Fuzzy Navel

11:09 P.M.
MARY

MARY STRENG HEARS the chain saw in the garage. She sticks her head out of the bathroom, around the refrigerator, and sees it cutting through the door.

She knows the chain saw is electric. Knows they need to trip the circuit breaker.

Mary also knows that the circuit breaker is behind a small childproof door. When you have rheumatoid arthritis, childproof is synonymous with adultproof.

She looks at Herb, sprawled out on the bathroom floor, clutching his leg in a codeine/pain fever dream.

Then she looks at Latham, who doesn’t appear much better. His eyelids are halfway closed, and he’s white as milk.

Neither one of them can make it to the fuse box.

A woman screams, “Mom! Cut off the electricity!”

But the woman isn’t Jacqueline. Mary looks in the hall again.

“Mom!”

It’s Harry. Apparently his voice goes up a few octaves when he’s terrified.

Mary tries to think of an answer, comes up blank, and hurries down the hallway, into the laundry room. She hooks a finger into the cruel metal ring on the circuit breaker door. That simple act alone brings agony. Even with the codeine, and the vodka, Mary’s hands have never hurt so badly.

And it’s about to get worse.

Mary sets her jaw and tugs, fast and hard.

It’s like sticking her hand in a furnace.

The door doesn’t budge.

She eases up, tries to change fingers. Her hand is shaking so much she can’t get ahold of the handle. Mary switches to lefty.

“Mom! I’m too pretty to die!”

Harry again. That guy certainly is a complainer. Must be Ralph the sailor’s genes.

She hooks her left index finger in the ring, closes her eyes, and jerks her whole arm back.

The pain takes away her breath. But the door swings open.

Mary releases the handle, reaching for the breaker, but the spring engages and slaps the door closed.

“SHE’S ALMOST THROUGH!”

Now both of Mary’s hands are trembling. She tries her right hand, then her left hand, and can’t grip the damnable metal ring. Despair mingles with anguish, and Mary curses herself for being a worthless old woman, of no use to anyone, not even able to-

On the dryer, atop a stack of sweaters, is a coat hanger.

She snatches it up, puts the hook through the metal ring, and pulls like hell.

The door swings open.

Mary reaches inside the panel and jabs at the main breaker switch, plunging the house into darkness and silence.