The Eden Express_ A Memoir of Insanity - Mark Vonnegut [103]
“Mark, are you all right?” Joe asked.
“Ya, Joe, I’m fine. It’s just that everyone’s so wonderful. I never really appreciated it before. I’ve been terribly blind, I think.”
“It’s all right, Mark. Just relax. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Things looked none the worse for that dreadful storm. A few branches had come down but that was about it. Then the sun came out and everything got bright, too bright. The whole bus was shaking. The road was shaking and everything on it started to fall apart. Oh, shit, oh, shit. Just hold on. Make like it’s not happening. By force of will I kept the road from breaking up, the sun from exploding, the bus from falling apart, and Joe alive and seeing and keeping the bus on the road.
Trying to induce a leisureliness, a lack of urgency, I reminded them about the marina. “Well, let’s go have our coffee with Bea.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Mark?”
“Yes yes yes. I’m in no hurry to see the doctor. It’s not like this is an emergency or anything. I’d like to have a cup of Bea’s coffee.” So we stopped.
One foot in front of the other into the little snack bar. “Hi, Bea.” She looked worried. Paul, her youngest son, was crying. “Don’t worry, Paul, please don’t worry. Everything’s going to come out fine. Just you wait and see.”
There was no one else there. That was usual. Except for us, they didn’t really have much business. All for us. Sam and Bea must be losing their shirts in this business and these self-indulgent punks come down from the lake once a month or so, buy a tank of gas, and give them shit about eating meat.
Joe all of a sudden said to me very meaningfully, “You’re in. You’ve made it. Relax, you’re in.” It seemed like a strange thing to say. I was in where? Mary had spent the past day or so telling me I was out. I looked at Bea. She looked perplexed. Maybe she thought Joe was nuts and dangerous or something.
“Well, OK, if you say so, Joe,” I said, sort of winking to Bea. I rolled a cigarette, sipped at my coffee, and talked about the weather some. Yes, it was a strange spring. No, Bea could never remember another that had been like this. Just what I thought, just what I was afraid of. Something had fucked up. What good did being “in” or “out” do me if the earth was dying?
“Well, we’ll be seeing you soon, Bea. Give everyone my love,” and off we went.
As soon as we got in the car, Joe turned to me and said pleadingly, “Mark, I sure as hell hope you believe in faith healing. I don’t think you realize half how many people are behind you.” It sounded more like a threat than anything else. If I didn’t pull through I would be taking a lot of good people down with me. Bea, all her children, Joe and Mary and Sarah and millions more were all counting on me. The pressure was on. Everyone I cared about had bet their lives on my recovering, whatever that meant.
What kind of quackery show was this going to be? Was some joker going to put his hands on my head and say “In the name of Jesus Christ, be well”?
“I swear to you, Joe, I’ll do my best. I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying. I’ll see the doctor. I’ll do anything he asks. Shit, Joe, I’ll try to walk on water if you think it will help.”
Keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope everything comes out all right. Ride on tough. I didn’t see any alternative except maybe…maybe the going backward in time thing would work.
“Joe, there’s a way for you to get out of this mess. Take from me anything that’s yours and run. Take me and leave me by the water where you met me. Do it all backward. Pretend you never met me. There’s got to be a way around this. I don’t want my not getting