Senseless

Hold it right there!

Before you get started on this, you should know that this is the last installment of a collaborative effort by the members of Vocal Creators Saloon.

Please read the previous chapters first! You know, so you'll understand what's going on...perhaps. *grin*

Part 1- Thanksgiving Takes Leave of its Senses, by Duskshadows

Part 2- Fresh Apple Pie by Angela Derscha

Part 3- A Deeper Look at Thanksgiving by Un-Traditional Mother

Part 4- Touch Me Not by Judey Kalchik

Part 5- The Sound of Silence by Tiandra, AKA The Lady Poet

And now...Part 6:

Senseless

I’m pretty sure I’m screaming. I can’t hear anything, but I have the sensation—

Can I call it a sensation?

—of air leaving my lungs and exiting my open mouth forcefully.

Jesus, I don’t want to scream.

Weak! Weak!

Screw weak. I want my Mama.

She’s here; I know that, but I have no idea where she is in relation to my senseless body. She may very well be right beside me, holding my hand.

Then again, why would she be? The doctor said I have leprosy. That’s contagious, I think. Everyone should have left the house on the run. Bethany included. My mother has no business holding my hand, or even getting close.

Well…

I wanted to be left alone, didn’t I?

Be careful what you wish for, Joshua.

I’m alone, all right. I’m stuck here in my own head. No distractions. No smells. No taste. Nothing to see or hear. No way to touch or be touched and be aware of the sensations.

Just me, alone with my thoughts.

Get me out of here!

I asked for this. I literally begged for it. I have no right to complain!

How did I come to this?

I want to blame that winged bitch, but this started earlier than her appearance at my door.

I’d blame the begging bum who wanted a handout, but even he wasn’t the beginning.

The beginning was the damned divorce.

As a lawyer, my rule is “The Client is Always Right”; even when the client wasn’t, I operated on the premise.

I was in it to win it.

Elizabeth certainly had some legitimate gripes against her husband—he’d walked out and moved in with another woman, after all.

Of course, that was after the third time he’d returned from a business trip to find his wife in bed with another man. Well…three other men.

Apparently, Elizabeth liked variety.

“I get lonely,” she’d pouted when I brought it up. “Don’t you?”

“I’m happily married,” I reminded her—not for the first time.

Still, here alone in my own head, I have to be straight with myself—I was ogling her ass when she left this morning, and wondering…

Damn, I am such a shit.

Then Bethany got in my head like one of those stupid earworm songs that won’t quit: “Do this, do that, pick up cranberry sauce.”

And her good cheer, preparing for a holiday meal like she’s not thinking about walking into another office just like mine and saying, “My husband is a heel. Take him for everything he’s got.”

No, I don’t know she’s really thinking that, but who could blame her?

Then the homeless guy—he could be Elizabeth’s ex in a few months, if I win her case. No house, no money. Maybe a car to live in, if the new girlfriend tosses him when she discovers he’s broke as a joke.

I could do that to him.

The "snap" of the gavel could render him destitute.

"THE homeless guy."

It was a knee jerk reaction, rejecting his plea, rejecting his very presence. Was it true? Did I make him what he was today? Push. Him. Away. Deny everything.

And then the mysterious winged woman: imagine it, if you will, Joshua! A jewel embedded in my flesh that inflicts punishment for all wrongdoings!

And me, the everlasting fool, just inviting the inflictions, one by one!

Yes. I asked for it. Leave me alone, don’t talk to me, don’t ask me to look at the bright side, don’t expect my gratitude for a good meal and good company.

Do I really believe that Bethany measures my love for her in jewelry and house payments? Do I really think my work is more important that the face of my mother or the sound of children’s laughter?

What is wrong with me?

I can’t see it, or hear it, or even feel it, but I know I have started to cry. Probably, I am blubbering. Perhaps I am confessing my assholiness for all to hear.

I don’t care; it’s not like they haven’t noticed.

I deserve this! I deserve it all! Earlier I was crying foul and insisting it wasn’t fair, but I was so wrong.

It is entirely fair.

If only I’d known!

No.

I knew. I always knew. That’s what makes it all so…

So right.

I have everything. I believe my family loves me. I even believe Bethany still does, although I don’t deserve it. I have a roof over my head and food to eat.

Until today, I had my good health.

What I didn’t have was gratitude.

This is where it leads, that absence of gratefulness. This is where it leads.

I rub the jewel embedded in my flesh.

It moves!

I rub harder, and for the first time in months, I feel…

I feel hope.

The jewel falls.

I...

Do I hear it hit the floor? Can I find it with my eyes? Feel it when I pick it up between finger and thumb?

Is apple pie scent wafting its way to me from the kitchen?

Is that the taste of bitter gall on my tongue?

Is it over? Is it?

Or have I just tipped over completely into Crazytown?

**~**

I know this was my last chance. My ONLY chance.

I'm not going to blow it.

I hold tightly to the blue gem, although its warmth is uncomfortable in the palm of my hand. It has an icy hue, but it is not cold. I will have it fashioned into a pendant and wear it against my heart. The heat will remind me:

Be Grateful.

Or else!

For those of us in the USA, Thanksgiving is upon us. Elsewhere, celebrating a day of gratitude might look differently, but now is as good a time as any to count our blessings. Even in the midst of chaos, we can find something to be thankful for--if only we take the time to look.

Better that than facing the winged one! She's a little harsh!

Thank you for reading the collaborative efforts of this writing team!