Catholic Guilt and the Joy of Hating Men (32 page)

Kara and I stayed together after that night. Everything seemed different then, with no more heroin and no more clients dropping by. I used up the rest of my vacation time and we spent eight days straight just laying together in bed like John and Yoko. She told me more about her past lives and the people she’d lost; for my end of the conversation I mostly talked about movies I’d seen.

We decided after a while that Kara should go back to her writing. I joked that to make some quick cash she should dig out her old manuscripts and just add a shitload of zombies. She decided on writing something new about sparkly vampires and I chose to bite my tongue.

I was happy, but I could see that Kara wasn’t. I could see that for her, nothing had changed.

By the time my vacation was over, Kara hadn’t done anything, no writing, no drugs. She was just there, like she was waiting until I left for work so she could crawl under the blankets and weep.

“Is it withdrawal?” I asked her.

“I love that you’re stupid,” she said. “My old body was hooked on heroin. My new body’s free and clear.”

“It’s not your body I’m talking about.”

“I’ll snap out of it.” She stared at me for a moment; she knew I didn’t believe her. “Really… I promise.”

I wasn’t surprised to see that she wasn’t there when I came home from work. She’d left all of her things behind, including her cat, but that was no guarantee that she’d come back.

I sat on the wall of the bathtub with my iPad and waited for Kara to come home.

She returned with a nervous energy, giving me half of a hug before she went into the kitchen and started pulling food out of the refrigerator.

“What are you making?” I asked at the combination of ketchup, lettuce and expired eggnog on the kitchen counter.

“I’m cleaning the fridge.”

“Don’t clean the fridge. Come and talk to me.”

She left her cleaning behind and threw herself onto the couch. “This place is boring,” she said. “You’re boring.”

“I don’t get this... I’ve never seen you like this.” I wanted to know what she’d taken, what she was on, but I was too scared to ask.

“I’m not a junkie,” she said from her place on the couch. “That’s what’s important to you, isn’t it? I’m just like any other girl. Bored to death by this
squalish
little apartment.”

“
Squalish?
”

“It’s a word. Look it up, asshole.” She pulled a crooked cigarette out from her pocket and waved it at me. “Light it,” she said, kicking her legs on the cushion.

“You don’t smoke.”

“Come on.”

I took the cigarette from her. The rolling paper was crinkled and wet, stained in brownish yellow. “What is this crap? Some kind of drug?”

“It’s all legal,” she said.

“That doesn’t mean it’s safe. Please, Kara, tell me what this is.”

She started to laugh. “It’s embalming fluid. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, seeing as almost everyone I’ve ever loved had the chance to try it years ago.”

“You smoked one already?”

“It’s wearing off.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” I said. “Please...” I lowered myself beside her on the couch as best I could and wrapped my arms around her. Her whole body was shivering and I could feel her heart pounding. I was overwhelmed and I began to cry.

“Don’t,” she said. She planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

“I’m sorry... I’m just worried about you.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, too.” She started to climb off the couch so I got out of her way.

She stood up in front of me and took off her shirt.

“This is me,” she said as she pulled down her pants. “This is your wife. I’ve been alive longer than anyone else, but I still suck at it.”

We laid in bed together; she wanted more, but it didn’t feel right. We held each other and eventually she came down enough to fall asleep. I watched her for over an hour as she slept.

I didn’t regret marrying her. Or falling in love with her. I didn’t regret a thing.

“I want to die,” Kara said.

I was just about to leave for work when she said it, and she sounded for a moment like a teenager who’d just been grounded. But that wasn’t Kara; Kara meant it.

“You want to start over again?” I asked.

“No... I want to stop starting over. I want to be dead. I want you to rip out my heart and feed it to a goddamned grizzly bear. I want to get this over with.”

“Would that even work? The bear, I mean?”

She shrugged. “I doubt it. My heart would probably just start burning up somewhere inside its large intestine... you know... kind of like Mexican food.” She smiled at her own joke. “I think the only way to stop me from being born again would be to flash freeze me like a salmon.”

And that’s when it came to me.

It felt strange; I wanted to help her with what she wanted more than anything but I didn’t want to lose her.

“Would you really do it?” I asked. “If you found a way to die, would you?”

“I’ve had plenty of life,” she said quietly. “I’m ready for something else.”

I gave her a kiss on her forehead. And then I gave Callum a call, wondering just how far our friendship could stretch.

Callum didn’t believe me at first when I told him about Kara, and I think that somehow made me feel a little better. It’s not like I had any proof.

We were walking together along the trail by the marina, watching people jogging and rollerblading and getting on with their lives. I’d told him the story; I’d told him everything, and then we just continued on in silence for almost a half hour.

That’s how long it took for him to come around.

“Would you really let her go?” he asked me. “I mean, if somehow we actually had the balls to do this.”

“It’s what she wants. I think that’s worth more than anything else.”

“There are other things to try... counselling or something.”

“She doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want anything else.”

Callum gave me a quick pat on the shoulder. “I’ll only do it if it’s really what you want.”

I nodded. “It’s what I want.”

We turned around a few minutes later, walking back without much talking. I didn’t really want to keep on about it.

As for what I wanted for Kara, I’m sure Callum knew I was lying. But he didn’t call me on it.

Kara and I met Callum a few nights later, after his staff had gone home. He didn’t look at all happy to see us; I knew I was asking a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked him.

“I have to be,” he said. “You need my help so here we are.” He looked over to Kara and gave her a nervous smile. “It’s non-toxic. That way you’ll know you’re not poisoning the earth.”

Kara didn’t say a word or even nod. She just stared at him blankly.

“That’s good,” I said, trying to smile. I wrapped my arm around my beautiful wife and gave her a squeeze. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her.

She nodded.

I looked over to Callum. “So it needs to happen... before...”

“I know,” Callum said. “I have ether for that.”

I tensed up a little. “Will it hurt?”

Kara pulled at my hand. I looked over to see her slowly shaking her head at me. I wanted to think she was telling me to forget the whole thing, to take her home and just hold her. But all she really wanted was for me to shut up.

He led us through a door into a tiled room. On one wall was a shower and a shelf with some glass and plastic bottles. On the other side was a long metal table, and next to that a red couch; both looked out of place.

“This is usually where I wash up,” Callum said. “We’ll do it in here if that’s okay. I felt it was nicer than...”

“It’s very nice,” Kara said. “Thank you.” She sat down on the couch and took off her shoes.

“Do you guys need a couple minutes?” Callum asked.

Kara shook her head no.

I kept my mouth shut.

Callum put on his white latex gloves. He took a clear plastic bottle from the shelf and brought it over to Kara along with a large white cloth.

She lowered herself down until she was fully reclined, her head resting on a small pillow.

Callum carefully poured the ether into a glass measuring cup that looked like it belonged in a kitchen. He then dropped the cloth into the cup to soak.

“Don’t breathe any in, Lanny,” he said.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I’m less sensitive to it after all these years. I’ve been on a lot of dates.” He seemed to catch his bad timing. “Sorry...”

“Thank you for doing this, Callum,” Kara said. “I really appreciate it.”

Callum nodded. He knelt down beside the couch and held the cloth up to her face. “Breathe deeply,” he said.

I held her hand as she took it in, three deep breaths before she closed her eyes.

Callum held the cloth to her face a little longer before pulling it away.

“You’re doing okay?” he asked me.

“I’m fine.”

“Good... help me get her onto the table.”

I helped him move Kara, and I helped him with the chemicals, both of us in gowns and gloves.

Callum explained to me that everything he’d use was biodegradable, even the flame retardant he’d gotten from his cousin in Coquitlam. He explained that it wouldn’t be like regular embalming, that Kara would be more like a medical cadaver; he wouldn’t have enough time to drain her blood and there was really no need to make it look good. Her body should be preserved for decades or longer, her heart kept cold and still.

My heart was already starting to eat itself.

I asked him how he knew it would work and he told me there was no way of knowing; I felt silly for having asked. There was no way to know for sure. I tried not to imagine Kara waking up again, staring at me, angry that the hope I’d given her had turned out to be useless.

Once Callum made the injection I had to leave the room; I didn’t want to see it. I sat in the front room of the mortuary on a matching red couch.

I wanted her body to catch fire on that table; maybe then I’d have her for good.

Callum found me later; he said it had been several hours, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Is she still in there?” I asked. “Is she... gone?”

Callum sighed. “I don’t know... I think so, but I’m not sure. How long did it take before?”