. One of the other trainers was there immediately, gingerly pulling off her shoe as Jade rocked back and forth, puffing out her pain. I walked behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

The pain on the top right side of my foot was so intense that my knee buckled, and I ended up squatting behind her. As the images took shape, the pain receded, and I took from her things she would’ve never offered a stranger like me. The connection broke between us when two of her fellow trainers hefted her up and carried her away. I sat there feeling ashamed of what I’d done and crushed by what I’d seen.

Miranda appeared in front of me as I got to my feet. “I saw you,” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

I wiped at the sweat on my face with both hands to cover my shame. I couldn’t look at Miranda. I turned and walked out of the gym.