Purgatorium

by J. H. Carnathan

  II see that I am in an elevator. I look at what I am wearing and notice I am back in the stolen tux. Glancing down, I see that I am holding a briefcase. I lift it up and look inside. I see nothing but thousands of dollars. I think to myself, I am rich!

  Suddenly, I understand that I must be back in the casino. A clock is portrayed at the top as I read the time: 2:00 AM.

  What am I still doing here? I think. The doors open and I look out into a hallway exactly like the one outside my apartment. Since I am still in control, I better take advantage while I still can.

  I search my pockets, hoping I can find my driver’s license to find out my name. I find nothing but a key. I pull it out of my pocket and see “6” on it. That woman gave me this. What was her name? Lisa? I continue down the hallway, looking at the room numbers. I come to door number six and insert the key. Suddenly, Raphael appears beside me.

  “I don’t think you’re ready for what’s inside this door just yet.” Raphael pushes me back.

  I lose my footing and slam into the door directly across from room six. The door opens and I fall through. I look up and see Raphael’s mouth moving, but I can’t hear what Raphael is trying to tell me. He seems to be motioning for me to get up and move in his direction.

  I look at the clock above the door and watch the clock hands wind themselves forward at a fast rate. Suddenly, the door closes me in the room and everything goes dark.

  After a few seconds, I lift my head up and open my eyes. The sun coming up from the mountaintop blinds my sight. I look over to see that I am in the backseat of a taxi. Behind me is the casino I was just in. I feel miserable as I think, I just now left the casino?

  I see my reflection in the window and notice that I feel hungover and exhausted. A half-drunken bottle of expensive whiskey sits between my thighs. Well that explains that, I think. I look over at the time on the taxi driver’s dashboard.

  It reads 6:00 AM.

  Why did the time frame jump up a few hours? What happened to me?

  Time rolls by as I notice the taxi driver pulling the car over to the side. I look out the window and see a run-down apartment building. I think to myself, this is where I live?

  Suddenly, I feel not in control of myself anymore. My thoughts are being pushed back once again and my memories are coming around in full circle.

  I look out the window, not remembering what I was thinking just then.

  “We are here, that will be $56.86,” the taxi driver says.

  I feel around in my pocket and realize that I don’t have my wallet. Where is the briefcase full of money I won? Thousands of dollars was in that briefcase! I look everywhere and find nothing.

  I ask, “Excuse me, sir, but did I have a briefcase when I first entered the car?”

  “Nope, just that half bottle of whiskey you got stragglin’ between your thighs,” he says.

  I don’t know how I am going to pay the man as I try checking all of my pockets. I find nothing as the thought of making a run for it or pleading with him seems to be my only two options.

  The taxi driver turns around as I panic on what to do. “Is that a Johnnie Walker Blue Label? That’s top shelf whiskey right there. I bet that set you back a couple hundred. I bet the taste is worth the money spent though.”

  I look down at the whiskey bottle and come up with an idea. “It’s probably the best whiskey you will ever taste. It’s considered a superbly smooth Scotch whiskey. Straight out of Johnnie’s prime stock,” I say.

  “You wouldn’t mind if I had taste would you?”

  I take the bottle and let him see how much left there is.

  “I think there is just enough left for one glass,” I tease. “But I tell you what, since this mere glass would about equal the cab fare, then I guess I can offer you a common trade.”

  The taxi driver takes a moment to think.

  What am I thinking? This last remaining sweet nectar is double what the fair is. I might as well just drink the rest. I am about to drink the bottle when the taxi driver quickly says, “I might get in trouble for doing this but…what the hell! You got yourself a deal!”

  I hand him the bottle and walk out of the backseat. I begin admiring myself on how good of a liar I am. I think back to when I got into that secret gambling room and how I played the part of a wealthy man so well. I shut the door and wave off the taxi driver. I smile, pretending I was back in the gambling room giving them all a run for their money. I look back at the apartment building as reality now sinks in. I begin the long walk back to my place, dreading what Madi is going to say to me.

  As I walk in through the front door of my apartment, I am overcome with a feeling of disappointment. Madi is waiting up for me.

  “Is that you, babe?” she shouts playfully from somewhere deep inside of the apartment. I gently close the door behind me.

  “No other,” I answer, trying to sound cheerful. As Madi saunters over to the bedroom door in her nightgown, she looks at me and smiles expectantly.

  “Someone looks like they put in a good day’s work,” she says, looking up and down my exhausted frame. “The meeting must have gone well, then?”

  I realize that I forgot about the lie I told her. Trying to remember, I reply, “Got to look the part,” and I drop my keys on the table next to the door.

  “What did the publisher say? Hopefully your drunkenness means good news,” she says smiling at me coyly, walking over to me.

  That was it! I thought. I told her I had a publisher interested in me. I need to think fast. “Perhaps,” I force myself to say.

  “Who loaned you the threads?” she asks, stroking my lapel, but noticing a slight red discoloration on the fabric.

  “I bought it,” I reply, careful to disguise my lie behind a tone of calm. “And I think he really liked my book.”

  Madi’s hands stop examining halfway down my chest. I grasp them, squeezing her tiny fingers excitedly and hoping she doesn’t get mad at me.

  “Congratulations!” she shrieks, jumping up into my arms. “I knew you could do it!” Reluctantly, I catch her weight, holding her up and keeping her face away from mine.

  “Thanks!”

  “How did you pay for this suit though? Did you rob a bank?”

  I carefully put her down onto her feet. “Now, don’t get mad, Madi.”

  “That’s a surefire indication I will, eventually, but I’ll try not to.”

  Thinking quickly, I decide not to tell Madi about how I stole the suit. Since I lost the money I spent at the casino, it’s best just to tell her where I got that money from. “I sold some of our stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Just a few things,” I say, backing away from her cautiously. “You know, some of our useless stuff.”

  “What useless stuff?”

  “It’s not like I sold anything outright,” I explain.

  “Why do I feel like you’re being cagey with me?” I step past her, my eyes avoiding hers.

  “There is absolutely nothing for you to get upset about, okay?” I say. “Some of our old plates. My telescope.”

  “Your telescope?”

  “Yeah. And a watch.” I stop, realizing what I just said.

  Madi follows me across the living room. She takes hold of my wrist, confirming her suspicion that my watch is indeed missing. “You mean the watch I gave you?”

  “You’re being rash. At least I didn’t sell my Mom’s record player.”

  “And your father’s telescope?”

  “When was the last time we used it? Have we ever?”

  “That is the only thing you have left to remember him by,” she replies, looking distraught. “Why would you do this?”

  “I had to look the part. Otherwise, they would have just laughed me off.” Madi crosses her arms, collapsing onto the couch. “With the money I will soon earn we can go g
et a new watch,” I continue to lie.

  Madi folds her arms, unconvinced. “Don’t you mean a better one?”

  “Listen to me, Madi, I…”

  She cuts me off instead. “That watch was worth maybe a hundred bucks brand new, if that much.”

  “So?”

  “So, how did you even get enough to afford that suit?”

  I push my hair back with my hands. I don’t want to confess, but I know if I don’t, she will soon figure it out. I breathe out, sighing. “I went to the casino.”

  “You went to the casino?”

  I nod. “Yes. You heard me.”

  “You know that I really don’t care about the watch!” she cries, her voice shrill with rage. “But that telescope was your dad’s gift to you.”

  I glare at her. “Gift to me?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “My father left me that telescope when I was eighteen years old! He didn’t have any money to give me for college because of his gambling addiction.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Remind me what the point is then,” I say sarcastically.

  “He left you the telescope because he wanted you to search for greatness.”

  I roll my eyes. “My father has nothing to do with this. You are not telling me something!”

  “Your father wanted more for you than what he could ever offer. I wish, for once,” Madi continues, “you would just take the time to look at things deeper than just their surface value.”

  “Don’t stand there and talk to me like you know my father!” I roar. “You’re lucky. You never had to meet him!”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Right, because you know all.”

  “No. Because I am looking at him, right now, in front of me.”

  I step toward the sofa and push it away from me hard.

  Madi, shocked and scared, yells, “Stop!” She stands up and walks around behind the sofa, keeping away from me.

  “I am nothing like him, nothing!” I shout, feeling my old, festering hatred for my father. “I do whatever I have to do to keep this family going another day!”

  “You had to do this. Not for us. For yourself!” she says. “I want whatever it takes to finally make you happy, but if the cost is losing you…then, I guess…” Madi starts crying and holds her face in her hands.

  Regaining her breath and standing up straight, defiantly, Madi screams, “You can sleep on the couch!”

  “Oh, please,” I say, scoffing, “I will not stand for your sorry act tonight.”

  “What is that supposed to mean? You’re the one who should have been an actor; you’re so good at telling me lies with a straight face!” Madi replies. “I guess now you will never know what was inside of it.”

  “Inside of it? What do you mean, inside of it?! Inside of what?!” I yell.

  Crying, Madi walks into the bedroom and shuts the door behind her. I drop my head and go into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

  I lock eyes with my reflection in the mirror, feeling shame for what I have done and can never take back. Suddenly, the door flies open behind me, revealing Raphael, who steps in, grabs me by the arm and, with dizzying force and speed, pulls me out.

  Disoriented and scared, I open my eyes to see that I am back outside the tree. My arm is once again missing. Raphael walks me over forcefully and sits me down on the bench. I notice the hourglass necklace he was wearing before is now gone.

  25 Minutes

  “What do you know about purgatory?” Raphael demands.

  I sit there in silence, showing him that I am still unable to speak.

  “That’s what I thought!” Raphael barks at me. “Well, let me enlighten you. Purgatory, according to Roman Catholic belief, is a place where the souls of people are made pure through suffering. Now...inside that tree is every bad thing you have ever done in your life. You can’t find purification if you don’t understand your punishment. And you’re not ready to understand just yet. You need to learn how to protect yourself first. You feel me?”

  I see the deer walk out of the trees into the open space near the statue.

  “Hey! One armed Nancy! I’m talking to you!”

  Raphael takes out my pistol case and starts setting up the powder, the lead shots, and the ramrod. Looking at him carefully, and thinking about his erratic behavior, I wonder if Raphael really could be my demon. Remembering the pistol tucked into my pants, I reach behind my back and cock the hammer back.

  Raphael turns to me as if he just heard my thoughts. He stares deep into my eyes and I pause. He must have heard everything that I was thinking. How could I be so careless?!

  He mumbles a few words to himself that I can’t comprehend, then stares back at me. “Who went off script?!”

  I sit there, stunned, not moving or thinking a single thought.

  “Was it Gabriel or Michael? Did Judicial get drunk and skip ahead?! Tell me who did it?!”

  Did what?

  Raphael huffs and puffs. “Your demon! Who told you about your demon?! That was my day not anyone else’s. We only have a few days left till you officially push up daisies and they go off script!”

  I look at him as if he was insane.

  You told me.

  Raphael looks almost confused at what I just thought. “You are getting to be a good liar. Your humanity is getting along faster than normal. Usually you won’t get into lying until the last day! That’s why one of the Angels told you! They must have thought you were ready. Still, they should have ran it by me first. That was gonna be my big reveal for today.”

  Raphael looks almost sad saying it. He goes back to the pistol case, making loud noises from whatever he is doing with it.

  The noises give me time to think, hoping the loud noise will block his train of mind reading my thoughts.

  He must have either a split personality or that necklace has put a spell on him or….

  He stops suddenly.

  ...demonic possession.

  Raphael turns his head back to me. “You think I’m your demon because I’m black, right? Typical. Give me that pistol!”

  Raphael reaches into my pocket and puts five lead bullets onto the bench between him and me. “Feel better now?”

  Raphael reaches into my pocket again and takes out some lead spoons. He looks behind him, stands up, and gathers some twigs, making them into a miniature teepee. Finding some larger fallen branches, he breaks them apart and builds a tiny log cabin structure around the tiny teepee. Finally, Raphael throws some twigs into the center, pulls a cigarette and matchbook out of his inner jacket pocket, lights the cigarette, and then uses it to light the twigs.

  He and I sit together silently, watching the flames grow until all the wood is engulfed and coals are starting to form. Raphael takes the lead spoons and places them on top of a silver tray of metal with small molding bullet-shaped and sized indents. He places the tray on top of the coals. The spoons slowly begin to melt and gather in the indented molds.

  “Might not kill a demon, but it can kill a soulless deer. You know, back in the Revolutionary War, the fastest soldier could fire six shots in one minute.”

  I look back at the deer and wonder how it got here. Do deer have souls?

  Now melted into the mold, Raphael picks up the tray by the handles and quickly places it on the bench between him and me. He waits for it to cool, turns it over, and taps it against the bench. Five balls fall out onto the bench. He lifts his hand toward me, waiting for me to give him the pistol. I don’t move, not trusting Raphael.

  “Trust me or don’t trust me. I don’t give a crap,” says Raphael. He reaches around behind me and takes my pistol out. He knocks the end of it against my head.

  “How were you going to shoot me without bullets? You jackass! Now, let me teach you something you already know
but have once again forgotten. Gather your primer, black powder, ball, patch, flint, and ramrod. The patch should be made of linen or cotton. Load the flint into the cock. With the cock half-cocked, load the prescribed amount of black powder down the muzzle and tamp down. Wrap the ball in a patch and put in the muzzle. Tap down the powder and ball with the ramrod. Prime the flash pan with a small amount of the primer, usually less than a third of a pan.”

  He finishes loading it. “Now, wasn’t that easy?” says Raphael. “Okay, not as easy as something more modern. But it was your weapon of choice. Life’s battles don’t always go to the strongest or fastest man. Sooner or later, the man who wins is the fellow who thinks he can. That’s the truth you need to embrace. What if I told you that the previous you was able to get off eight shots a minute? Practice, that was your secret. That and having your powder already made in packets. Your father was a big believer in the principle ‘practice makes perfect’ speech.”

  I take the pistol. I look at the lion on its side. Raphael points to the deer. “Now shoot it.”

  I look at the pistol and then at the deer. I hesitate.

  “Now, when a brotha asks a strange white boy, you, to shoot at something, by God you better pull that trigga.”

  I look at Raphael for a moment, then hold the pistol steady and aim.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  I suddenly have a flashback. The field is full of snow. A deer is eating its way around a small patch of grass. The deer looks up as if it has heard something. It looks out into the woods and sees nothing but dead trees. My flintlock rifle is pointed out of what seems to be a small man-made bunker. I appear to be back in my youthful body again. I am holding my rifle, looking into the scope. Five deer are out in the field. I have my scope on a buck. My father is right beside me, looking out. I look over to him and notice that he is wearing the exact same poncho that Michael gave to me. It was my father’s.

  “Did you load it correctly?” my father asks me for the fourth time.