Life So Perfect

by Nathan Bassett

  Amber, with Steven standing behind her, stood at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s going on? Was that the policeman who was asking about that creep of a stepdad? What’d he want?”

  “Just checking to see if we knew anything new. What have you two been up to?” Sarah said with a forced smile.

  “Facebook. Talking to friends.”

  Steven said, “Not me. Doing homework. Never did homework in my life. It’s kind of fun.”

  “See there, Mom, he gets crazier everyday don’t he?” Joe said hiding the fear that was squeezing his heart and soul.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “You trying to kill us? It’s gonna kill us. No way I can do this. No way.”

  “Survival. It’s about survival. You can do this, Maddie.” Marie winked, turned and walked down a faint mountain path. Maddie was alone – all alone in the middle of a frozen hell. Two nights camping; a tent, some indescribable and disgusting rations, a cigarette lighter and a whistle – for an extreme emergency only, “You had better be dying if you blow that whistle.” The program director told them before they hiked three hours in blowing snow – okay it was a light flurry, but it was still blowing. Each inmate, or troubled teen as the colorful brochure branded them, was abandoned in some secluded location with full assurance that they would survive. And of course, they were given the impossible promise that they would return stronger having experienced revelations and sacred epiphanies that would transform their lives forever. Transformation – right. “This is so stupid. I hate everyone one of you.” Maddie muttered as Marie disappeared into the woods leaving her sitting on a wet and frigid fallen limb.

  Marie called back, “I heard that Maddie. You can thank me when you get back.”

  Whatever, whatever, whatever. This is going to kill me and they’ll be sorry. My parents will be sorry. Only wish I could be there when they tell them, “We’re so sorry your daughter froze to death in the wilderness.”

  Maddie wrestled for half an hour with the tiny pup tent before it stood somewhat erect. Still angry and already exhausted, she wandered around the woods gathering bits of twigs and small limbs. With the sun making its inevitable trek toward the horizon, and feeling more perturbed and utterly shattered, she fumbled around in an attempt to light a fire. She uttered every curse word she could think of, and made up a few of her own, before pitiful sparks decided to rouse a feeble flickering light, which somehow morphed into healthy dancing flames. Maddie laughed with relief as she watched the fire dance around the twigs and limbs warming her frozen hands. She devoured some beef jerky, and wolfed down an apple and banana. That was dinner.

  Now what? Now what? She glared at the fire waiting for her personal life-changing theophany. Nothing came. She muttered to the darkness. “This is just stupid. I should be home. I hate this place. Screw this place. Screw Marie. Screw every damn counselor in the goddamn world! And screw my parents. Yeah, for sending me here. And … and screw God for letting it happen. Letting him ruin my life.” She wanted to cry, but tears could not be found, and even if they could, they would have no purpose.

  Maddie felt the chill of the night encroaching as tired flames gave way to dying embers. She slipped into the cold and uncaring tent and wrapped herself up snug in her sleeping bag – she then began cursing herself with the harshest and ugliest words she could conjure up. That’s when the inescapable thought came; that thought that ignited the urge, the urge that fueled the demand that was never satisfied, not until it was appeased. Just cut. You need to cut. Watch the blood slide down your skin. You need the release, the peace. Give yourself what you deserve. What I deserve. What I deserve. Everyone says I deserve better. I do deserve better. Why the hell can’t I believe that? Just can’t. So just cut. Go on, just get it over with. Maddie slipped out of her sleeping bag and looked for something sharp, jagged, ugly, angry. Anything would do. She glanced up and saw a sky she never knew existed – bright and alive with a million stars, a million suns burning, existing, being, looking down on her. “Incredible. Amazing.” She said aloud. Pulling a space blanket around her, she walked to a larger clearing where she could see the southern sky. Stunning. Brilliant. The sight of the night sky silenced her self-pity – stars unending, declaring the glory of the universe, of creation, the glory of a Creator. What’s that verse? Oh, what’s that verse? Her minister had been preaching on it for three weeks. “Yes. ‘Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these? He who brings out the starry host one by one and calls forth each of them by name.’” Maddie reached out her arm; she touched the heavens. “‘Why do you complain? Why do you say, my way is hidden from the Lord; my cause is disregarded by my God?’ Oh God, I only want to be normal. What happened to the perfect life I had?” Maddie briskly wiped away tears that dared to surface. “What? Don’t deserve to cry either? Forgiveness Maddie. When are you going to forgive yourself?” That’s what Marie had asked her a few days before. She had replied with controlled anger, “I Can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t forgive myself. Can’t you see that? It can’t be done.” Marie stroked her hair. “It can and must.” “Shut up. Leave me alone.” “When are you going to give yourself a break Maddie? When?”

  Maddie lay down on the ground and stared at the stars above. I just want to be home with my family. I want to be in my own bed. I want to be okay. I want to be happy. He won’t let me. The flashback came, as it too often did. Uncle Billy lovingly caressing her, slowly undressing her, carefully exploring her – violating her, raping her. Vivid scenes flashed through her mind’s eye, forcing her to relive those moments. Confused and senseless feelings shot through her being: disgust, shame, self-hatred, being loved, being accepted, being wanted, anger, rage, helplessness. These images so often had invaded her mind, her soul; images she tried to kill, burn, destroy – she never could. ‘A’ for abused. “Ms. Banister what was the significance of the letter ‘A’ on Hester?” ‘A’ for adultery, ‘A’ for shame and guilt. ‘A’ declaring to everyone she was worthless, guilty, unlovable, untouchable. ‘A’ for abused. “No Ms. Banister. What was the significance of the ‘A’ that Hester wore?” I don’t know. “Think Ms. Banister. The ‘A’, it was unlike those the others wore. How?” Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. “The ‘A’ Hester wore was stitched with gold thread and made of fine silk. What was she saying? Declaring?” Maybe it shows she never lost her dignity. “What does the letter come to represent as the novel progresses?” Don’t know. Don’t care. “How did the other women begin to see her?” Don’t know. “In Hawthorne’s novel the letter begins to mutate. The ‘A’ came to be defined as ‘Able,’ and ‘Angel.’” So what? “Why did Hester resume wearing the letter ‘A’ when she returned to Boston?” I don’t know. “Think Ms. Banister. Think.” It became a symbol of strength, of defiance … of hope. She became … no, she was always a strong woman, and the other women finally saw that and admired her, and came to her for help, for comfort. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past. It never mattered to her what people thought. She was always determined to believe in herself, to love herself. “Indeed Ms. Banister. Very good.” Soar Ms. Banister. Soar like the eagle. Soar to the heavens.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Kline. Come up and finish the equation.” Coach Tyler barked out jolting Joe out of a semi-conscious state. First hour; Algebra II. Algebra used to come so easy; now it was senseless numbers, signs and symbols that Joe couldn’t be bothered to deal with.

  “What?”

  “The equation Joe. Show us you brilliance Finish what Skyler started.”

  “Oh. No. I can’t. I don’t … it’s too much, too hard for me.” A vibration in his jean pocket sent a shock wave through hidden nerve fibers throughout his entire body.

  “Phone off. Kline. Phones off.”

  “Sorry Coach.” Joe pulled his phone out and glanced at the text, from his mom:

  Waiting out front. Come now Chuck’s hurt. Bad.

  “You’re trying my patience Joe. Get your big butt out o
f that seat and do the equation.”

  Joe shot up and walked to the front of the class. “Stick the damn equation up your ass.” He walked out the door and ran down the hallway before Mr. Tyler could surface from his desk to give chase.

  ***

  Joe stood several feet back and watched his mother and father demand responses from the nurse sitting behind the front desk in the ER. The frantic movements of his dad’s arms and hands seemed out of place. He’d never seen his father lose control; any and all his emotions were always held tight to his chest, a poker player who’d perfected the bluff, the lie, the cheat, making you think what he wanted you to think. His father wiped tears off his face, then leant over the counter and screamed in decibels that turned all heads in the emergency room waiting area. “I want to talk to the damn doctor! Right now! I want to see my son right now!”

  Joe held his sister close to his side. He could feel her body shaking. “Let’s wait over there.” Joe tugged her arm and she remained motionless.

  “No.” Amber protested.

  “Come on Amber. Let them deal with it.” Joe took her shoulder and led her to the far end of the waiting area. They sat in the corner on a cold metal bench.

  Amber put her head on Joe’s chest. “What’s happening? Is Chuck dead?”

  “Nooo.” Joe said. “He’ll be fine. Just had an accident.”

  “What kind? What happened?”

  “Something. I don’t know. He’ll be fine. He always is.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.” Joe said and brushed her hair back and stroked it several times. He was lying. He knew the promise had been kept, ‘Do not contact the police’ – or else. A cold nothingness enclosed Joe. He should feel anger, rage, guilt, fear, a hundred other emotions – but he did not even feel numb. Empty of any emotion. That’s what death is, void of feeling, of light, of darkness; the end of being – sounds good, preferable. Amber took his hand and squeezed it hard and put her head on his shoulder. No. Can’t die. Can’t let go. Can’t give up. Have to feel. Have to live. The rumble of an aging and oft neglected motorcycle caused Joe to cringe.

  “Steven’s here.” Amber said and jumped up and pointed out the window. She ran out the door to greet him.

  Steven’s high-pitched screaming protest, muffled by the large plate-glass window, should have caused at least a bit of embarrassment to stir in Joe’s gut; but he still felt nothing. Then an angry, gruff voice made a threatening command Joe could just hear, “Move that motorcycle, now. You cannot leave it here!”

  “I can. It’s freakin’ fine. I don’t have to goddamn move it. It’s not in the way. Just shut your damn face.” Steven’s words bellowed out as the ER door opened and allowed all the sickly and suffering would-be patients to hear every word clearly.

  “Move it now or it will disappear. Ambulances unload here. This drive has to be kept clear.”

  Joe did not want to lay claim to the wild Indian. He buried his head in his hands hoping to disappear. Then he heard Steven voice scream out, “There’s plenty of room. Leave me alone or else I’ll eff’n …”

  Joe bolted out the entryway. “Good God, Steve. Not here. Shut up.” He grabbed Steven’s key, pushed him toward the door, apologized to the security guard and quickly moved the motorcycle. When he came back, he found Steven and Amber sitting on chairs the other side of the waiting room laughing and joking. “Stay with Steven, Amber. I’ll go see what’s going on.”

  “Give me your phone Joe. I have to check my Facebook. It’s so boring here.”

  “God. You and Facebook. Whatever. But don’t be calling anyone. I’m low on minutes.”

  Joe stood several feet back from his parents as they talked in hushed tones with a young Asian doctor. He didn’t know if he should join their solemn huddle; didn’t know if he wanted to. He could hear only bits and pieces of the unholy conversation. “Fifteen” or was it fifty? “stitches on the left side.” The doctor pointed to his own left cheekbone. “Several lacerations … Six stitches” or sixty? “ … to the right … ” He patted the back of the right side of his head. “Three fractured ribs … hemorrhaging … jaw fractured … left arm broken in … surgery for … possible internal ….” Joe turned and went back to the waiting room.

  “Well?” Steven asked.

  “Not much. He’ll be okay.”

  “Good.” Amber looked up and smiled, then went back to composing a text. She hit send, looked up and said, “Can we see him already?”

  “Not yet. Who you talking to?”

  “A friend.”

  “Who? Better be someone you know. You know mom’s rules. Give me my phone.” Joe reached over and tried to grab his phone.

  Amber pulled back and turned around. “No. It’s someone that used to go to my school last year. So leave me alone.”

  “Well? Who is it?”

  “Jimmy Reynolds.”

  Joe laughed. “Nooo. That weird kid with freckles, red hair, a year ahead of you, that one?”

  “Yeah.” Amber said as she looked at an incoming text.

  “I remember him. He played football last year and broke his big toe and cried like a baby. You don’t like him, do you?”

  “Maybe. So what?”

  “Well you shouldn’t. Where’d they move to?”

  “Dallas.”

  “Oh yeah? Jimmy Reynolds? You could do better. I suppose it’s safe to have a boyfriend four hundred miles away.”

  “Shut up. He’s not a boyfriend. Just a friend.”

  “Well, tell him you’re done and give me my phone. Come on. Give it to me now and just let me tell him.” Joe grabbed again for the phone.

  Amber leaned further back and said, “Just a sec.” She looked at the phone. “Hey, what’s the name of that place that Maddie went to? In Arizona or something?”

  “It’s in Colorado and it’s called The Rising Sun Ranch. Why do you want to know?”

  “Just do. What’d mom say?”

  “Nothing yet. Give me my phone. Now!”

  Amber held the phone close to her chest, finished her text, closed the Facebook page and tossed the phone to Joe and said, “I think we should go find mom and dad. I want to see Chuck.”

  “Me too. Let’s go.” Steven said and took Amber by the hand. “Com’n Joe?”

  “No. You two go. Come and get me if you hear anything.” Joe watched Steven and Amber walk to the other side of the waiting room toward the front desk. One thing, there was one thing Joe could be proud of – he saved a life. Yeah, given a wounded warrior hope. He had dared to care and give a crazy Indian a home, a chance, a life. Damaged, never ever ruined. Maybe that’s what life’s about – to save a life. But his brother, he’s couldn’t save his brother. Should have finished the job. Should have murdered the bastard. Now this. His phone vibrated. He checked the incoming text, from an unknown number:

  Should have listened warned U no police

  sorry had to do this evidently didn’t quite finish

  job next time will no more police your

  choice 1 more victim or 2 more got it? No

  police!”

  Joe ran out the door, running back and forth around the surrounding streets. How does he know? It’s not possible. He’s got to be around here. Ten minutes later, he received a text from his mom:

  Where R U. Been Looking. Need U here now

  Joe entered the lobby. His sister and Steven sat in a far corner of the waiting area. As he walked toward them, his phone vibrated. His heart raced as he looked at the incoming message. Damn it. Facebook message for Amber. She’s addicted to this thing. Should never let her borrow my phone. He opened his sister’s Facebook page and read the private message from her old school friend:

  What up? Any word on ur bro? Do U know

  when that girl comes back from that ranch?

  Wish I could be with you. You’re such a good

  friend and more. Hope your bro is okay. Reply

  soon. Luv ya.
>
  Joe muttered to himself, “Yuck. She’s too young to be having a boyfriend. And she doesn’t need to be talking to anyone today.” He put the phone in his pocket and called out to his sister and Steven, “Come on. Mom and dad’s waiting for us.”

  ***

  Joe found his parents waiting in the front of the nurses’ station in the back corner of the emergency room. He was ready for a verbal lashing for disappearing; it didn’t come. The family silently followed a nurse who lead them down a long corridor to a small room; a comfortable room, simple, no thrills, no pictures, no windows, only three plush chairs and a love seat. Joe knew what happened in this room – cruel and solemn news. A doctor would slip into the heartless cubical, position himself or herself on the edge of a chair and then break the news. The professional, well-practiced in the art of putting on the concerned face with the pressed lips and the ever so slight tilt of the head – seasoned, hardened, not really caring, not really invested in this family, that family. Just part of the job. “I’m sorry the news isn’t good. We did all we could.”

  Joe braced himself as they waited for a doctor to come through the door; but no doctor came. It was just his parents, Amber and Steven. Sarah sat between Amber and Joe, with her arms around them. After a few moments of silence, Robert slowly leaned forward in his chair and spoke. “Your brother’s been moved to the intensive care unit, where he’ll get good care. Chuck’s been in a horrible accident … a horrible thing happened. He was attacked and beaten up … very badly.” Robert stopped and shook his head, pressed his lips together and allowed a tear to trickle down his left cheek.

  Joe watched the tear slip down his father’s face and fall to the ground. Emotions. I don’t want to feel, to cry. Why do we have to have emotions?

  “Is he gonna die?” Amber asked and clutched her mom’s leg.

  “No doll. He’s not going to die. But he’s hurt. Badly.”

  “Who did it? Why? Why?” Amber whined.

  Sarah quietly said, “We don’t know who did this. No one saw what happened; at least no one has come forward. The police will find this person and take care of him. And honey, there’s no reason why such horrible things happen. Unfortunately, there are crazy people in the world. And sometimes … sometimes the craziness finds us. We don’t deserve it, but it finds us.”