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LESSONS FROM LIMBO

By Katia Bergstrom

August Linwood pounded on Jade’s bedroom door for the thousandth time.  “Jade, open up!  I have your breakfast!”

“I’m not hungry, dear.” his mother’s voice rang back from the other side.

            “Give up the fight, you have to eat,” he said, gripping the tray harder in his hands, hoping he wouldn’t drop it.  He glanced down at the crystal vase containing pink petunias.

            “Why don't you leave the tray on the floor and I'll get it later?”

            “Because I’m stubborn, like you.  Besides, if I did that, you wouldn’t eat the food anyway.”

            “It doesn’t matter now because the studio doesn’t care about me.”

            “Quit complaining and unlock the door!”

            “No!”

            “Look, if you eat something, the studio might realize how pretty you are and they might give you a good script.”

            “I’m not pretty anymore, I'm fifty-six!”

            “Of curse you're pretty, Jade.”  God, it’s like our roles are reversed:  instead of her parenting me, I’m the one parenting her.  But I have to keep reassuring hr of the same things.  Maybe then she'll recover.

            The door clicked open.  “Do you see my face?” Jade screeched, pointing with her index finger.  “I have wrinkles!”

            “Mostly laugh lines.”

            “Like I have anything to laugh about anymore.  Get your eyes checked,” she said, a thick wave of her sunset colored hair bowing down, the curl landing by her eye as she pushed it back with trembling fingers.

            “They mke you pretty!  Have you taken a look in the mirror lately?  And once you begin to eat, you'll think you're beautiful, just like before..”

              Taking a deep beath, she added, “Really it is kind of you to reassure me, dear.  But you think that way naturally since you're my son.”

            I don't think that just because I'm her son.  When Jade was in silent films when I was younger, men and women used to wait outside just to get a glimpse of her! “Here’s your breakfast.  I made an egg, and there’s some fruit, tea, and Radithor.  All things to make the studio realize you’re still beautiful, right?”

            “I hate eggs.”

            “Consider it payback for making me eat corn.”

            She reached over, grabbing the small vial of Radithor.  Bringing it to her lips, she gulped it like a packet of sugar.

            He entered into the room, setting the tray on the mahogony dresser.  “At least you're taking the Radithor.  That ought to cure you.”  He stared at his refection in the mirror, noticing his normally blue eyes had turned into a foggy gray. 

            She followed, her long white nightgown billowing around her skeletal body.  “It makes me feel toned up, like I used to...” her voice trailed off. 

            He pushed himself away from the mirror.  It's nothing, it's only because I'm worried about Jade.  “Good, good. I hope it also gives you an appetite.”

            “65 yesterday,” she murmured.

            It's never been this low before, he realized.  “Howcould you?  You were doing so well.  I thought this time, I really thought you were going to get well, permanently.”  He sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands as tears began to roll down his cheeks. 

            “It's only been a few days.”

             He glanced up into her piercing oceanic eyes.  “Don't you realize because of you I'm teetering?” Rolling up the sleeve of his white shirt, he showed her his arm the tiny holes in them now fading into scabs.  He sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands.  “But of course I should have known:  you always shove me back into the lamp.”

            “If April hadn't died none of this would have happened!  But you allowed it to happen.”

            He jumped to his feet, shoving his index finger in her face.  I'm so tired of her constantly blaming me for something that was in the past.  I thought I was finally going to be free from my bondage, thought she would free me from the constrains of the lamp.  But I eep forgetting:  I don't deserve to be free from it.  “Wake up, it’s 1926!”

            “And so did I.  And now look:  we're both paying the price for our crime.”

            “What happened to the Jade who was proud to come home every single day and flaunt to Dad that she was the breadwinner, she made more money than Dad because she was an actress rather than a housewife?”

            “You know those days are over!”

            “You’re still mourning for them, just like you're still mourning for April.”  He turned, heading for the door.

            “Augustine,” she said, using his full name.

            He stopped, taking his hands off the door as he turned back around..  “Yes Jade?”

            Her lips quivered, the lines on her cheeks popping out with anxiety, as though she were a flower thirsting for sunshine in the middle of winter.  “I made some oatmeal cookies.  They're in the cookie jar if you want some.”

            He offered a wavering smile.  “Only if you have some.”

            “Perhaps later.  Do you really think the studio will even want me back after my illness?  Perhaps I should just go back to playing the piano on stage-”

            “If you want to return to the studio, you have to concentrate on getting better.  Or else Jade, the camera will find a new lover and you'll have to accept it,” he said, heading out the door.

Going downstairs, he went into the parlor, finding Phillip seated at the piano, running his hands over the ivory keys. 

        Phillip looked up. 

       “It's obvious how well she's doing,” he said, pacing around the room.  “What are you doing in here, Dad?  You don't play,” he gestured to the piano with his hand.

      Phillip smiled, running a hand through his sandy hair.  “I was thnking of the time I first danced with your mother.  We danced to a waltz.”

       He turned, gazing out of one of the long windows leading to the back.  His eyes stared off at the water in the pool, the sunlight shining on it reflecting crystals of broken colors.           “Must have been the Bee's Knees,” he muttered.

     “Son, I'm sorry I'm always bringing up happier times, but....it's just that I don't want to forget them.”

     “Jade's abandoning us again.”

     “August, I don't thnk the Radithor is helping.”

     “Well now she's actually arguing with me about food, rather than just ignoring the tray in my hands!”

            “Don't waste your money.  Thirty dollars a case isn't worth it.  And if she's beginning to spiral again-”

“You want to send her back to the hospital again?  Because each time you do, she returns and her illness resurfaces.  Radithor is the answer. Besides, she promised me...this time I'm not allowing her to shove me back into the lamp!”

     Phillip grabbed his arm.  “They're fading,” he said, observing the small holes.  I was afraid since you said Jade was ill again, that you had started shooting that poison into your arm.”

     He jerked his arm away.  “Don't be so suspicious.”

    “Not suspicious, Son.  Worried.”

    “Whatever word suits your fancy.”

    “There is also the possibility that Radithor could be dangerous.”

     “Oh yes.  You mean those factory girls that died due to radium poisoning.”

     “Yes.  Now you wouldn't want to give something harmful to your mother, would you?”

     “Does it matter whether it's harmful or not?  She takes it.  Be thankful she takes that at least.”

     “I'd rather her eat real food.”

He doesn't understand that even if it's fatal, I need her to take it.  Even though part of me loves her and wants her to get better so I can recover, it was her blaming me that caused me to start usin heroin, and I want to make her suffer for everything she's done.  “As would I.  It can't harm her any worse than what's already happened.”

     “Perhaps just lower the dose...don't give it to her thee times a day.”

     “That's how many times Eben Byers takes it.”

     “He is an athlete, he has nothing to do with your mother!”

     “I'm just pointing out-”

     “I don't feel comfortable with her taking it.”

     “And I didn't feel comfortable with you putting hr in the hospital!  For God's sake, you're such a bluenose!”

      “I am the man of this family, her husband, and your father!  You are only eighteen and all you've learned in life is how to ride a Harley and shoot poison up your arm!”

Now even my father hates me, just like Jade.  “Liar!  I take care of Jade more than you do!  I even gave up heroin for her!”

“Don't act high-and-mighty towards me.  We both know the real truth:  Jade's illness was caused by April's death.  If you hadn't ben around her at the time you had Influenza, none of this would have happened.”

“And also she shouldn't have been around me.”

“You should have locked your door.”

Why bother fighting them anymore?  They'll always blame you.  He put his hands up.  “Fine, at the age of eleven, I should have known better.”  He pulled his silver pocket watch out of his shirt pocket, sighing.  “I'm going for a ride.  Enjoy the music,” he chuckled, leaving. 

He sped through town on his Harley, the engine revving up in his ears like church bells.  The wind refreshed his face as he flew by on the streets, stopping by at the drugstore. 

Going in, there was jazz music playing.  A large soda fountain stood in the middle, people congregated on various tables spread out around it, light chatter filling the air.  Ignoring the atmosphere, he approached a small counter towards the back of the store.

“August!  What can I do for you today?” the young man behind the counter, Bailey inquired, a large grin appearing on his face.

“I'd like to refill these two prescriptions,” he said, handing him two slips of paper.

“I see.  Do you want a whole case of Radithor?”

“Yes Sir.”

“That will be thirty dollars.”

He wiggled his fingers into his pocket, finding nothing.  Reaching into his other pocket, he realized the same thing.  But that's impossible, he thought, I always have dough on me.  How do I not have it this time?  “Uh,” he looked up at Hayden, “do you think I could put it on credit?”

“I suppose...” he paused for a second.

“My mother needs it.”

“I'm sorry she's ill again, Kid.”

“I should have expected it.”

“Just between you and me, I know Radithor is hailed as a 'miracle tonic' but to tell you the truth Kid, as a pharmacist, I'm pretty suspicious of it.”

“Why?”

“Because if it's really hailed as this 'sunshine in a bottle' that we've been hearing about, there would be some type of evidence for it.  Also, people wouldn't keep getting ill and dying.  If this Radithor works as well as some people claim it does, then there'd be no need for doctors.”

“Doctors are just a bunch of con artists, anyway.”

“If it weren't for doctors, do you think you would have survived Influenza?”

“If doctors are really as great as you say, my sister never would have died nor would my mother keep getting ill!”

“Doctors are human.”

“And Radithor isn't.  It's the thing that will grant all of my wishes.  If I give it to my mother, she won't become ill again and then she can finally free me from the lamp she keep shoving me into!  When she's well again she can break my bondage!”

His voice lowered.  “Suppose it's fatal?”

“If she is able to overcome her illness, then so can I.”  His voice trembled like a leaf shaking on a tree.  “Bailey, I've started teetering again.  I-I haven't taken junk yet, not in weeks, but every time I see Jade's illness come back, I start wanting it.  And, it's not just a want.  It haunts me.  It's a craving haunting that I can't get out of my head unless I take some.”

“August, taking junk doesn't get rid of the fact that your mother is ill.”

“I'm just so tired of the worry.  Worrying about her all the time.  Taking junk makes me not worry, it makes me forget...” his voice trailed off.  “Forget that she was the one who imprisoned me in the lamp, she keeps releasing me but never sets me free.”  A bitter laugh rose up out of him.  “She shoves me back into the lamp every time!”

“Have you ever thought of setting yourself free?”

“Genies don't have such power, they need their masters to set them free.”  He looked down, rubbing the white tile floor with the toe of his black oxford shoe.

He stared at him, his chocolate eyes melting with pity.  “You don't believe you deserve to be set free,” he guessed.

I've been blamed for April's death for years, and that caused Jade to become ill, naturally I don't deserve it. “Because even though I'm desperate to, I know I don't deserve it.”

 “Focus on the present, not the past.  All you need to do is believe you're worthy.  If you believe you're worthy, then others around you will feel the same power of freedom you do.”

Perhaps if I allow myself to believe I'm finally worthy to be set free, then Jade can feel she deserves to conquer her illness as well, he thought, leaving the drugstore, not caring if the prescriptions were refilled.

Arriving home, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.  My eyes have changed color since this morning.  They aren't the foggy shade of gray, they're blue.  “I'd like the genie to be released from his lamp and get set free for once,” he murmured, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

His eyes travelled towards the counter, noticing a pile of full trays.  Behind them, was a white round jar.  He opened the jar, removing two cookies.  “The genie's been released from his lamp.  It's time for me to be set free,” This time, he hurried up the stairs, knocking on his mother's door.

The End.

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