Some Are Sicker Than Others (18 page)

She sighed and took a deep breath inward. She’ll never forget that sight as long as she lives. Bill on his back, eyes closed, tongue licking the tops of his lips, a small head bobbing up and down above the covers, long, dark strands of hair fanned out over his crotch. She could never exactly remember what happened after that. She must have had what they call an out of body experience. Her senses went limp, her skin turned ice cold, and the next thing she knew she was standing in the doorway with a butcher knife in her hand, watching Bill, one pant leg in, the other out, hopping around pathetically like a one legged kangaroo. The intern was on the bed, frozen with fear, her naked body curled up in a bundle of quilts. Angie lunged forward, the knife raised above her towards the intern who was shrieking at the top of her lungs. But, Bill flew across the bed before she could get to her, hurling her backwards against the wall. She swung the knife wildly in a downward motion, catching the side of Bill’s arm. He grabbed her wrist before she could do any more damage and hammered it as hard as he could until the knife came loose and dropped to the floor. After he kicked it out into the hallway, he wrestled Angie to the carpet and pinned her hands behind her head. She remembered tasting his blood as he straddled her, all two hundred pounds of him crushing down on top of her chest. She kicked and writhed, screaming at him to get off of her, foaming at the mouth, trying to break free.

The intern grabbed the knife and darted into the kitchen, picked up the phone and called the police. They arrived moments later in a swirl of blue and red flashing lights. They kicked down the door and trampled into the bedroom, their pistols drawn, their shiny badges gleaming off the bedside lamp. They rolled Angie over and slapped the cuffs on her then picked her up and marched her out the front door. By that time, all the neighbors had assembled outside in their driveways, watching as the cops shoved her against the patrol car. They patted her down in front of everybody then flung her into the back seat like a piece of white trash. And Bill just stood there, his head hung in embarrassment, his eyes on the ground, not saying a damn word. What a coward. What a spineless piece of trash.

What was she supposed to have done? Just sit there and do nothing, while that little tramp sucked on her husband’s cock? She wished Bill hadn’t stopped her when he had. She wished she could’ve sliced off a chunk of that whore’s flesh. Maybe an ear or a finger or possibly a nipple. Yeah, a nipple. That would have been good. She would have been justified too.

It was a shame the courts didn’t see it that way. They gave Bill everything—the house, the cars...even the boat. All she got was a monthly alimony payment and a year’s worth of mandatory therapy. The kids stayed with their dad. Angie wasn’t even allowed to see them without a chaperone and a set date and time. She felt like a stranger sitting out there in the driveway of her own house, that imposter inside, sleeping in her bed, watching her TV, screwing her husband.

Angie sighed and put on her right blinker then got off on the downtown exit and made a right turn at Broadway and Sixth. She turned into the parking lot next to the theater, threw the car in park, and finished her cigarette. Once she was done, she chucked it out the window then checked herself in the mirror, making sure her wool cap was pulled down over her sores. Then, she got out and made her way across the icy parking lot, her hands dug deep into her jacket pockets.

When she got to the entrance, the automatic doors slid open and a rush of warm air swallowed her whole. Mind-numbing elevator music played out over the speakers as she made her way over to the cough medicine aisle. She paced up and down, inspecting the products, squinting under the strain of the bright fluorescent lights. But it wasn’t easy—there were so many to choose from—cough-gels, liquid-gels, extra strength, maximum strength, pills, capsules, caplets, red liquids, green liquids, boxes, rubs, sprays, gels, nighttime, daytime, cough and cold, cold and cough, sinus and allergy, congestion and pain, sore throat, drowsy, non-drowsy, PM, AM, all day, all night, double action, triple action, quadruple action. “Shit.” She only needed one kind. Where the hell was it? There were hundreds and hundreds of different brand names to choose from. Advil, Afrin, Alavert, Aleve, Alka Seltzer, Anacin…and that was only the A’s. There was also Bayer, Benadryl, Benefiber, Breatheright, Cepacol, Claritin, Chloraseptic, Ibuprofen, Metamucil, Motrin, Mucinex, Mylanta, Rite Aid, Robitussin, Theraflu, Tylenol, Tums, Vicks and finally Sudafed. But which one? There were more than a dozen types of Sudafed. She picked up the first one she saw, which was in a purple box. It read,
Sudafed PE Sinus and Headache. Contains: Acetaminophen and Phenylephrine
.

Was this the right one? No. Rick said not to get the stuff with PE on the front. It stood for Phenylephrine, which wasn’t what she wanted. She needed ephedrine. She put the box back. She picked up the one that said
Maximum Strength Nasal Decongestant, Main Ingredient: Pseudoephedrine HCl tablets
.

Jackpot. This was the one. She remembered the bright red box and the picture of the head with the molten lava sinus cavity. But remember what Rick said—no more than three at a time. She picked up four and walked to the register. There was a short, Indian girl standing behind the counter, flipping through the pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine. The girl popped purple bubble gum and wore a pair of heavy looking hoop earrings that tugged at her earlobes and stretched out her flesh. Angie laid the boxes down on the counter. The girl folded her magazine and picked up the scanner. She scanned the boxes one by one and placed them into a plastic bag.

“Is that all?” she asked in a thick Indian accent then popped a purple bubble right in Angie’s face.

“Yes, that’s it.”

“Flu?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, do you have flu?”

“Oh yes, yes, I do, I do.”

“Your kids have it too?”

“What?”

“I said your kids must have it too. Four boxes. One, two, three, four. That’s a lot. You must have much sickness in your household.”

“Oh yes, yes, I do. We are all very, very sick.”

“Oh you poor thing. You look horrible. You should go lie down.”

“Oh thank you. Yes, I will.”

“Okay. So, total is fifty-eight dollars and thirty-five cents.”

Angie pulled out her credit card and swiped the machine. It felt like an eternity for the transaction to go through. She clutched her arms and tugged at the sleeves of her jacket, the Indian girl looking at her with a pleasant smile.

What was she looking at? Was she looking at her forehead? She couldn’t see her sores, could she? Weren’t they covered up?

The receipt finally finished printing out. The girl ripped it off and slapped it on the counter. “Sign please.”

Angie took a pen from a red plastic cup and went to scribble her name, but the pen was out of ink, so she smashed the ballpoint down on the counter and tried again, but still, no ink.

“Here,” said the girl, “You try mine.” The Indian girl pulled a pen from her front shirt pocket.

“Thanks,” Angie said, as she took the pen and scribbled her name.

“You’re welcome.”

Angie gathered her bag and headed for the exit, but the Indian girl stopped her and said, “Wait mam, you forgot your receipt.”

Angie whirled around and marched back to the counter and said, “thank you,” as she snatched the receipt.

“You’re welcome. Be sure to get plenty of rest today.”

“Yes, I will. Thanks again.”

“Okay. Bye, bye now.”

Angie nodded then headed for the exit, clutching her bag close to her chest. When she got outside, she buttoned up her jacket and pulled her hood up around her head. She unlocked the door and climbed behind the wheel. After turning the keys to crank on the engine, she hit the windshield wipers to wipe off the snow. She threw the car into reverse and back out of the parking lot then made a right onto Broadway and headed north towards Speer. Okay, one down, two more to go. Next up was the CVS on Speer, and after that, the Super Target in Glendale. Everything was going to be okay. She could do this. She just had to hold it together for a few more stores.

Chapter 14

The Tanks

ANGIE stomped her way into the trailer, a half dozen grocery bags hanging from her arms. “Hello? Could use a little help here.”

“Not now,” Rick said, sitting at the kitchen table, a line of batteries beneath his nose. “I’m doing the batteries. I’ll help in a minute.”

Angie blew her hair back from her eyes and trudged in her snow boots across the trailer’s hollow floor. “Well, where should I put these?” she said, stopping next to kitchen table.

“Jesus Angie. It doesn’t matter. Anywhere’s fine.”

Angie dropped the bags right where she was standing. They thudded like cement blocks onto the kitchen floor.

“Jesus Christ. Be careful, would ya? You’re acting like a two year old.”

“Well, you said anywhere.” She bent over, picked up her McDonald’s bag, and carried it over with her to the living room futon. As she sat down, a cloud of dust exploded from the fabric and hovered above her head. “Oooh…gross!”

“What’s wrong now?”

“This dust. It’s filthy in here.”

“Well then clean it.”

“You clean it. It’s your place.”

“You live here too Angie.”

“Please don’t start with me Rick. I am not in the mood.” She dug into the paper bag and pulled out her quarter pounder then unwrapped the paper wrapping and took a big bite. The meat melted in her mouth like a stick of butter and the cheese stuck to her lips in long, stringy strands. “Hmm. So good.”

Rick looked up from the table, holding a pair of needle nose pliers. “Did you get any for me?” he said.

Angie looked at him with a mouthful of burger, half-smiling, half-choking on the cheese. “I didn’t know you wanted any sweetie.”

“That figures. You know, you are so selfish Angie.”

“What?”

“It’s always about you isn’t it?”

“You should’ve told me you wanted some.”

“I shouldn’t have to. You should just know.”

“I’m not a mind reader.”

Rick made a snorting sound then bent over and started rifling through the plastic grocery bags on the kitchen floor. “Where is it?” he said, as he tore through the plastic, packets of Sudafed flying out of the bags. “Where the hell is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The lantern fuel. Where’s the god damn lantern fuel?”

Angie froze and swallowed her last bite of burger. “Uh-oh.”

Rick stood up slowly, a look of crazed apprehension in his eyes. “Uh-oh? What do you mean uh-oh?”

Angie shrugged and slumped down against the futon. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Sorry?” Rick flipped his long hair back and drove his fists down onto the kitchen table. “Jesus Christ! How could you forget?”

“Please don’t yell at me, Rick.”

“I can’t believe you, Angie. Just how dense are you?”

“Stop yelling at me you jerk. It’s not my fault. You had a gazillion damn things on that stupid grocery list. I can’t remember everything, you know.”

Rick turned away and laughed an insane, little laugh. “For God’s sake, I ask you to do one simple thing and you can’t even do it. Can you? How do you expect me to cook this shit without any lantern fuel? Huh? What am I suppose to put over the lithium I just spent an hour gutting from these fucking batteries?”

“Why can’t we just use water?”

Rick stepped back, dropping his hands to his sides, looking at Angie as if she was out of her mind. “Water? Are you kidding me? Please say you’re just joking around.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Lithium and water are reactive. They’ll explode. Christ, didn’t you ever take chemistry when you were in high school? Oh wait. That’s right. I forgot. You were probably too busy shaking your pompoms, sucking Bill’s dick to even crack open a textbook. Weren’t you? Weren’t you?”

“Well, what do you want me to do? You want me to go back to Glendale and get it?”

“No, no, no. There’s no time. We need to get out to those tanks before it starts snowing again. Shit. We’ll just have to make due without it.” Rick sat back down and started stacking the Sudafed boxes into neat little rows in front of the batteries. “You wanna help me with these?”

“Not if you’re gonna be a jerk about it.”

Rick rolled his eyes. “Let me rephrase. Honey, sweetie, it would sure would be swell if you helped me empty these Sudafed boxes so we can make the mud and get out to those tanks before the god damn blizzard of the century blows in.”

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” Angie grabbed her McDonald’s bag and walked over to the kitchen, shoving a fistful of fries into her mouth as she walked. “What do you want me to do?”

“Help me pop these things out.”

“Alright.”

She picked up a box and tore it open with her teeth. The Sudafed was encased in a plastic covering with perforated foil on the back. Angie dug her fingernails into the foil and started popping the small, red tablets out of their packaging. They bounced around like red M&M’s on the table.

“Okay,” Rick said, as he got up and walked to the sink, “you keep going on those and I’ll get the blender ready.”

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“Fuck you.” Rick walked over to the cabinets and crouched beneath the sink. He pulled out the blender and set it up next to the table on the kitchen counter. It was a dinky looking thing, an Oster with four speeds and probably not more than a hundred watts. He unwound the cord and plugged it into the outlet. He removed the glass pitcher from its cradle, held it beneath the table, and brushed Angie’s pile of pills into the pitcher.

“Hold on,” Angie said. “I’m not done yet.”

“Well hurry up. Shit. How many more you got?”

“One more box. Hold your damn horses.”

Angie finished the last box. She slammed the Sudafed box down on the table. “There. Have at it big boy.”

“Finally. Jesus.” Rick brushed the pills into the pitcher then screwed it back into its cradle and secured the top. He hit the power button and the blender began wailing, the pills dancing around in a frenzy of red and white dust. After about thirty seconds, the pills turned into a fine red, chalky powder. Rick released the button and the blades came to a rest. He removed the top and lifted the pitcher. Angie held a little plastic baggy open while Rick carefully dumped the powder into the bag. A few clumps stuck to the sides.