Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 36, No. 6, June, 1975

Lack of Communication by Merle Ahern

Most fatal accidents occur in the home. Sometimes they need a slight helpful push.

“Is she dying, Doctor? Isn’t there anything you can do?”

I’m not dying! I just can’t move… anything. Help me! No means of communication. Without communication I am still me. I’m not a thing. I’m something to you, aren’t I, Doctor? Can’t you hear my heart beat?

“Her heartbeat is very strong. However, I must caution you against expecting too much, Mr. Adams. We are doing everything possible.”

Please, whatever is possible. I don’t care what you do to my body, just let me live.

“My mother seems barely alive. Doctor. She hasn’t moved since they brought her home. Not since the… er… accident.”

Accident! Oh God, Krishna, Buddha, Anyone who will hear! Help me to speak. I must tell my son it was no accident. Paul tried to murder me! I must live.

“It’s a wonder your mother lived through the accident. She sustained multiple injuries from the fall. This catatonic state — although that is not quite the precise term — is often brought on by the accompanying shock.”

Shock! Wouldn’t anyone be shocked if their husband tried to kill them? I must tell Jimmy his stepfather…

“My stepfather is in a state of shock, also, Doctor. Of course, I don’t mean like hers. He keeps dragging in here, cast and all, just to see if she is still alive. He blames himself, says he yelled at her to jump when the car went out of control. Could you give him something to calm him? I can’t seem to get him to lie down and get off his broken leg.”

Broken leg? You didn’t time it quite right, did you, Paul? So your leg’s in a cast. That’s the thumping sound I hear near my bed at times. My God, keep him away from me!

“Yes, he needs to keep off that leg. We should keep him away from here. Tell him we’ll call him if there is any change in his wife’s condition. You should get some rest also, Mr. Adams. We’ll call you.”

I wish I could call, talk, scream, anything. Jimmy. Jimmy. Listen. Listen! I’m trying…

“I thought my mother was trying to speak, Doctor. I guess it was just her breath through her poor, broken mouth. It’s so terrible… her lying there… not even a moan… not a sound.”

Without sound am I still a person? Meditate on one hand clapping, son. That is the sound I make. I am going crazy! Inside I scream! I shall lose my mind.

“Her mind, Doctor? If she lives, will there be damage to her brain? Lying so long like this. I’ve heard something about the brain, after so much time, brain damage?”

My brain is not broken, Jimmy, just my body. But what good is my brain if I can’t let you know I am here… inside this soft yet rigid casing?

“Oh, no. The rigidity, you see, is muscular. What you have heard is that the brain is damaged if it goes too long without oxygen. Her brain is receiving blood and with it — oxygen. Maybe it would be easier to understand if you can think of her as in a fainting spell, except that she is not limp but rigid.”

Rigid. Paralyzed. If I could only move something, even my eyes. I could blink once for yes and twice for no. One if by land. Two if by sea. I am going crazy! Doctor, you have to do something!

“God, Doctor can’t you do something? I can’t stand to see her this way. My mother…”

Mother is not a name. It’s a verb, an action verb, and I have no action I can make. To mother is to comfort, to praise, to scold. Oh, my son, if I could just hold you, comfort you. If a mother can not mother, she is not a mother. I sound like Gertrude Stein. Sound like. I don’t sound. My God, I am crazy! I’ve forgotten how to pray. Help me, Lord!

“With the Lord’s help, we are doing all we can for your mother, Mr. Adams. I suggest you get some rest.”

Yes, rest, my son. I am no good to you this way. I can’t mother. I can’t reach you. Is life, then, communication? I am dead. I am lying in my own, rigid coffin of flesh, buried above the ground. No! No! I will not give up! I must tell Jimmy that his stepfather…

“Your stepfather is at the door again, Mr. Adams. I will be in a minute to see him. I suggest you help him back to his room.”

You warned me, didn’t you, Jimmy? Keep Paul in his room. Away from me. I thought Paul loved me. You said all he wanted was my money.

“Money is no object, as you know, Doctor. You’ll call us immediately if there is any change?”

There will be change, Jimmy. Get Paul out of here! Look at my fingers, somebody. I am trying to bend them. Bend, damn you, bend! If I could only open my eyes and look at my hands. Are my fingers bending, Nurse?

“Nurse, I’ll be right back. I have to get some things from my car.”

If the police check my car? No, what could they find? Would the tracks show Paul drove the car right to the cliff and jumped before I knew what was happening? I was daydreaming, half asleep.

“You’re sleeping, poor dear, if you can call it sleep. You won’t miss me, that’s for sure. I’ll just go to the bathroom while the doctor’s gone.”

The doctor’s gone to his car! You can’t leave me alone, Nurse. Nurse! Oh, why can’t you hear me? Listen to me. I’m not sleeping. I can hear. That’s the bathroom door closing. And that… that’s the hall door opening. What’s that sound? Oh my God, it’s… it’s the thumping! Not the pillow! No! Paul! Aaaahh…