Cards in the Cloak

by Jeremy Bursey

  Chapter 11

  “The Unwanted Visitor”

  Norman sat on his bed for the better part of the day, staring out through the open door that led to the hallway. He watched nurses and “peers” trudging by his room, but most kept their focus pointed ahead or at the floor. None of them peeked inside to acknowledge his existence. Even the little old crazy lady, who visited everyone on a regular basis and stuck around past the point of welcome, bypassed his room that day. Norman folded his hands and waited for anything to happen, but he decided he was wasting his time.

  This was his life now. After spending more than a decade at the somewhat pleasant St. Joseph’s Village in Chicago, his family had him transported to a home in Orlando, Florida, to be closer to them. Ever since the beach house in Daytona entered their lives, they had been progressively changing their roots from the cold world of Chicago to the chill world of Florida. By the early nineties, all three of his kids had found homes between St. Augustine and Vero Beach. Nancy, who had been ailing more each year, was spending her remaining years next door to Randall and his family. Somehow they had all agreed that she didn’t need a nursing home. Norman didn’t understand why she was so special to avoid this disgraceful twilight of life that he had to endure. He huffed every time he thought about that.

  To combat boredom, he grabbed his cane and walked into the hall. Thanksgiving decorations lined the bulletin boards and walls from one end to the other. Holiday-themed streamers hung from the ceiling, while little cardboard turkeys and pilgrims plastered the floor. He had a sudden craving for mashed potatoes and gravy. As he dwelt on the fantasy of eating a hearty meal, he thought that turkey and pumpkin pie would’ve made nice additions to his dream meal, but his teeth had been absent for more than ten years. Despite his limitations, he definitely was still in the mood for some mashed potatoes and gravy.

  “What are you doing out of your room, Mister Jenson?” came a voice from behind.

  A pair of cold hands touched his shoulders and spun him around to face his door.

  “You know you need to rest for the next few days,” the voice continued. “The pills can’t work if you’re moving.”

  “Lady,” said Norman, “I’m a hundred years old. Do you really think the functionality of some hippie pills matters to me? I had the cure for the flu in my hands once.”

  “You always say that. Mister Jensen, they’re supposed to make you feel better.”

  “I feel fine without them. Just leave me alone.”

  The cold hands pushed him into his room and closed the door. He immediately heard the door lock. Norman tried hard to pull on the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead of straining against the impossible, he gave up and shuffled back to his bed.

  He stared out the window. It was hazier outside than it had been that morning. As usual, no one was in sight. He tapped the wall and lowered his head. This was not the future he had envisioned for his life.

  “Locked you up again, did they?” came a voice from behind.

  “Why do you people always talk to me when I’m not looking?” Norman asked. “How clearly am I supposed to hear a person when I can’t see his face?”

  “So look at me, Norman.”

  Norman touched the cold glass in front of him. He hadn’t been outside in a while.

  “On a first name basis with me now, are we? It’s always Mister Jenson this, and Mister Jenson that. Now it’s Norman? In my day, we valued a thing called consistency.”

  “Maybe I’m different than the others.”

  “What do you want? Is it time for another pill? Well, you can just shove your pills up your ass because I’m not taking any more. You know I don’t actually need them. I’ve been in great health for decades.”

  “You’re right, Norman. You don’t need them anymore. If you turn around and come with me, I can take you out of here.”

  Norman smiled. That was the first piece of good news he had heard all day.

  “Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. “I can’t stand this place any longer. The food’s awful, the staff hates me, and that crazy blue-haired lady with the never-ending smile won’t leave any of us alone.”

  “You mean Alice?”

  “Yeah. That old bat parks it when you’re trying to sleep and won’t shut up, won’t shut up some more, and then she starts crying for absolutely no reason. It annoys me.”

  “I’ll be relocating her pretty soon, too.”

  “Can’t come soon enough. Good, give everybody else a break. Yeah, it’s about time someone finally listened to me. Been telling everyone to take me to the beach and let me breathe the fresh salty air. That’s where I want to go. Get out of this stuffy hole, and away from this terrible view. That tree covers the sky, and that graveyard, well, it gives me the creeps. The last thing a hundred-year-old man wants to wake up to every morning is the view of a graveyard. You know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So, where are we going?”

  Norman turned around to face his visitor. All of a sudden he felt his heart flip and the sweat from his forehead pouring through his eyelashes. The mysterious guest wore a dark hooded cloak and held a scythe in his bony hands. He wasn’t sure if he could see a mouth under the hood, but he could definitely make out a pair of glowing red eyes. He tried to push himself through the wall again.

  “You weren’t talking about taking me to the beach, were you?” asked Norman.

  “Not the beach you’re thinking of.”

  The cloaked man held out his hand to Norman. Norman tried to bat it away.

  “Get away from me, you awful nightmare.”

  “Why?”

  Norman swatted at him again. The vigorous activity was causing him a slight shortness of breath.

  “Don’t ask me why. I’m not ready to go with you yet. That’s why.”

  “Not a good reason.” The cloaked man stretched his hand closer. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  Norman grabbed for his pillow and attempted to use it a shield.

  “Why do you always torment me? Get away.”

  The shadowy figure lowered his hand slightly.

  “Now, Norman, that hurts.”

  The man slid his hood back. The red eyes disappeared and another face emerged. The head of the man glowed like a flashlight, and the hands holding the scythe took on a brighter, more solid form. Norman was confused.

  “What did you just do?” he asked.

  “You seem not to trust me, so I’m presenting to you my true form.”

  “But, aren’t you…aren’t you supposed to be…?”

  The new face had a smile on it. Weirdly so.

  “Yes, but what you saw before, what you usually see, is mostly a myth. I mean, I’m here, as you can see, but I’m not entirely grim.”

  “Well, grim or not, I don’t want you here, so go away before I call for help.”

  The Reaper had a confused look on his face.

  “Who’s supposed to come help you?” he asked. “You know I’m a ghost, right?”

  Norman shook his head.

  “Okay, poor threat. But still. Please leave.”

  “I would love to, Norman, but I can’t leave without you. So come take my hand, okay?”

  The Reaper extended his hand, but Norman folded his arms and clutched them to his chest.

  “I don’t want to take your hand. I want to stay here.”

  “Norman, you just said that you wanted to leave.”

  “I was kidding. I love this place. There’s nothing like the smell of antiseptic in the morning.”

  The Reaper smirked.

  “You’ve always been a fighter,” he said. “Whenever you were more than just lucky. Personally I had hoped you’d lost your touch, but deep down I knew I was still in for a struggle.”

  The Reaper pulled a cup and saucer from his cloak and took a sip of the steaming beverage inside. After swallowing the mouthful of contents, he placed the cup back under his robe.

  “And t
he fact is,” he continued, “that I really don’t have time to deal with a fight right now because my plate is already full. I mean, my plate is always full, but this delay is causing an overflow. So, let’s just skip the nonsense. Please take my hand so that I can get on with my day. Deal?”

  The Reaper held out his hand and smiled. Norman uncrossed his arms and sat on his hands.

  “No deal.”

  The Reaper dropped his bony hand to his side and sighed.

  “Norman, it’s your time. Again. My appointment book says Norman Bartholomew Jenson, rescheduled for November 22, 1999, at 4:39 PM Eastern Standard Time. It’s almost 4:41 now. Please cooperate because you’re holding up my schedule. Again.”

  “Then maybe you should get going on your rounds and come back to me sometime later.”

  “Norman, if I do it for you, I have to do it for everyone, and I have a lot of people on my list. Do you realize guys like Julius Caesar and George Washington were on my list? Now you’re on my list? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “Isn’t everyone on your list?”

  “No, I’m not omnipresent. I belong to an afterlife union made up of about two thousand reapers. This is why we can take so many of you out of here at once.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “Yep. It doesn’t make us any less busy of course.”

  “Of course. So, maybe you should run your other errands first, and come back when my affairs are more in order.”

  The Reaper set his scythe next to the wall and crossed his arms.

  “Why are you so adamant to come with me? You hate your life. I thought you would be happy to come with me. Especially now.”

  Norman was ready to get on the defensive again, but he stopped when he realized that the Reaper had a point.

  “It’s not about that,” said Norman. “Do you realize when I was born?”

  “Yes. What’s that got to do with it?”

  “I was born in 1899. In less than two months it’ll be 2000. Think about it. If I can make it two more months, I’ll have lived during three different centuries. How many people can really say that?”

  “Most people from Adam to Noah lived through nine centuries. What’s your point?”

  Norman felt his heart sink. He looked at the Reaper. The old hooded ghost was nodding back at him.

  “Nine?”

  “Yeah, before the Flood, people could live almost a thousand years. We weren’t as busy back then.”

  “I guess not.”

  “And that’s not your real reason, is it?”

  Norman thought about Dafodil, and how it was still out there, awaiting his rediscovery.

  “I don’t have my affairs in order.”

  The Reaper rolled up his right sleeve to reveal a watch on his wrist. The watch also glowed. He looked at it. Norman noticed a hint of frustration wrinkling his face.

  “You have a watch?” asked Norman.

  “Yeah, it’s one of those Indiglo watches. It’s all the rage in the Reaper’s Guild. Anyway, look, I don’t have time to keep up with this song and dance anymore, so I guess you dodged me for now. Again. Just please be ready to go next time I show, okay? No need to pack anything.”

  “If you come after my affairs are in order.”

  “I can’t promise that right now, Norman. Just be expecting me. Now, close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m kind of a phantom. You can’t see me coming, and you can’t see me going.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “You really don’t remember? In all the times we’ve faced each other before?”

  “We’ve never talked about it before. This is kind of a first. To be honest, I’m questioning my sanity right now. But don’t tell Randall I said that.”

  The Reaper smirked.

  “It’s part of our protocol. Your human mind can’t comprehend my entrance or exit without exploding. And, you know, vegetables are useless when you’re not eating them. So, close your eyes so that I can go.”

  “You’re not going to trick me into going with you, are you?”

  “No, Norman. I’m not a trickster. Please just close your eyes. There’s a criminal who just got shot in Detroit, and I have to see him right away. If I don’t, he’s gonna shoot the cop who shot him, then the media’s gonna start a riot over it, and then our scheduling is going to be way off. So, please close your eyes.”

  Norman closed his eyes and almost as quickly reopened them. The Reaper was gone. Now that the ghost had departed, Norman could sigh in relief. After spending a moment trying to calm his heart, he opened the window to let in some fresh air. He could smell the graveyard downwind.

  Enough was enough. It was time to leave this place.

  Norman reached for his pillow and blankets and tossed them out the window. When he saw them bunched in a soft pile outside, he picked up his cane and threw it on top of them. The cane hit the fluff and bounced into the grass. The impact didn’t look awful, so he extended his foot over the ledge to prepare for his journey out the window. His muscles ached from stretching like that, but he kept working at it anyway. After feeling sharp strain from getting the first leg up, he carefully pulled his other leg up and over. Then, after taking a deep breath, the kind of breath that instills the confidence to do something utterly foolish, Norman pitched forward and fell a few feet onto the linen pile. The fall wasn’t as soft as he had expected. He rubbed his sore legs and arms as he grabbed his cane and hobbled away from the building.