Surreal Ecstasy (10 page)

I looked at the upper corner of the
room, where the TV hung. The same stupid sitcom was on. A young couple was
making dinner and the woman made a sexual comment about the cherry pie she was
baking. Really? Don't people get tired of watching recycled crap?

I turned off the TV and tried to go
to sleep, curling up as best as I could with that IV in my arm. I closed my
eyes and tried to relax, not thinking about a girl from work who used to be a
god or a ditsy nurse who was reluctant to be around me. Instead, for once, I
thought about myself.

I pulled up a mental list of some
of my life's events as a tinge of sadness flowed through my veins. Among them
were the many times my mother accused me of being loose and worshipping the devil,
Adim beating me up and telling me I deserved it, the immeasurable amounts of
ecstasy I'd ingested, the casual and often demeaning sex I endured both with
Adim and with others, some of the girls at work gossiping about anything and
everything they thought they knew about me, including the way I lacked friends
or close relationships of any kind… the list went on and on.

Once I'd started living on my own,
I'd stopped attending the church that kept telling me how sinful and terrible I
was. I could be accusatory of myself without any outside aid, thank you very
much.

What did it all mean? What would
happen to me when I died? Does this mean my mother was right about how evil I
was, or did it mean that all her small-minded theories went out the window?
After all I'd experienced spiritually, nothing has really changed. I still didn't
know where I belonged, or if I was even deserving of happiness at all.

Dess seemed to think I was a person
who helped humans that were gods in a past life, which basically translated to
me being a god's helper. Could that be possible? What did that mean for me, for
my
soul? Was I an agent of heaven, or an agent of hell?

Was I damned, or meant for
greatness?

Chapter 7

Adim's thoughts…

Ice Cube woke me up, rapping about
how I should go to church.

Pissed off, I kept my eyes closed
and stuck my arm out, hoping to find my cell phone by pure luck. Moving my hand
randomly, it fell instead on something warm, soft, and inviting.

Oh, yeah. Megan. 

She always talked too damn much,
but there was something about her I really liked, something familiar. She had
soft, fair skin and long dark hair, and was so obviously head over heels in
love with me that I could forgive her for having faults.

Still refusing to open my eyes, I
pulled my right arm in and shifted my body so I could stick out my left arm out
to the other side of me. Sleeping on your stomach can be a real pain in the
ass, especially when you're sleeping on top of the blanket and the chick you
were in bed with was tucked in underneath it.

I never slept with a blanket. Never
needed to.

My fingers touched something cold,
flat, and rectangular. Relieved, I picked up my phone and turned off its song
alarm. Still holding onto it, I tried to return to whatever dream had me
feeling… frisky. I changed positions again and ran my hand up Megan's arm.

She muttered something, grabbed my
hand, and threw it back over to me.

She was probably about to get her
rag. What other possible reason could she have for not wanting to fuck me?

I surrendered to the morning and
sat up, opening my eyes and tried to remember what I had to do today. Confusion
began to set in as I noticed some strange things:  My nightstand had moved
several inches closer to the bed. Also, someone had changed my curtains to a
purple color.

Oh, yeah. I was at Megan's house.

That thought led to another one: 
Her husband was coming home today from his Georgia trip.

Shit.

What time did she say his flight
was coming in?

I didn't want to wait to find out.
Besides, my brain was wide-awake by now, and I'd just remembered that I had
official business to handle today. Property to reclaim. Already took the day
off from work to handle it.

I found my boxers right next to the
bed, my slacks by the bathroom, and my shirt on her living room couch. I
scrambled around, putting on each item as I found them.

Did I have a tie? I couldn't
remember. Where the fuck were my shoes?

Absentmindedly, I felt my chin. I
needed a shave. Well, there was no time for that because I had to drive to Lynnwood, and I was in Everett this morning instead of the usual Edmonds.

I grabbed my phone and eventually
found my car keys on Megan's kitchen table. Stumbling, I managed to find and
put on my socks and shoes. No time to brush my teeth. Hell, I didn't have a
toothbrush with me anyway. Screw it.

I found Megan's purse on her
kitchen counter and opened it, hoping to find some gum that would help get rid
of my corpse breath. Instead, I found one of those breath-strip pieces of crap
that puts your mouth on fire so bad, you'd rather down an entire bottle of
Tapatio. Goddamnit. I could buy some coffee which would mask my breath, but
there wasn't time for that shit. I braced myself and put it one of those damn
strips on my tongue.

I stopped and gasped for breath for
a few moments. It was like tripping on LSD.

Cursing and gasping, I happened to
see a $100 bill wedged in between two tampons at the bottom of Megan's purse. I
smiled to myself and said that I certainly deserved $100 for my performance
last night in bed. She didn't say so, but I could tell. I can always tell when
chicks love what I do.

I tucked the bill into my pocket
and hurried out the back door, not caring to close it behind me. I kind of
hoped Megan's husband would find it that way when he came home, and I
especially hoped he'd find the discarded condom that I purposely left displayed
in the bathroom trash. Then he would get miserable and divorce his bitch wife.

Hey, it'd be a favor to her. What
chick would want to fuck anyone else after they'd slept with me, anyway?

I smiled to myself as I hopped in
my SUV and sped away towards Lynnwood.

* * *

I parked my SUV on the street,
observing the action across the street very carefully.

Just as I was informed, Morgan
Constantina was being wheeled out of Virginia Mason Lynnwood in a wheelchair by
some weird-looking chick. A lesbian, it looked like.

I was ashamed to admit that for a
short time I'd forgotten that I even
had
a girlfriend. But not too long
ago, I was doing laundry (ridiculous that I should have to do my own) and I'd found
a shirt of mine that Morgan loved wearing all the time. As I held it in my
hand, I thought of and remembered her, so I took the time to ask my connections
about her situation.

Good thing, too—apparently, she'd
been in the hospital. She'd believed I was out of her life for good and had
tried to kill herself because she couldn't live without me. And here I'd been
living the single life, fucking whoever I wanted and leaving a trail of broken
hearts behind me. Well, I'd make it up to her.

I observed the scene as she talked
endlessly with the weirdo, deeply engrossed in conversation. Morgan was dressed
all emo or some shit—just like that other girl. I have never seen her dress in
that ugly shit before. Why was she wearing that? Suddenly, the lezz stopped short,
saying something to Morgan, and they turned themselves around and went back
inside the hospital.

I got out of the car after checking
my visor mirror, smiling at what I saw in it. It would be impossible for any
woman to resist
this
vision of perfection.

I jaywalked across the street and
jogged into the hospital lobby, spotting Morgan and her lesbo friend right
away. They were both faced away from me, the lezz stooping down on the floor.

I snuck up behind them and listened
to as much of their conversation as I could.

"…spent almost fifteen bucks
on these flowers, and we're not leaving them behind. It's my fault for putting
them here on the floor before I went to the restroom," the lezz was
saying.

"I told you to let me hold
them. Why are you so stubborn? Haven't I proven myself by dressing like a
little Dess clone?" Morgan whined.

"Hey, now. I gave you the
least offensive, most boring clothes I could find. If nobody sees the skulls on
your butt, those jeans look normal, and that red vinyl jacket makes you look
like you stepped out of the Matrix. And the next time you get admitted to the
hospital, try not to be naked," the lezz shot back.

"There you are, baby!" I
said, putting on a charming smile. The poor thing was probably thirsty, and the
only thing that could quench her thirst would be a vision of me. "No one
called me. I've been so worried."

The lezz turned Morgan's chair
around so they could both face me. Nobody spoke for a little while. My
girlfriend probably needed some time to enjoy seeing my face again, and the
lezz probably grew afraid that I was
way
too much competition for her.

"Let's go, Dess," Morgan
said, standing up slowly, not looking directly at me. She was probably avoiding
eye contact with me because she was ashamed she'd forgotten to call me. I could
forgive her for that, eventually. Later I'd have to show her how she had
disappointed me, but first I wanted to take her back home.

"Whoa there, babe," I
told my girlfriend, putting my arm around her to support her. "Let me help
you." Morgan yanked her arm out of my grip. Being in the hospital must
have traumatized her.

I looked over at the lezz named
Dess. She just stood there giving me a dirty look. I hovered my hands over
Morgan's midsection and told the lezz, "All of this is mine, so you need
to back off, bro," I told her cheerily. "I was hitting this way
before you started groping and doing her."

She ignored me and walked around
me, holding Morgan by her arm and the stupid flowers in the other. I put my
face right up in Morgan's and asked her, "Do you want me to get rid of
this dyke, babe? You don't want this trash hanging around, do you?"

I suddenly got shoved back a couple
feet. Shocked, I looked over at Lezz Dess, my assailant. Incredibly
embarrassed, I walked back to where I had been standing and shouted, "
That
was totally uncalled for! Just leave us good people alone!" I started to
take Morgan's arm again.

Lezz Dess calmly walked up to my
face. By now the entire hospital lobby was watching our little show. "Jackass,
we're just friends, not that it's any of your business, and she doesn't want a
coward loser who beats up chicks." She stopped and looked around the
lobby. "I wonder if there are police nearby. You could be arrested, you
know. The doctors here have all the evidence they need."

I stood there, speechless. What the
hell did this dyke know, anyway? Anything that happened between my girlfriend
and me should stay that way.

Lezz Dess gave me what was probably
supposed to be a scary smile. "Who's the bitch now?"

I picked up a waiting-room chair
just so I could slam it back on the floor loudly. I heard a few people mutter,
but I was too focused to care. I couldn't leave like that, not with this
stranger thinking she'd won. "This isn't over, bitch," I mumbled. "You're
going to
pay
for this." To my sweetheart I said, "Morgan, I'll
call you later. I wanted to bring you home today, but I see you're confused and
hired yourself a bitch bodyguard. Don't worry. I'm not mad. We have a lot to
discuss about our future." I gave Lezz Dess my toughest gaze and walked
out of the lobby.

"Sorry, we don't have enough
money to feed your drug habit," Lezz Dess called loudly after me.

That pissed me right off. Now
everyone in the lobby thought I was some kind of junkie. Not only that, but my
Grade-A plan got sabotaged, and I would be going home alone. Furious, I ran
back across the street to my SUV, not pausing to look for cars, which earned me
a few angry honks and tire screeches. I opened my car and looked in the
backseat, hoping to find something I could use. Ah, there it was, on the floor
behind the driver's seat. A pocketknife. I grabbed it and opened it, walking
over to the car parked in front of me. Without hesitation, I jabbed the
pocketknife into the car's rear tires.

That was
sort of
satisfying.

I started to get in my SUV but had
another Grade-A thought. I threw the entire knife at the car and watched with
satisfaction as the rear window smashed to pieces, causing the car alarm to go
off.

Now, that was
incredibly
satisfying.

I drove to my apartment, stopping
by a market to pick up a frozen breakfast. I parked carefully in my designated
spot and closed my door softly, clicking my car alarm on with my key fob.

I took—and exhaled—a deep breath,
somewhat pleased with the day's proceedings, considering I didn't get what I'd
set out to retrieve—my girlfriend. I opened my apartment building's front door
with one of my keys and noticed an old lady approaching me with a paper bag of
groceries. I moved to the side and held the door open for her, giving her one
of my most charming smiles.

This would make her day. She'd
probably be thinking and fantasizing about me for a week.

She started to walk through the
door without glancing at me, so I moved slightly in her way while holding the
door open. When she looked up at me, I said politely, "Are you having a
good day, ma'am?"

She smiled a little bit and nodded,
saying, "It's a little too hot for my tastes. I wish it would rain. Thank
you, young man."

"Oh, no, please don't mention
it," I responded. I saw two women walking by on the street, so I pretended
to give the old lady all my attention, laughing a lot louder than I needed to
and turning a little bit so the two passing women would get to see my face.