The sun is shining, but neither Ma nor Granny notice.
As they climb the stone steps, Granny takes Ma’s hand. “I’m glad she’s back home.”
“If you can call this back,” Ma mutters.
They enter the hospital. Long corridors cross in every direction.
“Do you know where she is?”
“Third floor.”
They ride the elevator and then track room numbers.
“Room 302, that’s it,” Ma says as she pushes the grey door open. Her nose twitches when the staleness hits her. She squeezes her mother’s hand. “The air is so stagnant, so… lifeless.”
I force myself to follow. I don’t want to see my dying body.
Their rubber soles chirp against the tiles as they approach the bed. Ma’s eyes sweep over my comatose body. She doesn’t see the spark. Needless suffering carves their faces, making them look wrinkled and old.
Ma’s mind repeats one word. Suicide, suicide…
It wasn’t like that at all.
The mishap returns.
The stink of smoldering chicken burns my nose as it reprimands me for neglecting to turn the oven down.
Annoyance, a constant bedfellow, causes me to rush.
My wet leg makes brief contact with the radio perched on the tub’s ledge. It teeters, as does the drawn-out moment that has me watching it fall.
Water splashes, spraying the room with hopelessness. Electricity hisses. Death watches from above, ready to pounce.
Physical pain rushes by like a hurried stranger.
Pitched in a tunnel, I await the train. Its whistle marks the beginning of the journey. It ends in a full circle. I’m back in Farley Falls. Will I reunite with the people I cling to the tightest?
My throat thickens. I don’t know if the flickering flame will fan out…
Tears wet the bedspread. “She was so beautiful and talented,” Ma says. “Why did she do it?”
I push against the tightly laid brick wall. “It was an accident!” I screech.
Granny moves closer. She’s the answer. She’s spongier, easier to penetrate. I stand in front of her. “It was an accident,” I repeat.
“When I look at her, I know,” Granny whispers.
“Know what?”
“It was an accident.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just know. Ever since I walked into the room, I knew with absolute certainty.”
“You see what you want to, Mom. Wishes aren’t truth.”
“Perhaps, but perhaps not.”
Ma bottles our last conversation inside of her. Its contents burn, but she won’t release it and let it spill onto someone else.
I can’t bear hearing her punishing thoughts.
What have I done?
Ma throws herself in the hard-back chair. “The doctors said she’ll never wake up. Prepare your goodbye.”
“I’ll do no such thing.”
“I remember with Paddy, the coffin, the ceremony—none of it convinced me he was dead. Only when everyone went home and I found myself alone did the proof come. One cup of tea, a large bed providing too much room, an empty chair… It’s the little things that bring testimony.”
Voices carry. Ma and Granny walk down the hall to meet them. Familiar faces rush toward them. Tim holds out his arms, and Ma hurries to him, burying her head in his chest. Jake Wheeler, looking out of place, grabs Granny’s hand.
Sorry words drop from the air to mix with the overpowering stench of sickness.
A scream wells inside of Ma. She wants to scream, “Leave me alone!” Yet civil manners burst forth without thought.
Fran’s large bouquet of yellow daisies conceals part of her face. “They’re beautiful,” Ma says and tries to smile.
“Yellow cheers,” Fran says.
Ma takes the flowers. “I’ll put them by her bedside.”
“Yes,” Fran says. “Marnie will like that.”
The vase slams on the cold hospital table as she looks down at me.
Granny creeps into the room. She points into the hallway. “Do you recognize that young man?”
Ma’s glance lands and studies. I steal a look at him, too. He appears to be in his middle thirties. Tall, with a muscular build, his hair shines as dark as crow’s feathers. He’s a man one doesn’t forget. His large features are imposing, demanding attention. Ma shakes her head.
“He keeps looking at this room.”
“He looks uncomfortable. Probably a friend of Marnie’s who doesn’t recognize anyone.” She turns from the bed. “I’ll introduce myself.”
“You must be Mrs. O’Sullivan,” he says before she can utter a word.
“Yes, and you are…”
“I’m Casey.”
Ma’s brow lifts. “A friend of my daughter’s?”
“Not really. Can you spare a moment of your time? There’s something I want to discuss with you. It’s important.”
It’s a day of little resistance. Ma follows him as he takes the elevator to the downstairs lounge.
Chapter 66
“Perhaps you better sit down,” Casey suggests as he steers her to the black leatherette sofa. They’re alone in the cavernous room. “I’m a fireman,” he explains as he sits beside her. “I was there when your daughter was… found.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
Ma’s hand runs up and down the strap of her purse. “You always visit the victims…”
“No, never. This is a first. I came because I felt I had to talk to you.” His tongue darts to lick his lips. “I know there’s a question of whether your daughter’s accident was indeed an accident.”
Ma nods but volunteers nothing.
“I came to assure you it was an accident.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
“I don’t know what it is. I’m visiting my parents. They live in Dodson one town over.”
“A stone’s throw away.”
“Exactly. My dad heard about Marnie and her transfer. He told me about her coma. A feeling overcame me. I had to come.”
“Why’s that?”
“I was the first one to arrive at her apartment. I opened the door to smoke and the acrid smell of something burning. She was cooking chicken, and it burned to a crisp. I took it upon myself to turn off the oven and open a window. I didn’t tell anyone what I did. Afterwards, everything happened so quickly. The paramedics rushed over. The place was teeming with people. In all honesty, I pretty well forgot about it. Only when they questioned the accident did it seem relevant. I told everyone, but no one was interested. The file is closed. Nevertheless, I thought you should know.”
Ma gives him a long look. “If someone plans to kill themselves, why would they prepare dinner?”
“They wouldn’t.”
He stands and shakes her hand. “I thought you should know.”
Tears fall down Ma’s cheeks. “Thank you. You don’t know how much you’ve helped me, young man.” She stands. He fumbles in his pockets until he finds a handkerchief and hands it to her. She turns away to dry her eyes.
Composed, she circles and finds him gone. The handkerchief feels soft in her hand. She takes the elevator back upstairs.
Granny is in the hall, giving Fran and Frank a chance to visit. She silently beckons her over with a shake of her head. “What happened?” she asks when Ma reaches her side.
Ma smiles and says, “It was an accident.” She recounts the stranger’s story. “The chicken dinner proves it wasn’t a suicide attempt.”
“I told you that all along.”
“Yes, you were right. But you weren’t the one who talked to Marnie the night before.”
“What did she say?”
“It wasn’t just what she said. It was how she said it. She sounded so broken and discouraged. She said, ‘I don’t know why I bother. People always say what they don’t mean and do things without meaning to. It’s intolerable to be thoughtful in a thoughtless world. I’m through trying.�
� The following day brings the accident.”
“I can see how that made you doubt it was an accident, but Marnie always talked like that. It didn’t mean anything.”
Ma leans in to Granny. “We should join the others, but I want you to know, your optimism is contagious. I feel I’ll see her again.”
Edna, Fran, William, and Frank huddle in a small circle. Edna’s voice rings out. “Marnie will wake up, and I want to be present when she does.”
Edna’s certainty turns Fran’s cheeks a shade of pink. “Don’t get Ellie’s hopes up,” she whispers. “You don’t know more than the doctors.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
Bill nods in agreement. “Don’t argue with her, you’ll surely lose.”
The firefighter walks down the hall. He has a drink in his hand. He sees Ma, and his gait becomes deliberate.
“You’re back,” she says as she holds out the handkerchief.
Casey takes it from the extended hand and pretends it’s the reason for his visit. Confused, he can’t explain his presence when there’s no rhyme or reason in his actions, just an odd feeling that compels him to wait outside my door. He thought the feeling prompting him to come would depart once he told his story. It didn’t. Instead, it intensified.
His memories scamper through his brain.
The poster in my bedroom of a cat hanging onto a rope with bold black letters—Hang In There Baby.
He once had the same poster.
My books are also his old friends. Dickens, Richler, Steinbeck—all of his favorites.
Ma’s glance becomes puzzled. Still, he doesn’t leave.
Ma turns away and makes her way to my bedside. As she draws nearer, a coldness gallops across her shoulders. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor changes to a loud squeal.
“No,” Ma moans.
Chapter 67
The train grinds to a stop. The overhead light explodes. Darkness falls, fast and absolute. The whistle shrieks. My body jolts. Murmurs abate. Terse silence settles. A soft echo resounds. Whoosh—a door opens. It discharges a forceful current. Lost, neither here nor there, I shiver.
Time stands still. My eyes adapt to the darkness. The aisles are impossibly long. I want nothing more than to fall to the ground and wrap myself into a tight ball.
I don’t. I must get back. I feel awkward and disoriented. I pass the red-haired woman and her son. Her hand reaches out. “Good luck to you.”
“Thank you,” I reply, seeing the beauty of her carrot-red hair. The chill grips my body tighter. Has foreboding joined the draft? My eyes seek out the stiff, uniformed man. Will he swoop and pull me back before I reach the egress? Determined, I quicken my pace. Four dusty, black steps are mere feet away. Steep, they force me to take them one at a time. A hand grasps my shoulder as I ready myself for the final step.
“Ticket, please.”
He appeared out of nowhere, just as I feared he would.
“Ticket, please,” he repeats sternly as he holds out his hand.
I check my pockets. A blue chip, cold and brittle, nestles deep in one. Unfamiliar with it, I turn it over to examine the illegible writings.
“Ticket, please,” he says for the third time.
“But what does it mean?”
“Just hand it over. Its meaning is no concern of yours.”
He takes it from my hand, examines it, and says, “Take care on the last step.”
I hurry in case he changes his mind. Outside, the darkness seems even darker. The train chugs and moves forward. Daddy waves from an illuminated window. I smile with the knowledge I’ll see him again.
My eyes flutter. “Ma,” I moan.
“Marnie!” Ma yells. “You’ve come back to us!”
“Ma, I never left you.” I can only whisper. Ma bends over the railings of the bed. “It was an accident, Ma, an accident.”
She squeezes my hand. “I know, my love, I know.”
Granny, never one to care a whit about rules, throws open the door. She barges into the room, and everyone follows. I look up, and a tingle travels through my body when I see a handsome man moving with the throng.
My eyes drink in my family. My voice comes out weak and gravelly. “I didn’t try to kill myself. It was the chicken. It was burning. I rushed to turn the oven off, and the radio fell into the tub.”
Tears of happiness, funnel down Granny’s face. “Save your strength. You don’t have to explain. We can talk later.”
I try to sit up. I don’t want to hear about later. It sometimes never comes.
Granny smiles through her tears. “Why is it always about chickens with us?” she asks me.
“Yes,” Ellie agrees. “Chickens and hens.”
I stare at the handsome man. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.
Feeling my stare, he explains, “My name is Casey Chike. I’m a fireman. I was the first one at the scene of your accident.”
“Chike,” Granny repeats. “That’s an odd name. I don’t think I ever heard it before.”
“Chike’s root is middle English. It refers to someone who breeds poultry. I guess my forefathers were in the chicken business.”
“Another important chicken in our life,” Ma says as she pats his arm.
I have a memory of a train, but even as I clutch the memory, it pulls away.
A nurse barges into the room. Her steps are heavy and aggressive. Hands on hips, she barks, “What’s everyone doing in here? There’s not supposed to be more than two people in the room at any given time.”
“This isn’t any given time,” Granny snaps. Our goodbyes have changed into welcome home.
The nurse becomes flustered. “I’m calling the doctor. Everyone out.”
Ma’s chin juts. “Call him, but I’m not leaving my daughter’s side.”
Granny grabs Ma’s hand and mine. The nurse’s eyes become small and beady. Granny’s eyes become even smaller, even beadier. The nurse clucks in displeasure as she leaves the room.
“Chicken,” Granny cackles, and laughter floods the room.
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Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Jason Aydelotte at Grey Gecko Press and Hilary Comfort, an editor who was a delight to work with.
About the Author
Nancy-Gail Burns lives in Gloucester, Ontario, with her husband and two children. They share their home with two mean tempered cats and a long-suffering dog.
Her first book, Insidious was published in 2012. Another Ryan Delaney novel, Jolted, soon followed. Hard Lumps, a memoir, is a chronology of her battle with breast cancer, released by Guernica in the spring of 2014. Chickens & Hens is her first publication with Grey Gecko Press, and she is currently working on another novel, The Day of the Dove.
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http://nancy-gailburns.blogspot.com/
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