The banging of the headboard was a rude way to wake up. the rythmic thumping continuing in my head. Tequila at a bar on I-40 was the best sedation I could find. this journey couldn't be attempted sober. Nothing could be attempted completely sober anymore. The motel's flourescent lights framed a face that I couldn't recognize; a face she wouldn't know. I splashed cool water on my face while the aroma of generic coffee filled the room from the coffee maker on the bathroom vanity. A chorus of moans let everyone know that the end of the thump thump was in sight. Fuck it, I cant sleep anyway. Why sleep when the dreams and nightmares are the same. Not any luggage to pack up. When you are drunk you are just going to sleep in what you have on anyway. Its 3am time to jet.
A gentle rain was falling, and the smell of pines filled the spring air. Flagstaff was still asleep. There was no need to check out the room rent was $79.95. "Don't you want change?" the clerk asked with a pleasant Indian accent. "No thanks, I replied as I handed her a $100 bill." I glanced at the red caste on the young ladies forehead. Even in my inebriated state I knew not to be rude. Each step clanged on the metal stairs as I made my way to the car. The engine roared to life as pushed the button on the console. My gas gauge was almost on full. I found the on ramp to Interstate 40 East, then I hit auto pilot. The Audi sedan held the road like a speeding locomotive on tracks. Bruce Springsteen's the river was sounding out of all sixteen speakers on the Bang & Olufsen stereo. That left me time to think. too much time to think. My mind was clouded in a dream like status; only interuppted by the occasional passing 18 wheeler.
We were overjoyed. We were picking out the names. It had been only two months, but we had been together for 15 years. We didn't feel ready, but we would have never felt ready. We weren't going to tell anyone until after the first trimester. She had taken the urine test, and the excitement was starting to grow. The only doctors appointment open was during a capital murder trial. It's not like I could reschedule. There were always menstrual problems, but this felt right. I remember getting the text that said 911 emergency. Cancer just seemed too wrong. She was too young, No known family history.
Our Families said that they would help. Everyone had shone up in the begining, but fewer and fewer visits happened as time progressed. LA is a long way from Lubbock, TX. When she hit chemo full force I was it. On a good day we would go to the beach and set in the sun. On a bad day she would want to go to the beach, but we didnt always make it. She enjoyed seeing the seagalls fly; dolphins dance in the waves. Her strength came back. She was her old self. The oncologist was saying what a remarkable recovery; but the old nurse at his office said hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
When the cancer came back qucikly. She no longer had good days. She had ok days. We mostly just sat in the hospital talking about the times we had. How she wanted me to ask her to the homecoming dance, but I was afraid she would say no. When our eyes met in the stairwell of the movie theater we worked in and we almost kissed. She always said I should have asked her out sooner; but I waited until I was a senior at Texas Tech University, and she a registered nurse. She talked about the house we lived in when I was a law student at the University of Oklahoma. She loved that house. We had our first puppy there. A boston terrier named Joe. Joe was like our child. Joe made every step we did. He accompanied us on a trip to Padre Island. That was our place. We sat on the beach for hours; watching Joe chase the surf, and chase the seagulls. At four years old Joe had uncontrollable epilepsy and had to be put down. We had him cremated. His ashes were put into a small tupperwear container. We burried the container underneath the lilac bush in our backyard. We always called it Joe's bush because he napped under the fragrant bush when the weather was nice enough. She would still tell him good morning everyday untill we left our little bungalow in Norman Oklahoma off main street. We said we loved that dog so much that we said a peice of our hearts died with him.
We left Norman for Los Angeles. A firm there offered me the best deal, so I took it. I found I had a talent for picking jury's, and defending questionable scum. I was fortunate enough to get a couple of big names out of sticky incarcerable situations. My reputation spread. I was the youngest attorney to make partner ever at Bisher, Holmes, Dillingham, and Hardin. I am the Hardin. After you get to know these people you are part of their click. Looking back everything was too perfect.
Our lives where just what happened in that hospital room. She made a living will. Under no circumstances was life support an option. We always felt that way. After dinner, which she ate very little of we settled in for our routine of watching wheel of fortune. Our constestdidnt look so good, but she was lucid. We always could laugh and smile, but something serious had taken hold. She started talking about plans. What she wanted done, how she wanted things. As I was taking notes the tears started welling up in my eyes. She said that I was to get her black dress from the house; it was always her favorite dress. "Baby girl, do we have to talk about it now?" "If not now when?" was her reply. She said that she wanted to be cremated. She knew her parents would protest, but she did not want to be put in that shitty brown Lubbock soil. "I dont even want my memorial service in Lubbock; If they want to commemorate me they can fly to LA", she said. I asked her what to do with her ashes, she said "think in your heart... you will know what to do". She then said she neede to nap. Two hours later she grabbed my hand and said, "I love you, and I have loved being your wife". Then she was gone.
The memorial service was a clusterfuck of a nightmare. Her family wanting to know why I didn't have her burried in Lubbock instead of asking everyone to fly to LA for her creamation. My family saying I had all of the money I needed; just cash it all in and move back to Lubbock Freinds and wellwishers saying I would be allright. All I needed was time. Time? I just had my fucking heart ripped out. Lubbock? She hated that place worse than hell. Fuck you all. After everyone left I just had silence. The senior partner at the firm said take all the time I needed. My days where just one continuous drink. Bourbon, tequila, rum, Crown Royal, Patron, Bacardi, I didn't care. I decided I needed to get out of LA; so I packed some clothes in a suitcase, grabbed a bottle of Patron, put her urn in the backseet, and hit the road.
Her list kept playing in my head: as vivid as a blu-ray disc. In my heart I will know...know what? The tequila had released its grip on my mind and I was alert. The rain followed me all the way to Albuquerque before the sun finally shown through the clouds. I don't know if it was the sun shining its rays, or the absence of tequila but I knew what I had to do. The sign said Oklahoma City 517 miles. Bruce Springsteen was still on the stereo, now singing about Atlantic City.
Oklahoma City had changed. There was now a crowded outlet mall on the outskirts of town, and I could see a new skyscrapper. I exited I40 and stopped at Walmart. After Walmart I stopped at a Kinkos on main in Norman. I purchased a jump drive from the student CSR behind the counter, then went to the computer and slid my Visa card into the reader. After I was through I told the clerk to have a good evening, then headed out the door.
The sun was leaving the Oklahoma sky. After I turned off main, I found the little white bungalow. No one was home; could have been finals, or the occupents just left school never to return. The cyclone fence squeaked as I opened the gate. I could her the constant whisk of the lawn sprinkler in the neighbors yard. There must have been rain in the past couple of days. The sooner red soil gave way to the penetrations of my Walmart shovel with little protest. At about two feet under the lilac bush I found what I had came for. Joe was in my hand for the first time in years. His grey ashes barely visible in the opaque tupperwear container. I put Joe in the back seat. I stopped at University Liquor and purchased a bottle of Patron We were on our way to I35 south. I once again was on auto pilot.
Dallas was a nightmare, but the Audi seemed to know where it was going. All points south; San Antonio, then Corpus Christi. I crossed the bridge from Corpus Christi on to the Island.
I parked my car in a parking lot just off the beach, and left the keys. As I walked down to our favorite spot I noticed that Schlitterban had built a water park on the beach. Everything else on Padre looked the same. I walked into the surf and pulled the lids off both the urn and the Tupperware container: a gentle breeze caught the ashes and moved them out into the Gulf of Mexico. I walked back to the dry sand. I broke the seal, then pulled the cork out of the Patron bottle. The burning liquid coursed down my throat. The jump drive on a gold chain around my neck I sat down in the sand. My hands located a large bottle from the Target pharmacy that had forty of her Oxycontin tablets and thirty of my Valium tablets. I alternated each pill and washed them each down with a slug of Patron. The sun was starting to set and I hoped everyone understood. I hoped when they read the jump drive they would see that part of my heart died with the dog, and the rest died with her. Every feeling of love, every prayer that needed to be answered, every moment of passion ceased to exist the minute her heart stopped beating. She was my soul mate, my love, my baby girl. She was gone; and now, so was I.
