Twisted Reunion

by Tullius, Mark

  Unable to speak, Walter frantically eyed the bucket before Burt could pull the trigger.

  “Good choice, Walter. You’re not ready for this to be over. You’ve got chutzpa. That’s how you say that, right?” Burt withdrew the gun from Walter’s mouth and told him to keep it open. He picked up the bucket, placed it to Walter’s lips, tilted the bottom end up. “There you go. I don’t care how you get it down, but just make sure you get it all. If even so much as one shard slips out, I’ll make you finish the rest of what’s in the bucket.”

  Walter’s bleeding, distended cheeks didn’t move.

  “You’re disappointing me, Walter. I was told you were a man willing to go the extra mile. Isn’t that how you built your company? It’s made a lot of people very rich, including your wife. And she needs your bad habits to stop. They’re going to tear down everything you’ve built.” Burt raised the gun. “Just picture Nancy. You remember your niece, don’t you? She’s your bad habit, Walter, and you need to put an end to it. Now chew.”

  Burt stood back and opened a pack of gum while Walter worked on the glass, wincing as slivers embedded into his cheeks and gums. Shards shredded his tongue and throat. Burt left through the back door and called over his shoulder, “Don’t stop chewing!” He came back a few minutes later with a five-gallon gas can. “All right, let’s see.”

  Walter opened wide to show all the glass was gone.

  “Wow, that was messy.”

  Blood dribbled down Walter’s chin. “Go to hell.”

  “I know you’re mad, but pointing your finger at me, trying to blame others, that’s not going to help end your addiction. That’s why we’re here, to correct inappropriate behavior.” Burt cocked his head. “Well, that and to make sure your wife doesn’t lose her fortune because you can’t stop diddling little kids. You’re wife’s not a saint, actually she’s kind of a bitch, but I see her point. I mean, who’s going to hold onto stock in a company run by someone like you?”

  “I’ll never do it again. I swear. I fucking swear!”

  “I know, Walter.” Burt forced Walter’s head back and stuck the gasoline can’s hose down his throat. “You might as well relax. This thing’s full.”

  When he reached the half-gallon mark, Burt decided that was enough and backed away. The color drained from Walter’s face. Burt warned him again about throwing up. “Remember, mind over matter. You can do this.”

  Burt was impressed that the old man kept the fluid down for so long, but he knew it was just a matter of time before he retched. He walked behind Walter’s chair and said, “I think you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?”

  Walter violently nodded yes.

  “That’s what I like to see. I’m proud of you, Walter. Now, I’ve just got one last thing I need you to swallow.” Burt reached into his pocket and pulled out a book of matches. He tore one free and lit it, the flame jumping to life and burning bright.

  “WAIT! What are – I swear I won’t do it. I promise to God and my grave. I’ll never do it again. Please!”

  Burt set fire to the entire matchbook, held it by the corner. “It’s okay. You’re almost done. Well done, in fact.” Burt’s face crinkled at the bad pun, wished he could take it back, but the matchbook was already falling into Walter’s mouth.

  Every Precious Second

  The numbers on this stupid cell phone are so small that my finger punches the nine every time I shoot for the eight. My granddaughter tells me I should upgrade to one of those new smart gadgets, but it already takes me ten minutes to dial when there are actual buttons. This old hound dog’s not learning any new tricks, especially on one of those virtual screens.

  “Leave it alone, William. If it comes, it comes,” Rose whispers. She pauses for a second to gather her breath. “If it doesn’t, it doesn’t.” It hurts her to talk. I turn up the volume on my hearing aid and ask if she wants some water.

  “I want you to put down that phone.”

  “I made plans. Plus, Billie already paid for the shipping. It’s not right if the package doesn’t come.”

  “We shouldn’t have involved her. This whole thing’s wrong and I feel torn up.”

  I hold up the cell, squint over my glasses. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  “It’s too early there. She’s still in bed.”

  I glance at the clock. It seems to run faster with every passing day. “She’s up,” I say and concentrate on pressing the eight. “It’s already noon.”

  On the fourth ring, Billie answers with a yawn. “Hi, Grandpa. Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine, sweetheart.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course.” The afghan is slipping down Rose’s thighs. I pull it up to her waist. She’s so frail you can hardly see her legs under the blanket. I ask our granddaughter, “You weren’t sleeping were you?”

  “No.” Another yawn.

  “I wanted to catch you before your classes begin.”

  “I need to be getting up anyway. My Biochem final is at eleven. I was up pretty late last night studying for it.”

  “I completely forgot about the time difference. You’re so far away.”

  I don’t even have to look to know Rose is rolling her eyes. I never remember the time difference.

  “I wish I wasn’t so far away, Grandpa. I’d leave today to see you guys, but Mom and Dad won’t let me miss my exams.”

  “I told your father I’d tan his hide if he did.”

  “I’m still flying out next Thursday, right after my last test.”

  With my hearing aid up, I hear Rose breathing from five feet away. It reminds me of dry leaves rustling. As much as I want to deny it, Rose isn’t making it until next Thursday, she might not make it two days. But you don’t say those sorts of things to your medical school standout, the little girl who used to steal butterscotch candies from the tin and wrap them up as Christmas gifts for everyone. I say, “You don’t need to worry, Billie. You just focus on your tests. We both know how much you love your grandma.”

  “But I want to see her. I want to say goodbye,” Billie says, her voice quivering. “Can I talk to her?”

  “Of course you can.” I turn to Rose, her blue eyes shiny with tears. “But I just had a quick question about the package.”

  “Didn’t it arrive?”

  “Not yet. Do you think maybe they have the wrong address? I just wanted to make sure it’s coming.”

  “Hold on.” She reads off the correct address. “I have the tracking number. I’ll call them right now.”

  “Thank you, dear.” I’d do it myself, but with all that button-pushing, I’ll end up getting instructions in Spanish or talking to some guy in India.

  “Remember what I said, Grandpa. Only take one every four hours. That’s plenty.”

  “Of course.” I crane my neck to see out the kitchen window, no UPS truck, just the snow-covered street. “Thank you again for this, Billie.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Let me put on your grandma.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, dear.” I shuffle around the table and hold the phone to Rose’s ear. She jerks back like she’s being attacked, before realizing it’s just my cell.

  Rose holds the phone to her ear, traps it with her neck and trembling hand to keep it there. They talk while I stare out the window. I check the grandfather clock in the living room. It’s been in the family since I was a baby. Several minutes have slipped by.

  Rose says her goodbyes, and I fiddle to press End. She’s biting her lower lip so I tell her not to cry. I say, “Come on, what’s the matter, beautiful?”

  “It’s not right, we shouldn’t be doing this to her. What if she gets caught? She’ll get thrown out of school.”

  “No one’s getting thrown out of anywhere.” I’d already played out this scenario a dozen times after Billie first told me about the pills. She went on and on about studies and chemical-whatchu-do’s, but all I heard was, “Time stops,
Grandpa.” She corrected herself and said it actually just slows down perception, but I just kept thinking, time stops.

  I stroke Rose’s good hand. “Try not to be sad. Why don’t I make you some tea?”

  Rose flashes that smile I’ll never forget. “I’m not sad. Just worried.”

  “Well, stop.” I look down at the phone. “Let me just make one more call to…”

  “No, put it down, William.”

  “I just want to make certain that UPS has our correct address.”

  “You’re like a dog with a bone. This is almost as bad as that decoder ring of yours, Captain Midnight.”

  I hadn’t thought of that cheap, plastic ring in over twenty years. “I waited six weeks for that.”

  “Standing out by the mailbox every single one of those days.”

  “I did, didn’t I?” I’d sent away for it from one of those ads in the back of Boy’s Life. “You and your mother brought me in when it started snowing.”

  “We didn’t want to see a dead kid out on the lawn.”

  “And your mother made that pecan pie.”

  “You were the only one who would eat it.”

  Rose and I spent that entire summer fishing by the creek, walking through Dover’s Canyon. We had our first kiss behind St. Gabriel’s Church. I nearly passed out because my nose was all stuffed-up from a cold, and I didn’t want that kiss to ever end.

  After a sip of water, Rose looks at the wall, all those memories playing in her head. She says, “Isn’t this nice?”

  I don’t know if she’s talking to me right now in this room or me as a young man.

  The grandfather clock chimes. I look out the frosted window. Nothing. “I’m calling them. This is ridiculous. Billie paid good money for it to arrive and it hasn’t.”

  “Calm down, William.”

  “I’m not going to let them rip her off like that.”

  “Please.” She touches me. Her hand’s shaking so much it tickles.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, “but it gets me so mad.”

  “Darling, they’re just pills.”

  I can’t have this conversation. I know where’s she’s leading, so I stand. She asks where I’m going.

  I force a smile. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” Package or not, I can’t let this ruin all my hard work.

  “What surprise?”

  “Just some things. There’s one for each of the next three nights.”

  “What are you up to, William?”

  I no longer have to force the smile. I’ve been waiting months to show her. Suddenly, I hear a ringing. I look at the phone in my hand. It’s not that, so I peek around the corner at the landline on the wall. The little red light isn’t flashing either.

  “Did you hear something, William?”

  “No, I guess not.” I wonder if my hearing aid is on the fritz again just before a series of bangs come from the living room. I hurry to the window. A brown-clad man, holding a small box, is walking back toward the UPS truck idling at the curb.

  “What’s wrong?” Rose asks as I try to hurry out of the kitchen.

  I concentrate on the floor in front of me, wishing my slippered feet would move faster. My labored breaths make my chest feel like it’s burning. I reach the door and go to pull it open, but the deadbolt and security chain are fastened.

  My fingers tear at the chain, slip it free. I twist the lock and open the door as a blast of cold air knocks the delivery slip from the screen door. The yellow scrap of paper blows off the porch and towards the truck where the deliveryman is already behind the wheel.

  “I’m here! Stop!” I wave my hand, nearly slide right off of the icy porch. The snow seeps through my slippers.

  The truck pulls away from the curb as I hobble down the slick stairs, gripping the handrail.

  Another gust of wind picks up the small slip and carries it into Peterson’s bushes across the street. I prepare to step off the curb when the UPS truck circles back. I’d been in such a panic I hadn’t realized he’d have to make a U-turn at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  The deliveryman pulls right up next to me. I wave once more because I can hardly breathe. He asks, “Mr. Hanneman?” I gulp and nod.

  The deliveryman hops down from the truck with a small package in his hand. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s get you inside.”

  The man offers his outstretched arm, and as much as it makes me feel like a damn fool, I take it. It’s like we’re going to prom. I mumble a thank you and try to keep pace as he helps me up the walkway, then the stairs. By the time we make it onto the porch and into the house, my slippers are completely soaked. I kick them off, turn, and reach for the package, but the young man is holding out the electronic pad.

  “Sign here first, please.”

  My arthritic, frozen fingers can’t even pick up the pen. I want to scream, cry, and punch the guy in his face. I guess my frustration shows because he tells me it’s okay, hands me the box, and scribbles a name on the pad. This might actually come in handy should the authorities ever track this down. No, Officer, I never signed for drugs.

  “Sorry about you having to chase me down,” the delivery man says. “You get warm and have a great day.”

  With the box in my hands, I’m suddenly no longer cold or anxious. “You’ve made an old man’s day. Thank you.”

  I close the door, head over to the hutch, grab my wooden box of secrets, and carry everything to the kitchen. Rose is still sitting in her chair, shaking. At first, I think it’s another stroke, but then realize she’s freezing. I left the door wide open chasing down the deliveryman. The entire house has turned into an icebox.

  I set both boxes on the table and hurry over to the hallway closet. My feet are still wet. I find her favorite red quilt on the top shelf, pull it down, walk back, and wrap it around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey.” I place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Is that better?”

  She nods, and I take a seat. I pat my little wooden box. “This one’s from me. And that one’s from Billie.”

  She eyes the one I’m tapping. “Open it for me?” Her smile is back, warmer than a radiator.

  “In a minute. Let’s just make sure this is okay.” I scrape my thumbnail on the UPS package. The tape is stronger than it looks. After a few attempts, I set the box down, angry I can’t do the simplest of things. Rose, always prepared, passes a butter knife across the table. It takes half a dozen tries, but I carve through and find a bottle of Extra-Strength Advil.

  “Advil?” Rose says. “All this for Advil?”

  I struggle with the cap and dig out the cotton ball, dump the blue pills into my hand. “Billie couldn’t very well put a label with the real name on it, could she?”

  “I don’t know. We never took drugs before. Not once.”

  “You smoked a joint at Barbara Wilcox’s Christmas party.”

  “That was forty years ago.”

  “These are fine, Rose.” I slide the pills back into the bottle. “They’re no different than your heart medicine.”

  “Then why are they illegal?”

  “Darling, trust me on this. We don’t have much time left together. These pills will help us enjoy every precious second. Billie said they’ll intensify our perceptions and feelings.”

  “That sounds terrifying.”

  “It does not. One minute is gonna feel like an hour, one hour will feel like a day.” Something splashes against the back of my hand. I realize it’s a tear. “And that’s exactly what I need right now.”

  Rose bites the inside of her cheek, like she always does when she’s about to give me an earful. Only this time, she says, “You really sure about this?”

  “Positive.”

  “Oh, Lord, I hope you’re right.”

  I thank her and open the wooden box, take out the plastic case with a DVD inside it. “This is a slideshow. Pictures of our family and friends. All of our memories. Vacations, weddings, anniversaries, Billie’s birth. Everything you can imagine.”

&nb
sp; “All on this disk? Oh, honey, that’s so thoughtful.”

  “We’ll watch this one tomorrow.” I then pull another DVD from the box. Rose asks what’s on it. I say, “This one is all videos. It’s for the third night. Sandra, Jimmy, Elaine, and Frankie helped me edit it. I used to hate it whenever they would get out those recorders, but now I’m glad they did.”

  Her faded blue eyes sparkle. “Third night? Why not tonight?”

  “No. Tonight we have this.” I pull out the final plastic case. “This is a recording of all of your favorite songs.” I motion towards the door to our enclosed back porch. “We’ll have a nice evening out there, listening to it as the sun sets.”

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  “Well, I’m afraid that’s just too bad. I’ve got some setting up to do and it’s about time for your nap.”

  “Oh, you sure do know how to spoil a treat.” She pretends to be upset, her grin giving her away like always. I swear, the woman would be the world’s worst spy.

  I close the box, get up from the table, and offer my hand. “Let’s get you rested. You’re all mine tonight.” I help her to her feet.

  “You devil. You’ve never changed.”

  “And you never needed to.”

  Rose pats my hand and we make it a few steps before she grimaces, quickly covering it with a smile. I start to ask if she’s all right, if she wants to stop, but she hushes me as we head into the bedroom.

  The grandfather clock strikes five just as I finish setting up the back porch. The CD player is on the coffee table next to the pitcher of sweet tea, along with two glasses. There are two napkins, each with two blue pills. I turned the thermostat up to a toasty seventy-eight, a nice contrast to the winter wonderland on the other side of the plate-glass window. The entire back acre is covered with virgin snow, the sun almost ready to drop behind it.