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Twisted Endings 2: 5 Acts of Vengeance Page 4
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“I moved back home to be with her. There’s nothing we can do. The surgery is more than $200,000.” He laughed. “That’s about $180,000 more than I make a year.”
“She doesn’t have insurance?” Jason asked.
“No Sir,” he said. “Ma doesn’t believe in insurance.” He chuckled. “She says Obama can suck it.”
“The surgery…” Debra said. She glanced at Jason then looked back at John. “Would it save her?”
Jason huffed. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her away. “Don’t do this,” he whispered. “He’s full of crap.”
“And what if he’s not? Even if she’s not my mother, I can’t let her die. I didn’t come this far for nothing.” She shrugged off his grip.
“Would it save her?” she repeated to John.
“There’s a 60% chance.”
“I need to see her.”
He held a hand out and motioned to the door. “Follow me.”
Debra reached back for Jason’s hand. She couldn’t do this alone. She had stood before thousands of people to accept awards and make speeches. But nothing was more terrifying than this moment.
Jason grabbed her hand and squeezed it.
The house was littered with beer cans. It smelled like cat piss. The metal futon on their left was missing any type of cover, making it look like a Chinese torture device. It reminded her of the episode on One More Try when she met a handsome man in a downtown bookstore. He beat her, robbed her, and left her for dead. Debra felt lifeless as she realized this could have been her life.
“Ma,” John said, “we’re coming back.”
He led them to a cramped room with a bed and a lamp.
And there she was, huddled under the sheets. Her head was turned to the side opposite of them. Her hair was gray.
Debra reached a hand out. She had to see her face. “Mom?”
“I made a mistake,” she said. She turned and stared at her. Her face was skinny and pale. “Please give me another chance.” Tears streamed down her face.
Debra’s knees were about to buckle. These were words she never thought she would hear. She had dreamed of them for nearly two decades.
“I don’t want to die.” The woman’s voice crackled. Her breathing became deep and labored. “Please don’t let me die!” Her face was red now. She whimpered and turned her head.
John grabbed Debra’s arm and motioned toward the door. “She’s tired. Let’s try this another day.”
“But wait – Mom…”
Jason wrapped an arm around her side and pushed John away. “We’ll come back.”
Debra knew she had the power to make this stop. There was sincerity in what the woman had said. Debra had always been loved.
“John,” she said as he ushered them out the front door, “how much did you say the surgery will cost?” She reached into her purse for her checkbook.
“Debra,” Jason said, “don’t do this.”
She had no choice but to ignore him. There’s no way she was going to let her mother or any woman suffer and die like that. She raised her eyebrows at John.
“It’s, uh…” He looked at Jason then back at Debra. He seemed confused. “A little over $200,000.”
“Debra, listen to me,” Jason said. He grabbed her cheeks and turned her head in front of his. “If this is somehow true, the hospital would not charge her the full amount without insurance. Maybe 80,000.”
“Look, sir,” John said, “I’m just telling you what the hospital quoted us. I’m not trying to take anyone’s money.”
“That’s fine,” Jason said. “It’s not like they can do the surgery tomorrow. Debra, we can go the hospital ourselves and take care of the bills.”
John laughed. “That’s not a good idea. They’ll make you jump through hoops for weeks.” He looked at Debra. “We don’t have that much time.”
“He’s full of crap!” Jason shouted. “Debra, put that checkbook away and let’s go home. She hasn’t even taken the DNA test!” His hands were on her shoulders.
“She’s going to die, sister,” John said. “I’ve given everything up to take care of her. I can’t lose her. Neither can you.”
She looked into his eyes and saw something familiar. She saw the same look she had mastered on One More Try.
Desperation.
“I need to talk with my husband,” Debra said to John. “I’ll help you out, but I’ll need a day or two. If you screw me over, it’ll be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. My husband is not a forgiving man.”
Jason stared at John. He was breathing hard. “I swear to God…”
“If you really are my sister,” John said, “don’t take too long. Our mother’s life depends on it.” He stepped in close and wrapped his arms around her.
She didn’t expect to, but she held him tight. This was her blood. She heard Jason grunting behind her.
“How soon can they do the surgery?” she asked.
He pursed his lips. “If they have the money, I imagine very soon.”
She nodded. “If it’s okay, I’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe she’ll be in a better mood.”
He patted her on the shoulder. “Tomorrow it is. You’re doing the right thing. We’re counting on you.” He reached for the door behind him. “I know you can’t tell right now, but Mom loves you.”
Jason grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the rental car. His was shaking his head. It would be a long drive back to the airport.
“We’re going home, Debra,” he said.
She took a deep breath as he started the car and turned on the radio. Some stupid rock station was on and they were playing “A Warrior’s Call”. “I’m coming back tomorrow.” He shook his head and pulled onto the highway.
He stared straight ahead. “I love you with all my heart, Debra. But you can’t keep doing this. It’s my job to protect you. Even from yourself.”
It’s your job to love me, Debra thought. Jason was her best friend and soul mate. He had supported her through all of this for the nine years they’d been married. Even after she had thrown money at the wrong people four times.
“You don’t know what it’s like,” she said. “When I was a little girl I would stand in the grocery store and watch all the mothers walk by. I wondered if this one or that one could be my mother.” She lowered her head. “I just wanted one person, one amazing person, to stop and tell me everything would be okay. That she was my mom. That I was finally going home.”
“The Chandler’s raised you since you were a baby,” Jason said. “They were good people and I know they loved you like their own.” He turned and faced here. “Catherine Chandler was your mother.”
Debra knew what he was saying was true. The Chandler’s had raised her. It was a horrible day when they died in a crash. But it didn’t change the fact that she never felt like she belonged. She knew she was supposed to be somewhere else ever since she discovered the adoption papers when she was 11.
Jason turned the radio off. “We’ve been through this over and over. You let people take advantage of you. I know you don’t mean to. You just want to find your mom.” He threw his hands up. “But enough is enough.”
Her ears felt like they were on fire. “What do you want me to do?”
“I could tell you, but you won’t like it.”
“Spit it out.”
“We need to get a DNA test. There’s no reason why she can’t take one. We need proof.” He put a hand over hers.
“What about the birthmark?” It appeared on her left butt cheek, in the shape of an apple. No one knew about it except for Jason and her ex-husband. When the detective phoned them with the information about this lady, he described the birthmark perfectly from the woman’s memory.
“Your ex-husband. He could have told the woman. Or the detective.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Finder’s fee. You know he wants your money.”
Debra’s head felt like it was spinning. She couldn’t walk away from this. In her heart she knew this was
her mother. “What do you suggest?”
“You need to stay away from here until we have DNA results.”
Her heart stopped. She couldn’t do that. Every minute was time lost to save the woman’s life. Her mother’s life.
“Let me turn the car around,” he said. “We’ll find some way to verify the medical records. I won’t let the woman die.” He smiled at her. “I’ll tell John what’s going on. If he truly is your family, if the woman’s in any danger, he’ll respect that.”
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Turn the car around.”
JASON PULLED the car into the same spot across the street from the house they had left 15 minutes earlier. He turned the car off and looked at Debra. “Give me 10 minutes,” he said. “I’ll take care of this. No one will get hurt.”
She nodded and looked toward the house. She couldn’t breathe.
“Oh my God! What the hell?”
Her mother was dancing in the driveway. Spinning in circles with her arms outstretched. Smiling and laughing.
A black car with tinted windows pulled up next to her.
A man jumped out of the car and raced up to her. He threw his arms around her and kissed her deeply.
Debra grabbed Jason’s arm.
“Let go of me,” he said.
“Look,” she said. She pointed out the window.
“I see it, Debra.” He gazed out the window with her. “I see pain. Lots of pain.”
Debra stared at the dashboard. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother had lied to her. No, not her mother. That crazy bitch had lied to her. That crazy bitch and her son.
The man picked the woman up and carried her into the house. She seemed to be screaming with delight.
Then Debra recognized the man.
He was the private detective Jason had hired months ago. The one who called them about this woman. The one who knew about the birthmark. Damn her ex!
That’s when she knew she had been duped. She had always been duped. Jason was right. This wasn’t the first time. But it would be the last time.
“We’ve got to do something,” Jason said. “We can’t just sit here. They’re trying to screw us.” He huffed and turned his head, like he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
She knew she had to put an end to this. She had spent years looking for a woman who didn’t want to be found. How could she have been so blind? She was abandoned. Her mother would never come looking for her. Her life was a soap opera after all.
Jason opened his door and jumped out. He slammed the door closed. Debra heard the trunk pop open. He shuffled through it for something.
She jumped out the car to join him. “What are you doing?”
He slammed the trunk. “The same thing I always do.” He had a tire iron in his hand.
“Jason, stop!”
He banged the tire iron on the trunk. “I’m tired of people hurting you! They have to pay!”
“Calm down. It’s going to be okay.” She knew it was time for her to stand up for herself. She couldn’t let him clean up her messes anymore. “I’ll take care of this my way.”
“Debra…”
“Jason, please get back in the car. Give me five minutes to fix this.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and headed for the house. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.
The door was locked when she tried to turn the knob.
She banged on it.
John opened the door and said, “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?” He looked behind him. “This isn’t a good time. Come back tomorrow.”
“I believed you,” Debra said. “Why would you do this?” She shoved the door open and stepped in.
“Shit.”
The woman who claimed to be her mother was sitting on the now cushioned futon with the private detective. All of the beer cans were gone. The house smelled like potpourri.
“Hello, Mom,” Debra said. She clapped her hands slowly, mockingly. “And the award for most depraved actress goes to…you, you crazy bitch.”
The woman stared at her and trembled. “Debra. I know everything about you. I know the day you were born. Your favorite food. Your favorite movie. Everything. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Too late for that.” Debra knew she would have to remove her online profiles.
The woman looked at John then back at Debra. “I always wanted a daughter. I could love you like you’re my own.” Her voice was soft and sweet now.
Debra felt sick. Breathless. This woman wasn’t her mother. She was insane!
“Debra,” the private detective said. He stood with his hands in front of him. “Is this so bad? Isn’t it what you always wanted?”
She felt dizzy. “No. Not like this. You lied to me. Just like everyone else. You’re screwing this woman and trying to take my money!”
“Wait a second,” he said. “Think about it. Maybe you’ve got this all wrong.”
“I’m an idiot for believing you!”
“Look, this woman contacted me claiming to be your mother. I didn’t expect to fall in love with her.” He paused. “But is it really so bad? You don’t need the money. But she needs a daughter and you need a mother.”
Debra’s head spun. He was crazy! Wasn’t he?
He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I’ve got a letter right here that says there’s a 99.9% chance Denise Jacobs is your mother. No one will ever question it.”
“But it’s a lie. You just admitted it. It’s not real.”
Jason busted through the front door. His face was red. The tire iron was still in his hand. “It’s been five minutes.” He looked around the room. “You should leave, Debra. I’ll take care of this.”
She looked at the woman on the futon. Her eyes were shining. Her smile was reassuring. Her voice was comforting. She knew everything about her.
Debra’s heart couldn’t take it anymore. She needed her mother. She would determine the end of this final episode. There was only one thing she could say.
“Jason,” she said, “we were wrong. This is my mother.”
Death Trance
I DON’T know where I am. I’m lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring at a ceiling I’ve never seen. There are dozens of electrodes attached to my body. Elastic belts are crushing my chest and stomach.
“Mr. Mason,” I hear a deep voice say over speakers in the room. “Don’t move.”
My heart is racing. I have to get out of here. I sit up and start ripping the electrodes off of me. The ends are attached to wires leading to a beeping computer.
“You don’t have to do that,” a man walking into the room says. It’s the same man I heard on the speakers. He is wearing a white lab coat with three pens jutting out of the chest pocket.
There is something familiar about him.
“Stay back,” I tell him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He stares at me a moment then turns to look at a large two way mirror in front of us. He snaps his fingers at it in rapid succession.
Two large men in casual clothes rush into the room and shut the door behind them. I decide they’re bodyguards.
“Do you know where you are?” Lab Coat Man asks. He’s holding his hands up by his shoulders. He has gray hair and weighs less than 150. His eyeglasses are as large as his face.
I shake my head.
“This is the Conley Sleep Center,” he says. “My name is Dr. Robert Medford. I am your psychiatrist. You’ve just participated in an overnight sleep study.”
“Why don’t I remember any of this?”
Dr. Medford motions for one of the men by the door to join him. The man hands him a notepad. Dr. Medford pulls a pen out of his chest pocket. “Do you know your name?”
“My name is Jake Mason.”
He scribbles in the notepad. “Good. Mr. Mason, you came to us six weeks ago, suffering from insomnia.” He looks back up at me. “We’ve tried a number of treatments, and I believe we’ve finally had a breakthrough.”
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I remember him now. I’ve been coming here every Monday. He had prescribed me Ambien, Lunesta, and Desyrel. None of it worked. Then he tried cognitive behavioral therapy. CBT-1 included sleep restriction, stimulus control, and sleep hygiene. That didn’t work either. Last week he tried hypnosis.
“I’m sorry, doctor. My memory seems fuzzy just now, and yet I can think clearly for the first time in weeks.” I’d been sleep walking through life ever since Samantha was killed two months ago.
The doctor nods his approval. “The hypnosis results are promising. You slept for eight hours. My associates will run a few more tests. Then we’ll see you next week.” He walks toward a desk in the room, and pulls a voice recorder off of it. “Jake Mason is progressing at an accelerated rate,” he says into the recorder. “The hypnosis appears to be working.” He sets the recorder down and walks out of the room.
“Okay then,” I say to the two men. “Goodbye.”
“Don’t mind the doctor,” one of the men says. “He’s got a lot of things going on at home.”
“Yeah,” the other man whispers. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and his wife is trying to wipe him out.”
“Sam!” the other associate yells.
“Sorry,” he says. “We’ll have you out of here in a few minutes, Mr. Mason. It’s great that you’re sleeping so well now. Dr. Medford has created an amazing program.”
I smile because I know exactly why I can sleep now.
After a two hour session with Dr. Medford the week before, I knew something was different. Something had changed inside of me. I wasn’t the same person.
On my way home from the appointment last week, I was stuck in a traffic jam. Normally, I would curse the red light. But that day, I turned up the radio and relaxed. My favorite song was on – “A Warrior’s Call” by Volbeat.
When I looked at my driver’s side window, a skinny black man was standing there. He looked sick and beaten. He was holding a sign that said ‘Homeless Veteran’. I admit, I’ve never given money to one of these people and have always waved them off. But this time, I knew I had to help.
I rolled my window down. Then I reached for my wallet and pulled out a wad of 50s. I didn’t even look at the money twice before I handed it to the man.