Second Chances

by P. D. Cacek

  The image of Abigail sitting on her bed begging her sister to talk to her flashed through his mind. Jess squeezed his eyes tighter together and the image faded.

  “Please…show me the way to help her understand the path you’ve chosen for us to walk. I can’t do it alone. Please, how can I help her?”

  “Jess? Can we talk?”

  * * *

  Jessie was sitting in the recliner when he heard the sound of the curtain being pulled back, followed by the soft whirr-rattle of a wheelchair. The cloud inside his head parted long enough for him to meet the big man’s eyes.

  “Hey! Lookin’ spiffy, Mr. McStif— Um.” Lurch cleared his throat. “You look good, Jessie.”

  Jessie glanced down, but the outfit hadn’t changed since he put it on. “For a nerd.”

  “You can always get new stuff once you’re settled.” The big man snatched the suitcase off the bed where Jessie had left it as he one-handed the chair toward him. “Okay, climb aboard your sturdy chariot.”

  The cloud whooshed a little to one side as Jessie sat down and took the suitcase.

  “Did you remember your souvenirs?” Lurch asked as he spun Jessie around. Whee! “I mean, you never know when you’ll want to show off a turquoise puke pan and matching portable urinal, right?”

  “Right. Hey, Lurch?”

  “Yessssssss?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime, kiddo, and I mean that, anytime you have a question or just want to shoot the shit, call and if I’m not here, they’ll find me. I mean it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. Hang on, here we go.”

  The cloud settled down behind Jessie’s eyes so it was easier just to watch the floor directly in front of the wheelchair: seamless white to elevator blue to shining marble-gray blocks that made the wheels click when they went over them. A shadow moved across the blocks toward him.

  “Hi, Jessie, big day, huh?”

  Jessie looked up and the cloud parted. A little. “Hi, Dr. Ellison. Yeah.”

  “Excited to be getting out of here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you doing okay, Jessie?”

  But before Jessie could add another yeah to his repertoire, Millie walked up and handed him a white paper bag tied with a red ribbon.

  “A little going-away gift,” she said as Jessie opened it. It was filled with peppermint sticks. And one of her business cards, the phone number circled with red ink.

  Jessie nodded and closed the bag.

  “Thanks.”

  A weight suddenly descended on Jessie’s shoulder. “Okay, pard, this is where I head out. It’s been a pleasure, Jessie, really. You be good and take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see ya later, sweet p’tater.”

  “See you soon, you big baboon.”

  “Ooo…good one.”

  The hand squeezed and then the big man was gone.

  “Looks like you made a friend,” Millie said.

  “Yeah. He’s cool.”

  “Jessie, Mr. and Mrs. Steinar are here. Are you ready?”

  Jessie waited until the cloud had filled in a little more before nodding. “Yeah.”

  Millie started to walk around to the back of the wheelchair when Dr. Ellison stopped her.

  “Can you give me a minute with Jessie?”

  “Man talk,” she said, and Jessie felt the chair shiver as she let go of the handles. “I’ll just go keep the Steinars company for a bit.”

  Jessie watched her walk away as Dr. Ellison squatted down in front of the wheelchair.

  “You know if you don’t feel that you’re ready to leave, you can stay a while longer, Jessie. Do you want to?”

  Dr. Ellison stared into Jessie’s eyes and if it hadn’t been for the medicine making things all soft and cozy Jessie might have been the first to look away.

  “Stay here?”

  “No, it’d be something more like a residential facility.”

  “I’m tired of being a lab rat.”

  “It wouldn’t be that kind of hospital, Jessie.”

  The brain-cloud parted just enough for one tiny ray of sunlight to break through.

  “A nut house?”

  “They haven’t been called that for a long time, Jessie. No, they’re more like live-in spas designed to help people deal with perceptual or emotional problems.”

  Jessie nodded. “A nut house. You think I’m crazy?”

  “No, no, of course not.” But the look in his eyes said differently.

  Jessie leaned forward and stared straight into those eyes. “I’m not crazy.”

  And Dr. Ellison stared right back. “Do you still hear things?”

  Whoops. Jessie sat back and finally understood what the brain-cloud pills were for. He’d forgotten their secret, his and Abigail’s, the day of the funeral. No wonder they thought he was crazy.

  “Jessie?”

  “No, I don’t. Not anymore.”

  Dr. Ellison reached up and patted Jessie’s hand on the suitcase. “Good, it means we got the right dose. There are new medications being developed every day and with time there might even be a cure. If you were a resident at one of these facilities, you’d be at the forefront of any new drug therapy program instigated. Would you consider it?”

  “What do you want him to consider, Dr. Ellison?”

  As Dr. Ellison stood up, using the arm of the wheelchair as a lever, Jessie saw Mrs. Steinar marching toward them, leaving Millie and Mr. Steinar in her wake.

  “Just other potential living situations if Jessie would rather not be a burden to—”

  Mrs. Steinar never stopped moving until she’d walked around to the back of the wheelchair and touched Jessie’s shoulder. “You’ll never be a burden to us, Jessie. You’re a blessing. I hope you understand that.”

  Jessie wanted to open the suitcase and take out the puke tray.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

  Without another word, Mrs. Steinar began pushing Jessie across the lobby toward the entrance doors with Dr. Ellison trotting to keep up. Millie and Mr. Steinar changed directions and fell in line behind them. Jessie had to grip the suitcase tighter to keep it from falling.

  The late afternoon heat swirled around Jessie the moment they left the building, thickening the cloud behind his eyes as Mrs. Steinar pushed the wheelchair across the concrete walk to the burgundy Nissan sedan parked along the white-painted curb.

  “I’ll be calling from time to time to see how Jessie’s doing,” Dr. Ellison said. The wheelchair shuddered when she set the brakes.

  “That’s fine,” Mrs. Steinar said. She took the suitcase off Jessie’s lap and opened the rear passenger-side door.

  “And Ms. Benezet-Guzman will be dropping in periodically.”

  “Of course she will.” After sliding the suitcase to the opposite side, Mrs. Steinar turned and helped Jessie out of the wheelchair and into the car. “Mind your head.”

  Now that Jessie knew what those little orange pills were for, the cloud turned dark and mean and made it all the more difficult to cram his new dimensions into the narrow back seat. He hoped they lived nearby.

  The door closed with a hollow thump while Dr. Ellison was saying goodbye. He knocked on the window and Jessie lowered it as Mrs. Steinar got in.

  “If there’s anything you need, Jessie.” He handed Jessie a small white business card. “Or if you just want to talk.”

  Jessie took the card and folded it in half. “Okay.”

  Mrs. Steinar turned around in her seat.

  “Jessie, close the window, the air-conditioning’s on.”

  Jessie thumbed the window lever when Dr. Ellison backed away.

  “Some people just don’t know when to quit,” Mrs. Steinar said, turning back to the front of the car. “All right, Allan, let’s go home.”


  Jessie shoved the folded card into the front pocket of the chinos and fell asleep.

  * * *

  Barney watched the car until it turned onto the access road and disappeared behind a landscaped wall of trees. Millie came into his periphery, rubbing her bare arms as if she was cold while her bright summer dress fluttered in the sultry wind.

  “Don’t you have a plane to catch?” she asked and he nodded. “I think he’ll be okay.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, I’ll keep a good eye on him and let you know how things are going.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Dr. Ellison. That poor child. Think he’ll ever go see his family? I mean, I understand why he doesn’t think he can, but, Lord a’mighty.” She stopped rubbing her arms. “I’ll be praying for Jessie every night.”

  “Amen,” Barney whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Arvada, Colorado

  Jess didn’t feel the pain in either his body or soul as he stood up and turned around. Shock was known to deaden the senses.

  The three of them stood at the end of the main aisle, Richard standing slightly in front as if to protect the two who were huddled together behind him. Laura had her arm around….

  Jess took a step forward and heard, but didn’t feel, his right knee pop. “Get out.”

  “Please, Jess, I understand,” Richard said, but then proved he didn’t by starting to walk up the aisle. “I need to talk to you.”

  “We have nothing to talk about. I told you to get out. You’re not welcome here anymore.” Jess looked over the man’s shoulder. “Not with that thing.”

  The imposter turned and buried its face, Carly’s face, against Laura’s neck. Jess felt his stomach turn. “The Scriptures clearly say that in late times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.”

  Richard shook his head but continued walking. “It’s not like that, Jess. She’s just a child, a little girl.”

  “It’s an imposter.” Jess pointed to the words written on the arch above the altar. “The Way. The Truth. The One Life. That is what we believe in, what you believed in. You were the one who brought me in, who gave me the truth.” He dropped his arm. “My God, Richard, how could you and Laura dishonor your daughter’s memory like that?”

  Richard stopped moving. “How can you say something like that?”

  “How? Turn around and look at the thing wearing your daughter’s flesh! Carly will never forgive you.”

  “Carly’s dead,” Richard said and resumed his slow steady march toward the altar. “She’s beyond forgiving anyone.”

  Jess forced himself to stand still although a part of him wished his ministry believed in the practice of making the sign of the cross. If there was ever a time for an archaic ritual it was now.

  “I told you to get out, Richard, now I’m ordering you…get out of my church.”

  “We’re not doing anything.”

  “You’re defaming God’s temple with your blasphemy!”

  But the threats didn’t work. “She’s not a blasphemy, that’s what I wanted to tell you. She’s a living human being, Jess, and her name’s Violet. She was only seven when she died in a house fire outside Ballarat, Australia, in 193—”

  “I don’t care!” Jess turned, climbed onto the dais and walked to the lectern. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely grip the sides. “I don’t care what its name is or what lies it told you. It’s an abomination unto God and I want it and you out of my sight.”

  “Jess, please.”

  It took most of Jess’s concentration to pull the cell phone from his pants pocket and hold it up. “Leave, or I’ll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”

  Richard didn’t move but the thing clinging to Laura started to cry and the voice of a terrified child echoed through the church.

  “She died in 1932 when a fire swept through her family’s sheep station. She was trapped in the house and burned to death.”

  Jess thumbed the nine and the one and stopped.

  “I was wrong, Jess. We are wrong. She’s not an imposter, none of them are. They’re just people like us.”

  Jess’s finger hovered above the one.

  “What would you have done if it had been Jessica?” Richard took a step closer. “What if it had happened to Jessica? Would you have buried an empty coffin and pretended it never happened, like befo—”

  The phone fell from Jess’s hand as he charged the man who’d once been his friend. He’d never hit another man in his life, but it felt wonderful when his fist slammed into the side of Richard’s jaw and sent him back a few steps.

  Two voices screamed, but it was the child’s that cleared Jess’s head. They were the perfect image of a mother and daughter…clinging to one another while the man who’d been his friend wiped blood from his bottom lip as he walked back to join them.

  “Don’t ever come back,” Jess said. “God forgive you.”

  When the last echo of the door closing faded, Jess walked over and picked up his phone. The screen was shattered and made a soft grinding sound when he closed his hand around it.

  He tightened his fist and imagined it was Richard’s throat.

  * * *

  Phoenixville, Pennsylvania

  Jessie jabbed a fork into the pizza and speared a curl of thinly sliced beef.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  Jessie looked up. Mrs. Steinar seemed worried, but she’d seemed worried from the moment they walked into the house. It was a nice house, two stories done up in timber and stucco to make it look like it should have been in Stratford-on-Avon instead of a Pennsylvanian suburb. Jessie remembered living in a house with two stories, but there’d been nothing special about it. It was just a….

  The cloud drifted over the memory. What was he thinking about?

  The Mrs. seemed worried, but she always seemed to be something or other.

  Jessie blinked. “What?”

  “I asked you if you like the pizza,” she said, and looked like she was about to jump up from the dining room table. “I can make you something else. A sandwich?”

  “No, I do,” Jessie said when the pieces of what she’d been saying came together. “The pizza. It’s just hot.”

  “Oh, well.” The Mrs. smiled and pulled her chair back in. “Blow on it.”

  Jessie blew on it.

  “Have you ever had a cheesesteak pizza before? They were…are our favorite.”

  Jessie picked up the slice and sacrificed his upper palate for the sake of show. “Mmm.”

  The pizza was good, but it wasn’t Beau Jo’s pizza good.

  “Well, if you like this, you’ll love a real cheesesteak. When you’re feeling up to it I’ll take you into Philadelphia and get you one at Geno’s.”

  “Pat’s,” the Mr. said without looking up from his plate.

  “Or Tony Luke’s,” she said and laughed.

  Jessie didn’t get the joke. He didn’t want to tell them he’d had a cheesesteak in the hospital and thought it was okay but couldn’t compare to a thick bison burger with mushrooms and cheese.

  “We can go to all three,” the Mrs. said, “and you can decide which is best.”

  Jessie nodded. “Okay.”

  “What’s your favorite pizza? If it’s okay to ask.”

  Why wouldn’t it be okay to ask? Abigail liked pepperoni with olives and salad peppers. Carly liked vegetarian with extra cheese. Jessica Faith had liked ham and pineapple, the classic Hawaiian. He wasn’t sure what he liked yet so he shrugged.

  “Well, you can just tell me the next time we order, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You know, we really don’t know all that much about you, Jessie –”

  The pizza
Jessie had already eaten turned over in his stomach. What did they already know?

  “– so why don’t you make a list of the foods you like and don’t like and—” The door chimes suddenly echoed through the house. “Now who can that be? I’ll get it. Excuse me for a moment.”

  Jessie watched the Mrs. stand up and head for the front door. The Mr. took another slice from the open box between them and took a bite. Jessie put his slice of pizza back on his plate.

  Jessica Faith had been taught not to eavesdrop, that it was impolite to listen in on other people’s conversations, even unintentionally. But Jessica Faith had died, he’d read her obituary and had already eavesdropped on her funeral, so what did it matter if he listened to the conversation out in the entrance hall?

  Not that it would have been easy to ignore, given the volume.

  The Mrs.’ voice was soft, but the other voice, another Mrs. by the sound of it, was almost shouting.

  “Was that Curtis in the car with you? I thought I saw him in the car when you drove up.”

  The Mrs. said something too soft for Jessie to catch.

  “No! Really? My goodness, you mean he’s home? Well, that’s wonderful!”

  The Mrs. was saying something else when the Mr. got up and left the dining room. “Excuse me for a moment, Jessie. Hi, Sue.”

  “Allan. Isn’t it wonderful? Curtis is home!”

  “Yes, wonderful, but he’s tired.”

  “And we just sat down to dinner.”

  “Then my timing’s perfect!”

  “Sue.”

  “Sue!”

  An elderly woman with gray hair and glasses rushed into the dining room with the Mr. and Mrs. hot on her heels. The woman was holding a plate covered with aluminum foil. When she saw Jessie she smiled wide enough for him to see the top of her dentures.

  “Curtis! How are you, dear?”

  “Um….”

  “Curtis….” The Mrs. stepped around the woman. “Wasn’t it lovely of Mrs. Ramos to stop by?”