MR. MONTGOMERY REMEMBERED

Mr. Montgomery Remembered

1

            Mr. Montgomery finished his long tour of the museum. The oils were lovely, the sculptures even better, so he decided that here, now, at one in the afternoon, would be a good time for a drink. He strode in.

            The long modern sleek bar of glass and metal stood all the way to the end where the bartendress was reading a magazine, shoulders arched as she twirled the ends of her hair between her fingertips. There were only a couple of other patrons murmuring quietly. A couple off by the window kissed and an old man poured over some thick manuscript with red scribbles all over it. When Mr. Montgomery put his hands on the bar, the girl broke from her magazine and smiled, moving over to him.

            “Good afternoon.”

            Mr. Montgomery cleared his throat. “Good afternoon.”

            “What can I get you?”

            He took in a deep breath and looked out the window again. The sun beamed off the metal parts of the bar.

            “It’s a damn fine day, isn’t it?”

            “It would be if I wasn’t in here.”

            “I’m sorry. Want me to talk to your boss for you? Get you outta here?”

            “Wouldn’t that be nice? What are you havin’?”

            “I’ll take the house Merlot.”

            “Coming right up.”

            She went over and bent down under the glass bar. She struggled a bit with the bottle and with a little clank she managed to bring up the bottle, uncorking the thing and poured it heavy. Mr. Montgomery heard the swish into the glass and watched a little spill over the rim.

            “Hope you don’t mind. It’s a bit of a pour.”

            “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he said, smiling.

            He took a seat right up on one of the red round seats.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Ambrosia.”

            “Really. You know what that means don’t you?”

            “Something that tastes good, right?”

            “Something delectable to all the senses.” He said with raised brows.

            “Yeah, my folks got a real sense of humor.”

            “I think it’s very pretty.”

            “Thank you.”

            And with that she gave a quick flash of a smile and went back to her magazine. Mr. Montgomery brought the wine glass under his nose and let the smell unfold. He took a slow gulp and felt the velvet finish slide down his throat. There was nothing better than drinking wine at 1 p.m. he decreed and promised that this wouldn’t be the last time he did something like this. One more sip he took and when it was halfway down he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. By the second ring he flipped the phone open.

            “Hello?”

            “Billy-boy,” the voice whispered.

            “Ahh, Amanda, I was waiting for your call.”

            “I miss you, Billy-boy.” The voice was breathy.  It went well with the wine he was drinking. Of course, Amanda went well with anything. The bartendress looked up for a moment and went back down to her magazine, huffing audibly.

            “I miss you too.”

            “It’s been too long Billy-boy. Too long.”

            “It has.”

            “So I’ll see you tonight.”

            “8 o’clock, as planned. On the dot.”

            She breathed into the phone and whispered something.

            “What was that?”

            “I’m lying in bed, Bill. And I’m thinking about you what we’re going to do when you get here.”

            He swallowed. “There’s nothing I want more.”

            “That better be true, Billy. That better be true. You’ll show me when you get here won’t you?”

            “8 o’clock.”

            “8 o’clock.”

            “Bye bye, Billy-boy.”

            “Bye, sweet.”

            He clipped the phone back and slid it into his pocket. He turned and looked out the window. The day was perfect. And it would be a good night too. He had at least another hour before he meetting Jonathon for tennis. Judging from how the day was they could actually play outside today. It would be the first game outside this season. Spring time was here and things were blooming. The first buds on the tips of branches pushed out around the city. He closed his eyes when he took down another soft gulp of wine and thought of Amanda in her white slip curled under her afternoon comforters and twisting her legs around themselves in anticipation of his arrival.

            “Hope you get out of here soon,” he said to the reading girl.

            “Thanks a bunch. Enjoy your day.”

            “I will, Ambrosia, I promise you. I will.”

            She nodded off to him as he stood up, stretched his long arms above his head and left the bar and the metal reflections behind.

2

            He pushed open the double glass doors of the museum and walked on out down the main steps of the place. The concrete paths lead deep out into a large courtyard. Before him was a statue of an old Indian wise man with his arms stretched out like Christ on a horse. Atop his sullen face was a beaded and feathered headdress on a neck tilted up to the sun. The horse was frozen in mid-gallop and the Indians fingers were tight together out to the sides. Mr. Montgomery stopped at the foot of the great statue. He shook his head. Then he laughed.

            A whole race murdered and all they got was a lousy statue, he said to himself. It was terrible.

            Sick bastard.

            What an ending, he thought; frozen like a sick wax house, frozen there in time. A never-moving thing. The thought left him cold.  

            I need more wine, Mr. Montgomery thought.

            The streets were clear. A handful of cars zoomed by as he came up to the light and waited for the green. He pushed the button to wait to cross. On the other side of the intersection a long red sedan waited for the light to change. The windows were tinted to dark grey and the engine purred across the road loud. He looked both ways again. The red sedan revved its engine. Mr. Montgomery noticed that the red sedan’s light was green. It did not move.

            What the hell, he thought. He squinted at the sedan waiting there. How long had it been there? He looked again at the light. It was green for the sedan. Whatever, he thought. He put one foot out into the street and the red sedan revved up its engine again and Montgomery felt the engines mechanics purr in his chest. He waved off to warn the driver that he was crossing and walked quickly across the empty street. But by the time he hit the middle the roar from the engine ripped into Mr. Montgomery’s ears. He turned quickly. The red sedan flew across the intersection. He pushed into a run. The red sedan flew veered towards him. A rush of wind blew across his cheek. Bill Montgomery made it to the other side heaving a breath. The red sedan tore down the road and screeched around the far corner.

            He wiped the sweat from his forehead and felt his body shake.

            Jesus Christ, he thought.

            He panted for a couple moments until he couldn’t hear the purr of the engine any longer and the silence of the afternoon street returned within a small wind from down the street. He straightened up and started back down the sidewalk.

            Must have been crazy kids, he reasoned, trembling in his stomach all the way to the sports club down the boulevard. He came to the entrance of the club and heard brakes screeching out further down the street. He jumped. The red sedan barreling down the street towards him. He closed his eyes. For whatever reason he waited a moment for it, squinting his eyes on the street. A couple cars drove by but none was the red sedan. He heaved a breath and went through entrance of the sports club.

3

            Jonathon threw the ball and swung. The ball shot across the court. Mr. Montgomery lunged to the right with muscled arms round and connected strong. It whizzed back further off to the right. Jonathon barely caught it with a back swing tripping over his legs. Montgomery moved on his chance. He jumped towards the net to catch the weak hit and slammed it across. Jonathon fumbled on the return, diving and missing. It bounced right within the courts painted white lines and off to the back off the court. Jonathon let out a cackle and scooped it up. He tossed it back over to Montgomery, hands on his hips, breathing in long breaths.

            “Again with you Bill,” Jonathon yelled. “You’re on fire today.”

            “It’s hard being this good,” Bill said back bouncing the ball on the ground. “You better get ready for this one Jonny.”

            “Just serve it, Bill. Serve the fucker.”

            Bill Montgomery wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He held the ball high for a moment.

            “I just want to make sure you’re ready.” He had this great grin between his cheeks.

            Jonathon hacked a cough and spat towards the net. “Bill, if you don’t serve the fucking…”

            Just then Bill threw the ball and pulled his arm back and swiped the falling ball across the court. It was a straight shot towards Jonathon’s chest. Jonathon twisted his body back and to the side and swung connecting. The ball arched and Bill got under it waiting a half second a couple feet before the net and nailed it straight over. Jonathan got closer to it but it hit the ground before he could get there. He swore as it bounced right above his head and went out of the court.

            “Son of a—,” he panted and rested his hands on his knees. “Something definitely got into you today. Hell, it’s a struggle to get you to hustle for anything. Lazy bastard.”

            Bill walked up to the net and gripped the top of it with one hand. “Hey. What can I say? You had better get into the groove. I’m gonna take you son.”

            Jonathon shook his head and spat again and smoothed his wet hair back on his head. “Just serve the thing. Trust me. You’re time will come.”

            “Talk is what Jonny? Talk. That’s all it is.”

            “It’s good you can handle this game with such humility.”

            “Never been my strong suit Jonny.”

            He turned to position himself for the next serve. He took a couple seconds to think about where he wanted it to go. Jonathon was back to the left and waited. He didn’t have any expression on his young high boned face.

            Bill Montgomery heaved a deep breath and threw the ball up lightly and with a whooshing hit he put the ball right up over the net. Jonathon sprung into action sweeping it across and it flung back to the corner of Bill’s side. Montgomery danced backward, his eye on it, and backhanded it across. Jonathon connected nailing it far to the left. Bill eased back a couple of steps and shot the ball hard to the corner. Jonathon leapt and caught it barely. Bill saw his opportunity and leapt up to hit it once more right over the net. Jonathon choked and caught the racket flat on the ground. The ball flung up. Bill ran right to the net. Jonathon was stuck. He saw Bill moving fast and tried to get to the back of the court but Bill was quick and he connected and it with a slap. Jonathan ran. The ball landed right in the corner of the two lines and bounced to the back of the court. Jonathon swiped the empty air with his racket as it passed and swore.

            “Game! That’s game. That’s it! World Champion!” Bill struck up his arms, racket in hand. He looked off to the invisible audience and bowed and nodded his head. “Yes, yes, please no autographs please. Where’s my girlfriend? No ladies please. I’m takin’. I’m takin’. Well sweetie,” he said to the invisible girl, “Well, maybe just you.”

            Jonathon said, “I hope they give you venereal disease.”

            Bill walked up to the net to Jonathon and they shook wet hands across the net.

            “How’d you get so good Bill? Last time we played you sucked pretty bad.”

            “You funny Jonny, you’re funny. I’ll give you that.”

            They shook hands and walked off the court and in through the glass doors of the sports club. They descended the stairs and headed to the showers. Jonathon went to the opposite side and started humming to himself. Bill found an empty shower in the corner and turned the faucet.  The water shot out from the sprout hot and steam came up wisping from the stream. He ducked carefully under the beam and let the water course over his strained body. All through his heavy chest Montgomery he felt the warmth on his strained muscles. He took his hands and drew them down his thick arms and then reached over and squirted down on the dial of soap, took the gel and shook it through his palms. He covered his muscled thighs and washed down his curved calves. He took his hands and slid them over his hair and closed his eyes and let the steam slide up into his nostrils. The water splashed across his hot cheeks and hummed a song to himself as well.

            There was nothing better than the game, he thought. He loved all physical action. It was the pain that felt so good, coursing through his blood. It was in the movement, nothing better. Well, he caught himself; maybe the game wasn’t the only physical thing that was good.

            But that was for later, he thought. And that later would be good too.

            He didn’t even think of the red sedan until he was telling Jonathon the story in the steam room of the club. He could barely see Jonathon’s face through the wet white clouds. He could make out his long body and a little of his own. He drew his hands down his own arms and wiped the dotted dew that gathered from the moisture. Jonathon voiced out:

            “Jesus. It just broke out after you?”

            “That’s what it seemed.”

            “You sure it was after you?”

            “It was a green light Jonny. He had the green light. He just was waiting there and when I went out into the street to cross that’s when it broke out after me.”

            “Fucking crazy world Bill.”

            “It was trying to kill me Jonny, that’s what it seemed like anyway.”

            “Nah--it was probably a bunch of kids trying to scare you. You remember those days. You just tried to fuck with people, that’s all.”

            “Maybe. Maybe.”

            “Sounds like they did a good job too.”

            Bill Montgomery stretched his arms up and leaned up against the moist white tile. He shook his head. Across the room Jonathon didn’t say anything but breathed out deep and blew a cloud. Bill saw the clouds turn and curl in the white shadows.

            “It’s nothing Bill,” his voice came out through the mist, “Don’t even think about it.”

            And Bill tried not too and knew Jonathon was right. So he left the thought there in the white clouded room and closed his eyes and thought about Amanda laying there in her bed, phone close to her.

            All he had to do was get there.

4

            He and Jonathon embraced out on the sidewalk outside the sports club. The sun had already disappeared down below the tall downtown buildings of the city. Beyond the edges of the buildings streaks of red curled around the corners and off to the other side of the sky the white misty moon was out and set upon the cool blue of the night coming. There wasn’t any wind yet and this was rare in the city. It kept the temperature comfortable and still. The streets were just getting busy with the traffic of those that were coming home from their work day.

            Jonathon looked off down the street and stuck his hands in his pockets. Bill Montgomery watched his friend’s eyes search down the street.

            “Well, no sign of your red sedan. You ain’t being followed that’s for sure.”

            “Let’s not even talk about it.”

            “Yeah—right? Look, good game, good seeing you. The whole thing. We’ve got to do this sometime soon.”

            Jonathon smiled. The two men have been friends now for ten years and had the blessing of living in the same city. Bill watched him slide his longer hair back and he had known this face from when it was young. When both of their faces were young.

            “Yeah, soon enough.”

            “How’s Amanda? You two still seeing each other?”

            “She’s good. We’re good. I’m going over there tonight.”

            “Things getting a bit serious, huh?”

            “As serious as they can.”

            “That’s good for you Bill. That’s good. Love’s a hard thing to come by.”

            “Well, we haven’t quite got to that point yet.”

            “Well, all I can say is that time is short. It moves way too fast.”

            “I know Jonny, I know all of that.”

            “Do you?” He looked dead right into Bill’s eyes. “I hope so. It’s not like we’re here forever. You get a girl like that...”

            “All right. All right.” He put out his hand and they shook one more time.

            “Soon. We’ll see each other soon.” Jonny said and turned and started walking off down the side walk.

            Mr. Montgomery stared and waited a couple seconds. He yelled out. “And anytime you want to lose again...”

            Jonny didn’t turn at this but jutted out his arm into the air with his middle finger raised high. Bill laughed and Jonathon walked a little bit more and disappeared around the corner down the street.

            Mr. Montgomery put his hands in his pockets and kicked a stone off into the street and started the opposite way down. The red now was all over the skyline and the white moon was as bright as a lamp in the middle of all that red. Bill Montgomery walked down the trafficked street. He came to the entrance of the subway. The double doors swung open and out poured commuters coming home from work. He twisted through the crowds on the sidewalk to the subway entrance. A couple kids were standing on the street corner rolling dice against the metal plated bridge over the freeway. One of them looked up and nodded to Bill walking by.

            “Shoot a straight six.” Bill said and the kid nodded as he past them. The dice rolled with a clack against the concrete and the young kid yelled out: “That’s six muthafucker! Pay the man! Pay the man!” He yelled out, arms stretched in glory. Good guess, Bill thought, it was my lucky day.

            Bill stood tall at the entrance letting the people walk out past him onto sidewalk feeling the gust of hot damp air pour out from the subway doors. Behind him a couple of horns sounded out.

            He saw the street lights turn and he heard the rev of an engine. He turned right before stepping into the entrance. Between rushing figures he saw across the street the car purring at the intersection.

            It was the red sedan.

            The engine flared up again loud and silenced all the other sounds of the busy intersection. He froze. He felt the engine in his gut. Sweat grew upon his forehead. The roar came again shooting up his tailbone.

            No way. No fucking way, Bill thought. He took a couple steps away from the subway entrance and walked to the corner. He stared over at the red sedan. It sat their waiting at the light. The sedan was long and the lamp lights shined off the dark metal hood. The tinted windows were a deep purple tint. The chrome wheels gleamed from the on coming headlights of the cars. The engine revved again and Bill felt some bile creep up the back side of the throat.

            Who are you you son of a bitch?

            To answer the tinted window rolled down lazily and the darkness inside the car was broken by a long white arm that slowly protruded with within. A long white finger pointed out across the street. He backed up confused and slammed into a couple. The couple fell back a bit and the man spat out: “Watch it pal!”

            Bill shook his head.

            “I’m sorry. Sorry.” He kept his eyes locked on the long thin arm. Its fingers curled and the long thin bone beckoned to him. The engine revved rumbling the intersection, filling his ears. Without thinking he spun back leapt quickly past the crowds, slamming open the double doors. He flung down into the stairs. He descended the stairs quickly. He felt his whole body run cold. A homeless man in old clothes shook his jingling cup. Bill pushed his way past the reeking man and hit the bottom of the subway platform. He took a seat next to two old women quickly. He held his hands in his hands.

            This is madness. Impossible. Maybe he wasn’t pointing to me. Maybe it was for someone else. Maybe it was someone completely different.

            What else could it have been though?

            Then the screeching of brakes reeled through the subway platform and the train came rushing forward in roaring hush. He leapt up on board and pushed his way to the back of the car and clung to the two metal posts. The train lurched chugging onward through the darkness of the tunnel. He felt his whole body shaking and he cooed himself and tried to rub his arms to get the cold to stop. His arms pinpricked up with gooseflesh as he stared down onto the steel floor of the train car. It came to the first stop and the doors slid open with screeching metal and some patrons got off and the car was a little more empty than it had been before. He peered up and saw a little blond girl flipping her feet up and down on the seat. He smiled at her when her little blue eyes looked up at him. He met her eyes, still shaking a bit, and gave a broken little smile.

            “Hey cutie,” he said to her, his voice shaking and she looked down quickly full of shyness. She looked back up the next second as the train took a sharp turn and he gripped the metal railings to hold on.

            “Hi,” she said in a soft sweet voice.

            “You like riding trains?” he said trembling.

            “Don’t be scared,” she said, “It’s only the train turning,” she whispered.

            “Oh, I’m fine sweetie.” I’m fine, he thought. It’s fine. Amanda popped into his head and then suddenly he realized that this little girl looked almost just like her. It looked like a child they could have together. She stayed with her eyes calm and looking over him there in the back of train.

            “It’s only the train turning. Don’t worry. It’ll go back to normal soon Mister,” she cooed him.

            He spat out a laugh and nodded and looked up at the other patrons of the train. One old lady on the other side of the train looked up from her book and stared at him. He nodded toward her but she kept staring with these old grey eyes out of wrinkled skin. He broke from this stare and realized that the other patron’s faces, one by one, turned upward towards him. Soon every face on the train stared right at him stretched out in the back between the two railings. He swallowed deep and looked down at the girl who started kicking her legs. He peered up one more time before the train slowed at the next stop. He could feel all the eyes of the train car on his and it was like twenty strange hands all pushing up against his whole body. He peered up again and the train car was back to normal. The old lady was back in the book and the others all stared off elsewhere. Across the way on some of the faces was a small grin off the sides of their cheeks. The metal doors screeched open again and he pulled himself off the back wall of the train and pushed his way to the entrance. He looked back quickly once and the little girl had stopped kicking. She raised her little hand up and waved to him goodbye. He nodded fast and moved past the travelers in the train. He could hear whispering as he went by from the travelers and he jumped down the two steps and landed on the platform. The air in the station was cool and damp. He walked quickly away and without even thinking gave a look back. The doors screeched closed and as the train pulled off the travelers inside, one by one, looked out towards the window and watched him. One by one, the expressionless faces stared dead through the window. The vomit stopped right before his mouth.

One by one, each face eyed him over. The little girl was at the window now waving with one hand below all the sullen faces of the train car. He turned quickly back and hit the stairwell and ran up the steps quickly until he pushed the double doors open from the train station and ducked his head out into the cool night wind of the city above.

5

            He moved fast down the streets of downtown proper. Each one was a small concrete passage way through the night. The wind picked up howling off the buildings. Only through some of the alleyways could he catch the great white moon gleaming above. Littered paper blew across the streets. He moved towards the small orange door of Amanda’s studio. He pulled his coat tight around him and felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He brought up the phone and flipped it open.

            “You coming soon. It’s night already.”

            “Amanda I’m coming. I’m right around the corner from you.” His voice was still shaking.

            “Billy—what is it?”

            “Nothing. I mean. Everything. I don’t know. I think I might be really tired. I’m seeing things.”

            “Bill—you’re scaring me.”

            Brakes screeched out down the street and Bill turned quick and saw nothing. “No. I’m fine really. I’m almost there. It got really cold. Quick fucking changes.”

            “The wind tunnels. Yeah. Awww, Billy-boy hurry up. I’m waiting for you.” She purred over the phone and he nodded.

            “Yes, I’m coming baby. I’ll be right there.”

            “You better be sweetheart. Not much time left.”

            He hung up the phone and took the corner. Not much time left, he thought?

            He pushed on He was only one block away. The intersection across from him was empty and the streetlights blinked over and over yellow. The lamps swung in the wind back and forth. He moved quickly feeling his heart way up in his throat. He heard the rev of an engine and some laughter from down the street. He turned and saw a drunken couple laughing to each other in shadows. The silhouetted man pushed the woman up against one of the buildings and planted a kiss on her mouth. She drew her shadowed arms up along his back. He came to the intersection and looked down both ways.

            There was nothing on either side.

            He breathed a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes. He saw those faces on the train. The little girl. That long white arm from the red sedan.

            He pushed himself and came across the street and tore down the alley and finally came upon a small concrete staircase. Up he went and there was the orange door. He knocked a bunch of times harder maybe than he should.

            It cracked open seconds later and Amanda stuck her head out. Her long black hair slithered around the orange door, each a heavy stream of hair that hung down the sides of her smooth white cheeks. Her blue Irish eyes melted when she caught sight of him.

            He put out his arms long.

            “I made it.”

            “You have, you are,” she purred.

            She grinned between her tight cheeks and an arm snaked out and drew forth fingers that walked up his chest and her body followed and slipping out of the entryway in only a small silk slip she came out barefoot onto concrete steps and pressed her thick lips upon his cold ones.

            “I don’t even want to think of it,” he said and pushed harder and his tongue fell into her and he ran his arms up her back and felt the gooseflesh from the cold. Her back was curved lithe and long and he traced down her spine to the bottom and with a push nudged both of them into the warm house and as they fell onto the floor he slammed the door with his legs behind him. It was then he heard the soft music melt into his ears and smelled the subtle incense she burned churning in the air of the red bricked room. She rolled over on top of him and he was curtained by the two long drapes of black hair that portraited her face above him. The candles cast flickering images that he could see off her mouth when it was off of him and off her eyes when she had opened them and across the back of the room of the red brick their silhouettes painted rolling images that moved and shaped and flickered like a picture show serpent for the hours they laid, yearning back and forth upon the floor until one giant leap the candles lead their way into darkness and burned themselves out and both Mr. Montgomery and Amanda had fallen asleep into each other arms and dreamt of nothing but the smell of incense and the faded wax of the candles themselves.

6

            It was a long darkness before he heard anything. He knew his own weight when he felt the hands rolling him over and the pains in his stomach grew and churned upward and the bile seeped across the border of his lips. It was warm and drew a line across his cheeks as it rolled down the cheek and he heard someone yell to someone else for help. He felt his bowels grow and explode and the wetness cross his legs and dripped on down between them and the sheets and she came suddenly and many warm and tender hands came again and put the open palms over his eyes. The palms pressed against his forehead and they were cool palms now. He felt the dripping from his thighs and when the pains in his stomach subsided in the release he heard a woman’s voice above him lulling him and saying his name over and over again and before he knew it he felt within the crook of his arm warm fluid and then the fluid went up through his blood in his arms and then in his spine he felt the black warmth reach up and by the time it hit like a soft pillow to the back of his head he went back under and felt the long fingers of Amanda smoothing out the thickness of his hair and he could of sworn it morning but he didn’t know or didn’t care either. He caught through the slits of his eyes her smile and her voice and she was humming one of their favorite songs together and whispering about the children they would have and how beautiful she would look and he saw the face of that little girl on the train and she was playing, flipping her legs up and down off the seat. And with that he nestled into Amanda’s firm chest and he could hear the humming through her chest and he smiled and it warmed him and before he knew it he was asleep again in the darkness and he could hear and feel nothing.

7

            There was the beeping. The beeping over and over, calm and smooth like the heartbeat. The two people who stood at the end of the room right in the doorway looked over Mr. Montgomery lying flat of his back, his hands put comfortably together. One of them, out of care, laced his fingers together every morning. 

            “He looks so peaceful,” one said. And the other nodded carefully and adjusted her name plate pinned to her white-starched shirt. It gleamed a little from the morning sunlight that poured into the room and when the gleam had gone it had read “Ambrosia”.

            “How long has he been like this?” the other nurse spoke.

            The other one heaved a deep breath, a sad and long breath and answered: “Not more than a year and a day.”

            “You’ve been taking care of him ever since?” the other one asked and then the one with the name tag sighed again and said; “Yes, since the beginning.”

            “How did it happen?” the other one asked.

            “It was a simple thing. He was out walking and a car blew a red light and ran him down.”

            The other gasped and shook her head. “That’s horrible.”

            “It is,” Ambrosia said, “it is. And it happens everyday.”

            “Did they ever catch em?” the other asked.

            “No,” Ambrosia said with finality.

            They stayed there within the room beneath the repetitious beeping from the steel machines beside the bed.

            “Do you think he can hear us?” the other one said.

            Ambrosia took a bit of time to answer and then she did, her throat dry and raw. “Some days I think he hears me. And some days I know he can’t. He moves his lips though. I know he wants to speak, but then again, maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

            The other one folded her arms. “I wonder what he’s saying.”

            Ambrosia nodded, flicked the lights off and they both left Montgomery alone in the room.

            The beeping increased in repetition when the door closed and Mr. Montgomery’s chest rose a bit more than usual and his breath was audible and long and deep. His eyes were vacant as the desert staring up at the ceiling and stayed that way. But his thin lips began to move a little. Nothing but slow air came out instead of words. Somewhere now, somewhere deep in the darkness Montgomery heard the velvet voice and these sweet lips barely touching the sides of his ears.

            “Billy-boy,” he heard, “it’s time to wake up. I’ve got to go Billy. Wake up sweetheart. It’s time to go.” And then he smelled the incense and he smelled the wax and he opened his eyes and traced his fingers through hers and smiled and she smiled back and beyond her face was a blanket of blackness and only her face was there as the moon would show on any still night. 

            “I’ll be right there,” he said slowly, “I’ll be right there.” But the words were silence. And as the face melted within the darkness the shadows of the room returned and the clicks of the machine chimed like an old parlor clock covered beneath the dust.