sk.everythingseventual-第4章

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ey　do　when　you've　swum　too　far　underwater；　so　I　must　be　okay；　right？
　　Except　if　you're　dead；　the　deep　voice　murmurs；　they　wouldn't　be　crying　out　for　air；　would　they？　No…because　dead　lungs　don't　need　to　breathe。　Dead　lungs　can　just　kind　of。　。　。　take　it　easy。
　　Rusty：　'What　are　you　doing　next　Saturday　night；　doc？'
　　But　if　I'm　dead；　how　can　I　feel？　How　can　I　smell　the　bag　I'm　in？　How　can　I　hear　these　voices；　the　doc　now　saying　that　next　Saturday　night　she's　going　to　be　shampooing　her　dog；　which　is　named　Rusty；　what　a　coincidence；　and　all　of　them　laughing？　If　I'm　dead；　why　aren't　I　either　gone　or　in　the　white　light　they're　always　talking　about　on　Oprah？
　　There's　a　harsh　ripping　sound　and　all　at　once　I　am　in　white　light；　it　is　blinding；　like　the　sun　breaking　through　a　scrim　of　clouds　on　a　winter　day。　I　try　to　squint　my　eyes　shut　against　it；　but　nothing　happens。　My　eyelids　are　like　blinds　on　broken　rollers。
　　A　face　bends　over　me；　blocking　off　part　of　the　glare；　which　es　not　from　some　dazzling　astral　plane　but　from　a　bank　of　overhead　fluorescents。　The　face　belongs　to　a　young；　conventionally　handsome　man　of　about　twenty…five；　he　looks　like　one　of　those　beach　beefcakes　on　Baywatch　or　Melrose　Place。　Marginally　smarter；　though。　He's　got　a　lot　of　black　hair　under　a　carelessly　worn　surgical　greens　cap。　He's　wearing　the　tunic；　too。　His　eyes　are　cobalt　blue；　the　sort　of　eyes　girls　reputedly　die　for。　There　are　dusty　arcs　of　freckles　high　up　on　his　cheekbones。
　　'Hey；　gosh；'　he　says。　It's　the　third　voice。　'This　guy　does　look　like　Michael　Bolton！　A　little　long　in　the　old　tootharoo；　maybe　。　。　。　'　He　leans　closer。　One　of　the　flat　tie…ribbons　at　the　neck　of　his　green　tunic　tickles　against　my　forehead。　'　。　。　。　But　yeah。　I　see　it。　Hey；　Michael；　sing　something。'
　　Help　me！　is　what　I'm　trying　to　sing；　but　I　can　only　look　up　into　his　dark　blue　eyes　with　my　frozen　dead　man's　stare；　I　can　only　wonder　if　I　am　a　dead　man；　if　this　is　how　it　happens；　if　this　is　what　everyone　goes　through　after　the　pump　quits。　If　I'm　still　alive；　how　e　he　hasn't　seen　my　pupils　contract　when　the　light　hit　them？　But　I　know　the　answer　to　that　。　。　。　or　I　think　I　do。　They　didn't　contract。　That's　why　the　glare　from　the　fluorescents　is　so　painful。
　　The　tie；　tickling　across　my　forehead　like　a　feather。
　　Help　me！　I　scream　up　at　the　Baywatch　beefcake；　who　is　probably　an　intern　or　maybe　just　a　med　school　brat。　Help　me；　please！
　　My　lips　don't　even　quiver。
　　The　face　moves　back；　the　tie　stops　tickling；　and　all　that　white　light　streams　through　my　helpless…to…look…away　eyes　and　into　my　brain。　It's　a　hellish　feeling；　a　kind　of　rape。　I'll　go　blind　if　I　have　to　stare　into　it　for　long；　I　think；　and　blindness　will　be　a　relief。
　　WHOCK！　The　sound　of　the　driver　hitting　the　ball；　but　a　little　flat　this　time；　and　the　feeling　in　the　hands　is　bad。　The　ball's　up　。　。　。　but　veering　。　。　。　veering　off　。　。　。　veering　toward　。　。　。
　　Shit。
　　I'm　in　the　rough。
　　Now　another　face　bends　into　my　field　of　vision。　A　white　tunic　instead　of　a　green　one　below　it；　a　great　untidy　mop　of　orange　hair　above　it。　Distress…sale　IQ　is　my　first　impression。　It　can　only　be　Rusty。　He's　wearing　a　big　dumb　grin　that　I　think　of　as　a　high…school　grin；　the　grin　of　a　kid　who　should　have　a　tattoo　reading　'BORN　TO　SNAP　BRA　STRAPS'　on　one　wasted　bicep。
　　'Michael！'　Rusty　exclaims。　'Jeez；　ya　lookin'　gooood！　This'z　an　honor！　Sing　for　us；　big　boy！　Sing　your　dead　ass　off！'
　　From　somewhere　behind　me　es　the　doc's　voice；　cool；　no　longer　even　pretending　to　be　amused　by　these　antics。　'Quit　it；　Rusty。'　Then；　in　a　slightly　new　direction：　'What's　the　story；　Mike？'
　　Mike's　voice　is　the　first　voice…Rusty's　partner。　He　sounds　slightly　embarrassed　to　be　working　with　a　guy　who　wants　to　be　Andrew　Dice　Clay　when　he　grows　up。　'Found　him　on　the　fourteenth　hole　at　Derry　Muni。　Off　the　course；　actually；　in　the　rough。　If　he　hadn't　just　played　through　the　foursome　behind　him；　and　if　they　hadn't　seen　one　of　his　legs　stickin'　out　of　the　puckerbrush；　he'd　be　an　ant　farm　by　now。'
　　I　hear　that　sound　in　my　head　again…WHOCK！…only　this　time　it　is　followed　by　another；　far　less　pleasant　sound：　the　rustle　of　underbrush　as　I　sweep　it　with　the　head　of　my　driver。　It　would　have　to　be　fourteen；　where　there　is　reputedly　poison　ivy。　Poison　ivy　and　。　。　。
　　Rusty　is　still　peering　down　at　me；　stupid　and　avid。　It's　not　death　that　interests　him；　it's　my　resemblance　to　Michael　Bolton。　Oh　yes；　I　know　about　it；　have　not　been　above　using　it　with　certain　female　clients。　Otherwise；　it　gets　old　in　a　hurry。　And　in　these　circumstances　。　。　。　God。
　　'Attending　physician？'　the　lady　doc；　asks。　'Was　it　Kazalian？'
　　'No；'　Mike　says；　and　for　just　a　moment　he　looks　down　at　me。　Older　than　Rusty　by　at　least　ten　years。　Black　hair　with　flecks　of　gray　in　it。　Spectacles。　How　e　none　of　these　people　can　see　that　I　am　not　dead？　'There　was　a　doc　in　the　foursome　that　found　him；　actually。　That's　his　signature　on　page　one　。　。　。　see？'
　　Riffle：　of　paper；　then：　'Christ；　Jennings。　I　know　him。　He　gave　Noah　his　physical　after　the　ark　grounded　on　Mount　Ararat。'
　　Rusty　doesn't　look　as　if　he　gets　the　joke；　but　he　brays　laughter　into　my　face　anyway。　I　can　smell　onions　on　his　breath；　a　little　leftover　lunchstink；　and　if　I　can　smell　onions；　I　must　be　breathing。　I　must　be；　right？　If　only　…
　　Before　I　can　finish　this　thought；　Rusty　leans　even　closer　and　I　feel　a　blast　of　hope。　He's　seen　something！　He's　seen　something　and　means　to　give　me　mouth…to…mouth。　God　bless　you；　Rusty！　God　bless　you　and　your　onion　breath！
　　But　the　stupid　grin　doesn't　change；　and　instead　of　putting　his　mouth　on　mine；　his　hand　slips　around　my　jaw。　Now　he's　grasping　one　side　with　his　thumb　and　the　other　side　with　his　fingers。
　　'He's　alive！…Rusty　cries。　'He's　alive；　and　he's　gonna　sing　for　the　Room　Four　Michael　Bolton　Fan　Club！'
　　His　fingers　pinch　tighter…it　hurts　in　a　distant　ing…out…of…the　Novocaine　way…and　begins　to　move　my　jaw　up　and　down；　clicking　my　teeth　together。　'If　she's　ba…aaad；　he　can't　see　it；'　Rusty　sings　in　a　hideous；　atonal　voice　that　would　probably　make　Percy　Sledge's　head　explode。　'She　can　do　no　wrrr…ongggg。　。　。　'　My　teeth　open　and　close　at　the　rough　urging　of　his　hand；　my　tongue　rises　and　falls　like　a　dead　dog　riding　the　surface　of　an　uneasy　waterbed。
　　'Stop　it！'　the　lady　doc　snaps　at　him。　She　sounds　genuinely　shocked。　Rusty；　perhaps　sensing　this；　does　not　stop　but　goes　gleefully　on。　His　fingers　are　pinching　into　my　cheeks　now。　My　frozen　eyes　stare　blindly　upward。
　　'Turn　his　back　on　his　best　friend　if　she　put　him　d…'
　　Then　she's　there；　a　woman　in　a　green　gown　with　her　cap　tied　around　her　throat　and　hanging　down　her　back　like　the　Cisco　Kid's　sombrero；　short　brown　hair　swept　back　from　her　brow；　good…looking　but　severe…more　handsome　than　pretty。　She　grabs　Rusty　with　one　short…nailed　hand　and　pulls　him　back　from　me。
　　'Hey'　Rusty　says；　indignant。　'Get　your　hands　off　me！'
　　'Then　you　keep　your　hands　off　him；　'　she　says；　and　there　is　no　mistaking　the　anger　in　her　voice。　'I'm　tired　of　your　Sophomore　Class　wit；　Rusty；　and　the　next　time　you　start　in；　I'm　going　to　report　you。'
　　'Hey；　let's　all　calm　down；'　says　the　Baywatch　hunk…doc's　assistant。　He　sounds　alarmed；　as　if　he　expects　Rusty　and　his　boss　to　start　duking　it　out　right　here。　'Let's　just　put　a　lid　on　it。'
　　'Why's　she　bein'　such　a　bitch　to　me？'　Rusty　says。　He's　still　trying　to　sound　indignant；　but　he's　actually　whining　now。　Then；　in　a　slightly　different　direction：　'Why　you　being　such　a　bitch？　You　on　your　period；　is　that　it？'
　　Doc；　sounding　disgusted：　'Get　him　out　of　here。'
　　Mike：　'e　on；　Rusty。　Let's　go　sign　the　log。'
　　Rusty：　'Yeah。　And　get　some　fresh　air。'
　　Me；　listening　to　all　this　like　it　was　on　the　radio。
　　Their　feet；　squeaking　toward　the　door。　Rusty　now　all　huffy　and　offended；　asking　her　why　she　doesn't　just　wear　a　mood　ring　or　something　so　people　will　know。　Soft　shoes　squeaking　on　tile；　and　suddenly　that　sound　is　replaced　by　the　sound　of　my　driver；　beating　the　bush　for　my　goddam　ball；　where　is　it；　it　didn't　go　too　far　in；　I'm　sure　of　it；　so　where　is　it；　Jesus；　I　hate　fourteen；　supposedly　there's　poison　I　ivy；　and　with　all　this　underbrush；　there　could　easily　be