I See Dead People: Part Quatre
Apr. 25th, 2014 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraLyme Disease, the doctors told him.
Fucking Lyme Disease.
Wow.
“I think they could be wrong,” he added.
“Well, the good news is that Lyme Disease responds very well to antibiotics in the early stages,” I babbled. “And this would be in the early stages – you’re monitored pretty closely by physicians. Why do you think they could be wrong?”
“Because I could not be that lucky,” he said.
“Sure, you could,” I said. “And, hey – it’s not like Lyme Disease is up there with winning Lotto.”
But I knew what he meant.
###
Shortly after noon yesterday, Ben texted me that he was going into the hospital. Felt like shit, peeing blood.
“Do you feel like you’re slipping into the zone?” I asked cautiously.
“I feel like – yeah. I could be,” he said. “Don’t tell Robin.”
On this point, we were in firm agreement.
I felt very weird when I got off the phone.
I mean, it seems very clear to me that unless he gets a liver transplant – which seems unlikely for any number of reasons – Ben will be dead within the next three to five years. Not sure how to wrap my head around that, so for the most part, I don’t.
But when I’d seen Mark at the Family Dollar the day before, I immediately thought of Ben.
Now.
I did not see Mark at the Family Dollar. Mark died in 2011.
What I saw was a black guy of approximately the same age that Mark would be if he were still alive and who reminded me so acutely of Mark that all I could do was stand there gaping while the cashier repeated, “Ma’am? Ma’am? Ma’am!” with rising irritation.
The time before that, though, I really did see Mark. On the sidewalk, walking toward me, right outside the Ithaca Diner. Mark right down to the fading freckles, the receding hairline, the impish grin, the funny old-fashioned newsboy cap he always wore.
And Mark turned into Ben. It was really Ben that was walking toward me. My mind had played a trick on me. But what a trick.
A short time later, Ben was in the hospital. Dying, I thought. Although that turned out not to be the case.
###
When I got off the phone with Ben, I think I was freaked. I don’t know if I was freaked because truth be told, I seldom feel anything in times of crisis. Oh, I cry plenty – at feral cats when I see them staring hungrily at me from under parked cars; at little children when I see them skipping down the street, holding their mothers’ hands; at climactic scenes during Parenthood and Switched at Birth. But I hardly ever cry when something bad happens in my actual life.
I texted Max: Ben’s in the hospital. I’m worried about Robin. He has finals over the next two weeks, and I’m afraid he’ll freak out and flunk out of school.
If it came to that, I’m sure he’d have the foresight to take a leave of absence, Max texted back.
He didn’t when Justin committed suicide.
That’s true, but it seems like he’s got a better handle on the Big Picture these days. I’ll talk to him.
No! Ben and I aren’t going to tell him unless Ben’s hospitalized for more than a couple of days.
Max read me the riot act! This was not going to go over well with Robin, Robin was not a child anymore; if it was his (Max’s) parents, he’d want to know, and in fact, this was kind of insulting to Robin – Etcetera.
Well, thought I, scrambling to put down the phone. That certainly didn’t go well.
So I called up Jeanna.
“Damn!” she said. “Well, that certainly sucks. Are you going to have to go up to Ithaca?”
“I might,” I said. “Apparently the girlfriend is moving to Tennessee –“
“Wow,” Jeanna said. “Do you think that’s why he got sick?”
“Maybe. Of course, I found out about this in typical Ben dissembling fashion. When I was up visiting Robin a couple of weeks ago, Robin had a major meltdown, worrying about his Dad. Told me the girlfriend had packed up all her things, was moving to be closer to her work or maybe moving in with her son to look after her grandkids. He was totally freaked out that his Dad was going to be all alone.
“So when I got back to Poughkeepsie, I called Ben and said, ‘This is none of my business except insofar as it impacts Robin. But it is impacting Robin. So I gotta ask, What’s going on?’
“And Ben laughed and said Jayne had just packed up some hutch she owned because it was taking up too much room in their apartment. And that maybe she would move because this past winter had just taken it out of her, all that driving, all that snow. But that she was looking for other jobs in Ithaca.
“And then when he told me he was going into the hospital, he added, 'And, oh, by the way, Jayne’s moving to Tennessee tomorrow.'”
“Huh,” said Jeanna. “His heart’s broken so he got sick.”
“Seems like it,” I agreed.
Then I told Jeanna about Mark.
“Denine sees Dad all the time,” she said.
Denine is my recovering meth head sister.
“Ick,” I said.
“She says it makes her happy.”
“Keep going to those meetings, Denine,” I said.
“We’re a very psychic family, Patty. I mean, I don’t know anybody else whose father organized Family Ouija Board nights.”
“I see dead people!”
“Well, how do you think it happens, Patty? There’s no such thing as ectoplasm. They slip through holes in people’s auras and they manifest through those people’s bodies when they have something they need to tell you –“
Jeanna is a very chakra-y kind of gal, but I love her anyway.
###
I thought some more about what Max had said, and in the afternoon I ended up calling Robin. “I thought you’d want to know,” I said. “Do not freak out! I’m sure it’s something minor. I will keep you in the loop on all developments. Your Dad is really, really proud of you and of how well you’re doing in school, and the best thing you can do for him is study hard and really ace your finals –“
Robin took the news really, really well, so Max was right: I underestimated him.
I’m still pissed off at Max, though.
Fucking Lyme Disease.
Wow.
“I think they could be wrong,” he added.
“Well, the good news is that Lyme Disease responds very well to antibiotics in the early stages,” I babbled. “And this would be in the early stages – you’re monitored pretty closely by physicians. Why do you think they could be wrong?”
“Because I could not be that lucky,” he said.
“Sure, you could,” I said. “And, hey – it’s not like Lyme Disease is up there with winning Lotto.”
But I knew what he meant.
Shortly after noon yesterday, Ben texted me that he was going into the hospital. Felt like shit, peeing blood.
“Do you feel like you’re slipping into the zone?” I asked cautiously.
“I feel like – yeah. I could be,” he said. “Don’t tell Robin.”
On this point, we were in firm agreement.
I felt very weird when I got off the phone.
I mean, it seems very clear to me that unless he gets a liver transplant – which seems unlikely for any number of reasons – Ben will be dead within the next three to five years. Not sure how to wrap my head around that, so for the most part, I don’t.
But when I’d seen Mark at the Family Dollar the day before, I immediately thought of Ben.
Now.
I did not see Mark at the Family Dollar. Mark died in 2011.
What I saw was a black guy of approximately the same age that Mark would be if he were still alive and who reminded me so acutely of Mark that all I could do was stand there gaping while the cashier repeated, “Ma’am? Ma’am? Ma’am!” with rising irritation.
The time before that, though, I really did see Mark. On the sidewalk, walking toward me, right outside the Ithaca Diner. Mark right down to the fading freckles, the receding hairline, the impish grin, the funny old-fashioned newsboy cap he always wore.
And Mark turned into Ben. It was really Ben that was walking toward me. My mind had played a trick on me. But what a trick.
A short time later, Ben was in the hospital. Dying, I thought. Although that turned out not to be the case.
When I got off the phone with Ben, I think I was freaked. I don’t know if I was freaked because truth be told, I seldom feel anything in times of crisis. Oh, I cry plenty – at feral cats when I see them staring hungrily at me from under parked cars; at little children when I see them skipping down the street, holding their mothers’ hands; at climactic scenes during Parenthood and Switched at Birth. But I hardly ever cry when something bad happens in my actual life.
I texted Max: Ben’s in the hospital. I’m worried about Robin. He has finals over the next two weeks, and I’m afraid he’ll freak out and flunk out of school.
If it came to that, I’m sure he’d have the foresight to take a leave of absence, Max texted back.
He didn’t when Justin committed suicide.
That’s true, but it seems like he’s got a better handle on the Big Picture these days. I’ll talk to him.
No! Ben and I aren’t going to tell him unless Ben’s hospitalized for more than a couple of days.
Max read me the riot act! This was not going to go over well with Robin, Robin was not a child anymore; if it was his (Max’s) parents, he’d want to know, and in fact, this was kind of insulting to Robin – Etcetera.
Well, thought I, scrambling to put down the phone. That certainly didn’t go well.
So I called up Jeanna.
“Damn!” she said. “Well, that certainly sucks. Are you going to have to go up to Ithaca?”
“I might,” I said. “Apparently the girlfriend is moving to Tennessee –“
“Wow,” Jeanna said. “Do you think that’s why he got sick?”
“Maybe. Of course, I found out about this in typical Ben dissembling fashion. When I was up visiting Robin a couple of weeks ago, Robin had a major meltdown, worrying about his Dad. Told me the girlfriend had packed up all her things, was moving to be closer to her work or maybe moving in with her son to look after her grandkids. He was totally freaked out that his Dad was going to be all alone.
“So when I got back to Poughkeepsie, I called Ben and said, ‘This is none of my business except insofar as it impacts Robin. But it is impacting Robin. So I gotta ask, What’s going on?’
“And Ben laughed and said Jayne had just packed up some hutch she owned because it was taking up too much room in their apartment. And that maybe she would move because this past winter had just taken it out of her, all that driving, all that snow. But that she was looking for other jobs in Ithaca.
“And then when he told me he was going into the hospital, he added, 'And, oh, by the way, Jayne’s moving to Tennessee tomorrow.'”
“Huh,” said Jeanna. “His heart’s broken so he got sick.”
“Seems like it,” I agreed.
Then I told Jeanna about Mark.
“Denine sees Dad all the time,” she said.
Denine is my recovering meth head sister.
“Ick,” I said.
“She says it makes her happy.”
“Keep going to those meetings, Denine,” I said.
“We’re a very psychic family, Patty. I mean, I don’t know anybody else whose father organized Family Ouija Board nights.”
“I see dead people!”
“Well, how do you think it happens, Patty? There’s no such thing as ectoplasm. They slip through holes in people’s auras and they manifest through those people’s bodies when they have something they need to tell you –“
Jeanna is a very chakra-y kind of gal, but I love her anyway.
I thought some more about what Max had said, and in the afternoon I ended up calling Robin. “I thought you’d want to know,” I said. “Do not freak out! I’m sure it’s something minor. I will keep you in the loop on all developments. Your Dad is really, really proud of you and of how well you’re doing in school, and the best thing you can do for him is study hard and really ace your finals –“
Robin took the news really, really well, so Max was right: I underestimated him.
I’m still pissed off at Max, though.
