The Stories: Part 3
Chapters 21 through 30
// he's only 20 minutes late. don't get mad. it's been worse. it'll get worse. it's okay now. //
Laura turns the oven off
completely, hoping the chicken will stay warm but not dry out. She checks the place settings
again, uncorks the wine, and pours herself a glass. She then goes out on the porch, lights a
cigarette, and has a drink.
// wine is nothing without a good smoke. if i quit, i'd only be a bitch and dion certainly wouldn't want that. //
A car winds its way down the road and Laura looks expectantly...but it's not
Dion. Neighbor.
// damn you, laura, why did you do this to yourself? married? a baby? thank god for em. if it weren't for you, em, i'd be certifiable by now. //
Dion's car pulls into the driveway and he
carries Emily up to the porch, looking at Laura disgustedly."What's the problem, Dion?""You're smoking again.""At least I'm killing myself slowly,
darlin'. How is she?""What
do you mean?! Who?!""I mean Emily, sweetheart. Were you doting on another 'she' tonight?""That's it, Laura. I'm putting her to bed
and then you better say what it is you want to say!"
Dion does so while Laura finishes her cigarette and wine outside. Then Dion
comes down and sits on the floor at her feet. "Can we talk after dinner, Laura? I'm
starving.""Why, Dion," Laura
says in a mock southern-belle voice, "I do believe you are humbled. What on earth
for?""Look, I had a scare
tonight. David had overdosed and thrown up when I went to pick her up. We can't have her
around that anymore. It's going too far now. He booted up right in front of my little
girl!""Oh, and where was
my little girl? Huh?""You know what I mean.""All right. We'll find a drug-free babysitter. But I'm going to call David later and tell
him he's lost the babysitting gig. Bastard. I had to give up all that stuff. Why shouldn't he have
to? What are we gonna do about work tomorrow? Neither of us can afford to not go. It's not like
that place is any more straight-edge than David's house.""Laura, where do you get these
ideas?""I don't know, honey.
Guess I'm just bein' silly," she giggles through her anger and hugs Dion's neck.
// i can't talk to him right now. i'm so tired i might lose control. i don't want em to wake up because we're screaming at each other. //
They proceed into the dining room and Laura serves the dinner. They eat silently,
cautiously, and decide they'll talk "another time."
Misirlou
That night...
A Telephone Conversation Between Laura and Ronette
Rebekka stands at a pay phone with a handful of change. It's past midnight and more than a little
freaky out on the street, but Anders left to do God-knows-what and this is the only time she has
to call Thomas.Damn, she
thinks to herself, this would be a great time to have a calling card. The phone rings at the other
end--a voice tells her to deposit the precise amount of coinage for the calling area. She shoves
the quarters in the phone, dropping two of them in her haste. When she's nervous she gets
clumsy...Anders always told her she couldn't do anything right...
Thomas picks up the phone at his
apartment. "Hello?""Thomas,
it's me. I need a place to stay. I can't take Anders anymore.""You can always stay here. You know
that.""Thanks,
Thomas--you're the one good thing I can depend on in my life.""Are you at the hotel? I can come and
pick you up nearby...""No--wait, I'm at a gas station a few blocks away. Anders is gone right now; running
an errand for a client, I suppose...I didn't want a record of our call on the bill at the hotel...Anders
keeps track of stuff like that. I'll be at your place in a half hour. I didn't take anything with
me...didn't want Anders to know I'm leaving.""Okay, Rebekka, see you soon." He adds in a softer tone, "You still have
stuff at my apartment from the last time you were here.""Bye."
She hangs up, looks around to see if
Anders could be anywhere watching her; satisfied that he isn't, she takes off down the block and
hails a cab--no small feat during the transit strike in Philadelphia.As she reaches for the handle of the cab,
a guy near her tries for the same car."Hey, how much for a date?" the nondescript "suit" asks."Get lost!" Bekkers sneers at him as she
dives into the vehicle and gives the driver Thomas's address. God, she thinks to herself, I hope
Thomas has the money to pay the cabbie. She counts the few meager bills that she managed to
take with her. She didn't dare rip off any of Anders's cash. If she had done that, she would really
be dead.As the cab pulls away
from the curb, the "suit" watches it leave, then walks over to the same phone that Rebekka had
just used a few minutes ago.He punches the numbers on the phone. Not reaching the person he wants, he leaves a
message."Hey, what gives? I
just saw your girl tonight and she was none too friendly."
Carlotta
Thomas is standing outside in the apartment complex parking lot, settling the bill with the cab
driver. Rebekka has already gone inside and has curled up on the sofa, just happy to be
somewhere safe, someplace normal. This is what life should be. She should be in a nice little
place with nice furniture, with someone who cared about her. Lots of laughter--good stuff. Warm
fuzzy stuff. Not this whacked-out life Anders has dragged her into.She sighs and pulls a pillow towards her
and cuddles it like a stuffed animal."Rebekka, is there anything you need? You look exhausted." Thomas locks the
deadbolt behind him now that he's back in his place."God, you wouldn't believe it...he pulled
a damn gun on me. Said he wouldn't use it, but I don't trust him right now...""I believe it, 'Bekka." He sits down next
to her on the sofa. "You have got to get away from him. He's draggin' you down with him. You
deserve to be treated better than this.""But, Thomas, he is my brother and my only family here. I can't leave him...He wasn't
always like this. It can be good again."Thomas sighs, and puts his arm around her. "Rebekka, I can never change your mind
about your brother. But you can start a life of your own. I love you."
The two settle in for the night. Thomas
puts Rebekka in his bedroom and he sleeps on the sofa, a ritual they follow every time she comes
to his place to seek refuge. He checks the clock on the wall before turning in. It's 2:20
am...tomorrow is another work day. Lights off...
His sleep is shattered by pounding on his apartment door."BEKKERS, BEKKERS, I KNOW
YOU'RE IN THERE! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO DAMN CUTE RUNNING AWAY TO YOUR
LITTLE HERO."The
pounding continues as Anders raves like a madman in the hallway. "DIDN'T THINK I'D FIND
YA, HUH? BUT I GOT FRIENDS, YA KNOW--THEY TELL ME STUFF. I CAN FIND YOU
ANYTIME I WANT. REMEMBER THAT, BEKKERS..."Rebekka cowers under the covers in the
bedroom, too frightened to move. If only he'd just go away, she prays.Thomas, in the living room, makes no
move to the door, just stays quiet. The noise stops and the silence is almost as scary to Rebekka
as the violence that preceded it.In the night Thomas and Rebekka hear the crack and retort of three rounds of gunfire.
In the morning Thomas will find the windshield of his car cracked and shattered where the
bullets entered.
Carlotta
Anders peels off a hundred-dollar bill and gives it to the cabbie."I told you that if the information you
gave me was good--that you would be rewarded with more money...the good shall always be
rewarded," he laughs.If it
hadn't been for that call he got from one of his regulars, he wouldn't have known that Bekkers got
into a cab around here. Finding the cab wasn't that hard. He smiles; this was the first time he ever
got a handle on where Bekkers would disappear at times. Now he felt smug. He was in control
again...to some extent. At least he knew where to find his little sister when he needed her. Bet he
rattled her chains with his little act at the apartment complex...
Morning in Thomas's apartment finds
Rebekka pouring a cup of coffee into a mug. Neither she nor Thomas got much sleep. Thomas
has just left to go to work so she's pretty much on her own right now...She hears the tumblers of
the deadbolt click and holds her breath as the door opens."God! Thomas, you gave me a scare. I
thought you left!""Yeah, well,
I thought I'd be merrily fighting the traffic on the highway too--but I found out what that noise
was last night. You oughta see my car.""What happened?" Rebekka puts her coffee down on the table."Looks like Anders took his frustration
out on my windshield.""Oh.
Thomas, I'm sorry--I shouldn't have gotten you into this. He's never found me here before. I'm
sorry, really, this is terrible.""Hey, Anders is nothing--the scary part comes now. I gotta talk to the claims
department of my insurance company," he quips with a half-hearted smile on his face.He picks up the phone and dials a
number. Looks like I'm gonna be late for work today, he thinks as he listens to the ringing at the
other end...
Carlotta
After a very long day, Albert arrives at his spacious townhouse apartment and slams the door
behind him. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over the back of a chair; he's too tired to
be neat. He heads straight to his bedroom where he removes his tie and unbuttons the first two
buttons of his shirt, then collapses onto his plush bed and sleeps. His mind and body are
exhausted from being denied rest for nearly 24 hours; he does not dream.
Meanwhile...
In the back of the ambulance, Meg holds
David's hand and gently brushes the thick black hair back from his forehead. Damn, David, she
thinks, not again. I've done this so often for you that it's almost rote. But it still hurts, every time.
She looks up at the technicians, trying not to cry. "I'm Doctor Wilson, the chief pharmacologist
at the hospital. This is my patient," she says. "I can take care of him." The medics shrug, having
stabilized David for the ride. "Okay, Doctor," one of them nods."We're going to need naloxone IV stat,
and epinephrine on standby if he goes into arrest," Meg dictates, and one of the medics
immediately injects David with a healthy dose of naloxone, a strong antidote for narcotic
overdose.Meg takes a deep
breath. "David, can you hear me?"David stirs; his eyes open slightly. "My angel...""David," Meg says sternly, "David, hang
on--we need you!"He takes a
difficult breath. "I didn't do it in front of her. Tell him that," he manages.She looks at him curiously. "Tell who,
David?" she prods, trying to keep him conscious."Dion. Tell Dion I never, ever did." He sighs. "Anders."The name rings a bell; Meg's eyes
narrow. "Anders...Anders Nilsson?" she asks. "Did he do this to you?""Too strong, maybe," he mutters. "Did
he mean to...? I didn't do this...I didn't want to die...""You won't die," Meg says firmly.
Anders Nilsson, she thinks. Isn't he a patient of mine? Yes, that smooth-talking Jekyll-and-Hyde
Swede with the severe cocaine addiction and, I see now, a penchant for sadism. His poor, poor
sister. "And I'll be speaking personally to Mr. Nilsson," she adds under her breath, and squeezes
David's hand reassuringly as the ambulance speeds in to the hospital. He's taken out on a
stretcher, bound for the ER.
Thomas stops at the grocery store on the way home from work. He picks up food from the deli
section for supper, and then some flowers at a kiosk--an odd assortment of tulips, daisies, a
couple of roses and statice. Kind of a country garden thing, he thinks as he heads for the
check-out line in the store.As
he leaves he has to remind himself to look for the loaner car he's driving while his car is getting
fixed. It's a damn good thing his policy covers the expense of getting the loaner; at least it's
decent. Right now if he had to rent a car on his own it'd probably come from Rent-A-Wreck. Not
that he doesn't make a decent paycheck, but, hey, a guy's got expenses...Fifteen minutes later he arrives at his
apartment and unlocks the door. Rebekka is still there. He calls out, "Oh, June--I'm
home!""Is that you, Ward?
You need to have a talk with the Beaver."Out of character, he replies, "Boy, would I like to ever!"Bekkers, smiling, swats him. "Get your
mind outta the gutter! Boy, have you been watching too much Nick At Nite kinda
stuff."Thomas hands her the
bouquet. "For you...""Gee,
thanks."Rebekka pads over to
the kitchen and rummages through the cabinets to find an oversized glass to put the flowers in
water. Tom follows with the bags of food. She takes them and checks the contents of the deli
cartons. "Hmmmm, looks like a little veggie lasagna, and some salad. How
thoughtful.""Yeah, I spare no
expense."He watches her get
out the plates. She's wearing one of his white shirts, a pair of jeans, and is barefoot. He finds it
tempting, but tonight he is too exhausted to even try anything.Grabbing a plate of food, he heads
toward the living room, plops down on the sofa, and flings one leg easily up on the coffee table.
His foot taps against an open book on the table...Clinical Laboratory Tests: Values and
Implications."Geez,
Rebekka, what are you doing reading this stuff? Some light entertainment?""Uh--you forget--I did have
aspirations of being a doctor at one time, remember?" She avoids his eyes when she
talks.Thomas, changing the
subject: "Work has been a bear lately.""You wanna talk about it?"Thomas sighs, "You know I can't tell you much...but the place is a real disaster. Albert,
you know, my boss, Albert Rosenfield; he's been worse than normal. He's usually acerbic, but
now he's reaching for new heights in office etiquette. Seems like his outside life is really starting
to creep into the office. Someone mentioned that some strange people came to pay him a call
about some personal business...glad I was occupied elsewhere in the building. Got a lot of reports
to catch up on..."Rebekka
concentrates very hard on dishing out food for herself and takes a deep breath. She remembers.
She remembers the name plate on the desk when she accompanied Anders on a business visit the
other day. Anders made her wait outside the office while he talked to the "client". Albert, Albert
Rosenfield. Oh shit...
Carlotta
Rebekka answers the phone while Thomas is out of the
apartment.
Tears well in Rebekka's
eyes.
Carlotta
It sounds like Thomas is at the door. Rebekka arranges herself on the couch and brushes the tears
from her eyes. She takes a few deep breaths, blinks a few times, and smiles, just as the door
opens and Thomas walks in."Hey, Bekka. Sorry about that," he says as he closes and locks the door behind
him."Oh, no problem," she
assures him. He sits down next to her and puts his arm around her. "Say, Thomas," Rebekka
begins, snuggling closer to him, "I want to know more about this Albert. Maybe I can help you
make your office situation a bit more bearable if I can get inside this guy's head, you know?" She
laughs; inside she is berating herself for being Anders's puppet. So willing to be used."Well, it's really hard to get into his
head," Thomas says. "He's really talented, I mean, he's the best there is. Me, I don't work with
him much, because I'm still low man on the totem pole, you know?" Rebekka smiles. "I know we
have this other pathologist on staff, Sam Stanley...I haven't seen him around much either. I hear
he cracked some big cases some years back. Anyway, somehow I suspect Albert's relegated him
to tests and stuff, you know, nothing too complex. And that's a shame." He shifts a little to get
more comfortable. "And Doctor Spencer, same thing. And she's really good." Rebekka thinks,
Spencer. David Spencer, right? Oh, God...Thomas continues, "Albert knows he's the best, and I think he thrives
on that. He doesn't like to give the rest of us a chance. Hey, do you want some wine?" He stands
up and heads for the kitchen area."Um, sure, but only one glass, okay?" Rebekka smiles. She tries to collect her thoughts
as Thomas pours two glasses of wine. "Does he have any family?" she asks."He's an only child, I've heard," Thomas
replies, as he hands a glass to Rebekka. "And his parents are still around somewhere, but I don't
think he's very close with them. He's definitely single," he smiles. "And no significant other,
either. Too bad, eh?"Rebekka
takes a sip of wine. "Yeah, too bad," she echoes.Thomas appears to be on a roll, happy to get out his frustrations. "He drinks
coffee constantly--I mean, we all live on caffeine, but he's a little different...I don't know." He
drinks his wine thoughtfully. "I don't know enough about him to postulate on that particular
habit." He turns to Rebekka and smiles, truly happy.Rebekka returns the smile, slightly less
genuine, and is sick to her stomach at her false shows of affection. "Thanks, Thomas; I think that
by telling me all of this, you're a lot more secure in your professional relationship with Albert,
right?" She grins.He laughs.
"You know, you're right! I guess I just needed to get all that out. Thanks, Bekka." He kisses her
gently. Rebekka smiles mournfully and puts down her wine glass."I have to go, Thomas." She stands up
slowly; Thomas rises as well. "Anders'll kill me if I don't get home soon...I'm sorry. I wish I
could stay here forever. I feel safe and...and normal here." She puts her arms around him and
buries her face in his neck. "I don't want to leave; I don't ever want to leave here!" she
whispers."So don't leave. You
can stay here."Rebekka
shakes her head violently. "No, no, no, I can't, I can't! I have to go home." She cries,
helpless.Thomas holds her
reassuringly. "Hey, sweetie," he says softly and takes a step back. He wipes the tears from
Rebekka's face and smiles. "It'll be okay. You're strong. You can make it. And I'm always,
always here for you. Now go on home, because I know you have to. Let me drive you," he
offers."Oh, no, no--I couldn't
ask you to do that. It's...too dangerous. I can walk, I guess. It's not too far, and it's a nice day.
And, look, I'd even left some good walking shoes here from last time." She smiles, trying to
cheer herself up."I'm keeping
an eye on your brother. If he so much as looks at you funny, I swear, I'll--"Bekkers puts a finger on his lips. "Don't
swear anything, Thomas. You can't plan anything with my brother. He's very volatile. You have
to take him one day at a time." She gazes into his eyes, then turns to go. "I think I'm all set...Oh,
your shirt," she realizes. "I'm wearing your shirt..." She fingers the collar nervously, silently
wondering what Anders would do to her if he saw her wearing Thomas's shirt."It's okay, Bekka. You can keep it. I
want you to have it," Thomas manages. "Or you can use it as an excuse to see me again--you
know, like, 'But I have to return this shirt, Anders!'" He smiles brightly.Rebekka laughs despite herself. "Okay. I
will." What the hell, she rationalizes. If he would kill me for being here in the first place, what
could possibly be the punishment for wearing a shirt? She picks up her purse and her bag of
clothes and slides into her shoes. She kisses Thomas. "Bye," she whispers, and slips out the door.
Meg sneaks into David's room, where he's staying overnight. She has put on her lab coat and tries
to be professional. She picks up his chart and looks it over. David wakes from a light
sleep."Hello, David," Meg
manages. "How are you feeling?""Okay, I guess," David answers. He regards his IV absurdly. "What's this
for?""Just glucose. You were
a little hypoglycemic--nothing to worry about," Meg assures him."Why am I still here?""It's procedure.""No, it's not.""You know, that worries me, David,"
Meg says carefully, replacing David's chart on the end of his bed. She pulls up a chair at his
bedside. "The very fact that you know this...this 'ritual' by heart is unnerving. That's not
normal...it's not normal for someone to have gone through this so many times. I--""Margaret, when will you learn? When
will you goddam let me go?" He sinks back onto his pillow and closes his eyes.Meg is startled. "You said you didn't
want to die.""No...I didn't.
But since I've been holed up here, stone cold sober and drifting in and out of consciousness, I've
been doing some thinking. My life is shit. It is," he insists, before Meg can contradict
him. "I write worthless books, I teach a bunch of no-good, ambitionless jerks, I can't commit to a
relationship, the only family ties I had going for me were severed today by a misunderstanding,
and I've more or less sold my soul to heroin. What do I have left?""You...you have me," Meg
chokes."You want to change
me. And I can't change."Meg considers this. "David, you don't believe those things you said. I know you don't.
Your books have won awards. You love teaching. You...we have a good relationship. I've never
made you feel like you have to commit, have I?""No," he admits. "You haven't.""There you go. As for family...well, if it
was a misunderstanding, I'm sure you can patch it up. And I can put you on detox.""Again? Meg, it doesn't work. It's never
worked for longer than a week at most. I hate it.""David, this isn't you. You're never so bitter. I don't like this."David sighs. "Meg, please go away. I
don't want to talk to you right now."Meg stands up slowly and silently leaves the room.
Rebekka lets herself in once at her and her brother's largeish apartment. "Anders," she calls out.
"I'm--"She stops abruptly
when she hears the strains of serious fluting from the bedroom. Rebekka recognizes the piece
Anders is playing as a particularly intricate Mozart sonata, one of which he is very proud. To
disturb him now would mean trouble later. She opts instead to remain silent. She carefully puts
her bag of effects on the kitchen table and, grabbing a magazine, heads for the couch. This isn't
so bad after all, she thinks. I like it when he's involved in his music--that means he's not involved
with me. I wish I could change out of this shirt before he sees me in it, though, and he's in the
bedroom, so I can't. She frowns and flips through the magazine aimlessly.After all five movements, the music
stops. Rebekka is leaning back on the couch with her eyes closed, relishing the relative normalcy
of life at the Nilsson household at the moment. "Anders?" she calls, lifting up her head and
looking down the hallway to the bedroom.There is no response. Rebekka peels herself lazily from the couch and
ambles to the bedroom. Anders is putting away his flute and music. He doesn't look up at his
sister, who has wrapped one arm around the doorframe. "Anders? Did you hear me?" He
continues to tidy up. "I'm home. Are you hungry? I could make something--" Anders stands up
and looks at her coldly for a split second as he heads past her out the bedroom door. Rebekka
follows, ready to offer a few choice words. Anders slouches into a chair and grabs a catalog. His
sheer indifference somehow ruins the effect, and Rebekka loses her nerve.Defeated, she sinks into a chair across
from her brother. "I have some information for you, Anders," she whispers. "Do you want to hear
it now?"Anders does not
respond. He continues to leisurely glance through the catalog.Bekkers looks at him desperately.
"Anders, do you want to hear what I learned today?" Again, no response. "Is this my
punishment? That you won't speak to me?" she cries. "I don't understand. I came home...I came
home to you. I did exactly what you told me to do. I don't understand! Why won't you
speak to me?" She is confused and upset, and beginning to become very, very afraid.Anders simply says, "Nice shirt,
Rebekka," then stands up, tosses the catalog onto the chair, and heads out the door. Rebekka runs
to the door and yells after her brother, "Where are you going?""Out," he replies, gets into his Miata,
and speeds off. Rebekka stands at the door, dumbfounded. It dawns on her: He's probably going
to Thomas's place! She retreats into the apartment and slams the door so hard that the glasses
rattle in the cupboards. She throws herself back onto the sofa, folds her arms across her chest,
and seethes.I can't control
him, she thinks. But I'm sick of him controlling me. I wanted to get angry, I
wanted to have an argument--but he wouldn't let me. She pushes herself deeper into the soft
plush of the couch and halfheartedly plots a kind of revenge. Eventually the rage evaporates, and
she falls asleep on the sofa.
INTERIOR LOG CABIN - Night
The room is lit with candles. WINDOM EARLE is seated
at an oak desk with a quill pen. He is writing on a piece of lined paper and the pen tip is making
incredible scratching sounds. There is a pile of white shavings on the ground near the floor.
Some near-recognizable white lumps lay casually on top of the edge of the table. Windom's eyes
gleam in the fire.
WINDOM (reading from the middle of the note):
Always give your
best, never get discouraged, never be petty; always remember, others may hate you. Those who
hate you don't win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself.
WINDOM chuckles to himself and picks up the pen tip briefly. He puts the pen tip back to the paper and finishes scrawling on the paper. He folds the paper in half and places it in a plain white envelope.
Windom gets up and admires his handiwork while walking about the room and begins to talk, almost as if an unseen force were in there with him.
WINDOM:
We are
torn by divisions, wanting unity. We are.
(after a pause)
And now all we
need...(snapping his fingers) is a stamp.
Fade to Black
MikeLOGtp
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