A Time of Anarchy- Mayan's Story

by Roberta Kagan

  It seemed as if a thousand hours passed before he left the apartment, but in fact, it was only an hour and a half.

  Once he was gone she rushed to the dresser drawer and moved her bras and underwear in search of her stash of money. She tore through the drawer, pulling everything out and tossing it aside on to the bed. Working faster, she searched frantically. A splinter of wood from the bottom of the drawer lodged itself in her finger. She winced at the pain, but she could not stop until the entire drawer was empty. Her hands trembled. She knew she must face the truth. The money was gone.

  Red had found it and taken it. And worse, she realized that if she could not work, she’d have no opportunity to earn more. This time, if she tried to work, he might kill her. Her days of even the smallest grain of independence were over.

  At this point, what good would weeping do? She fell to the ground and sat there, with all of the contents of the drawer scattered around her, feeling like a small insect in the web of a black widow spider.

  Chapter 20

  When Red came home late that afternoon, May dared not look at him. She was afraid he would see the hatred in her eyes and punish her for it. It sickened her to lie in bed beside him while they slept, and she cried on and off throughout the night. Red didn’t get out of bed until early afternoon, but May didn’t get up to make his breakfast. Instead, she listened with her eyes squeezed shut as Red left the apartment, locking the door, and going off to do whatever he did all day.

  It really made her angry that Red had freedom, but he’d choked the life out of hers. And now she was stuck. Stuck with a man she hated. Stuck without any way out.

  May forced herself out of bed. She had nowhere to go and no money to get there. Every plan she thought of came up short. Her head ached, and she felt as if she had aged a hundred years. There simply was no way out. The very concept made her shiver. She would have to remain here, in this small apartment, a prisoner of Red.

  When she walked out of her bedroom, the entire place was silent. Still. She assumed that she was alone, and was glad. She assumed both Cricket and Red had left for the day.

  In her long tee shirt, she went into the living room and sat on the couch. Lighting a cigarette, she gazed out the window and wondered how long she would live. Red might kill her. It was very possible, especially when he was in a rage. She doubted she would see twenty.

  Her long dark curls were a tangled mess, and she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to pull the knots out. Her throat was dry, and she knew that she was fighting an ocean of useless tears. Although she was not hungry, she thought she should probably eat something. While she’d been living with Red, her weight had dropped considerably, and her collar bones jutted out of her skin.

  The phone rang. It rang again. Probably Red. She thought, dreading his voice. Today, he would be apologetic. It was always that way. First, he would fly into an uncontrollable fit of rage. Then, after he beat her until she was hurt and terrified, a few hours later he would be sorry. Most of the time, he’d promise to never hit her again. An empty promise, she’d learned. But still, even when he was in his honey-sweet mood, the wrong words could turn him into an angry, raging lunatic all over again. The incessant ring of the phone reminded her of a caller on the other end. Although she didn’t feel much like chatting, she sighed and picked it up.

  “Hello.”

  “May I speak with May Nightsky, please?”

  “This is she.”

  “This is Memorial Hospital. Yours was the only name and phone number that we were able to find amongst the possessions of a Jill Sholvinski. She’s been in a motorcycle accident. Can you come to the hospital?”

  May felt a chill scratch like a long fingernail up her back. Her hands trembled as she held the receiver.

  “Yes, of course. Is she all right?”

  “She’s in intensive care.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “As I said, your phone number was the only contact information we could find. Do you know of any other family?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t talk now. I have to see Jill. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  As May raced to the bedroom to put on her jeans and a tee shirt, she realized that she would have to hitchhike. Red had left her without any money, so she could not afford bus fare. The last time she’d hitchhiked, the man who’d picked her up had exposed himself. May was disgusted at the memory. That was why she’d hoped Eve would travel with her to California. These things never happened when Eve was with her. She knew she must put it out of her mind. Jill needed her, and she had to get to the hospital.

  Grabbing her purse, she was just about to walk out the door when Cricket came out of the bedroom. He wore tight jeans but his muscular chest was bare.

  “Hi.” He studied her carefully. “You’re as white as that tea pot over there.” Cricket said indicating the pot on the stove. “Are you okay?”

  “No, Jill has been in some kind of an accident. The hospital just called, and I have to get there quickly,” she said.

  “Hey, wait a minute. I’ll take you.”

  “Really? You will?” She sighed with relief, almost crying.

  “Yeah, sure. Of course. Gimme a minute to throw on a shirt.”

  Chapter 21

  A brutal wind shifted down from the northern part of Canada over the last weeks of fall. It seemed as if winter might come early this year. May felt the chill on her face as the motorcycle raced down the street toward the hospital. As she held tight to Cricket, she laid her head against the back of his leather jacket to block the wind. A faint whiff of his spicy aftershave drifted back toward her. The fragrance made her tingle. With Jill in the hospital, she wondered how she could still feel this overpowering attraction to Cricket. She chided herself; it seemed she should be less focused on him and more concerned about Jill. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her girlfriend. She did, and very much so, but being so physically close to Cricket brought out needs she’d never realized she had. Her heart beat quickened as she felt the tightness of his stomach against her hands. Before this she’d never rode behind anyone but Red, and somehow, having her arms around Cricket and her head against his back was more intimate than making love to Red had ever been. She took a deep breath.

  I wish

  …

  Memorial Hospital was less than a mile from the Brood’s clubhouse, but it was at least a half hour from the apartment.

  Cricket had not zipped his leather coat, and the warmth from his body where she held him penetrated her own. It was strange but wonderful to have her arms around him. In a way, she wished he could turn around and take her in his arms and kiss her lips… Cricket was so much less bulky than Red, and because of this she could almost reach completely around his waist. She had to be careful not to allow her fingers to caress or explore his body. If she did, he would know how she felt.

  When the tall, grey-white brick building that was the hospital loomed in the distance, May was stung with a sudden bout of worry. Jill was her only friend now, and a good friend. She was pregnant. This accident could very well cause her to lose the baby. And intensive care! That was for old, sick people. It was a place May would expect to see her grandmother, not her best friend. Jill had to be in pretty bad shape to be in that ward. What if the accident had messed her up, leaving her crippled or worse? Suddenly, it felt colder outside. Without thinking, May clung closer to Cricket. She tried to shake the dismal thoughts from her mind. There was no use pondering what might be; she would be at the hospital and she would know soon enough.

  Finally, Cricket made a right turn into the hospital parking lot. It was filled with cars and people milling about, talking. There were doctors in white coats wearing stethoscopes, families crying and embracing each other. Small children with tear-stained faces, looking lost, and wheelchair-bound persons with casts being pushed toward the entrance. May had not spent much time near the sick, and she felt her body shiver with fear. Cricket felt it too, because he glanced back at her.
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  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He stopped the bike for a moment and reached down to his stomach where her tiny, cold, sparrow-like hands clutched him. Gently he took one in his, caressing it. The warmth felt good.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

  “Yes, positive.” She said, but she wasn’t. She was terrified of what lay within large steel doors that stood in front of her.

  After going around the lot several times in an exhaustive but unsuccessful search for a parking place, Cricket eased the bike up on to the lawn at the side of the building. Then he turned to May, and there was concern in his face. She knew he’d seen tragedy.

  “Come on, let’s get inside.” He helped her off the bike. She was trembling like a reed in the wind. Cricket put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. Then the two walked into the hospital corridor.

  Immediately they were hit with a blast of warm air from the heater. May rubbed her hands together and looked at Cricket. She gave him a half-smile. With a look of encouragement, he squeezed her shoulder; then he removed his arm. May wished he hadn’t. Even though the room was warm and she was no longer cold, the contact with Cricket filled her soul with the inner warmth she so needed.

  A woman with long, perfectly straight blonde hair and round blue eyes, with lots of clumpy black mascara, sat arranging a stack of papers. When Cricket and May approached her she looked up.

  “We’re here to see Jill Sholvinksi,” May said.

  “Of course, just give me a second and I’ll find her room number for you.”

  May nodded.

  The blond searched through a large rolodex. Then she scrutinized at the couple. “Are you her next of kin?”

  “No, but the hospital called and asked that we come,” May said.

  “Please have a seat, and I’ll call the nursing supervisor for you,” the pretty blonde receptionist said; her voice had changed. There was pity in her sky blue eyes. “Would you like some coffee while you’re waiting? We have a coffee pot at the back of the room. Feel free to help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” Cricket said. “You want some coffee?” he asked May. “I’ll get it for you.”

  “No, thanks,” May said. She was shaky. Cricket took her arm and led her to a seat.

  The hospital smelled of alcohol, urine, fear, and death. May sat on a large sofa, and Cricket sat beside her. He kept peeking over at her, and she took in the anxious look on his face. It was like he knew something she didn’t, and it wasn’t good.

  The clock ticked loud enough for May to hear it, and she kept glancing up to watch the hands move. It felt as if the ticking were taking place inside of her heart. In less than five minutes, a heavy-set middle-aged woman entered the waiting area. Her short dark hair was sprinkled with gray to match her eyes. She smiled warmly, and asked that May and Cricket follow her.

  When they arrived at a small office on the first floor, she invited them to come in and sit down.

  “Hi, my name is Joan Samson. I am the nursing supervisor. You must be May?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know where we can find Jill’s family?”

  “No, the only family I know of is George, her boyfriend. Why? Is she hurt badly?”

  Joan Samson had been doing this job for over thirty years, and it never got easier. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I’m sorry. We did everything we could. But both she and George were badly injured in the accident. From what I know, the motorcycle was completely demolished,” she said.

  “I don’t understand.” May shook her head, refusing to accept the truth. She got up from her chair and walked to the supervisor’s desk, as if being closer would make the situation easier for her to comprehend.

  “I’m afraid they both passed away,” the nursing supervisor said, folding and unfolding her hands. It seemed as if they were hanging appendages, and she could not find a proper place to put them.

  When she first heard the words, May felt nothing; she was just numb. She stood there staring at the woman, as if nothing Joan had said had penetrated her mind. It was like Joan had spoken in a foreign language, one May could not understand. Her hands gripped the desk until her knuckles went white, while her body swayed back and forth. Then the room seemed to turn black and begin to spin. May could not look at the woman who delivered the news; she covered her face with her hands, trying to hide from the truth. She was dizzy, and thought she might black out. From out of nowhere, Cricket was at her side. Until then, he’d been so silent that she forgotten he was with her. She turned to him and fell into his arms, sobbing. For several moments he held her. Neither of them spoke.

  “We need someone to make the arrangements. But because they were both so young and without family, we must first contact the authorities,” the supervisor said.

  May could not speak; she had no authority to make any decisions. And if she stayed, the police would realize that she was underage and ask a lot of questions. “I want to go home,” May said. Cricket took her arm and helped her up from the chair. She was weak and barely able to stand, but she leaned against him. Her skin had turned the color of gray stone, and she was trembling.

  “We’ll be in contact,” Cricket said to the supervisor. Then, with his arm around her shoulder, Cricket led May outside.

  For a few minutes, May said nothing. Then she turned to Cricket and held the sides of his leather jacket, shaking him.

  “Oh my God, Cricket. Jill was pregnant. She was going back to school. We were going to go to beauty school together…” May was weeping so hard she was choking. “She’s dead, Cricket. I can’t believe she’s really dead…”

  “Shhhh. I know. It’s going to be okay. There’s nothing we can do to change it. Cry if you need to. Get it all out.

  “Sometimes that’s all you can do,” Cricket said. He softly patted her head.

  After she’d shaken him for a few minutes, she was spent. Weak and tired, she wrapped her arms around him and held on to him like a lost child. Her sobs were so deep that she almost vomited before she tried to regain self-control. Her breathing was choked and erratic.

  “Come on… Take a deep breath,” Cricket said, and she did. “Now again… That’s my girl.” He smiled at her and wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

  She did feel a little more composed. Taking a cigarette out of her purse, she put it to her lips. He lit it for her.

  The two of them sat down on the curb and shared the cigarette in silence.

  When they’d smoked it down to the filter, Cricket patted May’s arm and asked, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Want me to go in to the hospital cafeteria and get you something to drink?”

  “No. I’ll be all right,” she said.

  He nodded. “Come on then, let’s get outta here.”

  He extended his hand and helped her up from the stoop.

  She followed him back to his bike and they rode away, leaving her with only memories of Jill that would last for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 22

  Red found out about Jill and George at the clubhouse that afternoon. When he got to the apartment, he wore an expression of true grief. Sometimes he amazed May. She often felt that he was heartless, and the depth of his emotion surprised her. Red cared. He told May and Cricket that George’s family had been notified, and that funeral arrangements were being made. There was little else to be said. But his head hung low, and May watched him pour back shot after shot of whiskey. He was not up for conversation, and May was relieved. When he was drinking like this, it was best to stay out of his way.

  Cricket went to a taco stand nearby and brought back food for dinner. He and Red ate. May couldn’t bear the thought of food. Her stomach was in knots. She kept imaging the baby inside of Jill, and how much Jill had wanted the child, and how she’d planned to straighten out her life. As hard as she tried, May could not put the thoughts and images of Jill out of her mind.
They all sat in the living room. May got up to look out the window. A soft breeze blew the fallen leaves, scattering them about the front lawn of the building. She was afraid to talk about her feelings. There was no telling what Red’s reaction might be. So, she walked back to the sofa and took her book, pretending to read. She sat, running her fingers over the book cover. It was a pale blue, and for a moment she thought of the blue of Jill’s eyes. It felt as if she might gag. May opened the novel; the letters blurred before her. And she began to realize how much her world was going to change now that she lost her dearest friend. Jill. Jill had so many dreams, so many hopes. They were gone now…gone forever. May wondered what it felt like to die. Did you just stop existing? Was it horribly painful? She didn’t realize it, but she scrunched a page of the book in her hand, tearing it from its binding.

  Both Red and Cricket saw her. They exchanged a quick, worried glance.

  “Have a drink,” Red offered. “It’ll help.”

  May took the bottle of whiskey from Red and gulped. The hot liquid burned her throat and made her sweat. The gag reflex in the back of her throat protested against the bitter alcohol. But she took another sip.

  “I’m tired, Red,” May said. “I want to go to sleep.”

  He didn’t argue, the way he often did when she wanted to go to bed early. Instead, he just nodded his head.

  Cricket watched her as she went to her room. She saw the concern on his face. May tried to smile.

  When she got to her room, May threw herself on the bed. She didn’t bother to change her clothes. Instead, she just lay there in the dark, staring at nothing. Thinking of nothing.

  From the living room she heard Cricket, “Listen, maybe you better check on her. She’s pretty bad. I don’t want her to do anything crazy.”

  “You mean, you think she might kill herself?” Red asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’ll check on her if you don’t want to.”

  “No, hey, listen, I’ll go. She’s my ol’ lady.”