chapter four Don’'t You Ever Wonder What Happened to Sugar Pie?
Lucy woke up to the sound of a man snoring beside her, but before she found out who was making the rumble, she realized that all she saw was white.
A warm, glowing white the color of cream, soft and easy to fall into.
And then Lucy realized that her eyes were still closed.
With a knee-jerk reaction, her lids flew open and she sat up, looking around. To her left and to her right were single beds, lined up in row after row after row, for almost as far as she could see. There must have been a hundred of them. In each bed, a person slept, with the exception of a few people here and there, who, like Lucy, were quietly looking around and trying to answer the simplest of questions: where were they?
A long, deep snore erupted again. Lucy turned to peer at her neighbor, a middle-aged man with a double chin and a stout nose that clearly had taken most of a lifetime to develop to its current enormity. Lucy watched him, settled deep in an enviable sleep, as he inhaled through his cavernous nose and then exhaled through his mouth, his lips rippling with every escaping breath. She’'d become somewhat hypnotized by the rhythm of his snoring, when suddenly an image of the horrified bus driver’'s face crashed into her consciousness like a bolt of lightning.
Lucy gasped, stunned and confused. Her head took a moment to restart, and then, one by one, she began gathering the pieces together. The bus. She’'d been on the bus. Something must have happened with the bus. She remembered the wind had been blowing, gentle at first, and then it had become stronger. She remembered the glare of the noon sun and her hair blanketing her eyes, blinding her as she stepped off the curb, then the bus driver’'s face, her eyes wide and terrified, towering high above Lucy behind a sheet of curved glass. It was a blur, nothing more than a bite of a moment. That was it, then nothing. Nothing until she had woken up to a snoring neighbor. She was still puzzled, knowing that something had happened. Maybe she’'d fallen. She must have fallen and hit her head, and had been taken here, a hospital of some sort, although truth be told, it looked more like an orphanage. Lucy didn’'t see any sort of medical equipment beside any of the beds, and looking up and down the aisles, she didn’'t see a trace of a nurse or a doctor. She briefly checked herself over—--wiggled her toes, made sure she had all ten fingers, bent her knees, felt for any missing pieces of skull or for a head bandage she might have missed. Everything was fine. She was fine. She was whole. Nothing missing, all parts accounted for. She felt extremely rested and relaxed. She felt great. In fact, she felt fantastic.
Oh, shit, she realized as she slapped the blankets on the bed. Oh, my God. No wonder. County. She was in a county hospital. No wonder there wasn’'t anyone around or a nurse to be had. Damn it, Lucy swore to herself. How the hell did I wind up in county? Where’'s mypurse? she thought, whipping her head around to scan the table beside her. She saw her cowboy boots lined up neatly by the side of the bed, but nothing else. I’'ve got to find my purse, she thought adamantly. My insurance card is in my purse. Besides, I’'m fine. I am perfectly okay; there is no need for me to stay in a hospital anyway, county or otherwise. I probably had a tiny concussion, but I am fine now.
Her purse. Where was her purse? Lucy realized that it must have gotten lost during all of the commotion. Clearly someone had called 911 and an ambulance had brought her here. Who knew where her stuff had ended up? Another wave of dread washed over Lucy. If they didn’'t know who she was, then they hadn’'t known who to call to inform of Lucy’'s whereabouts, or even how she was. Alice had to be worried sick. It was clearly already morning, and the last thing Lucy remembered was looking at the clock on the courthouse at 12:34 the day before.
Lucy searched the side table for a phone. The table was empty save for what looked like an old intercom speaker the size of a small alarm clock. On it was a red button, which Lucy instinctively pushed.
“"Nurse!”" she called into it, trying not to sound too frantic. “"Nurse! Anybody! I need to make a phone call. Can anyone help me?”"
Lucy released the red button and waited for a response. After several seconds, she heard a staticky crackle, and then a tinny woman’'s voice replied, “"Please report to the front desk.”"
What? Lucy thought, taken aback. The front desk? Where was the front desk? Which way was front? All Lucy could see were rows and rows of beds. There didn’'t seem to be any end to them. Then, as if on cue, Lucy looked down at the foot of the bed, on which was perched a tiny little metal sign that read in small, chipping red letters, FRONT DESK, with an arrow pointing to Lucy’'s left.
Anxious to get Alice on the phone to let her sister know that she was all right, Lucy pulled back the covers, to discover that she was fully clothed in what she had been wearing when she’'d butted heads with the bus the day before—--her jeans, a white broadcloth shirt, and a brown corduroy jacket.
Wow, I guess that’'s county for you. Look at that. So cheap they can’'t even let you suffer in a hospital gown. How generous. You have to be sick in your own clothes. Not that she’'d rather be wearing a hospital gown, but still. Something a little more comfortable would have been appreciated. Then again, she didn’'t exactly remember being uncomfortable, either. In fact, she thought she might have had one of the best night’'s sleep she had ever had. She didn’'t recall tossing or turning, waking up, being thirsty, needing to fluff pillows, or even pulling up covers. None of the snorers—--and judging by the symphony erupting all around her bed, there were plenty of them—--had disturbed her sleep in any way, and Lucy was a light sleeper, evidenced by how many times a night she had to wake Martin to have him turn over when he snored. Hooray for concussions, Lucy thought. They make you sleep like the dead. If there was a concussion in a pill, she thought, and smiled, they could run Ambien right out of business.
Lucy swung her legs over the side of the bed and pulled her battered black square-toed cowboy boots on. She tried to be quiet, but knocked her engagement ring on the rails of the bed while pulling on her right boot, sending a metallic echo ringing throughout the hall. As the exaggerated echo bounced off wall after wall after wall, Lucy winced and stood still, waiting for the shouting and grumbles that she was making too much noise.
But nobody said a word. Nobody even moved or stirred. It was quiet as the battery of slight, wispy breaths and alternate snores rose and fell, building and collapsing as the rest of the ward continued to slumber.
When she finally reached the front desk after trudging past what seemed like an eternity of beds full of sleeping patients, the pleasant woman seated behind the desk looked up at Lucy, smiled, and said, “"Please proceed to this room.”"
She handed Lucy a slip of paper with “"SD1118”" printed on it, and then pointed to her left. “"The SD wing is that way.”"
“"I just want to check out, or release myself,”" Lucy tried to explain to the woman, but the woman simply smiled in return.
“"That way,”" she repeated pleasantly again.
“"Can I make a phone call?”" Lucy asked. “"My sister has no idea where I am.”"
“"SD1118 is where you’'re supposed to be,”" the attendant concluded. “"You’'ll find everything you need in there.”"
Lucy knew she was getting nowhere with the woman, so she smiled in return, nodded, and started off in the direction the woman had instructed. Lucy was bound and determined to find a phone somewhere. All down the hallway were doorways with heavy-looking old wooden shellacked and paneled doors, each marked with brass letters and numerals, as in SD1098, SD1099, SD1100. Every door was closed, creating a long, windowless tunnel of glossy, dark wood that glimmered from the fluorescent lights above. There was no hint as to what might be inside—--a classroom, a lounge, or an office that might have a phone. Lucy trudged on until she arrived at door SD1118, paused for a moment in front of it, and then turned the ornate brass doorknob and stepped inside.
Two rows of university-type plastic desks—--chairs with writing surfaces attached—--sliced through
the center of the classroom. The desks faced a lectern that rested on a small, raised stage littered with what looked like theater props, including a stack of books, dishes, some odd pieces of old furniture, and several old steamer trunks. The seats were filled with a wide assortment of people—--there was a rail-thin gentleman in a very clingy and shiny blue cycling outfit, complete with helmet, resembling a human lollipop; a large, thick middle-aged man in camouflage coveralls and a matching vest; a blond middle-aged attractive woman in a body-hugging pink ski suit; a man with graying temples in casual vacation wear; a young guy, maybe just out of his teens, with shaggy hair, who just stared at the ground; and a woman who looked to be about Lucy’'s age, in an entire wet suit complete with flippers, a diving mask resting on the desk.
Lucy was baffled by the assortment of people, each of whom whipped their heads up and stared at her as she entered the room. Either I’'m in the psych ward portion of the hospital or I’'m at a casting call for a church or an antidepressant commercial, she thought.
“"Is this SD1118?”" Lucy hesitantly asked, in response to which the camo guy, flipper girl, and bike guy nodded their heads.
“"Are you here to check out?”" Lucy ventured again.
“"I’'m fine, and I just want to fill out whatever paperwork and go home,”" the flipper girl said adamantly. “"The staff around here is not helpful, and they just told me to come to this room.”"
Lucy nodded in response. “"Me, too,”" she said, and felt compelled to take the open desk next to the girl.
“"How long have you been waiting?”" Lucy asked.
“"Not long, a couple of minutes,”" flipper girl said, shaking her head. “"But I just want to get back to my vacation and call my boyfriend. We have things scheduled and planned today, you know? I can’'t be sitting around here all day waiting to find out if I can leave. I would just leave if I knew the way out. I haven’'t seen one exit sign! That’'s a fire code violation, you know. I’'m going to report them.”"
“"Yeah,”" Lucy replied. “"Is it morning, do you know? I can’'t figure out how long I’'ve been here.”"
“"Me, too. I have no idea,”" flipper girl said. “"I just woke up in a room full of other people. I didn’'t know there were such weird hospitals in the Bahamas. They don’'t even have nurses here!”"
Lucy tried to smile but was a bit puzzled, until she realized that the flipper girl was not as well as she might have imagined and was clearly still suffering from some concussion side effects or perhaps a psychotic break. It was a weird hospital, all right, and woefully understaffed, but what else would she expect from a county hospital in Flagstaff, Arizona?
Lucy suddenly stopped. Scuba diving in Flagstaff, Arizona?
“"You were scuba diving around here?”" she asked her newfound friend. “"Where did you go?”"
Lucy immediately regretted her actions, because the last thing she had patience for was engaging in conversation of any sort with a person disoriented with reality.
The girl got a wide smile on her face. “"Well, when my boyfriend told me we were going on vacation to the Bahamas, I couldn’'t believe it, I was so excited!”" she gleefully related. “"So we made a deal; he said he would go and take the Anna Nicole Smith Farewell Tour with me in the Bahamas if I would go shark feeding with him. He said it would be fun, and it was something he had always wanted to do since he saw an article about it in Maxim. I said okay, and Anna Nicole was an idol of mine, so I couldn’'t say no. Have you done it?”"
Lucy shook her head.
“"Oh, you have to do it while you’'re here!”" flipper girl exclaimed. “"At first it is terrifying. I mean, they take you out way into the ocean, far, far from land and put you in the water, hand you a chunk of bloody fish, and then the sharks are suddenly coming at you! I know it sounds crazy, but it was thrilling. The sharks just rip that fish right out of your hands and then the shark-feeding people give you another one. So I was holding that, and the biggest shark came at me with its mouth wide open, and it was swimming so fast! It got closer and closer, and suddenly it was right there. I mean right there, inches from me! It was like a video game, but real. And I guess that’'s when my oxygen cut out. The hose probably bent in all of the excitement. I passed out. And then I woke up here. I hope I didn’'t ruin it for anybody else on the trip. Don’'t you ever wonder what happened to Sugar Pie? I’'m Bethanny, by the way.”"
“"I’'m Lucy,”" she said, extending her hand, which Bethanny took.
“"What happened to you? Why are you here?”"
“"You know, it was the dumbest thing,”" Lucy started with a small laugh. “"I stepped in front of a bus. I know. Sounds crazy, but my hair blew into my face, and all of a sudden there I was. The last thing I remember was the look of absolute horror on the bus driver’'s face. She must have had great reflexes, though, because me versus a bus …... Well …... I, um, yeah. I guess I—--I don’'t know. I guess I hit my head? But I feel fine. I feel great. I’'d just like to call my sister. Do you happen to have a phone I could use?”"
Bethanny shook her head. “"All of my stuff was on the boat. I hope my boyfriend has it,”" she replied.
“"Does anyone have a phone I can use?”" Lucy asked, turning around to face the other people in the room.
The bike guy shook his helmet head; the fellow in the Hawaiian Tommy Bahama shirt shrugged listlessly. The housewife in the pink ski suit pursed her two raft-like lips together and mouthed “"No”" while looking dramatically despondent. The shaggy-haired kid didn’'t even bother to respond at all.
“"I have a phone,”" the guy in camouflage offered as he reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled it out. “"But it’'s dead. I guess I need a charge.”"
The door to SD1118 opened one more time, and in stepped a little wrinkled old lady with fiery red hair. She was wearing a long black robe and dirty blue house slippers. In her arms was a stack of binders and folders that she held close to her chest.
“"Hello,”" she announced loudly and cheerily in a scratchy voice as she sauntered over to the lectern and slapped the pile of folders down on top of it. “"My name is Ruby Spicer, and I am here to guide you through your Transition.”"
No one in the group said a word. They simply sat and stared at Ruby Spicer, not really knowing what to do.
“"We have a lot of work to do to get you where you need to be. Anyone know where they are? Do we have any detectives in the house?”" the old woman asked with a crooked smile, her voice crackling almost like static on occasion, her red lipsticked mouth stretching over a full set of nicotine-stained teeth.
The bike helmet—--along with Bethanny and the velvet housewife—--shook his head. The others, like Lucy, were busy trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle they hadn’'t seen and couldn’'t even begin to imagine.
“"You don’'t need to guide me,”" Bethanny protested. “"I just want to sign my release forms and go back to the hotel.”"
“"What’'s the last thing you remember before you woke up, dear?”" Ruby asked, pointing to Bethanny. “"What is the last thing you remember seeing?”"
“"A shark?”" Bethanny snipped, throwing up her hands.
“"And you?”" Ruby asked, pointing to the guy in camouflage.
“"My son. He was coming up in front of me, through the brush. He was aiming at something behind me. I bet it was a five-pointer. I bet he bagged it!”"
“"And Sir Ten Speed?”" Ruby prodded. “"What do you remember?”"
“"Well, I remember I was heading for a sizeable hill with a steep grade on my recumbent bike, so I opened my Hammer Gel concentrated carb meal and was squeezing it into my mouth when I saw a Hummer come around the bend.”"
“"And you in the tropical print?”" Ruby asked.
Tommy Bahama sighed impatiently. “"I was on a plane, eating the snack mix,”" he fired off sharply. “"And I remember coughing. That’'s it. That’'s the last thing I remember. I don’'t know what that has to do with this little game.”"
“"Anyone see a common thread? Young man?”" the old woman said to the shaggy-haired guy, whose face was obscured by his precisely cut mane as he stared relentlessly at the floor.
He shrugged, his head still hanging down.
“"Young man, I’'m talking to you,”" the old woman repeated.
“"I dunno. I was wasted, old lady,”" he said, relenting, still without looking up.
Ruby sighed and rolled her eyes.
“"Miss, what do you recall?”" she asked the velvet housewife.
“"I was on a ski lift, and it was so cold! Suddenly it felt like I had two ice blocks in my bra!”" she admitted.
“"And you?”" she continued, moving on and meeting Lucy’'s eyes.
Lucy looked back. And as she looked at the old woman, she slowly began to shake her head.
“"No,”" she said quietly.
“"What do you remember?”" the old woman asked again.
“"No way,”" Lucy said forcefully. “"I don’'t—--No. On Sunday, my fiancée dumped me by throwing all my stuff out on the street, on Monday I was fired for having a dirty drug test because a skanky guy my stupid friend was trying to hook up with roofied me on my vacation, the office manager where I used to work thinks I was trying to steal twenty thousand dollars, and now you’'re trying to tell me that that bus—--”"
Lucy stopped and shook her head and crossed her arms in defiance. “"No,”" she said again pointedly. “"No way. Absolutely not.”"
“"Trying to tell you what?”" Bethanny said in a panic. “"Trying to tell you what?”"
Lucy continued to shake her head.
“"I’'m just going to break it to you as gently as the situation allows, dears,”" Ruby said with a kind smile. “"You’'re dead. You’'re all dead. Welcome to Sudden Death—--or as I like to call it, Surprise Demise—--room 1118.”"