Failing Upward Ch. 13

Then I understood why. I understood our morbid connection. My horror. My pain.

There was nothing in my pocket.

Sid was gone. So was Glenda. Sand cut the inside my mouth as I squinted my eyes to see Shackleton hovering above me. With his shovel, he flung sand down on me.

I was the one in the hole.
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My head throbbed. I wished. I counted. I tried recalling all that was good and decent in my life. But nothing changed. He was still there, and the world closed in on me.

The pisser was since he was determined to bury me alive, it seems he'd at least have said something cruel or maybe even profound to say to me. Shackleton said neither. Worse-- he said nothing at all as he shoveled more sand on top of me.

I don't know what was worse, him dumping load after load of sand on my chest or his silent disregard for my pleas. Not that I begged-- much.

"Hey," I shouted. "At least give me one last drink! Answer me!"

The grains of sand became thousands upon thousands of centipedes scratching and crawling at my body. I became so desperate, I asked for a cigarette.

"Shit, even a condemned man gets a smoke or one last meal," I told him. "They even get last rites. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Talk to me!"

My hands ached and tingled. And I struggled uselessly against the same white cord Sid had tied Shackleton with. God, we'd changed places, Shackleton and I. My head hurt, and I was confused and dizzy. I wondered if he'd caved my head with the shovel. My knees and hands were raw. What had he done to me? Memories of what he done to Lancaster all those years ago flooded back. The impotent fuck. My stomach turned realizing where else my body was sore.

How long ago had Dr. Deal hypnotized me? I couldn't recall. Seemed a lifetime ago. But I knew now why I'd felt the connection to my uncle. Both of us being buried alive was a shared experience. No wonder it felt so real to me. This wasn't some false memory; it was a premonition.

I struggled more and started cursing at Shackleton.

"You fucking asshole. Think you're superior don't you? Well, maybe I'm the one in the hole, but at least I'm a man."

I saw the corner of his mouth go up a bit. A little reaction. Unfortunately he thought it was funny. Not the reaction I was looking for.

"I'm not some perverted, psychopath who can't even get off without Viagra or what ever serum you happen to derive out of me," I said, searching for something, anything that might get a reaction. "What do you care about? Nothing! Like watching pain? Ok, you win. You've hurt me. But if you bury me, it's all over."

That got his attention. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't look at me. Instead he looked up at the canopy above us. It was a clear night. Through the leaves I could see the stars.

Then he picked up some more sand with the shovel.

"For God's sake don't do this," my voice cracked.

For a moment, I thought what I said worked.

He stopped shoveling, licked his lips then stared straight through me like I wasn't there.

"I took what I needed, and what I wanted," he said.

My throat convulsed as I gulped for air, trying to think of a something else to say. Something that would make him stop. I noticed the edge of his mouth curl and then he picked up the shovel and flung sand in my face, blinding me.

"You are nothing," he said.

It cut and tore at my eyes. I couldn't speak. Now all I could do was listen as he crushed me with shovel full after shovel full of sand. I gagged on it. Then I couldn't breathe. After a time, my mind folded in on itself. No mercy from Mother Earth as she collapsed my lungs. I saw flashes of light behind my eyes either from lack of oxygen or hysteria. I wondered how even I, an immortal, could live without air. With the six plus feet of crushing weight above, my chest cavity caved in agony. I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd lose my senses.

Shit, could I move things with my mind. I done it before. I tried now. Why couldn't I move this bit of sand?

Then suddenly I felt weightless-- a blessing, turned to a curse. I thought maybe I'd done it. I was free-- instead, I was in the place that Sid feared I'd end up. Trapped in my own mind, in limbo.

The sound of sand sifting above ceased. After a time, I began to hear things. But none of it was real. The waves on the lake slapping the shore. Birds singing and scratching the ground above me. My mom talking long ago. She was here with me again, telling me to go to sleep and singing a lullaby.

Sometimes I heard music. Riffs on my guitar, old songs I'd written. Then I'd hear entire musical scores haunting me-- retracing the notes through my head. Like some ancient torture, I'd hear the tunes from movies I detested, The Sound of Music and Yentl. No driving the melodies away. Who knew that hell could be Julie Andrews and Barbara Streisand?

Phantom footsteps and my pathetic imagination inventing someone digging me out. I had no control over what I thought for sometime.

I tried to remember what I wished for to get here, but I could not. I tried to wish for something else to get me out, but my will refused me.

I kept telling myself, it was because Sid was missing. He hadn't wished. This was my payback. The bad Karma Sid always told me about. I shouldn't have tried without him. That's what it took last time. How did I get things so fucked up?

I began to play over bits of my life in my mind. When you can't see, hear or reach, your world is all in recreating. I suppose I could have recalled instead of playing at being the god of my recreated world, but the world became so much more interesting rewinding and finding a place where you can insert the what ifs. Living inside your own mind becomes the ultimate freedom and prison. You can make all the bad go away. Everyone loves you, and you love everyone. You can live happily ever after. That is until you recall it's not real. I had no idea how many days or weeks passed; I played that game so well.

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It was dark and the stars tinkled in the clear night sky. As I walked out to the river, leaves crunched beneath my feet. Alan's old tire swing dipped back and forth and I climbed aboard, launching myself out and over the Kalamazoo River. I sat atop of the old tire and the thick rope prickled my fingers. As I swung out again, the rope groaned against the limb of the old oak. I looked down into the black water as I pitched out and over the river again for the third time. This was the same. I'd done this since I was a kid, and I felt the familiar jolt of excitement in my stomach.

The fall chill slapped my face. As I swung backward over the ground, I leaned back and raised my legs, pumping to get more height when the swing abruptly stopped.

He hands were on top of mine. He climbed on in back of me, pushing off hard with his leg. I swung out farther than before with the weight of him pressed against me. Warm breath tickled my ear as we flew out over the water.

"Still avoiding me, I see…" Sid said.

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But after a time I could no longer prevent reality from creeping in. With time unknown, life slurred.

Dreams hold a bittersweet truth.

Sleep. No matter how many happy thoughts I conjured, my mind knew my body was trapped, and this infiltrated my pretty make-believe worlds. My dreams threw bitter reality at me.

Like before with Sid and I, bits of this new time line crept in. But I was never sure because this stew of new and old memories, woven with my manufactured dream world all became more and more difficult to tell apart. After a time, sleep and waking were so much alike I wasn't sure which was which. Both became nightmares with a pleasant dream or two threaded between. Then came the point where I preferred the nightmares. Memories of singing to my sister or making love to Sid became unbearable since I sensed I might never experience them again.

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I lay on my side next to him, sheet crumpled between us.

"You want to come now?" I asked. He bit down hard on his bottom lip-- his eyes following my hand. I loved watching him, watching me.

"Harder?" I asked, and he nodded.

His whole body tensed as I pressed up closer to him, and he huddled into me those last frantic moments before orgasm, spilling over my hand with a gasp.

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I woke. I couldn't scream or laugh hysterically. But I could cry. I was still here, trapped in this cold dark place.

Dry and matted, I suffered loving what I thought I'd never touch again and regretted not touching what I could have had, but for my foolishness. I could still feel his hands on top of mine. In the darkness, I could conjure his kind eyes melting me, and feel his scruffy chin scraping mine. I got goose-bumps as his skilled fingers shaped me, forcing me to relive our moments together. My heart still beat. As long as it did, I would love him.

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"Good morning," he said, kissing my temple. "Coffee? Cornflakes? Eggos?"

"Mmm, toast. And coffee."

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Like before with Sid and I, bits of this new time line crept in. But I was never sure because this stew of new and old memories, woven with my manufactured dream world all became more and more difficult to tell apart. After a time, sleep and waking were so much alike, I wasn't sure which was which. Both became nightmares with a pleasant dream or two threaded between.

Replaying the nightmare of being buried alive was painful, but far worse became my memories of times alone with Sid.

I became afraid he was nothing to me in this life. Then I became afraid that he was something to me. If he was nothing, at least he'd be safe from Shackleton.

I worried where he was, and what he was doing. I conjured fates for him far worse than mine. I tried to recall what he was to me here in this time. I needed to know if he was safe. I tried to recall, but I could not.

And I remembered Shackleton's last words, and they terrified me. He'd gotten what he wanted and needed. What did he mean?

I was afraid he hadn't just fucked me-- he'd fucked my world. Could he change time now? Feel pain?

What would he do?

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When I first heard it, I thought it was some audio-mirage or some long wished for dream. I'd imagined the same so many times before, I ignored it. As the sound increased, I told myself I was hearing only what I wished for. Even when light blinded me and I heard Glenda say, "He's here," I still didn't believe it was real-- not until they pulled me out, and I felt my face wet from Les's tears as he hugged me crying.

I shivered, I choked and sobbed along with them, Glenda, Lancaster and Les. After wrapping me in a moth-eaten red wood blanket, Lancaster carried me out to his car.

The long ride home didn't seem so long. Not compared to the eternity I'd just spend underground.

I scratched myself raw on the way. Sand covered me. What I wanted was a hot bath. Shit, it was fucking inside me, crawling to get out. I didn't think that feeling would ever leave me.

I leaned closer to Les who sat next to me. He told me how long they'd looked for me. It was Lancaster who finally found the spot where I was buried. They weren't sure what they'd find.

"Thank you, thank you for finding me Mr. Lancaster."

"What's this with calling me Mr. Lancaster? I thought you were over that long ago."

"Sorry, thank you Uncle Daniel," I said. "I don't know what I'm saying."

"Understandable. You're forgiven for calling me Mr. Lancaster. If you've forgotten, I prefer you call me Uncle Dan," he said, looking at me in the rear view mirror. "Do you want to stop somewhere for something to eat? Something warm to drink? You're shaking the springs loose in that seat."

"God, coffee. That sounds like heaven, but as much as I'd like some coffee, I want to go home more."

I closed my head and rested my head on the seat. I must have fallen asleep, because I jumped awake. I was breathing hard.

Les reached over and squeezed my hand.

"For a moment, I thought I was back there," I said.

"Well, you're here. After all those months..." Les said.

"I'm going to make sure he never hurts us again," my uncle said. I noticed his hands were clenched white on the steering wheel. "It's something I should have done a long time ago."

And as they pulled into the long driveway at the Lancaster's home, I sat up and pressed my forehead to the car window. Months... I was gone for months...

"The whole world has changed..." I said aloud.

"What?" Les asked me. "What did you say?"

There were no leaves on the trees. Dirty patches of snow lined the drive. How long was I gone?

"Sid," I said louder. "Where is Sid?"

"Sid who?" Glenda asked.

"Sid?" said Les. He turned to me and jabbed me in the ribs. "Do you mean Sidney Raymond?"

I nodded.

"He's a friend of Alan's, our band's manager," Les said to her.

"Why would you ask about him?" Glenda wondered as she looked over the seat at me.

Lancaster stopped the car in front of the house. Massive icicles hung almost to the ground off the old Victorian porch, some were as big around as my calf.

They really needed to invest in some insulation.

"No reason," I said, watching the crisp light fragment in the huge icicles. I couldn't take my eyes off them. Glenda raised her eyebrow, sighed and opened her car door then came around to mine.

As she helped me out of the car, I noticed she was crying again.

"You have no shoes," she said. "Maybe your uncle should carry you..." I shook my head as she gave me her arm up.

Fuck the ground was cold, but I didn't want him carrying me into the house.

I grabbed her arm as we climbed the icy steps (more for my support than hers). My old tabby cat jumped up on the porch railing, then sprung at me. I caught Babe in my arms, and she butted her head against my chest. I instinctively reached to scratch her behind the ear.

"Someone's happy to see you," my uncle chuckled and helped me scratch Babe under the chin. She purred loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn happy to see her, too. I'm pretty damn happy to see all of you. I'm damn happy to be here at all." I stopped for a moment, gathering my thoughts. Shit, I was so overwhelmed I didn't know how to express my gratitude.

"I'm just so damn happy," I mumbled.

Les jiggled the key in the door and pushed it open. There is nothing as reassuring as the snug warmth of home kissing your face after coming in from the cold. As we stepped in, I turned to Glenda, and whispered: "Thank you."

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"You don't have to tell us what happened until you're ready," Glenda said. "Know that your Uncle and I love you."

She sent me off with some clean clothes. I shut the narrow bathroom door and flipped the lock.

I took that bath right away. I left a pillar of sand on the floor where I took of my clothes. I threw them in the wastebasket next to the sink, ridding myself of the terrible reminder.

I climbed into the old claw-foot tub. Extra hot. So hot it turned my pale skin angry red. I counted to fifty before I lowered my more tender parts down into the cauldron, then finally slid under the water. After shampooing my hair for the fourth time, I determined that it would be the next century before the last grains of sand were out of my scalp. There was so much sand in the bottom of the tub, I was concerned that I'd block the plumbing when I rinsed down the drain.

I took my time getting out. Wrapping one of large cushy-blue bath towels around me. The mirror was steamed over; I swiped the glass with a corner of the towel. Man, I looked like shit.

I dressed in an old pair of my scrubby jeans that Glenda'd given me along with my tatty gray cable sweater. At least I knew my old clothes. I wandered cautiously out to the kitchen. Glenda waved for me to sit down.

I smiled. A friendly cup of coffee waited for me on the table. Cream and sugar already in it.

I sat down and ate in silence as Glenda watched. I kept moving the napkin around on my lap and squirmed in my seat like an antsy 6-year-old.

She served me left over turkey she'd frozen and warmed up. Said she'd saved it from the holiday, hoping I would get to eat the dinner. I tried at least to muster more enthusiasm after she told me.

The mash potatoes had that 'inside of the freezer' taste. The gravy was a bit too salty. The turkey was dry. The cranberries were extra tart. And the coffee was strong.

God it tasted good...

I devoured it.

"You want to go lie down for awhile?" she asked.

I had enough reclining to last the rest of my life. But I needed time to think and sort all this out. To tell the truth, I was afraid to close my eyes again. Still I had to decide: What was I going to say to them? What should I reveal?

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

She followed a step behind me like a mother bird watching over her hatchling until I told her I'd be fine.

I started up the winding old stairway. The same staircase carved with roses and thorns. Mica... my roses. I ran my fingers in the groves just as I had the first time I saw this miracle.

I heard quiet feet behind me. Les trying hard to be cautious.

"I thought you'd give it away," he said quietly, grabbing my arm and pulling me up the stairs.

"Give what away?" I whispered back to him.

"All the trouble you went to to keep Sid and you a secret from Glenda? Shit, you almost gave it away…"

So Sid and I were together in this time... made sense, that's why he jabbed me in the ribs in the car.

"Help me out here," I said. "I don't remember. A lot is a blank."

I decided the best way to get information was to play the temporary amnesia card, which wasn't far from the truth.

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like what's going on with Sid for a start…"

He opened the door at the head of the stairs and pushed me through. It was the same room Sid and I had shared-- where Sid watched me in the garden from the window. Where he made love to me on the window sill.

"Sid was pretty busted up after you disappeared. The band members wondered where he was. He never came anymore to watch us play. I finally made some excuse as to where you were because Sid was so beside himself worrying about you. Blamed himself, since he broke it off with you just before. I told him you went off to clear your head-- sort of a mental vacation. In fact at first I thought that's exactly what you did. Then when you didn't come back for days, and we got that note from Shackleton..."

"Note?"

"Yeah, rubbing in how he had you. I thought Uncle Dan was gonna kill somebody. Seriously. Glenda was half hysterical. We ended up getting Trent to help us. He tracked Shackleton down to the cottage by the lake. But he was long gone. We tried to find out where Shackleton took you. I know it sounds weird, but where you were came to Uncle Dan in a dream one night-- he said it was more like a memory. It wasn't far from where Shackleton buried him all those years ago. That's how we finally found you."

I sat down on the bed and looked out the window. The shadows were getting longer.

"Sid didn't understand. I know it was a hard choice for you to make. But considering what happened with Shackleton, it was the right choice."

I looked at him, confused.

"Understand what?" I asked.

"Keeping your relationship a secret. Man, you don't remember anything, do you? Sid thought you didn't want to tell everyone because you couldn't face your family about being gay." Les laughed. "Like they'd have a problem with that. Sid had no idea..."

I didn't tell him then. He'd never found out about me. Not like before.

"He didn't know we're immortal?"

"Yeah. You were right to keep it from him. Glenda would never accept him. I don't know what crazy thing she'd do if she realized Sid knew. I think you were worried that she might try to make him immortal, too. Now that would be a fucking mess."