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Source of Pain
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Source of Pain |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas 
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Source of Pain Jessie fought to control her heart before it leaped from her chest, grabbed and threw Bill Collins to the ground and raped him in every way she could. She breathed deep and hard. Then, in shallow gasps as his hand found hers, and clasped it tight. She awoke. “Oh, My, God,” she said to the bedroom surrounding her. That was a dream she knew she’d re-do every time she closed her eyes – if she could. But of course Bill was dead. There was nothing to be gained, nothing to be won, no future . . . no future. She looked up as the bedroom door swung open and Clara Riggs, the home nurse walked in, smiling. “And how are you this morning, Mrs. Simons? Did you sleep well? Is there anything in particular I need to attend to first? “Don’t call me Mrs. Simons. I’m crippled, not an old maid. Jessie is my name.” “I . . . I’m sorry Mrs . . . I mean, Jessie. I call all my patients by their surname.” “And I’m not a patient. I’m a living, breathing person whose body refuses to allow me to move anything below my chest. Don’t call me a patient. I’m a client who pays you good money for the assistance you give. “ ‘Anything in particular . . . ?’, why yes, I believe I’ve crapped myself. I may not be able to feel it but I can certainly hear, and smell, it. And it’s so damned embarrassing to have someone else,” she choked, tears filling her eyes, “ have to cleanse me.” “I wish I had died with Bill! I wish – I wish I had a gun!” Three weeks passed. Jesse's prognosis was for the rest of her life. Crippled. From the chest down. No feeling. No sensation of any kind. She became increasingly belligerent with Clara, chastising her for every little thing. And she would mumble over and over . . . "I wish I had a gun. I wish I had died with Bill."' On Tuesday of the fourth week following the automobile accident that killed Bill, made Jesse a husk of whom she was, Clara entered the room with a small, tie-stringed cloth bag brightly printed with red, green and yellow leaves. Jesse looked at her as she approached the side of the bed and placed the bag on stomach. ‘For me?’ her eyes asked. Clara nodded. “I thought you would know what to do with it.” Jesse looked at Clara for a long moment, opened the bag, smiled slightly. “Yes, as a matter of fact I do. And thank you for making it possible for me.” Jesse withdrew the revolver from the bag, pointed it, and pulling the trigger, shot Clara Riggs . . . Dead. jwesley 03/25/2018 |
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