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My name is Tom Grey. My nickname is Grey Tom. I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I’m in a bed made with a steel frame and motor that moves it up and down. There are white blankets and blue pillow for my comfort. A small television hangs off the side of the wall. These are the things around me, this is where I am.
My legs are wrapped in white and my left arm is also. I’m immobile and tender. White cats. White cathes. White casts. Casts are for broken bones and they are covering my limbs.
I’m in a hospideel. A hospidiale. I forget the word, but it’s the place one goes when one is sick.
There are two people in the room and their faces are moving. The girl, her face moves and looks at me. It looks at me then moves. There is something in the air. Sund. Sand. Sow-an-de. Sound. I almost remember it, I remember what it is like to hear sound but the feeling is distant.
“Tam, can yem hive eru nu?”
She has something coming from her eyes; pouring out onto her cheek. Waten. Watad. Wa-tar.
Water. Tears, they stream from her face. They are black and they stain her cheek.
There is a glass of water on the table beside me. The other person, the man, I watched him drink from it. He poured it into his moth. His munth. Mow-the.
His mouth. I know what drinking is, it is for people to make tears. Maybe if the man keeps drinking, the water will come out of his eyes like the woman.
“Tam, can yem hive eru nu?”
The room flashes and things are dark. It goes bright again. There is something going in and out of my body and it is violating in nature. I cannot see it but I feel it and it moves, so too does my chasit move. My chetched. My che-sss-t.
My chest, I feel it go up and down. Something is forcing the movement. It’s not me. It comes out of my mouth and I can hear it.
The girl, she is close to my bed touching one of the white casts. I know inside them are my limbs. How I know this do not ask, but I know they are mine all the same. Some things I know and some things I don’t. My thoughts are a mash of scattered information. I know I am thinking and that is the most important thing. I also know something is wrong.
The woman keeps talking but makes no sense. “Tam, de yem hive eru nu?”
I would answer this person but they need to speak engiles. Speak engrales I mean. enclish… englaze.
English. I just want them to speak English.
The room dims. I sit here in the dark and it feels like it will not be light again. But I remember there being light; it was light, then dark. It has to get light again, doesn’t it?
·
The light is here, I was right. There is a machine beside me and it’s talking like the woman was. But the machine keeps saying the same thing. “Yap-dee-yap-dee-yap-dee.”
I don’t know what it means. I can’t understand the language of the machines.
The room is dark. Very dark, there are stars are in front of my eyes. I can hear the machine talking still. Where do the stars come from? It’s all fading. There is nothing. It’s all empty black.
·
The room is bright. There is a circle on the wall. It is next to the television and the circle protrudes from the wall. Ha, protrudes. What a silly word. Why do I know that word but don’t know so many others? Pro-o-o-o-tru-u-u-u-d-e.
The sticks rounding the circle point to numbers and the numbers stay in the same place. The sticks move though. They are moving. You can barely see it but I did.
There is no one here. I am alone.
The window next to me is not there. I saw the sun, come through it when it was light and now I only see myself. It is a mirror. I can look at my plastered stillness and it is an ugly sight. I want to move, I want to leave. The machine is whispering, “dee-eep-dee-eep.”
Its words are still unfamiliar.
The circle on the wall has its two little sticks. One stick is long and one, short. And there are those numbers rounding the outer edge but I cannot remember why. The numbers are clear and vivid and they read; 1 and 2 and 3 and F and G and 7 and Q and X and Y and finally the biggest number of them all, the 12.
When I look again I notice that some seem out of place. Some look like they are not supposed to be there but why would they, if no one intended?
The big stick moves past each number and I watch. The room dims and it is bright. And I watch the big stick move in circles around the numbers.
The room is black.
I see little stars in front of me; I don’t know where they come from. They are not there now. They are gone. It’s all black.
·
The room is bright. Light shines onto the window from inside the room. It looks like a mirror. I remember it looking like a mirror.
The little stick on the circle points to the number ‘9’ and the big stick points to the number ‘F’. The circle looks different. I don’t remember the circle looking like this.
The numbers are not the same as I remember.
1 and 2 and 3 and F and 5 and 6 and 7 and 8 and 9 and 10 and 11 and the largest of them all, 12.
I look at the circle again and it changes. There is no ‘F’, there is a ‘4’.
They seem so familiar, all these numbers on the circle they seem so familiar. The machine isn’t talking like I remember it. It is not a voice anymore but, a sound. And it goes; beep-beep-beep.
Ha, sounds. I remember sounds now.
Scratching and beeping and crashing and banging.
Isn’t sound such a wonderful thing?
I feel the room changing.
Everything is dark.
·
The room is bright. The little stick on the circle is pointing to the ‘10’. There is a woman in the room; the woman who had dark water leak from her eyes. I want to look at her but there is something heavy weighing me down. The room darkens.
I know what is heavy! I am sure I know. My eyelids! They are shutting and I feel like I should have some control over them but I do not. They just do whatever they like. The room flashes dark. The room is light. I can feel my eyelids wriggle with each episode.
The woman is speaking, “Tom, can yem hear eru nu?”
I don’t know what you’re saying.
“I can gep yem untata eru.”
Getting close lady, keep talking but try speaking my language.
“Tom, yit yem nud what I nm sardy thin blod go est?”
Whoever this is, she is persistent.
“Can yem hive eru nu?”
The room is flashing. Not by choice, it’s those damn eyelids again.
What are you saying?
“Can you hear me Tom?”
Yes! Yes!
It’s not working. She doesn’t hear me.
Yes! Yes! I hear you keep talking.
The lady is looking at me, she is talking again, “He said something; he made a noise!” She says. She is smiling and touching my face. The room blinks again and I can feel the darkness coming, I don’t want it to. I can understand her now and I want to stay where I am. Don’t do it, please don’t let it happen. My eyelids are overpowering me.
It’s dark and black and I see nothing.
·
I look around and it’s bright. Streaking bright light pours into my eyes. The room blinks from involuntary control. The little stick on the circle is pointing to ‘1’ now. A shadow creeps across my bed. The man is here. He is the same man that came with the woman.
He is talking but it isn’t clear, “Tom, I dudnup think yem going cie survive the feal. Yem er ad strang sunovabitch.”
Who are you?
“We hardge a problat Tom. Thin only poodle too lows what heathen is yem and me.”
What do you want?
“Hive yem come out od thea. Yem butter nat say nup nothing.”
I don’t know what you’re saying, I don’t understand.
Everything fades and my eyelids close again. I really need them to stay open this time. I want to keep listening what this man has to say.
·
Eyes open and the sun is not shining, it’s hiding. The little stick on the circle points to the ‘4’. The woman is standing over top of me. I can smell her, she smells like poting. Like profoam. She smells like perfume. She is talking… “Can you her me now Tom?”
I can.
“Do you remember who I am?”
I don’t.
“I’m your girlfriend Tom, it’s me, Angela.”
I have good taste.
“You were in an achelunt.”
Speak English. Please, talk so I can understand.
“I know you can hear me Tom, do you remember the accident?”
No, tell me about it.
“I’m going to let you rest now. The nurse is here to cut off your penesis.”
My penis? Why is the nurse here to cut off my penis?! What is going on?
The woman leaves. There is no one in the room but I see someone just beyond the door. Their blue scrubs are touching the door jam. It’s the nurse. She walks in holding a pair of scissors, smiling at me. She is here to cut something off me and it’s going to be unpleasant.
Please, leave. Please.
Her left hand slides down my right-leg caste. The scissors come dangerously close to my pelvic region and brush against the skin above my cast. I want her to go, I want this to end. Her right hand now brushes my groin and the scissors widen and press into my skin.
She snips. And snips again.
I squeeze my eyes with all my might and pray this isn’t happening. My left eye stays open despite my effort, enough to see her hand retract and drop something into a plastic tray sitting on the nightstand. Her hand goes back to my leg and again to the tray. Bloodied gauze falls from her hand. I can move my eyes now; just a little; just a bit. I’m so happy I open them as wide as I can and I see…
Blood. Old blood. Old, dry blood.
She cut the bandages away from my thigh. She was not cutting off my penis, thank god. She leaves and re-enters with a small rotary saw in her hand. It resembles the type of tool one would find in fabrication shop; a mini grinder. She plugs in the cord, descending from the saw, into the wall. And it begins to talk.
“Mah! Mah! Mah!” the little machine screams.
My ears adjust to its speech and I see that it isn’t talking. It’s only making a high-pitched electrical grind. Little bits of dust float through the air. Dust full of epoxy and fiberglass.
She is cutting away the casts that cover my legs. The room dims and my eyelids takeover, they enact their sinister will over my perception. I can fight them now. But I can’t fight hard enough.
I want to see but I see nothing, it’s dark.
·
The room is bright and the woman wearing hospital scrubs is gone. Instead, I see the man and the woman. The girl named Angela, and the man I don’t know. His face is gaunt and his stature, wiry. The girl, she resembles him if only a little. The man’s mouth is hidden behind cleanly trimmed white facial hair. He does not move in a weak manner, the frailty he conveys is superficial.
His look is stern; the woman talks with him.
She speaks, “Dad. I really though I lumed Tom when yem ceared us from tha moudel.”
He replies, “I tried my best to surge ham dore. We can only pried that he makes it.”
Dad… His daughter is my girlfriend. I have no memory of them. I don’t even know who I am other than my name; my name is Tom Grey and people call me Grey Tom.
“Do yem want something to drem daddy?”
The white bearded man answers and my girlfriend, Angela, leaves the room. I don’t like the way the old man looks at me.
He speaks again, “Coming around Tom? Angela said yem tried to speak ealiem. I really though I komed you. Do I have to fained thin job?”
I don’t know what you are saying. Please, keep talking. Speak English, let me understand.
“Did yem eye just move Tom? Are you there?”
Yes! I’m here, keep talking.
“Am gabbing heave nat fein kome you Tam.”
No! Please, speak so I can understand.
“Don’t close your eyes Tom. Do you hear me? I’m going heave thin jab. You are gabbing to dry.”
I am gabbing to dry? I don’t understand, please, keep talking.
“I hope you can hear me Tom. In a few hours you will dry and I want yem to knab is was nu.”
What will happen in a few hours? Tell me again, I don’t understand.
The old man stares at me, coldly. I am looking at him so hard, trying to remember but the memories are not there. The woman returns. Angela… returns. She is my girlfriend. The confusion I feel only compounds my infirmity. There is nothing I can do about this situation but wait and hope my life will return to me.
Angela touches my freshly bare legs and I feel but a light tingle.
“Do you hear me Tom?” She says, “Do you remember me? Do you know who I am? Do you remember daddy?”
No, I remember none of you. But ‘daddy’ says he is going to ‘kome’ me, and I’m going to ‘dry’. Whatever that means…
“Do you remember the accident? You and daddy when to Mount Raymore and you fell. Your safety line was crud nutch oh.”
My safety line didn’t keep me safe.
“You have been in a coma for six whacks.”
A whack is a week if I ever knew what a whack was.
“The accident seemed so long ago. I’m so happy to see you awake. I’m canep bemash ouir ut ba.”
The accident?
“If daddy didn’t shubeve yem I don’t know what I would have done.”
He wants to do more than shubeve me.
“Daddy called us and you were airlifted here.”
How did I fall?
“Maybe is would be bedgen if you talked to daddy.”
The old man turns from the window nonchalantly sipping a canned soda. “Tom” he says, “I’m sorry for all the hud tram we were having. After seeing you here I reglect yem make Angela happy woman. She cares for frit yem very much. I just want to see you better.”
It seems me and ‘daddy’ had climbed a mountain and something happened. Now he is here and he wants to ‘kome’ me so I will ‘dry’. He also says that he wants me to get better. Who is he really and what are his intentions? I don’t know.
I feel the muscle underneath my head, it’s near my neck. Maybe it’s in my neck. It’s very weak. I use all my strength to make it move but all I can feel is pain in return; there is a shy sound that comes forth.
“Argh. Grub, me yon dud ut riring ughh.”
My voice, is raw and strangled. Sweet Jesus, that’s painful. I taste something in my throat. I remember that taste, it’s blood. I taste blood. Angela leans over and wipes my face with a tissue and as she pulls it away I see it soaked in dark red.
“Don’t try to speak honey.” She says, “The dradgebin said your vocal chosad need time to heal. You need to rest.”
We all need rest. I can’t rest because your father wants to ‘kome’ me and I’m going to ‘dry’. He is going to kill me and I’m going to die!
“Argh. Grub mud you deroo raw jeen ack rah!”
This is painful. Like daggers piercing flesh a thousand times. I can feel it in my mouth; my tongue is covered in warm blood. Everything I say doesn’t make sense and all it brings is pain. I need another way of communicating with Angela. I know now. I know what happened and I have to warn her. I remember God damn it!
My hands and arms, I had forgotten about them. I need to write a message, I need to warn Angela, to tell her to keep her father away from me.
I push my arm high in the air but it doesn’t move more than an inch. Nothing works the way it is supposed to. What’s happened to me? My head, there is pressure now. Lots of pressure. It’s like a space shuttle launch, pushing me into the bed. My eyelids are taking over again. No! Not now. I can’t fight it. The darkness is coming.
·
The room is bright and the little hand of the circle has advanced one number. I don’t see Angela. The old man hovers over my body looming with a cold stare.
“Did yem really think I would let you rummage my daughter?”
I didn’t know I was ‘rummaging’ your daughter. Is that why you want to ‘kome’ me?
“Tom, I gave you many chances to walk away. I even offered you matchka. My daughter should rummage someone more apkhacklat. Yem would have ruined her life.”
I’m sorry, I’m not ‘apkhacklat’ enough.
“It feels good though. Being able to tell you face to face, what I’m going to do to you. Back there, on the mountain…What I did came off guard. Now you will know what I’m going to do to you. And there is nothing yem can drum stup pop nu.”
Keep talking, keep talking until Angela returns.
“The doctor says the communication centre in your brain is heavily damaged. He says you should be able to understand most of what I’m saying to you, and I hope he is right. Don’t bother trying to speak again because your vocal chords underwent surgery. There is no reason to increase your suffering at this point. I’m going to kome yem nap tram jugs batton. There is nothing you can do, just lie back and accept frappit.”
I’m glad you’re enjoying this.
“When they find you dry they will never look at me. I was the one who saved you, I kept you abolov.”
The old man slaps his hands together and walks towards the window.
“Another hour and Angela will be off to tend to her mother. Then jabit but nu and yem flit underwaht.”
Another hour… tell me what an hour is.
An hour: One hour.
Two, three, four hours.
The circle on the wall!
One to twelve.
Time.
I had forgotten time. I remember it now but the idea is so strange. The sticks on the circle, a clock. My eyelids are taking over again. Not now! It’s too important, I need to stay here. I need to tell someone! This man is insane…
·
The room comes to life again and the old man is sitting in a chair by the window. Angela, my girlfriend, is hugging me. If only she knew this could be the last time she would be able to do such a thing. Perhaps, she could save me from her own flesh and blood. Her hand, it tingles my hand with its touch.
I squeeze with every ounce of strength I have. Surely I am cruising her hand. Cristing her hand. Crushing her hand.
I must be crushing your hand. Do you not feel this?
“He’s moving.” She says.
A sound is grumbling in my throat.
“Beh!”
“He is trying to talk again.” Angela is close to my face, “Don’t try to talk baby. You need to rest.”
“Beh!”
Pen!
“Beh!”
Pen!
“What are you trying to say Tom? What do yem nadge upt new?”
I squeeze my index finger and thumb together as hard as I can. Hoping, just hoping Angela will know what I’m trying to say.
The old man is speaking, “I don’t think it’s good he overexerts himself.”
I don’t care what you think you miserable old prick. Get me a pen Angela! Please.
“You want to write something?” She says, finally.
Yes! Yes! I do.
Angela slips a pen between my finger and thumb and I can barely feel its presence. She puts a pad of paper near the end of my arm to write on. Yes, this is it. I can finally let you know what’s going on. Thank you Angela, I love you; even if I don’t remember you.
I need to write a message. I need to tell her what her father is planning to do to me.
I write as best I can:
your father is trying to kill me
Angela’s face appears grim and dark. Tears stream from her eyes and her beautiful face is overcome with red swelling. She kisses my forehead and walks out of the room.
This is perfect.
Get the police, yes, get someone who can help. Someone to save me.
But the old man is still here creeping in the shadows. Sitting in the chair next to the window. He walks to the door to look where his daughter went.
You can’t leave him here with me this long. You need to come back!
The man returns to my side. We are alone now in the room. He holds the IV bag which connects to the vein in my arm and with his left hand he pulls a syringe from his pocket. There is nothing in it but air.
Where have you gone Angela? Why did you leave me here with him?
The head of the syringe pierces a valve in the IV bag designed for administering medication. His thumb pushes the plunger down and air rushes into the IV line. Towards my veins, towards my heart, towards my brain.
Why didn’t you save me Angela?
“Did you really think that was going to work?” The old man chuckles under his breath. He holds up the note I had written on and all I can see are squiggled lines. There is no message, the words are illegible; the communication centre in my brain is heavily damaged.
amazing story....I really enjoyed it. Thank you for sharing! xo
ReplyDeletewhen it's dark, and the city is quiet, I will return and read your stories.
ReplyDelete