Deal with the Devil - A Short Story

“Come on love, you need to get up. Grant will be here soon to pick you up for work.”

Brian bolts upright. The room spins and he crashes back on the pillow. His eyes dart through the room. Sammy pours black coffee from a percolator jug into a mug. Her blond hair still tousled from sleep. An apron protects her pink satin nightgown.  Sammy glances over her shoulder and the coffee misses the mug. She blinks twice and slowly puts the pot down, never taking her eyes off him. Cautiously she approaches the bed.

“Brian?” Her whisper caresses his ears. He clears his dry throat.

“Yes.”

“You finally woke up. Baby, I thought I’d lost your forever.” She traces the outline of his face with her fingers.

Her touch is as he remembers it – gentle, cool and loving. He closes his eyes and lets the familiar sensation flow over him. Her sweet scent drifts up his nostrils. Oh, how he missed that smell for the last six months. Opening his eyes, he stares into the blue ones brimming with tears.

“Hi Sweetheart. When did you wake up? Are you all right?” His voice seems rough as if he’d not used it for a long time. He tries to sit up and the world tilts on its axis… Clutching his head, he falls back against the pillows. Pillows? He fell asleep at the table. How did he get to the bed?

The room stops turning and Brian carefully peers through half closed eyelids. The room seems different, strangely sunny. A chrome and glass table sits in the middle of a round Persian rug. Daffodils scream their yellow joy at the world from a painted ceramic pot. Bright yellow light filters through the kitchen window and the whole apartment reeks of cooked bacon and toast. He frowns.

“Brian, honey, what do you mean when did I wake up?”

He squeezes her hand.

“Sweetheart, you were sick for nearly six months and now suddenly I wake up and you are bright and sunny and look healthy, acting as if nothing is wrong.”

“Honey, you were in a coma for the last five months.” He tries to place the strange quality in her voice.

“I’ve been in a coma? Why?”

“A drunken driver knocked you over on your way to night shift. With no external injuries, the doctors couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t wake up. Three months ago, they sent you home, saying there was nothing they could do. Baby, you were the one asleep, not me.”

She pauses. Brian can’t form the words on his tongue.

“I’m just glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

Brian slowly sits up and waits for the dizziness to pass. He swings his feet off the bed and stands up. His legs gives way at the same time as Sammy grabs him by the shoulders. They hit the floor with a thud, Sammy landing on top of him. His muscles react predictably to the weight on top.

“Looks like everything else is working fine.” Sammy’s eyes twinkle down into his. He shifts his body and turns on his side, taking her with him.

“Sammy, do you keep a diary?” Her body goes rigid.

“Whoa, where does that come from?”

“Well, do you? A red leather bound one with some loose pages?” Her heart races against his palm.

“Yes. Why?”

“You kept the diary hidden, taped to the top drawer of your dresser. Why did you hide it from me?”

“Now you’re freaking me out. When did you find it?”

“Yesterday.”

Sammy rises to her knees, dragging Brian with her. She shoulders his weight and a few steps further he stands on his own, muscles shaking with the strain. The silence stretches until he is safely back on the bed. Sammy takes his hand in hers and wipes the sweat of his forehead with a cloth.

“Baby, yesterday you were in a coma. You couldn’t have found it yesterday.”

“Sammy, yesterday you were in vegetative state.  I took you to the park and we met an old man saying it’s almost over. What deal did you make with the old man?”

Sammy’s body stiffens. She pulls her hand out of Brian’s and walks to the window, keeping her back to him. She folds her arms protectively around her stomach. He can hear her rapid breathing.

“Sammy?”

The silence stretches. Sammy stands motionless hugging herself. Darkness rolls into the room as the sun disappears behind the clouds. Cold air filters in through the open windows. Still she remains silent.

“Sammy, talk to me.”