LUCID Nightmare

“Clay, why are the keyboard and mouse so sticky? It’s disgusting. It needs a good clean. Your computer so is slow,” Claire complained.

  Clay made a beeline to the computer to make sure he had closed down his browser and cleared his history.

  “Sorry, It’s probably motor oil. I was working on the car earlier. What are you Googling?”

  Claire swiveled around in her chair.

  “Clay, honey. There’s a chance I could be pregnant. A tiny chance.”

  Clay dropped to a knee. He was pleased. Very pleased.

  “Clay, I thought you might be upset. Why are you so happy?”

  Clay placed his hands on her knees. “Because God doesn’t make mistakes. This was meant to be. You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

  Claire was much less enthusiastic. “Clay, if it’s true, I’m gonna need you to be more steady and less moody. You’re all over the place. And we need to get you on the mend, healthwise. I really think it’s just stress. We have to calm you down somehow. I’m not sure a newborn is the remedy. Not to mention I’m in my late forties and you’re midfifties. I need to check with the doctor to be sure.”

  “Together, we’ll figure it out,” Clay pledged.

  The following week, Clay settled his debt with Huntingdon Jaguar Specialists. He retrieved his Rolex and was back in his vintage Jaguar. The lesions on his back flared up with a vengeance on occasion, but he managed to deal with it, mostly through a prescription of Zovirax and sizeable purchases of Ace bandages. Clay also had his prescription for Albuterol renewed for respiratory attacks. One inhaler remained in his car, and one on the nightstand. Claire had one in her purse at all times. He was somewhat assured that although his symptoms were inconvenient, they were not life-threatening.

  During his last appointment at the hospital, Clay accidentally bumped into Tony. Clay almost didn’t recognize him. He’d lost almost half of his body weight and was confined to a wheelchair. His caregiver whizzed him around the ward leaving a pungent odor that lingered. Clay wasn’t able to see Tony that day due to personal commitments, but he returned the later in the week to find out what had happened to him.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m here to see Tony Barker. He’s a patient here.”

  The nurse excused herself momentarily to consult with other staff charged with his care. She returned after a few minutes.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible. He’s being discharged today.”

  “Oh, that’s great. I’m glad he’s going home. He looked pretty bad yesterday. I’ll drop by his office sometime next week and have a chat with him.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Barker is not going home. He’s being transported to Shannon Hospital up north.”

  “Shannon Hospital? Isn’t that a mental institution?”

  “It’s a mental health facility. Since Mr. Barker has checked in, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone, except himself. If you were close to him, I’m sorry.”