Desperate Remedies

Dee flashed before me for a minute, his terrified look mirroring my own.

“What?” he exclaimed before falling onto my new hardwood floors—the ones I had spent years saving for.

I was good at saving up—I've been saving all my life. I always put off what could be done until tomorrow or next week. The years go by in what seems like a month, and then it's the new me! Ta-da! I fooled myself!

Dee says I'm always fooling myself. We have the perfect marriage, and he’s always ahead of me. You’re such a mind reader! I told him one day. I meant it as a joke, but he looked at me like it worried him that I was on to something.

And what was I onto, exactly? Dee talked about being "discovered" and how he had to do something about it—crazy stuff.

Which got me thinking. Robin Williams has nothing on me! I’d joke about how aliens were fashionable and acting like one was all the rage back then. Go ahead, Dee! Rave on, and I'll laugh at the correct times! That show—what was it called? Mork and Mindy?

But then, there was an annoyance. Someone was speaking.

Officer Jones: About those hardwood floors, it seems strange that you’d have them installed and then have a fire that practically destroys everything.

He shuffles through some papers in a file—the one he brought into the interview room—dog-eared papers that make crinkling sounds when handled.

Officer Jones: Here it is. The fire department says an accelerant was used in the fire. Arson is suspected. Do you have anything to say?

When was the last time I spoke? Was it when Dee left? Or was it when that thing happened? I’m nearer to him now than ever! So near. It wasn’t. Fire. It never could be.

Officer Jones: You won’t answer? Or you can’t? Which is it?

I want my dreams now more than ever. That’s where Dee is!

Time, space, rules, belief, and disbelief. Now it’s arson and fire department, officers and police stations, jail, and threats, and a lawyer assigned to me. Don’t they get it? It wasn't me!

#

“She’s a humdinger!” Ali sighed, gulping water from that buzzing water fountain.

“That thing’s been here—how long? Twenty years? How long it's been doin’ this job—longer than a bushwhacked old timer like you?”

“You have something against water fountains?” snapped Alex as he fumbled for his cell phone. Alex thought of putting the call through on speakerphone if he could remember how. But, come to think of it, maybe she’d only bombard him with so many questions regardless—why bother?

Of course, it was Crown attorney Stevenson: Where’s my case? He says.

Alex explained it was stalled. How specific could you be about a case on a cell phone in the middle of a police station foyer? But Stevenson went on and on, explaining what Alex already knew: You build a murder conviction on evidence after you establish the perpetrator's mental competency, which they were nowhere near being able to do.

Stevenson: Tell those bozos to leave off on arson, will ya? We’ve got bigger fish to fry! There’s more heat on me to bring charges than you can imagine!

Alex wondered if handholding anyone was part of his job. He decided to have Ali call Stevenson back on her cell. That should send a message.

#

How do you hate what you love? Is it from living moment by moment, never able to reconcile what you adore yet fear simultaneously? Never to know any kind of peace because you don't fully understand the person you love? They say parallel lines meet in infinity. The lines of my heart were not drawn but subsisted in duality, a tension between what appeared to be true and what? A nameless void? A feeling of being in a familiar place, yet in another country? It's a restaurant, and you're not with your friends. Or you are with your friends, but you've forgotten their names. Or maybe you never really knew who your friends were until this moment. Except, it was never just a moment. This went on for years.

It was always better at night in the hospital when Dee came to me. It's better at least to have someone to talk to. He’d be there smiling, talking a blue streak about assembling barbecues and having pieces left over. Or how many grandchildren we would have. He said six! I never could get as high as that, with so many of my friends having kids failing to launch. And I told Dee about my bucket list and the things I would do during my life before it became popular to use that expression! What an odd life we were living. Always ahead of our time.

The nurses come and go, and I never speak. They are always talking about anything and everything. They look at me and hope I will answer. I want to speak, but the words never come.

Every time I try, Dee calls me back! It’s his way, he calls it—his transformation. Never mind that it wasn't what we wanted. Soon, we won’t need to do anything. It will all come to us, he says. I asked him what could be better than we had, and he wouldn’t answer.

He wouldn't answer! What children we would have! What life did we share? I wanted so much to cry. But my tears wouldn't come.

#

“Murder one? Based on what exactly?”

“It's what Stevenson wants,” replied Ali as she quaffed coffee across from that ancient basement vending machine that dispensed cups seared by more steam than brew. Alex shook his head. Maybe he should have called Stevenson back after all. Was there any real discussion before this latest decision?

Ali shrugged her shoulders. “This stuff is awful! Where’s the nearest Tim Hortons to this place?”

“You do a Timmy run if you want. I'm off to see the doctor. Maybe he has something for us.”

Ali stared at him. "You think Doc is going to talk off the record? Seriously?"

Alex jangled his keys in his pocket. "Are you coming or not?"

#

“I don’t have time for this,” sighed Dr. Arnolds. What was it? Three in the afternoon. Two people to see him, who wouldn't wait. How many patients had to wait constantly for their fifteen-minute interviews? Hours and hours of minimal caretaking were all that the provincial government had time for. It was a circus.

“Oh, it's Celine you’re here for. What do you need to know?”

“Competency to stand trial?” asked Alex.

“You know I can’t tell you that!”

“Gut feeling? Ballpark it for us?”

“She has been remanded for thirty days of observation. You can read my report when it's ready!”

Ali winked at Dr. Arnold when it was time to leave. "Thanks anyway, Doc!" she said as she grinned at Alex.

#

“So, it’s the big meeting, huh?” asked Ali. “The big brouhaha eh? You show what you have, and I’ll show you mine?” Ali looked around the table at all the spaces reserved for everyone. She nudged Alex as she sat down at her assigned spot. “Hey, I thought you didn’t do Timmy runs! What’s this, a double-double? I take it black!”

“You’ll take it any way you get it!” hissed Alex. "Do not speak if you know what's good for you!" He had the report and how Stevenson wanted things. Everything was already decided.

“Oh, I get it,” Ali said as she reached for a copy of the agenda. “It's big boys and their toys.”

#

I saw the papers and could hear the nurses talking in the back of my mind. Of course, they cared so little about how I felt! Only Dee could make me feel better—until he didn't.

The headline was “Mystery Death Remains Unsolved.” It was about the unrecognized state of the body, the lurid details of supposed “spontaneous combustion.” It no longer mattered to me.

Dee has all the answers until he doesn’t. Then I’m wondering why. How?

Which made no sense. I did what I had to do. Now, the less said, the better. Even when I completely recover, there will be no trial or jail time so long as I keep my mouth shut.

But then Dee comes for me more and more, even when I care less and less! Soon, we’ll be together forever, he says. I can hardly wait.