Lavender

Lavender

by

Daniel Henderson

Copyright 2018 Daniel Henderson,

All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-3052-2

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Table of Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

1

Slowly Dave stood up, sweat beading down his forehead and along his beard stubbled face. He pushed the image of Kate away, swallowing tremors and steadying his feet. Grabbing his coat he threw it on, then grabbed his yellow notepad and closed the door. Slowly his feet began to move, one in front of the other. The scent of her body lotion was on his lips, his hair wet with perspiration. With each small movement he saw that the country club was getting closer. He stepped in front of a car but it did not hit him. He felt her arms around him, holding him, caressing him, arousing him even now. Dave kept his eyes trained on the ground, watching each black leather foot move slowly in front of the other until he was at the door. Reaching with his right hand he gripped the door handle and pulled, he felt her touch his arm, felt her skin, her warmth, her fingernails dig in a little. And then the door was open and she left. A flood of cool air enveloped him as he stepped into the building.

He turned to the left, facing down a small hallway full of pictures and old paintings. Oriental rugs guided him to the conference room he assumed the meeting was going on in. The hallway opened into another room, to the left a conference room with closed doors and hapless muttering going on. To the right what looked to be the beginnings of a rehearsal dinner, or reception, or something. Kate glanced at him quickly through an old photograph of her in her white wedding gown. Closing his eyes he turned and opened the door to the convention room. He stepped inside and in front of what must have been the speaker. For a moment Dave froze in front of the audience of insurance salesman. The speaker stopped talking and stared at him. Dave willed his feet to move and he searched for a seat. As soon as he began to move the salesman began to speak again on what must be a lecture on why annuities are the most important piece to one’s financial success, and thus the key to happiness.

So, I tell you an annuity is the place you need to put your clients in right now. With this kind of market you need insurance, you need to insure your client’s money.

Dave scanned the room quickly and found a seat next to a round pink man who sat smiling.

And you need to tell your client, Mr. Client, you have a money making machine in your basement, and you have no guards. You need guards, you want guards, to protect this money making machine in case someone tries to hurt it. Imagine, Mr. or Mrs. Client, that the money machine breaks down, wouldn’t you want insurance to fix the machine so that your wife and children could live happily? Wouldn’t you be concerned about their current lifestyle, their current wants and needs. Would you want to take away from them their way of life simply because you didn’t think you needed insurance on your money making machine?

Hell no.

Someone actually responded to that, I thought it was rhetorical. Can I get an Amen?

That’s right, you wouldn’t want to live without insuring such a valuable piece of equipment. Hell I would have armed guards around it all the time. Well, Mr. or Mrs. Client. You are the money making machine.

This shit is getting really deep.

I say you are that machine, and you are walking around without insurance. What if on your way home tonight you are killed in a car wreck, well if you don’t have life insurance your family is out of luck. They can say thanks for nothing. But if you insure your money making machine, that is you, Mr. or Mrs. Client, then your insurance man will bring your family a check to the funeral and give it to your family. Can someone in the room tell these younger associates what it is like to bring a death benefit check to a grieving widow?

Yeh, I can tell you that it is probably the single most greatest thing you can do in our profession, bringing a check to a woman who just lost her husband can be very powerful and moving. The tears of joy she sheds and the thank you’s you get when you give her that check are enormous. It’s like in some important way you have changed this lady’s life, that she will always remember you and you hold a special place in her heart, said a short man in the front of the room.

And I bet it’s a lot easier to get her in bed once you’ve given her a check that pays for her husband. Maybe put it under the pillow when you leave, or if that’s too forward just stick it on the nightstand. Course you can come back and take it back if she doesn’t send you a thank you note.

David.

What, huh, fuck, surely not me.

David, could you please tell some of the people in the room what it was like to lose your wife and be able to get a check that would buy you time. A check that helped you bury her and move on with your life. Maybe even pay some bills and some debt that otherwise would not have been paid?

Who the fuck is this guy?

I, umm, didn’t receive a check.

I’m sorry, you didn’t insure your wife?

No, I mean yes, she killed herself within the two year period.

Oh, I see, well let that be a lesson to everyone. Be sure to tell your spouse to off herself after the two year waiting period. Quiet laughter filled the room. Dave stared ahead.

Ok, well, can you tell us how it would have helped you if she would have killed herself after the two year waiting period?

Dave stared at the man for a long time then responded, It would have helped.

Can you go into it further, tell us how it worked, how long it took to get the check and how you felt when you received the check.

Dave stared at the annuity man, wondering if he remembered that he had actually never received a check. Then he closed his eyes and imagined the wonders and beauty of making money off of his wife’s suicide.

I, well, it took less than a week from when she died to receive the check. I was sitting on the floor in my house when someone rang the doorbell. My manager, Mr. Mirer, was standing there with a check in one hand and a bottle of what looked like wine in the other. I welcomed him in and we walked to the kitchen. It was when we reached the kitchen that I realized that he was carrying sparkling water, and not wine. It wasn’t even good sparkling water, Sam’s club or some shit like that. If I can recommend anything bring liquor with you, or at least Pellegrino.

Dave remembered Mr. Mirer showing up with a bottle of sparkling water and no check.

David, please avoid using profanity. We have ladies in the room.

Ladies? What the hell does that mean.

Uh, sorry. Anyway he said I have the check for your wife’s insurance. He handed me an envelope and I opened it, inside was the full 300k of insurance that I wrote on her. The first thing I thought was that I had 600k on my life.

So in the midst of your sorrow you thought that you should have insured her for more money? I think this is common in these types of things, no matter how much insurance we sell there is never enough.

Actually I was thinking she should have waited two fucking years.

No, not really. I mean, yeh, more money would have been great, more than 300k and I don’t think I would be here with you now. But that’s not what I was thinking, I was thinking I wish I had died so she was getting 600k. But that’s selfish and I would never put her through that.

If she’d waited two fucking years I would be in a comfy heroin den and away from all of this.

I see, well please go on and tell us how the money helped you and how it made you feel.

I paid off my debt, my house, just about everything. I paid for her funeral, I paid to have my car that she was driving towed back to my house and put in my garage. I spent money on a lot of things, good drugs, alcohol and loose women.

What was that?

I’m sorry, I’m rambling. If you had called on me to talk in front of everyone three weeks ago I would have muttered a bit, then thrown up in my lap, maybe just shot myself. Now I’m here talking in front of everyone, rambling at that.

So the money gave you confidence? Gave you the ability to move on with your life, to find new strength?

Losing it, end this thing.

Uh, sure. Yeh it was great, insurance saved me.

This was surely some sort of blasphemy. I’m starting to believe I received the money.

The room echoed with applause, a couple of people stood up and clapped, Dave felt a few hands caress his shoulder. The room went black and began to spin, the clapping echoing all around him. Opening his eyes black stars danced around him and the man in the front of the room had gone on to talking about something else.

Gotta get out of this fucking place, shit. Going to throw up.

Dave fumbled out of his seat, lurched forward and into the closed door of the conference room. The man in the front of the room stopped talking and must have stood there for hours, looking at the door, not understanding what Dave was doing, when another associate, Todd I think his name is, stood and opened the door for Dave.

Thanks.

Sure, you ok.

Nah, I’m fine. Disoriented Dave spilled out of the room and into the bright white room where surely a reception would be occurring soon. But it is Friday so maybe a rehearsal dinner. Maybe it didn’t matter, maybe he should just get to the bathroom before he throws up on the floor.

Running down the hall Dave made it to the bathroom. He ran into a closed stall that must be occupied and turned towards the sink and threw up into it. Stars danced all around him and his legs began to loosen. The pressure of pain and endorphins pressed on his head and he fell hitting his head on the marble sink. A red darkness quickly enveloped him and he came to on the bathroom floor. The man from the stall was apparently gone, must have done the neighborly thing and got the hell out of there.

I need to get the hell out of here.

Standing Dave stared into the mirror, the sink was a horrorshow and he avoided it altogether. Above his right eyebrow a neat line of blood trickled down his face. It was like something out of the movies, too neat to be real, too perfect.

Cool.

Turning quickly to get out of there Dave bumped into another man as he was entering the bathroom.

What is that smell? Are you all right?

Sure, Fine.

Shit, you’re bleeding, you didn’t get any blood on me did you? That stuff won’t wash out and this is a new suit.

That suit is a piece of crap.

Uh, I don’t know. Bye.

Dave opened the bathroom door and escaped outside. Quickly turning to the right, towards his car and away from the convention room Dave quickened his pace. He could hear someone yelling to him in the background, unsure as to whether it was real or illusory. He heard his name called, Dave, and shuddered. A horn honked as he stepped in front of a moving car that screeched to a halt.

Dave.

In his head, must be in his head.

Dave.

Get out of my head.

Dave.

For a moment she flashed in front of him, green eyes big and full of pain. She reached for him, but he was moving too fast and broke through her. She held him as he clashed with what should have been her body, and then she was gone. He stumbled and fell to the ground, ripping the arm of his jacket as he landed on the concrete a mere inches from his, her, truck. Scrambling he got up, spun around, pressed the unlock key and opened the door to the truck. Jumping in he could hear his name being called, this time by some person from the agency. Throwing the truck in reverse he glanced quickly to make sure he wouldn’t back over anyone, her. Dave took off.

He drove all the way home, thinking. Blood dripped from his forehead to his blue dress shirt, but the tide slowed. The black spots never really left, probably a concussion or something worse. It was dark outside and he forgot his glasses he used for driving at night, squinting at the opposing traffic he could see her jumping into his car just like it was yesterday. Her scent came to him, a whiff of lavender, relaxing and tranquil. The smell of her skin, the hint of sweat and just the pure smell of her that drove him mad even now. Dave just kept on driving, towards home, his house now, towards whatever darkness awaited him. He kept his eyes on the road, afraid to look to his right, afraid she would be sitting there. Watching him with accusing eyes, red tears running down her face. He could feel the chill of something near him, something wrong. His imagination gone wild, his pain come alive, he looked to the passenger seat and there was no one. He was slowing down now, lengthening the time it would take to get home, lengthening the time it would take to think about her. Glancing towards the road dry lightning flashed and he saw her sitting in the back seat.

Jesus.

She was not right, she was clean, surgical. Her hair was gone and across her scalp there were large Frankenstein like stitches, and more stitches running down her chest. She was naked, revealing all. Her skin was purple and blotchy, stitches ran up and down her chest, her arms. She reached to him but she only produced a stump. Her eyes pleaded with him.

A horn honked and Dave swung the wheel bringing him back into the right lane. He had been drifting to the left and someone wanted to pass him. Kate gave the man what looked like the finger, though it was just the bony protrusion of her forearm.

You’re not here, you’re dead.

Am I?

You’re dead, I buried you two weeks ago.

Was she worth it?

Oh God please leave me alone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know, I’m sorry.

Was she worth it?

Oh, please leave me alone, I loved you, I love you, I didn’t want to hurt you. I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t, it just happened, dear lord please, I’m sorry.

Not sorry enough. She disappeared. It was just him now, alone in the car. Electricity ran up and down his spine, tearing into him, in an almost ticklish electric pain. He shook uncontrollably now, eyes barely glancing on the road, not worried about death, about causing death, about anything. He drifted, and slowed down, and eventually parked and lost it for the first time since she left him. Lost it in ways he never knew he could, big tears running down his face, contortions of his skin, a return to the fetal position that both burned and revived him, and blood, reopened from his mania pouring freely down his face and onto his chest. Blood that tasted metallic and smelled like her.

2

Dave woke up to the sound of tapping on glass. He turned his head and stared into a young trooper’s wide open eyes, wondering perhaps if she was real or not. Rolling down the window he