“It actually turned my stomach, the sound of the knife going through cartilage. And I’m thinking, if this doesn’t wake you up, lady, you really are dead.”
He laughs. It is a quiet chuckle that has no joy in it.
“Lend me your ear. Play it by ear. Think of all the lame clichés with the word ear in them. You never listened. If only you had listened. Why did God give ears to people who don’t listen?”
I don’t want to open the wrong case.
“Well, now you have to listen. That’s all you can do. Isn’t it something the way things turn out?”
Please don’t let me open the wrong one.
“Are you awake yet!” he yells. “The best part you won’t smell. Well, sort of an ozone smell. You ever heard the old saying about someone sucking all the air out of the room? You’re about to find out it’s true.”
I’m pretty sure what I want will be in a Pelican transport case, what Marino calls a sixteen-thirty.
“Are you listening to me? Wake up!”
I feel a fold-down handle, and that could be a good sign, but it’s hard for me to remember.
“How good I’ve been to you, and this is what I get. I bring you flowers and hold your disgusting hand.” He continues talking to me, and he’s talking to somebody else.
Very, very slowly I push up a plastic clasp, working my fingers along the side of the case until I feel another clasp and then another.
“Dutiful, perfect, really, and put you in the best place when what I really should have done is spit in your face. You know what it’s cost me all these years because you had me late and I was raised by a disgusting old hag? By the grace of no one but me. Fayth House, and you aren’t gracious or grateful. A damn hypocrite, and it’s time you admit it. Well, you will. In a little while, you’re going to apologize.”
Please don’t let there be nothing but gloves and protective clothing in here.
But the size seems right. A Pelican case, what feels like a large toolbox. The cases we keep disposable clothing and sheets in are more like utility dry boxes with steel bar latches. I’m pretty sure. I’m trying so hard to think straight. My heart is flying like a terrified bird.
“You’re a cold-blooded bitch, and I could have let you die, which is what you really wanted. And that’s why I didn’t. A squash for a brain, nothing but a fruit or a vegetable lying there or sitting up in the chair, staring. And you can’t speak for yourself anymore, not the silver-tongued phony anymore, the virtuous do-gooder anymore. I’ve let you live because I enjoy seeing you this way. For the first time, I actually enjoy coming to see you. Pissing yourself, shitting in the bed. Getting uglier, more sour-smelling, more revolting every day. Who’s the hero now?”
I work up the lid several inches, feeling inside the case without opening it all the way because it’s heavy and I don’t want to make noise. I feel convoluted foam inside.
“I know you’re awake!” he yells, and I freeze. “Tell me the password for your phone!”
I slowly, gently move my fingers inside the case and feel marking pens and a stapler. Evidence packaging supplies, and I know I’ve found the right one. I feel the looped steel handles of small scissors and pull them out, and I begin to cut the netting, and the SUV is going much slower. I see tall streetlights and broken windows and corrugated aluminum siding flowing past the tops of the dark tinted windows, some of the buildings we pass boarded up.
Moving as little as I possibly can, I work my arms and head out of the netting, and then my feet are free of it, and they feel frozen, as if they’ve turned to stone. I slip my hand back inside the case, feeling for the metal handle.
“Wake up!”
Plastic and glass, and I recognize pillboxes and vials, and a steel scalpel handle. He is going very slowly over rough pavement in a dark, deserted area with old abandoned warehouses.
“I know you’re awake. I didn’t give you that much,” he repeats. “I’m going to stop in a minute and get you out, and it’s no good for you to try anything. Another little nap and then I’m going to show you something you’ve never seen before. I think you’ll be fascinated.”
I find the foil pouch of disposable scalpel blades.