Of Method and Madness

“Your sugar is a little low," The nurse said. "But the doctor will be in shortly. Would you like some juice while you wait?”

“Sure,” Joshua said. “Do you have any cranberry juice?”

The nurse frowned. “Sorry, all we have is orange. Cranberry seems to go quick.”

“Oh okay, no thank you.” He smiled. “I don’t want my breath to stink worse than it already does.”

His awkward attempt at a laugh ended with him coughing, all but souring the moment. The nurse smiled politely and left the room. Embarrassed, he slumped in the hospital chair and tried imagining himself as a younger man. He closed his eyes but saw an image of a skeleton instead. His eyes snapped open with anxiety as he heard the doorknob turn.

“Mr. Tofana? I'm Doctor Joe.” The doctor smiled and shook his hand. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. How are you feeling?"

"No, you're okay I'm just a bit cold," He lied. "It's always so cold in hospitals and I forgot to bring my jacket."

"I can understand that." Doctor Joe replied. "Doctor Salizar is on vacation so I'll be taking over. It looks like your blood sugar is a bit on the low side. Is there anything I can get you? A juice or…”

“Do you have cranberry?” Joshua asked.

“No, all we have is orange juice.”

“Yeah, right. That’s what the nurse said.” Joshua groaned. “You’re not holding out on me are you?” They both chuckled and the doctor dismissed his question with a wave.

“Sorry, but no. That's a popular one so we always run out between shipments.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry about it," Joshua said. "So... What’s the verdict, Dr. Joe?”

The doctor pursed his lips. “Mr. Tofana there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m going to tell you straight.”

Joshua sat up and nodded, urging him to continue. He mentally noted how long the silence stretched before the doctor told him what he already knew. The moment seemed to unfold inexhaustibly, and he thought about the skeleton.

Am I going to die? He thought.

He felt lethargic and distracted. His mind shifted to thinking of the car drive home and which exit he would take.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tofana.” The doctor said, jolting him back into awareness. “The cancer has metastasized.”

“What?!” He howled. "I'm sorry I... How much longer will I live?"

The doctor clasped his hands and took a deep breath. Joshua read his lips more than he heard him.

“Half a year!? But what about Christmas?” Joshua asked.

The doctor remained silent as Joshua wept. His hands felt cold so he clenched them. The doctor cleared his throat and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“If you’d prefer, Mr. Tofana, we could prescribe medication to manage your pain. We have affordable options that are insured.”

“Unbelievable,” Joshua whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Get your hand off of me!” Joshua made a beeline for the door. “You’re not my friend, you’re a doctor. It’s all about money to you guys, right?”

“Mr. Tofana, you have the wrong idea." He replied calmly. "I would strongly advise talking with your wife before making rash decisions.”

“Vulture!” He yelled back.

He slammed the door and stormed out of the hospital despite protests from his doctor. Pedestrians eyed him warily as he raced through crosswalks and stop signs. On the freeway, his temper nearly caused an accident. Shaken and exhausted, he focused on small details to keep himself grounded.

He drove the rest of the way at exactly the speed limit and made it safely home. An urge rooted inside him, and he attempted to park exactly one inch from his inner garage wall. The wall stopped him before he could, cracking a headlight.

“Jesus, you can’t even give me one good day!?” He yelled.

He broke down and cried on the spot, bawling his eyes out and cursing his life. Depression overtook him, and he crumbled against the wall, crying himself to sleep. He woke sometime later in a cold sweat and with a migraine. Fear caused his heart to race faster.

Oh no, my blood sugar is way too low! He thought.

It was dark in the garage so he fumbled in his pockets for his phone. He wiped his face with shaky hands and checked the time when he saw a dozen missed calls.

“Tracey.” He sighed. “Another vulture.”

Joshua opened his door and stumbled into the living room. He opened his fridge to see an unopened liter of cranberry juice and a chocolate muffin. He chugged the liter and sat on his couch, ignoring the smell of stale tuna and cigarettes. He began rolling tobacco when his phone ringtone blared “Love T.K.O.” by Teddy Pendergrass. He frowned but picked up on the third ring.

“What do you want?” He asked, eating his muffin.

“I’ve been calling you all day! Is now a good time?” Tracey asked.

“Look, now’s not a good time. I got back from the hospital and—”

“Sounds good.” She interrupted. “Anyway, my lawyer has been trying to reach you. It’s about the Corvette. Give it to me and I won't fight for the house in the divorce.”

Joshua was too stunned to say anything. After a brief silence, he gave a dry chuckle and lit his cigarette.

“The Corvette, huh?” He growled.

“In case you didn’t know,” Tracey continued, “You were the one who got caught with his pants down. It’s a small price to pay for ten years of marriage.”

“It was my father's car.” He said.

“Like I said,” She replied coldly. “It's a small price to pay.”

“Unbelievable. Would you like to have anything else? The kitchen sink? How about my balls as a farewell gift?”

“Just the Corvette.” She replied. “On top of everything else we’ve agreed to. I’ve already arranged the paperwork with my lawyer.”

He made a sound that was more of a growl than a cough.

“At least you’ll keep the house. Manage your expectations Josh, or the Judge will do it for you.”

“First you keep my kids from me and now you want the Corvette? Why don’t you ask your sugar daddy for one? He can buy you two of them and not bat an eye. After all, he’s a millionaire for Christ's sake.”

“Joshua I …”

“You what?” He cut her off. “You want to destroy me? Do you want to watch me suffer? You slept around for the entire marriage and I kept quiet for the kids. But the moment I want some peace for myself all of a sudden I’m a terrible father and husband. I paid for everything, hospital bills, college, cars, apartments, everything. I did everything for us, but it was never enough!”

“You were an alcoholic that couldn’t hold down a job. The kids feared you and now they won't talk to you. That's not my fault, it's yours. It’s your responsibility as a man to keep us secure, and you couldn’t do that.” She sighed. “What did you want us to do, struggle with you?”

“I got fired after you started sleeping with my boss because I told human resources. That's why I started drinking! You were the reason behind that, and now you’re throwing it in my face like it was my fault?”

“He was there and you weren’t.” She said. “You wouldn’t even touch me! You were too drunk and would cry all night about how you couldn't get it up.”

He flew in a rage. “Both of my parents died! We couldn't even go to their funeral because I couldn't afford it. What did you expect? You couldn’t console me because you felt ‘overwhelmed’ by my emotions, but slept with my boss behind my back?”

“At least he made sure our kids ate every night!” She raised an octave. “Joshua, I can’t do this anymore. I’ll call you back when you’ve calmed down and can have a rational conversation again.”

“Oh, you want a rational conversation? Well, how about this… The cancer I got by working for him progressed to stage four. I won’t see my kids for Christmas, but at least you’ll get my Dad's Corvette, right Tracey?!”

Joshua threw his phone against the wall, shattering it. He yelled into the air and tore at his skin. The lit cigarette fell and burned through his shirt and he felt silly swiping away at it. He started laughing at himself but the laugh soon turned into sobs and cries of frustration. He told himself that he got the final word, but feelings of bitter rage persisted.

He began wondering if she called about the Corvette or for something else. The thought of his children in funeral attire brought feelings of helplessness. He grew melancholic and sat down, snatching a bottle of liquor.

“That damned doctor.” He sighed. “Must’ve called and told her about what happened this morning.”

He knew chugging the bottle wasn't good, but he felt horrible. He turned on the TV and saw Ken Berrymore, the man who fired him, in a commercial.

“You ruined my life.” Joshua slurred. “This is your fault and I’m making you pay. I swear I will.”

He passed out on his living room sofa, cradling an empty bottle and a broken heart. Nightmares of bone cancer and toxic chemicals took root, robbing him of a peaceful night’s sleep.

~~~

Ken Berrymore pulled into a driveway with his electric blue Mitsubishi Cordia. ‘Man in the Mirror’ by Michael Jackson was playing on the radio, and his mistress sang off-tune. The sound grated on his ears.

“Who sings this?” He asked, feigning ignorance.

“Are you serious?” She shrieked. “That’s Michael Jackson! Did you forget?”

“Well, you should let him do the singing, then.” He teased.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” She scowled and turned the radio down. “Why don’t you pay for my singing lessons if it bothers you?”

“A condo isn’t enough, so now she wants singing lessons. You’re a demanding lady, you know that?”

“Can Christine sing?” She asked mischievously.

“Now what’s Christine got to do with this?” He asked.

She pouted in the passenger seat and crossed her arms, giving him the silent treatment. He sighed and placed his hand on her thigh.

“How about I come over later this evening?” He asked while caressing her leg. “You and I discuss it over some wine… Your kids are with your folks, so tonight’s perfect.”

He moved in for a kiss and she relented, giving in to his advances.

“As much as I’d love that, I can’t.” She said. “I have an appointment with my lawyer about you-know-who.”

Ken groaned. “Can’t you reschedule it? Besides, meeting with a lawyer is a little late, don’t you think?”

Tracey sighed. “I need to. He sounded serious.”

Ken eyed her. “Give me a call when it’s done. Pretend it’s a work thing if Christine answers.”

She smiled and kissed him. “I will, I promise. Now you get back before she starts getting suspicious.”

“That woman?” Ken laughed. “Oh please, she doesn’t know a thing. Call me soon, okay?”

“I will baby. You better pick up when I call or else!” She said.

He chuckled as she stumbled out the car door and teased her before peeling off. It took him less than an hour to reach his house, but the sun had since set. As he parked in his driveway, he heard a crash and checked his rearview mirror. A shadow raced across his fence, knocking over his trashcans. Ken left his car to go check and cursed under his breath.

“First the mailbox, and now this. Once I tell the Sheriff, their parents will be sorry.” He cleaned the mess up and walked inside his mansion, checking for discrepancies.

“Oh, you’re home!” Christine said. She kissed him and hung his coat on the coat rack. “The Sheriff called a moment ago. He said to call you back as soon as you’re able.”

“Did he tell you what it was about?” He asked.

“No, but he sounded serious." Christine frowned. "You look stressed. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it's likely something about that court case against me." He shrugged. "I’ll call him right now. Did you make dinner?”

“Yes, it’s almost ready.” She answered.

“Good. Call me when it's ready. I’ll take the call upstairs.”

The Sheriff seemed annoyed but listened to Ken's grievances before speaking.

“Ken, this is more urgent than broken mailboxes and trashcans. Remember that guy you… Ahem…Fired?” He asked pointedly.

“Oh… Tracey’s old man?”

“Yeah him. A local news station called to file a report against him. He told them to be at your place tonight because he has a story for them. He had a gun. He only left when they threatened to call the cops."

Ken cursed silently. "Did he say anything else? Did he talk about his work at the plant?"

“No, but be careful." The Sheriff said. "I’m going to send a patrol car over just to be safe.”

“What are you crazy? Absolutely not. What will my wife think?”

“You mean before or after your funeral?" The Sheriff sighed. "The guy has no wife, no job, and dying of cancer. You did all that to him. I'm not taking it lightly."

A cold feeling sat in Ken's gut. "Well, Sheriff I'm sure this warning isn't coming from the kindness of your heart, am I right?"

"I can't believe you'd think so low of me Kenny." He answered sarcastically. "After all we've been through as friends."

"How much?" He asked.

"How does that Mitsubishi Cordia drive? I heard you got it in electric blue, too."

"Who told you that?" Ken asked.

"A mutual friend." The Sheriff chuckled. "How about it?"

“We'll talk about it in the morning," Ken said. "If I see the next morning. By the way, she drives pretty great, huh you old dirtbag?"

"That she does."

Both men chuckled before hanging up, but Kenny couldn't help but feel angry about the call.

I knew Tracey was trouble, but extortion from the Sheriff was a bit much. He thought.

“Christine!” He called. "Make me a plate, I'm coming down."

Kenneth walked downstairs to the dining room and spied two empty plates. He looked around and saw his wife cowering in the corner. Before he could ask what happened, a swift blow to his head knocked him off balance. He lay on the floor dazed before looking up at his assailant. His blood went cold.

“Remember me?” Joshua growled. He pointed his pistol to Christine and ordered her to stand up. Ken tried to move but Joshua struck him with his boot. Blood sprayed across the kitchen floor, and Christine screamed in terror.

“Stop screaming or you're next!" He bellowed. “Carry him to the table. Don't just stand there, hurry it up!”

Ken, disoriented from the attack, stumbled into his chair with the help of his wife. She was wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Rage boiled up at her sight, and he turned around to attack Joshua but froze when he saw the barrel.

"Give me a reason," Joshua whispered venomously. "I dare you."

“Just tell me what you want, don’t hurt us!” Ken pleaded, finally sitting down at the table.

Joshua glared at him and opened their freezer, taking out two frozen TV dinners. He threw it on the table and took two small vials from his pocket. Ken watched in horror as he poured the contents onto both plates.

"I want you to eat," Joshua said calmly.

"What?" Ken asked.

"What's the matter," Joshua growled. "Some dishes are best served cold, aren't they?"

"Why are you doing this to us?" Christine said. "We're Christians!"

“Oh you might be a Christian," Joshua laughed. "But your husband isn't. Do you know he's been banging my wife for the past year? I'll bet you didn't know he's the reason I'm dying from cancer as well!"

Ken looked at his wife, who looked back with confusion and horror, and then back to Joshua. He then looked at his plate of food, which had a black substance over it, and began sobbing.

“Eat!” Joshua commanded.

“Please, don’t do this!” Christine pleaded.

At that moment, the Sheriff walked in through the open front door and spotted the trio. Christine cried out for help and Ken lifted the table, knocking Joshua off balance. He dropped to the floor giving them enough time to run out the door before Joshua retaliated. The cop immediately took cover and returned fire. After a moment of silence, the cop went to check and saw a pool of blood. Joshua looked up at the cop and smiled.

"The press knows about the corruption." He whispered, coughing up blood. "You got kickbacks from him to bury the cases. When I die, that'll hit the news. It's game over for you and him both."

Joshua's eyes glazed over and he passed away with an expression twisted by pure vengeance. As time passed, neither the Sheriff nor Ken would find peace. Imprisoned and robbed of freedom, they found no relief. It wasn't in the general population who despised them. Nor was it in the tasteless meals served on their ice-cold platters.