The Resurrectionist

13

At some point, Sweeney dozed off and dreamed that Kerry and he were with Danny at Put-in-Bay. They were sailing a boat through a series of narrow canals. Danny’s hair was long and summer blond. Kerry was wearing the teal bikini. He noticed a tattoo of the sun on her belly. And then it was a different boat, something larger with a tall mast and Sweeney was having trouble with the rudder. Kerry was down below getting lunch and he kept calling to her but she wouldn’t answer. Danny had climbed up the mast and grabbed onto a line and was swinging out over the water. With each swing the boat tilted on its side. The waves were hitting Sweeney. His eyes were stinging. He was furious, screaming for Danny to climb down and Kerry to come up topside. Then a flock of birds blocked the sun and the lightning began.

He yelled out when the second-shift nurse woke him.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said.

He swung his legs off the side of the bed, rubbed his eyes, and looked at his watch.

“What’s that?” he asked as the nurse began to hang a new bag on the IV pole.

“Just his meds,” she said without looking at him.

She checked the drip and moved on to attend Irene Moore. He wiped at his eyes again, pulled a peppermint from his pocket, and put it in his mouth. He leaned over the bed and kissed Danny, then went back down to the apartment.

HE EMPTIED HIS purchases from the Mart, hung his lab coats in the bedroom closet, and made up his bed with the new sheets. He changed into T-shirt and gym trunks, then assembled the percolator and made some coffee. No one used percolators anymore, he thought. And this was a shame because they made such a wonderful sound, gave off such a rich smell.

He started his routine of sit-ups but before he reached his quota the idea hit him. He sat up with the first notion, then went into the bedroom, got the Big Chief scratch pad and the felt markers, and brought them to the couch. But he found, immediately, that the ink bled through the paper, so he took the pencil from the logic puzzle book and began his notes on the second page of the scratch pad. When he’d filled a page, he felt confident enough to get up and pour himself the first of what would be many cups of coffee.

He wrote in outline form. One-line sentences. Nothing fancy. At this stage, he was unconcerned about language or style. He wanted only to get the facts down, the series of sequential events necessary to build a plausible bridge from point A to point B.

It would have been easier to make a new starting point, to lessen the desperateness of the freaks’ situation. But that would have been a cheat. Danny knew the story by heart, so there was no choice but to play the cards that had been dealt.

SWEENEY WENT UP to the cafeteria and found it empty. He got a ham and Swiss sandwich from the vending machine but it smelled suspicious and he threw it in the trash. He bought several packs of peanut butter crackers and a can of cream soda and ate at a clean table at the far end of the room.

When he was done, he went to the pharmacy and found Ernesto Luga seething.

“What the fuck,” Ernesto said. “I offer you my friendship and you rat me out?”

“I didn’t rat you out,” Sweeney said. “What’s the problem here?”

He was still standing in the doorway of the vault. Ernesto threw a bag of Jevity at him and he caught it like a football.

“The problem?” Ernesto said, his accent getting thicker with the sarcasm. “The problem is that I come in tonight and Romeo’s all over my ass ’cause he says I told you about the game. I didn’t say shit about the game.”

“And I didn’t say you did.”

Sweeney came into the vault and faced him down. Ernesto was only about five foot five and Sweeney towered over him.

“So where’d he get the idea?”

“How should I know? Maybe you’ve told other people about the game.”

This brought Luga up short.

“I never told no one shit. It was Nora, wasn’t it? That old bitch.”

“Nobody told me about the game,” Sweeney said. “The place was dead and I got bored. I took a walk and I found them—”

“Up to the third floor? You took a walk up to the third floor?”

“That’s right,” the anger starting to well now. “I was walking around up there and I heard them.”

Ernesto said, “You’re full of shit.”

Sweeney slapped him in the face with the bag of Jevity. Ernesto was shocked more than hurt. He stepped back and blinked, then closed his right eye and said, “Qué coño.” There was, maybe, an instant when Sweeney could have walked out of the vault and given them both a few minutes to calm. Then it was gone and Ernesto was taking a wild swing, a hook that glanced off Sweeney’s neck. Sweeney stepped in, kneed Ernesto in the balls, and as Lugo doubled up, Sweeney reached out both arms and grabbed him by the neck. Lifted him off the floor. Pivoted and ran and slammed Ernesto against the far wall. The scoops of Sweeney’s thumbs and forefingers were pressing in and Ernesto started to choke. And the sound of the choking stoked Sweeney’s rage. He lifted the pharmacist’s body higher, pressed in tighter. A low, grinding gag came out of Ernesto’s mouth, then stopped. Sweeney had his left leg out behind himself, bracing his weight. He leaned in harder, his arms thrusting up, his hands squeezing tighter. Ernesto’s eyes began to swell. His legs and feet thrashed against the white wall, his heeled boots making scuff marks.

“Motherfucker,” Sweeney said and let go.

Ernesto dropped like dead weight. Sweeney kneeled over him and said, “I told everyone it was you, you little fuck. Now get out.”

He stood up, pulled Ernesto to his feet, and pushed him into the hallway. Ernesto went down again. Sweeney could hear him making little crying noises and trying to get his air back. After a second, he got on all fours, his head hanging almost to the floor. There was some more gagging and then he got up and ran for the stairwell.

In the distance, Sweeney heard a voice yell, “Ernesto, what’s wrong?” but there was no reply.

He moved to a counter and leaned on his elbows. Then he began to open cabinets until he found what he was looking for — a bottle of bleach and some fresh cleaning rags. He soaked a rag, moved to the scuffed wall, squatted and started rubbing at the black smudges. But it was futile. They wouldn’t come off.

When he got up, Nadia Rey was standing in the doorway. They looked at each other but neither one spoke. He capped the jug of bleach, moved back to the cabinet and stored it. The rag he tossed in the sink. He ran water and wrung it out.

“You have a script I can fill?” he said with his back to her.

She didn’t answer but came into the vault and hoisted herself up onto the counter next to the sink. She was wearing a starched white skirt and white stockings. To Sweeney, it came off as campy and he sensed that was what she was going for.

“You know, pharmacists have this reputation for being easygoing people,” she said. “But that’s never been my experience.”

Sweeney turned off the water and shook his hands over the sink.

“Is there something I can help you with?” he said.

“Why’d you hit Luga?” she said.

Sweeney shook his head and said, “I didn’t hit him. He took a swing at me.”

“Ernesto took a swing at you?” she said. “I don’t think so.”

He pulled some paper towels from the dispenser, finished drying his hands, and wiped around the edges of the sink.

“He thinks I told Romeo and the others that he was the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one that told me about the card game.”

She closed her eyes, let her head tilt back. “This is bad,” she said.

He toed open the wastebasket and threw in the paper towel. He looked up to find her smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“You think this is funny?” he said. “I’m two nights in a new job and I almost strangle my coworker.”

She tried to suck in her cheeks. “Ernesto’s fine,” she said. “You just scared him.”

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“He’s leaving for Wonder Drug anyway.”

“And what if he comes back with some friends?”

She slid off the counter and the skirt rode up. “Oh, please,” she said. “He talks a lot but, trust me, he’s a fruit drinker. He likes to play dice and chase after little girls. In an hour he’ll be telling everyone at La Concha how he kicked your ass.”

“I can’t believe this happened,” Sweeney said.

“It’s over,” Nadia said. “It was an incident and now it’s over.”

“This has been coming on,” Sweeney said.

“It’s understandable,” Nadia said. “You’re under a lot of stress and Ernesto pushed your button. He swung first, right?”

He didn’t want to tell her about the Jevity bag so he just nodded.

“Try to forget about it. You had a little fight. It happens. You’re in a new place and right away some idiot gets aggressive.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Sweeney said. “I overreacted.”

“You were defending yourself,” Nadia said. “What were you supposed to do?”

Sweeney said, “I really overreacted.”

She offered to bring him a coffee but he said coffee was the last thing he needed. She asked if he would like some food and he told her he’d just eaten.

“You’ve got a long night ahead of you,” she said. “You’ve really got to get past this.”

“This is my second night,” he repeated. “They don’t know me from Adam. I really need this job.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to your job,” she said. She moved close, put a hand on his shoulder.

“What if Ernesto goes to Dr. Peck?”

“I know Ernesto,” Nadia said. “I’ll talk to Ernesto. Ernesto won’t make trouble. Trust me, it’s taken care of.”

“You’ll talk to Ernesto?” he said.

“Consider it done.”

“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” Sweeney said.

“You’re going through a lot of changes,” Nadia said. “You’ve got to give yourself a break here.”

“I just tried to strangle someone.”

“You tried,” she said, and couldn’t help the smile, “to strangle Ernesto. Believe me, Sweeney, you’re in good company.”

He shook his head and put his hand on the counter. “I’ve got to get some help. This is out of control.”

“Ernesto’s fine,” she said. “I saw him. You hurt his pride and that’s about all.”

“I had my thumbs in his throat.”

“Ernesto’s a big pussy,” she said and the remark brought Sweeney up short.

“Excuse me,” he said but Nadia didn’t move. He pushed up the sleeves of his lab coat and turned on the cold water. He cupped his hands below the faucet, let the water pool, hunched over the sink and brought his hands to his face. He did this several times. Then he shut off the water and straightened up. Nadia was standing in the same position. Water rolled down Sweeney’s face. He grabbed two paper towels and patted himself dry.

“I think I’ve made a big mistake,” he said.

She folded her arms across her chest. She looked darker in the light of the vault. She looked, he thought, like a gypsy. And he was struck, for the first time, by the magnitude of her foreignness and her beauty.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said.

Sweeney waited for her to go on and when she didn’t, he said, “I don’t understand.”

“My note,” Nadia said. “Didn’t you get my note?”

“The note,” Sweeney repeated. “Of course, the note. I got it. Yes. You wanted to talk. About Danny.”

“I thought for a minute you didn’t get the note.”

“Is Danny okay?” he asked. He had repeated this question so many times in the last year that at some point it began to feel like a prayer or a pledge.

“Not in here,” Nadia said. “We can’t talk here.”

He looked around the vault and nodded.

“You want to go down to the cafeteria?”

Now she laughed.

“No,” she said. “I mean I’m not comfortable talking here at work. In the Clinic.”

She gave him a chance to suggest something and he failed.

“Listen,” Nadia said, “I know a place near here. This little bar. It’s open all night. Why don’t I meet you around the back lot in fifteen minutes? Can we take your car? I got a ride in.”

He looked at her, then up at the wall clock, and then back.

“What are you talking about? Shift just started.”

“That’s not a problem,” she said. “Debbie will cover for me.”

“I can’t just leave here,” he said.

He saw the indulgent smile and shook his head in response.

“You want me to just leave the drug room? On my second night of the job?”

“Oh, please,” she said. “What? You’re more essential than I am?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just can’t leave the room unmanned.”

She walked to his in-box and lifted maybe three scripts.

“You waiting for the rush?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Sweeney, everyone knows where everything is. Just leave a note that you got called away. You had an emergency. They’ll find whatever they need.”

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “You want me to just leave the vault open? Are you nuts?”

“Ernesto used to do it all the time.”

“What the hell kind of place is this?” he said and she understood that he wasn’t looking for an answer.

“This is not a big deal, Sweeney.”

He lifted an arm, let it fall back and slap his thigh.

“Like almost choking someone to death isn’t a big deal.”

“God,” she said, “you are tense.”

“What is it you have to tell me about Danny?”

She just shook her head.

He sighed, exhausted. His stomach was churning.

“What’s the name of this place?” he asked. “This bar?”

“It’s called,” she said, “Gehenna.”

He stared at her. She widened her black eyes.

“You’re kidding me,” he said.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

They stared at each other for a few seconds until he realized that she wasn’t going to say anything else.

“Can we go after shift? I mean, it’s open all night, right?”

She thought about it.

“I want to hear what you have to say,” he said, “but I’m not going to walk out and leave the vault open.”

She knew there was no use arguing.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the lot at 7:15.”