Chain Link Fence Part 2, Chapter 4 (656 hits)
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Submitted by Tak (View user info) at 2004-01-18 18:24:23 EST
**See my reply at bottom for previous chapters if you need them.** ____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Chapter 4:
"Portent"
As demented as it may seem, he thought this room was beautiful. He figured that if they were all still physically well and alive, that someone out in the world must care for them deeply. They had to come visit them, and that required a certain amount of hope didn't it? Faith in the idea that one day their loved one would reawaken from their deep sleep, open their eyes and smile.
Disconnecting the old colostomy bag and screwing in a knew one, Gon smiled at his own melodrama. This being his duty once a week, he was accustomed to the task, and the room. These thoughts had to be surfacing from the deep streak of romantic he knew he possessed, and often tried to hide. It was all routine really. He checked the iv drip running into Mrs. Comb's arm, and moved on down the aisle to Mr. Godwin.
There were seventeen of them, in rows of nine on either side of the room, one bed recently having been emptied. Most of them were victims of strokes and brain malfunctions, aneurysms and blood clots, some of them were car accidents, and one of them had been born that way. The label on the door read simply, "Comatose", but it was known to the employees of Belle Hope as the "Deep-Sleep Room", or more harshly, "The Coma Corner". All of them had their own stories and tragedies, each different in so many ways, but in one respect they were all in common. Someone out there hadn't wanted to kill them.
Needless to say, the room was very quiet, and Gon could hear his every step echoing off the walls. Their were scratchy, mechanical inhalations and the small beeps of man-made machines. Each body connected to computers and dials and other scraps of steel, chords of rubber around electrical wiring running to outlets in the wall, it was a hideous symbiosis. Imagining the electricity running from the wall, through the chords and machines and finally into the man or woman lying upon each bed, Gon marveled at the lengths human beings would go to save themselves of loss.
He trudged to the end of the row, pushing along his cart of goodies, knowing he had been holding off this one to the very last. It was probably funny to God, the way this child had been treated so far here on Earth. Born comatose, an eight-month old little boy, he lay on his side curled up as if still in the womb. What do his dreams look like? Gon thought. Perhaps he dreamed just as we all do, and perhaps his was a world dark as the one behind our eyelids, quiet and peaceful. Agragon figured that the child couldn't be worried too much over his current position, given the fact that he was only a newborn, but the weight upon the family of the kid had to be overbearing. Reaching out and stroking the side of the baby's face, Gon tried desperately to keep the waterworks turned off. He had been so fragile lately. A few times he had caught himself pondering over the theological implications of TV shows like "Friends", and yes, he had cried a little. One time over an episode of "The Cosby Show". But that didn't mean anything. Right? He shut his eyes for a moment and struggled with the sudden temptation to run about the edges of the room, yanking chord after chord out of each socket, letting them go. But that was not his decision to make. And plus, he liked this room.
After finishing with little baby Jon, Gon pushed his cart back up the aisle to the door. Pausing, he turned and faced the silent, humble crowd. He looked at each one of them, said nothing, and then went back to his cart, pushing open the door with it and telling himself that there was hope in that room. There had to be.
*****
"You've had it rough ain't you boy?" she croaked, "Ever since that bastard left us."
Marcella-Marie Delaine, his mother, as optimistic as ever, lay on yet another hospital bed, this one assigned to it's own private room. Visiting her was always hard. Bed-ridden for two years now, the cancer had eaten away at more than just her insides. Her hair had begun to fall out about a year ago, and due to shock treatment and chemo-therapy and all the other millions of tests and treatments and creative torture they had put her through, her head was now as bald as the day she was born. She had lost almost half of her original weight, the veins in her legs and arms ran scattered like intersections on a road map. She was only thin skin stretched across so many bones, collecting bed-sores like men in war collect wounds; she considered them trophies of survival.
"Everybody gets it rough sometimes Ma," he said, hoping the conversation would end there. He did not want to speak of his father. He had been just old enough to remember everything that had happened, yet just young enough to be helpless to stop it. Keeping the vision as far away from the front of his mind as he could, he nonetheless had enough time before it passed over to wonder why she had insisted on keeping his father's name.
"I reckon your on to something there Agragon," she said. "Besides, a little roughin' up ain't never done nobody nothin but good."
And so it was with her. She had always been one to just straddle the truth and take life as it came, maybe that explained the cancer. 'Never was ere a woman with such luck', she loved to say, and Gon thought that just may be true. His father had left when he was five, and ever since he was of age he had done what he could to help keep them on their feet, but the weight had lain mostly on her shoulders. He thought of them not only as mother and son, but as a sort of team, partners, comrades of war. Left with what they had, to do what they could. It had built a companionship between the two of them that was more a friendship than anything. There wasn't a thing he could think of that he would hold from her, or even be embarrassed to talk about for that matter. So when in the course of their conversation she happened to lower her voice and ask through a grin - "How long's it been Aggie?" - he was more surprised by how embarrassed he became than by her audacity.
"How long's it been since what? What are you talking about Ma?" he said, rubbing his cheek so she couldn't see him blushing. He knew damn well what she was talking about.
"Boy, you know damn well what I'm talkin' about," she said, still grinning.
It had been awhile. About seven months, in fact, and before that probably a year, but he wasn't even sure he could count that last time. They had still been talking to each other then, and he supposed they had both known it was only a matter of time. Gon wasn't very religious, but he had his eccentricities, one having been his virginity. Sex had never been a thing of physical lust for him, he had made it mean more, and he took a certain amount of pride in that. After Ceyanne, there had been no one else, and after the last time, he figured there wouldn't be any more of her either.
He couldn't remember if he had invited himself over or if she had asked him to come, but either way he had ended up at her house, the same house they had lived in together for six years. They both knew why he was there and it wasn't long before they were on her bed cuddling and touching and kissing, then kissing and rubbing and shedding their clothes. It was all so rushed, so spontaneous that on looking back he couldn't even remember when exactly the rubbing and kissing had become more than just rubbing and kissing. What was clear was the overwhelming feeling of rightness in their lovemaking, like nothing else could ever be this correct, and then the look in her eye and the way she was moving. He knew before she spoke.
"Is this the right thing to do?" she whispered, nearly whimpering, and he went still.
Still inside, he told her that if it was going to worry her he would rather it not happen at all. Apparently, it was going to worry her and she began to cry. Lying on top of her, holding her and trying to be comforting and consoling, he found it kind of worried him too, so they laid on her bed in a heap and cried into each other's ears.
Eventually he said, "I guess I better pull my pants up," and that was that. Goddamn it, he didn't want to be remembering this, where did his mother get off?
"Hell's it matter to you, how long's it been?" he yelled at her, and instantly regretted saying it. His mother's eyes got big in her head like they were going to burst, and the vein pulsing at her temple stood out like a nun in a titty-bar.
"Don't you speak at me like that boy, I was just tryin to be social with ye, ain't my fault the girl ain't got no warmth left in her vitals for ye after she's gone out and f-"
"Shut up! Just shut up! You -- hag!" he spat, yanking his jacket from the back of the chair and fleeing from the hospital room, fleeing from his mother and her hanging jaw.
*****
After leaving his mother's room, he had paused at the elevator and considered going back to make everything okay, in the end deciding against it. She really had no right to pry into his business. Business he had been trying to get over now for what seemed like forever.
On the ride home, however, he began to think differently, figuring he had acted out of anger, and that the whole thing had been a lot less important than he had thought. He knew what was really bothering him, who he had really been yelling at, and made a promise to himself to apologize to his mother and let her know that he didn't really think she was a hag.
The sirens had sounded as if they were close to his house, but he didn't realize just how close until he pulled onto his street and was blinded by the flicker of a hundred twirling red-and-whites atop a large group of fire-trucks and off-duty volunteer pick-ups parked in front of his apartment. What the hell was this all about?
He pulled up to the curb and leaped out, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him. Five or six firemen in full gear were grappling with a large hose running from the truck at the curb, fighting desperately to keep the raging flames under control. His entire apartment building was burning to the ground.
He spotted a cop over on the sidewalk, trying to keep a bundle of on-lookers behind a strip of yellow tape, and rushed over to him, asking what had started the fire.
"They think it was electrical or something," the cop said, "Somebody left somethin' on they won't supposed to leave on. That's all I know. Why don't you just step behind the tape mister, we got a real emergency on our hands here."
Gon explained to the officer that he lived in the building, and the man just shrugged and chuckled.
"You'd better find another place to stay tonight mister, ain't nothing in that place worth a shit now."
(More to come of course.)
User Reviews
Submitted by esso_merda (user info) at 2004-01-22 20:42:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Once again.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2004-01-19 01:29:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-01-18 19:13:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Well Brickhouse, thank you for you enthusiasm.
No, this is not the first story I have written, though it is my first attempt at a novel.
I have written other short stories and poems, all of which I felt were premature and over the side.
I really feel no different about this one, it was just a story I had in my mind in full, and had to get out on paper...er...PC screen. It was just such a long story that it became a novel.
I attribute all my skills as a writer (as shallow as they may be) to my persistance as a reader/dreamer.
Submitted by BRICKHOUSE (user info) at 2004-01-18 19:09:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm amazed at how well you build the characters Is this the first story/book you have written?
Keep the chapters coming, I'm hooked.
Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-01-18 19:04:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Well thank you SpikeGoddess.
I am flattered. They say internet conversations are nothing like the real world, but if that were true, why would I blush from what I read on my screen?
Besides, there is nothing horrible going on here, just a few set backs. I'm very glad you and Phinch are enjoying this story, it means more to me than most things in my life to have two complete strangers connect with what I have made.
New apartment you said? Where are you located Spike? Don't worry I'm not a psycho-killer outside of my fiction.
Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2004-01-18 18:55:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I was thinking about this story today on my way back from my final once-over of my new apt. I'm glad you posted it!!!
TaK, don't fret. No matter what it is that's going on in your life making you have a shitty day, you are an incredibly talented writer, and nothing can take away that gift. Your writing leads me to believe that you understand language and human beings with a rare insight, and not only do you understand them, but you can turn that understanding into art. Hold on to the knowledge that you're an awesome person, and don't let the bastards drag you down. :-)
SpikeGoddess
Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-01-18 18:43:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Phinch!!
Dammit man, I am laughing right now for the first time today!
Wow, thank you for that!
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-01-18 18:34:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Bob, Sam and Frank are sitting at the poker table, the air is thick with cigar smoke.
the phone rings, Bob gets up to answer-
When he returns, Sam asks, "who was it?"
"that was Agragon, he's coming over after all. His apartment just blew up, so he's gonna be spending the night for a while."
"Oh. Ok, its your turn to deal."
Submitted by TaK (user info) at 2004-01-18 18:27:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Here's the previous chapters:
Part 1:
Chapter 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/22616
Chapter 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/22679
Chapter 3: http://www.ubersite.com/m/22737
Chapter 4: http://www.ubersite.com/m/22838
Interruption #1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/22949
Part 2:
Chapter 1: http://www.ubersite.com/m/23037
Chapter 2: http://www.ubersite.com/m/23164
Chapter 3: http://www.ubersite.com/m/23234
By the way, if this is too much for you, I am sorry. The people who have been reading this have read it from the first chapter on. I've posted one chapter a day, so it wasn't much for them. If you are interested in reading this and have not read anything previous, I suggest going back to the first chapter of the first part and taking your time reading it. As you come onto Uber each day, why not read a chapter, and that way it will not be all that much work put on you at once.
If you don't like fiction, and you don't come here to read fiction, don't read it. My feelings will not be hurt. I know long serial fiction is not a fan favorite around here.