{"id":51074,"date":"2016-07-12T00:50:49","date_gmt":"2016-07-12T00:50:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?p=51074"},"modified":"2023-11-04T15:06:27","modified_gmt":"2023-11-04T15:06:27","slug":"blink","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/?p=51074","title":{"rendered":"Blink"},"content":{"rendered":"

Monday 10am<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cThe doctor will see you now,\u201d the receptionist said.<\/p>\n

I put down the magazine, levered myself from the sofa and moseyed through the heavy door into the doctor\u2019s office. I plopped down in my usual chair and looked around. The room was empty. Where was the Doc? My stomach churned. I didn\u2019t like change.<\/p>\n

Seconds later, a young, very curvy woman in a dark business suit and heels entered the room. She had very light skin and black hair fixed in a bun. My immediate impression, not unfavorable, was Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, conservatively dressed and without the big 80\u2019s hair and makeup.<\/p>\n

She stood across from me. \u201cHello, Mr. Pulver,\u201d she said, her voice a bit hoarse, \u201cI\u2019m Dr. Cummings.\u201d She extended her hand. I rose to shake it and sat again. \u201cDr. Grant feels that at this point in his relationship with you, he can\u2019t help you any further, so I\u2019ll be taking over for him, unless you object.\u201d <\/p>\n

Old Dr. Grant had been my therapist for the last ten years. In all that time we had managed to do almost nothing. That was the way I liked it. Immediately an objection lodged itself in my mind, but stuck in my throat.<\/p>\n

She lifted a business card from a stack on the table and extended it to me. I put it in my shirt pocket. She sat down opposite me and crossed her shapely legs at the ankles. She put on a pair of half-frame reading glasses and got busy flipping through a file on a clipboard. When she started the recorder on the table between us I saw that her hands were accented by a nifty French manicure. Maybe change was good. I swallowed my objection. <\/p>\n

\u201cSo you\u2019re 32 years old,\u201d she said, ticking off a list. \u201cYou don\u2019t have a job. You live in your grandmother\u2019s basement—\u201d<\/p>\n

I was busy checking her out but the word \u2018basement\u2019 caught my attention. \u201cActually it\u2019s my basement now,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

She glanced up at me over her glasses, a question in her beautiful brown eyes. <\/p>\n

I shrugged my shoulders. \u201cWell, she\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

She grimaced. \u201cSorry for your loss. I didn\u2019t know.\u201d <\/p>\n

I wondered what Dr. Grant had told her. Probably not much. I waved my hand. \u201cNo problem, it was months ago and not unexpected.\u201d<\/p>\n

She put the clipboard and the glasses on the table. \u201cSo, how\u2019s it going with the diabetes?\u201d <\/p>\n

So she knew about that. I absolutely hated my diabetes. I tried to ignore it. I wished it would go away.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s only been a month since I was diagnosed and it\u2019s a pain in the ass.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cGoing to the support group?\u201d she asked. <\/p>\n

I shook my head no.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, why not?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not required,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you only do what\u2019s required?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMore or less. You\u2019re aware of my situation, my Uncle Carl\u2019s will?\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cA bit, tell me about it,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, my uncle was a mad scientist. Alzheimers put him in an institution about twenty years ago. <\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s too bad, but really,\u201d she said, \u201ca mad scientist?\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe not crazy, but definitely a sociopath,\u201d I said. \u201cI don\u2019t hate him exactly, but I never saw him. He was a poor substitute for my parents. Before he lost it he made a bundle of money with patents, something to do with genetics, I think. He said he couldn\u2019t associate with inferiors. He shut himself off from the world, from everyone, even me and Grandma.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cDoesn\u2019t he provide for you and your grandmother even now?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, money, okay,\u201d I said. \u201cHe took me in when I was a kid and my folks were killed. He supports me now. I\u2019m grateful for that but he and Grandma were two of a kind. Both cold, emotionless.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cSo what\u2019s required?\u201d she asked. <\/p>\n

\u201cIn order to stay on the gravy train after I reached eighteen I\u2019ve had to visit him at least three days a week, take care of Grandma, although not so much anymore, and I have to go to therapy until I\u2019m thirty-five or until he dies, when I\u2019ll inherit everything. Oh, and I have to keep out of trouble.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cAnd are you happy, Mr. Pulver,\u201d she asked, \u201cdoing only what\u2019s required?\u201d<\/p>\n

I wasn\u2019t happy. Who\u2019s happy anyway? I stared at her legs. I felt like I was being captured somehow but I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you attracted to me, Mr. Pulver?\u201d she asked. <\/p>\n

I felt a blush rise up my neck. How did she know what I was feeling? \u201cPlease call me Frank,\u201d I stammered like a love-struck teenager.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Frank, acting on an attraction would be inappropriate given our expected relationship but it\u2019s not inappropriate to be attracted. At least you\u2019re interested in relationships. That\u2019s a big deal. It says something about your worldview and self worth.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up into her eyes. \u201cI\u2019ve talked with a lot of therapists over the years, Dr. Cummings. They all told me they were being honest with me. How can I be sure of you?\u201d<\/p>\n

She uncrossed her legs, leaned forward and flipped off the recorder. \u201cWould you like me to say something honest to you?\u201d <\/p>\n

I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest. \u201cVery much, say something honest to me.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cYou know if you lost weight that diabetes would probably disappear, oh, and you stink of pot.\u201d <\/p>\n

Wow, that took the polish off the romance. The honeymoon was over. <\/p>\n

\u201cAlthough I notice that you don\u2019t appear to be stoned,\u201d she said. \u201cThanks for that.\u201d She paused again for few beats and looked at her watch. \u201cShall we give therapy a try Frank?\u201d <\/p>\n

After the session I got in my car and looked in the rearview mirror. I saw something odd, a smiling face. I said to myself, \u201cYou\u2019re in love Frank.\u201d I agreed to see her again in a few days and was actually looking forward to it. I took her card out. First name Karen. I liked it.<\/p>\n

I cracked a window and lit up a nice joint. This was my reward and antidote for therapy. I broke out my blood sugar meter and took a sample. I was a newbie, still not used to the importance of checking, constantly checking, a complete pain in the butt. My sugar was low so I fished around and found a smashed honey bun that I knew was rolling around in the car. I finished it and the joint and went to see Uncle Carl.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow is he today, Doris?\u201d I asked the receptionist at the desk as I signed the visitor\u2019s register. <\/p>\n

\u201cNot so good, Frank,\u201d Doris said, not looking up from her monitor. <\/p>\n

I tapped the pen on the book. \u201cSo the log says Tony James was here yesterday,\u201d I said, \u201cfor almost an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

Doris just looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. Tony had been a prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of Uncle Carl\u2019s more than thirty years ago. He visited more than I did. It was hard for me to believe someone would volunteer for this. We crossed paths once in a while but I tried to avoid him because he always wanted to tell me what a genius my uncle had been. <\/p>\n

\u201cYour uncle\u2019s really not here this week,\u201d Doris said.<\/p>\n

I continued down the hall. \u201cThis week!\u201d I snorted. \u201cHe hasn\u2019t been here for decades. Elvis has left the building!\u201d
\n<\/p>\n

Tuesday 12pm<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cFrank, wake up man!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho. . .what?\u201d I mumbled, turning over on the couch. It was Billy, my sole friend from high school and constant slacker companion. He leaned over me. I smelled beer and pot.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d I said with one eye open. \u201cDid you get the prescription filled?\u201d <\/p>\n

Billy sat in a chair next to me and pulled his stringy beard. \u201cYeah, but they said it\u2019s the last one unless Grandma comes in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShit,\u201d I moaned. We knew this would happen. Grandma had a marijuana prescription for glaucoma for the past five years. She was never interested in it so we had a nice supply. I guessed the bureaucracy was catching up. We\u2019d have to find a different supplier.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll have to ration it,\u201d I said in vain as Billy rolled a fat one. <\/p>\n

Wednesday 10am<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cSo Frank,\u201d said Dr. Cummings, \u201cwhat should we talk about today?\u201d<\/p>\n

Nothing. I\u2019m only here because I wanted to see you again. \u201cHow about the weather?\u201d I offered.<\/p>\n

She countered with one raised eyebrow. \u201cHow about something you mentioned in passing at our last session?\u201d <\/p>\n

I knew exactly what she meant. Therapists had been trying to get me to talk about it since the beginning. My parents were murdered when I was five years old. Some deranged people broke into our house one night and killed them. I survived only because I was hiding in their closet, like I did most nights when I had bad dreams. I didn\u2019t see it happen but I heard it. Their screams haunted me to this day. Sometimes I wish I\u2019d died with them.<\/p>\n

I got up and paced the room. I crossed my hands in front of me. \u201cI don\u2019t want to talk about that. Ever.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cFrank, I\u2019m sorry for you, I really am,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I\u2019m not sorry I brought it up. You were a kid and something really bad happened. I think it\u2019s affecting your life in a negative way. It\u2019s time to grow up and let it go.\u201d <\/p>\n

At this point in therapy I usually found a way to act like I was cooperating, because I had to continue. But I liked her. I wanted to trust her. \u201cHow?\u201d I said in a small voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cHypnosis, Frank. I\u2019m very good at it. You can remember things but we can go very slowly, very carefully.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll think about it,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Thursday 3pm<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, okay, I\u2019m comin\u2019,\u201d I shouted as someone pounded on the front door. It was the mailman with a registered letter. I signed for it and closed the door. <\/p>\n

I flopped down in a chair. Billy was watching a ball game on the TV, eating chips and smoking a joint.<\/p>\n

I opened the envelope and pulled out a letter from the Sheriff. Across the top of the letter was the word \u2018summons\u2019 in bold type. \u201cBilly, holy shit, this is serious! This letter says I have to appear in court next Wednesday to determine if criminal charges will be assessed for fraud, larceny and possession of an illegal substance. If I get arrested I violate my uncle\u2019s will and all this goes away!\u201d I flapped my arms around for emphasis. <\/p>\n

Billy looked at me waving my arms. He laughed and slapped his leg. \u201cYou\u2019re a fuckin\u2019 bird, man!\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cDammit Billy pass me that joint.\u201d I grabbed it and took a deep drag. I wished it would all somehow go away. <\/p>\n

Thursday 10pm<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cBilly, check out the TV,\u201d I said, waking him up. \u201cCheck out the news. Something weird is going on in Europe and Africa. People are dying of this strange brain thing. They talk about seeing floaters in their eyes, then they get these massive headaches and die. People are dying Billy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Billy listened but he seemed unconcerned and rolled over. Moments later he rolled back and said, \u2018If I die Frank, I want a Viking funeral.\u2019<\/p>\n

I was focused on the TV but I heard him. \u201cSure thing,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

Friday 11am <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cFrank, don\u2019t forget the register,\u201d said Doris as I passed her desk. <\/p>\n

I\u2019d been smoking in my car for the last hour. I was so stoned I could hardly walk, let alone sign in.<\/p>\n

I weaved down the hall. \u201cOn the way out,\u201d I slurred. <\/p>\n

As I entered my uncle\u2019s room, I wondered if I was hallucinating. His eyes were bulging open. This struck me as hilarious and I started to giggle.<\/p>\n

Then he spoke. His voice was a rasp. \u201cFrank?\u201d he said, \u201cyou?\u201d<\/p>\n

This can\u2019t be. I hadn\u2019t heard his voice in almost twenty years. I barely stifled my laughter. \u201cYeh, yes,\u201d I managed to say.<\/p>\n

\u201cYear?\u201d he croaked.<\/p>\n

\u201c2020, dude.\u201d<\/p>\n

He twitched involuntarily. \u201cToo late., come,\u201d he whispered. <\/p>\n

I sat on his bed. He could barely move his withered body. He spoke to me and said a lot of things, most of it garbled, something about a key. I wasn\u2019t paying attention. Then he blinked his eyes in a way that was so funny I laughed in his face. I laughed so hard I slid off the bed as my uncle collapsed. I had tears running down my face as a nurse came in to check the monitor. I sat in a corner as a number of people tried to resuscitate him. Finally, a doctor approached me. <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m very sorry, Mr. Pulver, your uncle is dead,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

I ran out of there. I got to my car and laughed all the way home. <\/p>\n

Monday 12pm<\/strong><\/p>\n

There was no one at the funeral except for Billy, me, and Mr. Barlow, my uncle\u2019s executor.<\/p>\n

We stood at the gravesite eyeing the gleaming casket. \u201cWell Frank,\u201c Mr. Barlow said, \u201cyou\u2019ve managed to stay within the limitations of your uncle\u2019s will, so as of his death, you are officially free of any requirements of the will, and all of the assets are yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled and Billy high-fived me. I had a brief moment of sadness when I realized I didn\u2019t have to go to therapy anymore, now that I wanted to go.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere, take these,\u201d Mr. Barlow continued as he handed me the keys to my uncle\u2019s house. \u201cCome see me in a week and I\u2019ll have the papers prepared for you to sign.\u201d With that he shook my hand and walked away.<\/p>\n

Billy and I decided to check out the house and on the way to the car we were approached by Tony James. I was surprised he wasn\u2019t here earlier. He expressed his sorrow for my loss. I told him about going to the house. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou should come,\u201d I offered.<\/p>\n

He looked like I had granted his most important wish. \u201cI\u2019d love to,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

As we walked into my uncle\u2019s house, a small mansion really, I got a kind of creepy feeling like my uncle had just left. This was only the second time I had been in this house, the first time when I was five. My uncle liked things just so. I knew he paid to have the house kept up. I was sure if I checked the refrigerator I would find it stocked with fresh food. He expected to be back.<\/p>\n

Billy and Tony had wandered off as I recollected in the foyer. <\/p>\n

\u201cFrank!\u201d Tony shouted from down a long hall. \u201cI\u2019m in his office. Take a look at this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I made my way down the hall to the office. Tony was hunched over a desk looking over some papers. <\/p>\n

\u201cYour uncle was a respected researcher until something happened that drove him underground thirty years ago,\u201d he said, looking down at the desk. \u201cI always thought it was related to his Aspergers, his inability to relate to people. In any case, he was a brilliant man.\u201d <\/p>\n

He picked up an old VHS tape, looked up, and handed it to me. It was labeled, \u2018To the Scientific Community\u2019. <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like to review this tape. Would you mind if I also took some of his papers?\u201d he asked. \u201cI\u2019d be thrilled to look through his work. You know he never published anything after 1989. A real tragedy, I\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me expectantly. I thought he would cry if I said no.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d I shrugged. \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

Just then Billy showed up with a chicken leg and a beer. <\/p>\n

I laughed. \u201cFound the kitchen, huh?\u201d Billy smiled and slurped the beer.<\/p>\n

I handed Tony the tape and helped him gather a stack of papers into a box. Then we all cleared out. It felt like we were intruding.<\/p>\n

Wednesday 10am<\/strong><\/p>\n

I sat across from Karen. She tried bravely to have a regular session but was too distracted by the news. They were calling it a plague now. People were dying all over the globe at an alarming and accelerated rate. There were even a few people in town that had died.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you going anywhere?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t think so. There\u2019s nowhere safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I do anything for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

She wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye. \u201cPromise to come see me again?\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cI will,\u201d I said and I meant it. <\/p>\n

She pulled a piece of paper from a pocket and handed it to me. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t do this, but under the circumstances, here\u2019s my address.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cAre you alone there, where you live?\u201d I asked. <\/p>\n

\u201cNo, my aunt is with me. I can\u2019t leave her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI understand.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you\u2019re alone,\u201d she said, \u201cfind me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ditto, I wanted to say, but didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Wednesday 8pm<\/strong><\/p>\n

The cops hadn\u2019t come for me today so I expected that no one cared about court dates anymore. I was thinking be careful what you wish for when the phone rang.<\/p>\n

I hoped it was Karen, but no, it was Tony, the last person I expected to ever hear from again. I wanted to hang up but he sounded agitated and angry.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s an incomplete message, Frank,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s in everyone. Over the last two decades people have been growing optogenetic pathways that allow for control of processing mental state-specific brain waves to program the body. Your uncle designed a synthetic mind-controlled gene switch that enables human brain activities and mental states to wirelessly program the transgene expression in human cells. But after fully loading, it apparently needs to be reset somehow or it causes death. How do we reset it, Frank? There\u2019s nothing in his papers. It could be biofeedback control, concentration, meditation. It\u2019s killing everyone!\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart beat faster. \u201cWhat the hell are you talkin\u2019 about?\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cYour uncle may be responsible for the annihilation of the human race!\u201d he cried. \u201cIt looks like he engineered a virus that altered the genes of everyone on the planet over the last twenty years. The purpose of the alteration was to allow anyone to make changes in their bodies at will. But initially it needs to be rebooted or it goes off into a random action killing its host. It\u2019s fantastically brilliant and according to the tape, he expected to be around to reset everyone at the right moment. But he\u2019s dead and he didn\u2019t leave the information we need to stop this. Did he ever say anything to you? We don\u2019t even know how he spread the virus!\u201d <\/p>\n

I remembered my uncle took trips all over the world when I was small. He never brought me stuff. I didn\u2019t want to tell Tony about my last meeting with my uncle so I shouted back. \u201cHe didn\u2019t say anything to me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s too bad, Frank,\u201d Tony said in a defeated voice. \u201cWithout the key we\u2019re all doomed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I could respond, the phone cut off, likely for good. The word \u2018key\u2019 had sparked something in my memory but I couldn\u2019t place it. <\/p>\n

I tried to forget about Tony. How could my crazy uncle be responsible for all this death? Billy and I smoked the penultimate joint and he went to bed early complaining of a headache. I rationalized it away as a hangover from too much beer. I didn\u2019t want to consider the alternative.<\/p>\n

Thursday 8am<\/strong><\/p>\n

Billy died last night and there was nothing I could do for him. I watched him swallow a full bottle of aspirin and squirm around on the kitchen floor until blood came out of every orifice he had. He screamed and begged me to kill him. I squatted in a corner and cried my eyes out with my hands covering my ears, a terrified five year old once more. Finally, mercifully, he shuddered and died. I fell to the floor and passed out. <\/p>\n

Later I woke up and got a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard. I proceeded to drink. I had to get Billy outside. That meant I had to pick him up. It took me half a quart to find the courage to approach him. I picked him up, his head resting on my chest. He was lighter than I expected. Maybe he had had a heavy soul. I cried as I walked with him to the backyard. I set him down tenderly in a busted lounge chair. I walked unsteadily back inside, retrieved my bottle, went outside and sat with him. <\/p>\n

After a lot more whiskey and a little thought I perfected my plan for a Viking funeral. I secured a number of wood pallets from the garage and set them in the mostly empty and abysmally putrid above-ground swimming pool. I got a nice bed sheet to cover the pallets and then I laid Billy on it. He looked comfortable as I posed him with his hands on his chest. I washed his face and combed his hair and beard. But something was missing. While I looked for gasoline in the garage I found an old plastic sword I had as a kid. I set it on Billy\u2019s chest. Looking at him this way made me cry again. Here was another hole in my soul, another loss. As the sun began to set I doused everything with gas and set it on fire. I raised the bottle and toasted Billy the Viking. <\/p>\n

I went inside and crashed around the dark living room until I managed to turn a light on. I was amazed that there was electricity. And the TV worked as well. Everyone dying reminded me of being abandoned. It was all very sobering so I smoked the last joint in Billy\u2019s memory and ate some ice cream. My last thought that night was of Karen.<\/p>\n


\nFriday 6am<\/strong><\/p>\n

I woke to the smell of smoke. I was on the living room floor. The back door was open and I could see the garage burned to the ground, still smoking. I rolled over on the keys in my pocket and they dug into my leg. I pulled them out and tossed them across the room. I got up and sat on the couch. I tried the lights and TV. Nothing. Everything dead. <\/p>\n

I checked my sugar and it was way low. I needed to eat so I walked to the kitchen holding my pounding head. On the way I kicked my keys into a corner. As I was eating some cookies, I had a sudden thought about keys, or the key.<\/p>\n

I needed to get to Karen. I rushed around and found my camera and tripod. I stuck my insulin kit in my pocket along with some cookies. Then I grabbed my keys and left.<\/p>\n

The town was empty as I sped through it. Would Karen still be alive?<\/p>\n

I pounded on her door. She answered it, shielding her eyes from the light. She smoked a cigarette. I stared at it.<\/p>\n

She stared right back. \u201cWe all have our vices, Frank,\u201d she said as she let me in.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think I know how to stop this,\u201d I said, sounding crazy even to me. <\/p>\n

She squeezed the bridge of her nose. \u201cMy aunt is dead.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cSorry, but we can stop this!\u201d <\/p>\n

I told her the story of my last visit to see my uncle. <\/p>\n

\u201cHe told me how to stop this but I didn\u2019t listen,\u201d I said. \u201cI need you to hypnotize me so I can recall what he said!\u201d<\/p>\n

She was very alive but fading. I guessed she had taken a lot of pain medication to deal with the headache.<\/p>\n

I shook her arms. \u201cKaren, please!\u201d<\/p>\n

She lifted her hands in surrender. \u201cOkay, okay, what harm can it do?\u201d<\/p>\n

I put a loaded syringe on the end table thinking that I would need insulin after she woke me up. I set up and started the camera thinking that it would record anything I said or did that I couldn\u2019t remember. I took off my watch and set it on the table as well. Then I was ready.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d she said. \u201cSit down in front of the camera. I\u2019ll wake you in an hour and a half.\u201d<\/p>\n

She sat on the coffee table directly in front of me. She started asking me questions.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want to be hypnotized, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want to recall what my uncle said to me at our last meeting.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFocus on my forehead Frank. Your eyes are feeling heavy and they want to close.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t—\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to relax,\u201d she said. \u201cIt will happen if you relax.\u201d<\/p>\n

I took a deep breath and relaxed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour eyes are growing heavy,\u201d she said in a measured voice. \u201cEach of your body parts are relaxing one by one. You\u2019re sinking down into the couch. Your eyes are heavy and you close them. You\u2019re taking deep, slow breaths. You\u2019re totally relaxed. The deeper you go the deeper you want to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat in a dark place on a hard bench. I recognized it. It was the bench my father kept his shoe polishing stuff in. It was in his closet. It was dark but I felt fine. I remembered making my bed before I crept in here. Then there was a noise, then yelling and screaming. There was a metallic tang in the air. I covered my ears and tried not to scream.<\/p>\n

It got quiet. There was a bright light though the louvers. The door in front of me opened. I was terrified, but it was only my mom smiling at me.<\/p>\n

She had tears in her eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s not your fault. People don\u2019t die because you love them, Frankie. They just die. It isn\u2019t because you love someone that they die, they just die, not everyone you love dies.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father\u2019s face intruded over her shoulder. He looked serious. \u201cFrank,\u201d he said, \u201clisten to your Uncle Carl.\u201d <\/p>\n

Then I was at the bedside of my uncle. I was looking at myself at our final meeting. Stoned Frank was laughing. My uncle was trying to tell him something. Then I looked through the eyes of stoned Frank, it took some concentration to ignore him. What a fuckup! <\/p>\n

My uncle spoke and I listened. \u201cEveryone will die unless you do the following, this is the KEY!\u201d <\/p>\n

It was a simple series of eye blinks that made me laugh so hard when I was stoned. I heard stoned Frank laugh but I paid attention to what my uncle was doing. I did it along with him. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll feel a kind of click, a snap in your head,\u201d my uncle said as he faded away. <\/p>\n

I went through the blinking motions again. Jesus, I felt the snap in my head just like he said. My eyes filled with tears.<\/p>\n

Then I was back at Karen\u2019s house but on the floor beside the couch. Where was she? Did she wake me? It was still light out. Where should the shadows be? I felt confused, hungry and sleepy. My sugar must be high.<\/p>\n

I raised myself up and grabbed the syringe and injected myself. I knocked over the table trying to get up. My watch fell in front of me. I looked at it, not believing what it was telling me. What, it\u2019s four o\u2019clock? I couldn\u2019t believe that eight hours had passed. My sugar must have been low. Why didn\u2019t she wake me? Now I desperately needed sugar. Got to get some juice. . . the kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Cummings. . . Karen,\u201d I bellowed breathlessly. \u201cHelp me! I know how to stop this!\u201d<\/p>\n

There was no answer. I couldn\u2019t get up. I was too dizzy. I crawled toward the kitchen. There she was on the floor. I fell flat next to her, face to face, and looked at her. She looked beautiful. <\/p>\n

I struggled to lift my arm and drape it over her. She was still warm. As I drifted away I remembered what she\u2019d said at our first meeting. <\/p>\n

\u201cYou know if you lost weight that diabetes would probably disappear.\u201d <\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d I whispered. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Monday 10am \u201cThe doctor will see you now,\u201d the receptionist said. I put down the magazine, levered myself from the sofa and moseyed through the heavy door into the doctor\u2019s office. I plopped down in my usual chair and looked around. The room was empty. Where was the Doc? My stomach churned. I didn\u2019t like …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":11213,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,1449],"tags":[1450],"class_list":["post-51074","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-tcl-19-spring-2016","tag-the-colored-lens-19-spring-2016","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51074","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/11213"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=51074"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51074\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139529,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/51074\/revisions\/139529"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=51074"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=51074"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=51074"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}