The Death Bed

  He felt the urge to speak up. It didn’t matter that everyone would hear. He wanted to shout to her “I love you.” He remembered how he’d summoned the courage to talk to her that day by the Monkey Bars. He concentrated on the part of him that had found the will to act that one time. But it felt like that part of him was gone forever, and if it wasn’t he knew that it would be soon. He cleared his throat and even opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He swallowed, and he might have been on the verge of speaking, but before the words could escape he saw Mrs. Puckett looking directly at him. She didn’t seem upset with him; he knew that look. She was only looking at him with confused pitying eyes. She wouldn’t embarrass him like she had before. She hadn’t embarrassed him since Thanksgiving. He wanted her to call on him more than anything else. He wanted her to make him stand up at the board in front of everyone so that he would look like a fool, but she didn’t.

  When their eyes met she turned her head away, the same way he’d turned his head every time Summer had caught him looking at her. Lewis looked back at his blank page of paper and then up at the board, and as he began working on the first problem fear gave way to shame. He knew that everything was connected: Summer’s answer, Mrs. Puckett’s eyes, the note, his parents. They were all connected even if he couldn’t see how, and they all went back to that night, to the fire.

  “Okay class,” came Mrs. Puckett’s voice. “If you’re not finished you’ll have to work on it later or take it home. Right now I need everyone to take out their science notebooks. We’re going to finish learning about the water cycle. Lewis put up the sheet of paper that only contained half of the problems he was supposed to have copied. Mrs. Puckett wiped away the rest from the dry erase board. Lewis wondered how he would even know what problems to do now that she’d erased them. Mrs. Puckett turned on the projector and aimed it at the white board. The image showed how water went up into the sky, formed clouds, came back down to the earth, and then ran down its surface until it ended up in a big body of water where it would get taken up again.

  If it had been raining that night maybe the house wouldn’t have burned down, and then everything would be different; everything would be better. Why hadn’t it rained that night? Lewis tried to understand why some days were sunny and others had rain. The transparency that Mrs. Puckett projected up on the board made it look so simple, far too simple. There had to be something more, something that transcended water vapor, condensation, and precipitation. Lewis knew that there had to be something that transcended the mechanical functions of the water cycle, something bigger that nobody was telling him. The reason it hadn’t rained that night to put out the fire was the same as the reason he hadn’t been able to say anything to Summer.

  He listened as his teacher explained vaporization even though he knew that it was all wrong. Not that he thought that he was being lied to; he knew it was true in the strictest sense, but what he was learning wasn’t the big truth that could explain why it hadn’t been raining that night. Everything Mrs. Puckett said seemed so far from that big truth that it felt like a lie to him.

  Lewis pushed everything out of his head long enough to copy the diagram into his notebook. He drew the pictures of water going into the sky, forming clouds, and coming back down. He copied down all the big words that ended in “tion” and then drew the arrows that connected the pictures showing that it was all an unalterable endless cycle. He drew the arrows even though they made him feel small and helpless and then finished writing down the big words next to them.

  When the bell rang at the end of the day, students scrambled out to the busses or to the parking lot just like they did every day. Lewis still hadn’t said a word to Summer. He’d spent recess on the basketball court with Tommy; she’d been on the monkey bars with her friends. In the confusion of students rushing to and fro his eyes met up with hers, but only for a moment. She blushed again, and this time Lewis thought that he might have caused the red hue in her cheeks. And then, before Lewis knew it, the moment had passed again, and she had turned around to find her bus. He turned and went to the parking lot where Debra was waiting for him.

  * * *

  Julia made it through all six periods that day the only way she knew how, by completely applying herself to what each class had to offer. When the day was over she went to her locker and began filling her backpack with the folders and textbooks that she would need that night. While her hands picked up items and placed them where they belonged, her mind was trying to decide whether or not she was going to go to rehearsal. The weekend had given her just enough family drama that she’d managed to forget what was waiting for her. She knew what could happen if she went, and she knew that it would. The only question was whether or not she could summon the courage to face it. The question was never really about whether or not she would go; she knew that she couldn’t avoid going forever, but only a matter of preparing herself for what would happen.

  As far as she’d remembered, there were only two people who knew the truth: her and Abraham. She’d forgotten about the third. She’d completely pushed him out of her life and even the memory of what he stood for had faded away into the background of a remote past. She hadn’t worried about him, but now there was another one who knew, and she wasn’t afraid to speak out. He must have told her the secret, and last Friday, when she intimated to Julia that she knew, Julia had run away. She hadn’t known how to deal with the shame, but as she walked down the halls she stayed calm and focused.

  She knew what she had to do—nothing. There was nothing she could do or say that could exonerate her in light of the accusations that would come, so she took each step resolutely, fixating on how she would take whatever came without saying a word. By the time she’d reached the stage where the rest of the actors and stage hands were trickling in, she felt certain that no matter what happened she would endure it all silently. She wouldn’t deny a thing, even if she exaggerated the story. No matter what she said or how she lied, or how she painted the truth Julia knew that she would take it all silently. She would look her accuser in the eye and, without turning away or interrupting; she would listen to it all. After everything was said and everyone knew the truth, she wouldn’t turn and run away; she would stand firm and wouldn’t say anything until the other one turned away first.

  Julia scanned the room until her eyes found the other one who had only recently found out about her secret. She found her sitting on the edge of the stage swinging her legs as they dangled from the platform, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Next to her sat Scott Beckerson. They were holding hands, and he was saying something to her while she gazed idly into his eyes. She looked helplessly in love despite his aloofness.

  “She looks pathetic,” Julia thought. “Did I? Surely I never.” But she knew that she’d behaved in the exact same manner. She remembered how she had looked up at him, how she only wanted him to return her expectant anxiety, and how she knew that he wouldn’t but didn’t care as long as her hand was in his.

  “How stupid,” she said under her breath not knowing if she was referring to herself or the one who sat next to Scott dangling her legs. Julia watched while she kissed him on the lips. Julia specifically noted that they didn’t kiss each other but that she had kissed him and that it hadn’t been the other way around.

  Now that he was gone Julia walked right past the other one to show that she wasn’t afraid. She had to prove to herself that she wasn’t afraid; she needed to know that she wouldn’t break down and not be able to go through with her plan.

  “Hey Stacy,” Julia said, acknowledging her rival in what would have sounded like a genuinely friendly tone to anyone who might have overheard.

  “I guess the little tramp decided not to run away again like she did on Friday,” Stacy said under her breath. She didn’t turn her head but acted as if she was talking to herself, speaking just loudly enough for Julia to hear as she walked past. Julia didn’t flinch, but it was only a jab.

  “Places everyone,” Mr. Ma
son’s voice called out. “We’re doing act three, so everyone who’s playing a dead person needs to sit down in the cemetery.” Everyone took their place, and when the stage was settled Mr. Mason said with exaggerated calmness, “We’ll be starting where we left off at Mrs. Soames’s line, ‘Who is it Julia?’ Stacy where are you?”

  Stacy was still back stage but she hurried out and took her seat with the rest of the dead and caught Julia’s eye before delivering her line: “Who is it Julia?”

  Julia tried her best to convince herself that she was Emily Webb as she hid among the umbrellas. She listened as Kristen replied, “My daughter-in-law, Emily Webb.”

  Julia tried to focus only on her part, on what was happening, she tried to pretend that she wasn’t Julia Manchell. She wanted to be Emily Webb and nothing more. Her mind would have drifted if she hadn’t heard Stacy call out her name. She startled and then remembered that Stacy was talking to a fictitious character, and she’d only repeated her line: “What did she die of, Julia?” but Julia wondered if there hadn’t been an additional emphasis on her name.

  “In child birth,” Kristen answered.

  “Childbirth!?” Stacy exclaimed.

  Julia knew the script. She knew that Mr. Mason had directed her to deliver the line almost with a laugh, but there was something more in her voice. It was completely different than what they’d rehearsed before. She made herself look up, and she confronted those cold, accusing eyes that were indeed focused on her.

  “I’d forgotten,” Mr. Mason coached from below the stage.

  Stacy turned away from Julia pretending that the pause was only an attempt to remember her next line. “Of course,” she said and then quickly added, “I’d forgotten all about that. My, wasn’t life awful.”

  Julia heard her pause after the word “awful” and didn’t turn her head, but waited calmly for whatever was going to come. She grew tense. There was a crash backstage, and she jumped. A few people noticed and snickered. Mr. Mason muttered something about the competency of the stagehands and waved his arms indicating that the rehearsal should stop as he rushed off to check on the problem.

  “It’s kind of ironic,” Stacy said to Kristen, and looked up as if making sure that Julia was still listening. Julia felt that this was the moment she’d been preparing for. She watched as others seated around Stacy turned to listen.

  “What do you mean?” Kristen asked.

  “About Julia being the one who plays Emily.

  “How is that Ironic?” another voice from among the dead asked.

  “Haven’t you heard?” Stacy said, as if she genuinely believed that what she was about to say had been common knowledge.

  “Heard what?” Kristen asked.

  Stacy glanced up at Julia and then turned her head from right to left as if she were trying to make sure nobody else was listening, as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear what she was about to say. Julia couldn’t make out the words. She could hear Stacy saying something in a whisper and watched as heads looked up at her and then immediately looked away when they discovered that she was watching. Voices murmured around those seated in chairs, and the expressions on the faces of those actors who were supposed to be playing dead souls became very lively.

  “So this is how it is,” Julia thought. It wasn’t how she thought the scenario would play out but it was close enough. She stood firm and didn’t turn away. Stacy was whispering something to Kristen who listened eagerly. She had to have been filling in some kind of details, but they talked too long for it to only be details because there wasn’t that much to say. Maybe she was speculating, lying, saying who knows what. From time to time one of the two would look in her direction but never directly at her. Julia wanted to run but she didn’t. She didn’t turn away until Mr. Mason came back from dealing with what turned out to be a minor mishap with the ladder backstage.

  “I intentionally pick a play that has a bare set and those boys still find a way to mess things up. Okay since Stacy obviously needs a little more time to practice her lines, why don’t we skip ahead to where Emily has just come back from visiting the living.”

  Mr. Mason’s comment didn’t seem to faze Stacy who sat up straight in her chair and made no effort to keep Julia from seeing the self-satisfied smile that she’d put on. Julia walked across the stage and took her seat among the rest of the dead. She tried to sit up straight like Stacy but couldn’t bring herself to lift her chin.

  “No, no. Not that far,” shouted Mr. Mason. We’re starting with your line to the stage manager.”

  Julia got up and walked back across the stage. The rest of the cast found their places and finally everything was in order again. Julia tried to stay firm. Her character was about to break down. If she could hold out just a bit longer she could cry and nobody would understand that it was really her; they would all assume that she was only acting.

  “Now your line,” Mr. Mason said.

  Julia swallowed and looked at the stage manager. “I can’t. I can’t go on. It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another.” She delivered the line perfectly. Her voice trembled and the tears streamed out. Everyone would know now. Her secret was out and nothing could hold it back. The shame felt fresh, as if she’d only had the operation yesterday. When nobody had known, she’d been able to bury the truth. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed to move on as if nothing had happened. Forgetting was possible when the only other people who knew were the one who was truly guilty, and an old man who was already dead to the rest of the world. Now everybody would know, and the charade would be over.

  “What will Jason say?” Julia didn’t know why that of all worries came to the surface. She pushed the thought away and through her sobs managed to say to the stage manager, “Take me back—up the hill—to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look.”

  “No!” came Mr. Mason’s voice. “I mean you did everything great, but you forgot the first part of your line. It’s supposed to start with, no, just forget it and keep going. Julia finished her line and sat down among the rest of the dead. She was sitting next to Kristen who was sitting next to Stacy. They delivered their lines but Kristen never looked at Julia. They were supposed to look straight ahead, but Julia knew that nobody would have looked at her even if it weren’t part of Mr. Mason’s instructions. Julia didn’t falter through the rest of the rehearsal. She delivered the rest of her lines perfectly until the very end when she turned and looked directly at Kristen despite knowing that Mr. Mason would throw a fit about how she was supposed to look straight ahead.

  “They don’t understand, do they?” she said as if pleading.

  “No, dear. They don’t understand,” Kristen said coldly and kept her eyes fixed on an imaginary point directly in front of her.

  “Where’s the clock!” Mr. Mason shouted. It’s so simple but they can’t even strike the clock on cue. We’ll do the whole act again tomorrow and could everyone please try to have their lines and cues memorized by then.”

  Nobody moved.

  “Well go on home early,” Mr. Mason raved. “There’s no point in rehearsing if nobody knows their part. And remember that dead people don’t look at each other when they’re talking.”

  Chapter 7

  Peter woke up Monday afternoon, made a phone call to his lawyer, and went downtown where he bought a copy of the paper. He sat on a park bench and looked through the help wanted section in hopes of finding something in telecommunications. He knew that these days the internet was probably a much better place to start, but he couldn’t warm up to the idea of beginning his search like that. He didn’t find anything and flipped to the sports page. When he finished the sports page, he began reading from the front page and read nearly every article. When he finally set the paper down he felt that being out in some fresh air was good for him, and, despite the fact that the city air was anything but fresh, he spent the better part of the afternoon on that park bench breathing in the crisp air.

  By the time he got back to his ap
artment, he felt much better. It was as if the spring breeze had cleansed the stifling suspicions that had been plaguing him. When he walked inside he tossed his coat on the chair and sat down in front of the television. He decided that he’d try looking for a job on the internet, but that it could all wait until tomorrow. It wasn’t until sometime after the news and prime time that he felt a rumble in his stomach. He called Stanly who agreed to meet him for dinner at a burger joint. When Peter got to the restaurant Stanly was waiting on him. They ordered and consumed their food together.

  “You want to go down to Murphy’s and get a drink?” Peter suggested as Stanly finished off his value meal.

  “Not tonight,” Stanly said.

  “Some other time then?”

  “Of course. I’ve got to get going, lots to do,” Stanly responded, and he got up from the table.

  “I’ll be there if you change your mind,” Peter said as his companion pulled out a cell phone to make a call and walked outside.

  * * *

  Hannah got home from work and waited by the phone. She’d spent so many evenings working late that she’d run out of work to bring home. She’d bought a few books on the way to the office that morning to try and occupy her newfound downtime. She spent almost the entire evening reading by the phone. She only bought classics, literature, because anything else would only be mind-numbing entertainment. She’d wanted to buy a good mystery novel or something with adventure, but she felt that any of those books would put her on the same level as him, because she suspected that he sat around watching television all day to pass the time. So instead of doing something truly enjoyable she sat by the phone reading classics, despite the fact that she didn’t particularly care for them. She was well into Brave New Worlds when the phone finally rang.