The Cursed Man (7 page)

“I am going to call him and let him know you are on the way.”

Bonnie picked up the phone, and Michael hobbled to the director's office.

 

 

“I should have told her off,” Michael said. He stood in front of the director's closed door and raised his hand to knock. The door opened and the director looked back at him with eyes magnified by the eyeglasses he wore.

“I've been expecting you. Come on inside and have a seat.”

Michael smiled. Not because he was happy to see the director but rather because of the way he made him feel. His heart pounded and butterflies in his stomach took flight.

He followed the director inside the office and sat in a chair positioned in front of his desk. He felt like a naughty school kid that had been sent to the principal's office.

“Let us start off with the truth, shall we?” the director said.

Michael nodded and felt his mouth dry.

The director sat in his chair and leaned his elbows on the desktop. “You understand that the doctor making it through the night might make some people drop their guard, don't you?”

“I do.”

The director paused and studied Michael.

“And they might believe the curse isn't real because we've done such a good job of containing it.”

Though the director was a small man that wasn't blessed with a deep voice, he didn't need it. He held a powerful position and used his authority in a way that made people feel obligated to obey. Maybe it was the fear of not knowing what he was like when pushed beyond a certain point.

“I don't doubt it's real,” Michael said, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs. “And I'm not stupid. I have a wife and child at home that I would like to see every night.”

The director sat back and revealed a smile.

“I want to be sure that you understand the threat Alister's presence poses to everyone inside this hospital.”

“I do.”

“I hope that is the truth,” the director said. “Your safety is my top concern. I have seen what it can do and hope to never see it again.”

 

 

DEATH GETS THEM, ONE BY ONE

 

 

“You're annoying me,” Alister said. He had spoken low enough that Anna didn't hear him. “I just wish you'd leave me alone.” She approached him with a cup of water and a look of concern.

“Please, take a drink.”

He turned away. Her care was fake, misplaced and unwanted. A surge of anger made him want to jump up, get into her face and tell her she wasn't welcome.

He looked at her and spoke up. “But there's no sense in doing that, is there?”

“What?”

Alister shook his head. He did all he could to keep the bite out of his tone. “It doesn't really matter, does it?”

“I think it does. We won't be able to move forward unless you openly communicate with me.”

He wiped his eyes. “And I told you that I didn't want to talk. Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“Things will get easier for you. I promise.”

Anna held the cup out and Alister took it. He finished its entire contents in one gulp.

“I don't think you understand how painful it is for me to relive the experiences of my past,” Alister said. “Your doubt—”

“I'm skeptical.”

“I ask that you don't interrupt me, doctor. You wanted me to talk, and that is what I'm trying to do.”

Anna shifted and crossed her legs, and Alister wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What I wanted to say is that your doubt in what I know to be true only intensifies my need to disbelieve you.”

“My openness about my doubt is to show you that I'm not going to hide behind my fear.” Anna reached for the empty cup and Alister moved it away. “And I refuse to feed your fears.”

“Your being here is destroying the peace that has taken me over twenty years to build.” He stared at Anna, his breathing noticeably harder. “Even though I sit and look out this window day after day contemplating the trivial details of a life worth nothing, it is still something that is good to me.” He stood, opened his arms wide and spun around. “To think that this could actually be good for someone.” He dropped his hands to his sides and plopped himself into his chair. “That is something you could never hope to understand. I don't care what degree you have.”

“Then help me to understand.”

“It is good for me because when I'm in this room, there is no death.”

“You do understand that there hasn't been any since I arrived?”

Alister pushed his fingers through the hair on his chin. “I fear that is going to change. I also believe the amount of people it takes will increase the longer it allows you to keep coming around.”

“I don't understand why.”

“Why can't you see?” Alister let the question linger for a moment. “Other people will doubt the curse's existence, and they will believe it is OK to talk to me.”

Anna sighed. “Look, Alister, I think you've been conditioned into believing these things. But they are untruths that we need to face, and we can do it together.”

Alister crushed the cup and dropped it on the floor between his feet. “Excuse me. I have to use the bathroom.”

He stood, pushed himself past Anna and entered the small bathroom. An unused shower stall and a steel toilet bowl next to a steel sink left little standing room. He closed the door, gazed into the polished piece of sheet metal fastened to the wall and clenched his fists.

“Stupid bitch.”

He got down on his knees, pressed his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes.

“I know you're still with me; I can feel you. She's causing me a great deal of distress, and I beg you to take her, please.”

 

 

The past.

 

“Tell me what happened to him,” Alister said to his mother. He knew it wasn't good. Nothing had been going well for him lately.

“He was in a car accident,” his mother said.

“How bad was it? Is Dad hurt?”

Her body visibly trembled, and her red eyes tried to blink away tears.

“He's going to die like Grandma Dotsy did, isn't he?” he said.

She turned away. “Please, Alister, don't you say things like that.”

Alister repressed his impulse to respond and allowed his feelings to be swallowed by the void forming inside him.

The elevator jerked and came to a stop. A chime sounded and the doors slid open. They stepped into the hallway and walked in silence. The smell of cleaning chemicals was overpowering, and the sounds of the sick emerged from each room and drew their attention.

When they entered the room, Alister saw his father on the bed. His body was purple, swollen and wrapped in casts. Slings and pulley systems elevated his appendages, and machines stationed at the head of the bed monitored his vital signs.

“Alister is here,” his mother said to his father. Alister watched his mother take a gentle hold of his father's exposed, swollen fingers, and she rested her head next to his shoulder.

“Hang on, honey. You can beat this,” she said before she broke into prayer.

 

 

Alister leaned against the wall and listened to the machine that assisted his father with each breath. This day had been better than the past few days. His breathing had become steadier, and he was trying to speak though his words were mumbled and indecipherable.

“Please, Dad, you need to come out of this,” Alister said. His voice was low enough not to disturb his mother. She hadn't moved in hours and continued to pray without pause.

“Mom?” Alister asked.

She continued to pray and rocked back and forth like she was in a trance. “Mom, you need to take a break and get something to eat.”

She repeated her prayer over and over.

Alister scowled. “You don't know how weak and pathetic you sound.”

Her constant prayer produced nothing for his father and only seemed to weaken her.

“Mother!” His words were loud enough to gain her attention. “Stop this!  You need to take care of yourself.” She looked to him with bloodshot eyes.

“But I can't live without him.”

She lowered her head and hid behind a curtain of hair. She swayed back and forth as she recited the Lord's Prayer.

“Your prayers did nothing to help Grandma Dotsy, so what makes you think they'll help him?”

She continued to pray, her voice growing louder.

“What you are doing means nothing,” Alister said. “This belief in a godly being that might actually give a crap about us is nonsense.”

Her prayer found no pause and her tone continued to grow.

“Your inability to deal with the fact that we're all alone in this world has forced you to cling to a ridiculous ideology.”

Alister stared at his mother. “If you knew how pathetically weak and desperate you sound,” he said as he took a step toward her, “you wouldn't be sitting there day in and day out begging for something you will never get. Stand up and find your own strength!”

In response, his mother grunted and stood. Her eyes were wide with what Alister thought was outrage, and he felt small. But he watched her and realized it had been something completely different. He stood paralyzed.

“Mom?”

Concern shoved Alister toward his mother, but before he could reach her, her body stiffened, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell to the floor.

“No!”

Just then, his father's body began to convulse, and as quickly as it began, the seizure ended. He looked from his father to his mother. He was still and she was sprawled out motionless at his feet.

“Help!” he said, but the word fell flat.

And suddenly, the machine that was hooked up to his father began to beep. It was that steady, loud sound—the same one that had told him his grandmother was dead.

 

 

Alister tried to find meaning in all the death around him, but the steady
deet, deet, deet
of the machines hooked to his mother distracted him.

“These damn machines,” Alister said. “They've sucked the life out of me.”

His mother struggled to breathe, and the only movement she had made in the past few days was the assisted rise and fall of her chest.

“You're going to leave me like Grandma Dotsy and
Dad.”  He folded his arms and looked to his feet. “What have I done so wrong to deserve this?”

“You haven't done anything,” Bob said. “You can't think any of this is your fault.” He was Alister's uncle and he had come as soon as he had gotten the news about the death of his brother-in-law and his sister's failing condition.

Bob moved next to Alister and took his sister's hand. Her skin was pale.

Alister watched him for a minute, and he could see the same weakness that resided in his mother. “What was it like?”

“What was what like?”

“When you told Grandma and Grandpa you were gay.” His uncle looked at him, and Alister could see how he tried to cover his surprise. “And when they told you they refused to talk to you because the lifestyle you chose offended their God?”

Bob kissed his sister's hand and placed it down by her side. “It was hard.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and turned to Alister. “And it hurt.”

Alister looked at his mother and wished he could trade places with her. “Before they died, did you tell them you were straight because you didn't want them taking their judgment of you to their graves?”

“Why are you asking me these things?”

“My mother and father's belief causes me frustration, and I'm not sure if I should be feeling the way I do.”

“Because you want your beliefs to be your own and not have them forced on you?” Bob smiled. “I understand how you feel, but something that I learned when I was finding my way back is that a man's faith is what gives meaning and direction to his life.”

“I don't need to believe in God to have meaning in my life.”

“No, but your parents think you do because that is what works for them. I don't know. Maybe they feel it is a safe place for you to be so that you don't make the same mistakes they did.”

“I think I understand what you mean,” Alister said, his anger gone. He rocked on his heels and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Do you mind giving me a minute alone with her?”

“Of course not.” Bob stepped past Alister and lightly nudged his shoulder. “You can stay at my house until your mother gets better. If you would like to do that, make sure you give Sharon a call.”

“Thanks,” Alister said, watching Bob exit the room.  His focus moved to the machines that beeped. “And don't you guys let me down.”

The machine continued its steady work, and Alister allowed a nervous smile to part his lips. He knew his mother was in desperate need of a miracle, and this was his chance to help her. He started to kneel, but something inside resisted his will.

Don't.

“I have to; it is the only option I have left.”

No, it is not.

“I must.”

There is another way.

“No, this is the only way.”

 Alister knelt and grabbed his mother's hand. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and drew a deep breath. He closed his eyes.

“Please God, help me believe and spare my mother's life. If you must, take me instead.”

 

 

Alister stared at the ceiling inside the darkened guest bedroom of his uncle's house. Hours had gone by, and his mind continued to work overtime with worry, and it showed no signs of letting up. He and his uncle had said little to each other since they had left the hospital, and a feeling of dread had followed him around like a shadow on a sun-drenched day.

I told you there was another way.

A grief-stricken howl bellowed throughout the house and propelled Alister out of bed, down the stairs and through each room to locate its source.