Beyond the Pain

Part 8

“I am in a car. An Oldsmobile. In the front seat. The passanger seat. I glance to my left. I am driving. I am dressed in jeans. Cinched with a blue cloth belt. Red T-shirt. Peeking through the neck of a leather jacket. Black socks. Grey runners. We are driving on Glemore Trail. About to go around the corner to Crowchild. And, an close encounter. Of the fatal kind. The bus stop waits. The concrete wall is approaching. Fast. Fast. Fast. A crash is inevitable. I can do nothing. Trapped. Helpless. Trapped. Helpless …”

I wake. Another fucking control dream. It’s two o’clock in the morning.

“And I need you now.” My dendritic brain skates to Lady Antebellum’s song. Of the same name. A song that aches in my heart. And brain.

I played that song endlessly. Over and over. In the dark. Hunched over my laptop. Ear buds inserted. Must a been a thousand times. Well. Maybe a hundred. Before the crash. The almost fatal crash.

That was to ultimately muliply my pain. But, intended to kill me. As the Scots say, of intentions and other plans, `gae oft a glae`.

I got out of bed. The usual way. Walked through the darkness. Of my apartment. Though not stygian dark. I did not have any drapes. The street lights shed their amber glow. Through the windows. And, the glass balcony doors. Turned into the bathroom. Peed. Pivoted. Proceded. To my left. Another quick left. On the carpeted floor. Stepped right. Onto the linoleum. Of the galley kitchen. Opened the fridge. Stared into it.

No orange juice had magically appeared. Left by the faeries.

I closed the fridge door. Pivoted to the right. Reached up. To the cupboard over the sink. Opened the cupboard door. Reached in. Took a blue plastic glass out. Pushed the door closed with the glass. Ran the cold water for two. Or three minutes. Put the glass under the faucet. Filled it. Shut the water off. And, drank the water down.

And, filled another glass. In the same way. And, drank it down. Too.

Pivoted three sixty. Retraced my path to the bedroom. Laid down. Tried to sleep.

The bedroom light came on. In the window of the apartment next door. Just four feet from my window. I had looked into that window. Countless times before the crash. But never saw a soul.

This time was different.

A young woman had entered the bedroom. Raven haired. White as porcelain. Clad in a pink towel. And, nothing else.

It reminded me of the opening scene in Bedroom Eyes.

`Richard saw a light come on in the second storey bedroom across the alley. A young blond woman was standing there. Clad in nothing.Naked. Great tits. Brown nipples. Like silver dollars. American silver dollars. The blond was scrubbing her hair dry. With a large white towel. Slightly jiggling her breasts. Great tits.

Richard couldn`t see her …`

I had written that novel beginning thirteen years ago. Now it was coming true.

Or, so I thought.

Pre-publication Draft – Copyright Lyle T. Lachmuth, ALL Rights Reserved

“I was back in Unit 58. In Andrea’s office. Facing her chair. Her empty chair. I was filling in a crossword puzzle. A test from Andy. I was stuck on 69 down. ‘Lave’. Six letters. Crud. I hear Andrea saying, “Lyle. You’re early. Your appointment isn’t till three o’clock. You’ll have to go and come back then. I pivoted my wheel chair. Grasped the outer wheels. Motored slowly out of the office.” The dream ended.

I woke on top of the bed spread. Legs tangled in it. Dusk showed through the window. A light was on in the two storey next door. I levered myself up and looked into the lit window. Nothing showing. No one moving. As usual. Ghosts.

I pivoted on the bed. Levered my legs over the edge. Planted both feet on the floor. Placed both hands on the bed’s edge. Levered myself up. Sitting up. Put my right mocassin on. Then my left. Took a step. With my left foot. Then with my right. Shit!

A bolt of pain. Searing. Shocking. Like liquid lighting. In my ankle. I paused. Stood for moment. I needed to pee. Suddenly. As always. I wasn’t going to pee on the rug. It would reek. Eventually. Had to march.

I did. Limping. Hurting. Bad. Made the bathroom. Unzipped. Hooked my left thumb in the elastic band of my Jockey shorts. Pulled them down. Peed. Flushed. Pulled the front of my shorts up. Zipped up. Washed my hands. In icy cold water. For the penance.

Pivoted. Limped out the door. Turned left. Crossed the living room. To the sofa. Pivoted. Sat down. At the nearest part. Leaned to my left. Picked up the four paper backs. Stacked in a pile on the rug.

I had resumed reading while in the hospital. I didn’t remember what I had left. I sorted through the pile. Stephen King’s “Cell”. One of Viva Anna’s Lord Valorian series, “Blood Secrets.” And, two Harlequin romance novels. I read the book descriptions. Decided on the Vivi Anna.

Three hours later I was finished. Smoking hot erotica had kept me page turning. Time for bed. Without supper.

Tomorrow I really had to go to Safeway.

Pre-publication Draft – ALL Rights Reserved, Lyle T. Lachmuth