Coacher’s Wife

There were lunatics all over the asylum. He knew it when he came out and so did she, but she wasn’t one. She was only eighteen. Meanwhile in my study I wrote to her wondering if those notes were ever found by her from the doctors. Sadly, not a single one was sent.

***

There were times when Jase Mason Coacher felt like he was trapped in his own time. He wondered what may have happened if he hadn’t have pulled the trigger in the first place and bit the cop in jail. It wasn’t that he was a bad kid either. He had tried so hard to protect his mother from the stab wounds of his father. Every time Jase had tried to make everything feel better, his father would beat the crap out of him, no mistake. Jase had to make the best of things. His mother would never cry in front of him and she’d go upstairs and give him ice cream after a rough beating from the table. This profound knowledge of love for his mother was so great he tried to shoot his father as he beat the shit outta her and had tried to pull the trigger with a gun from the ice-heads next door. Sadly, his mother breathed no more. “No! I want to go to my mother’s funeral!” He yelled out of the room. “He fucking killed her! He killed my mother!” “Your father wants to come see you now.” The nurse called in from the speakers. Blinded by tears Jase wept. “Why’d you kill my fucking mother!?” He yelled. “Get me out!” His father came in and found Jase in a strait jacket. “Are you on my side? Or are you with your useless fucking bitch mother?” His father looked like a lunatic. “Fuck you ass-wipe!” Jase spat in his face. Then no you silly little fuck! In ya go!” his father yelled grinning. She sat by the windowsill looking at him and he had swiftly walked by. But then there was her. She sat by the windowsill and dropped down to her knees on the dirty floor crying.

***

Jase was typing madly. Trying to retrieve her memories of him was hard as typing madly. It was hard for him. “Jessica, I’ll be there to help you.” He muttered under his breath. He cried amongst all the typing. “Jessica what had happened? I want you to remember me too and what had happened.”  he swiftly got up and made a phone call.

***

She started pounding the door. “Take him out.” She screamed in agony. “He wasn’t fair to him! He loved his mother. The droned voice came on again.” Jessica get off the floor please.” A scurrying noise of the nurses came in as the girl dragged her feet miserably to the bathroom, water rushing. “Jessica! Stop it!” The crying was stopped and there was a thud on the wall’s room next to me. For the next three days, I found piss on my straitjacket and then they had to cut it off me. I cleaned up hurriedly in the bathroom that they had drugged Jessica up in. it wasn’t very clean. Pubic hair had clung to the toilet, blood stains were on the sink, and not to mention, drawings on the olive-green walls. The outside wasn’t so bad probably except that it had smelled faintly of urine and unflushed toilets. There was a pool, but it was empty and drained without water. Fungus was inside it. The type that looked black with yellow. “Great.” I thought. “More urine.” The smell as I had approached it had made me fill my stomach up with vomit. As I stood by the door opening as I began slowly exploring every room, I found this one and I threw up, my nose wrinkling from the stench. I went back inside. On all the floors I left off of, the pool on the tenth floor was utterly disgusting. It was so disgusting it made the bowels of my stomach hurt. On each and every floor there was screaming. An agonizing scream. It was preposterous. It was men and women strapped onto their beds. One woman was shaking and had her eyes rolled up. Others were smiling and laughing at the same time while they were strapped. The only one out it seemed, was Jessica. She sat on a chair that was nailed to the floor reading a book. “Hello Jase.” I stopped and stared at her stunningly beautiful blue eyes with fiery red hair. “How did you know my name?” I asked. Totally ignoring the question, she just replied with a cheerful voice, “I’m Jessica, Jessica Lange.” “I’m ….”  “Yeah I know who you are, you’re Jase Mason Coacher. I know exactly who you are.” She extended out her hand with a smile. I turned and I ran down the stairs to the first floor where the doors were panicking. How could somebody here have known so much about me? The door was locked and tears rolled down my eyes. The smell from the pool upstairs was not helping. I threw up and fell silently to the floor as I blacked out.

***

I was strapped in bed. My head hurt nearby a wall. and I couldn’t get up. Jessica was just sitting on the chair I looked up at her. “How did you know my name?”  “I know everything there is to know about you Jase.” I stirred in my straps uncomfortably. “It’s what psychopaths like me know best about normal people.” I was very scared. I was so scared I almost wet my bed sheets until she started unstrapping me. “Jase , we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

***

I looked around my room and stifled a cry. It wasn’t a cry. No. it was agony that I couldn’t save her after that.

***

The moment I knew it we were running down the hallway and down the stairs to the doors. She picked the lock with what little we had and soon the doors were open. A doctor came running towards us and as I turned she was screaming my name. She was too strong and although I made it, she accidentally bumped her head on the wall and conked out. “I’ll come back for you! I swear it Jessica!” Little did I know, Jessica Lange was never coming back.

***

I got up off the chair into the room where my coat was. It had been years since that night. What made it so significant was that Jessica was the girl I kept having dreams of. My father died of lung cancer two years ago three years after my escape. I went over to see Jessica in the hospital, so I reached into my pockets and pulled out eight dollars for a bunch of white roses. The doctor came down with white robes. “Mr. Coacher, Mrs. Coacher is awake. Come right this way.”

I slowly went up the stairs. “Did my wife’s memory recover?” The nurse couldn’t recover her memory. I stood there shaking all over. “Mrs. Coacher?” “Yes?” “Your husband’s here.” “Who?” I went inside. “Jessica?” I peered into the room filled with roses. As I looked Jessica smelled like sweet jasmine and magnolias. The room I kept was still filled with roses and as I looked into her eyes, I leaned in to kiss her. Her lips felt warm and she started to panic as she pushed me away. “Jess. It’s me Jase.”  “You’re the boy I met at the asylum.”  “Yes honey it’s me. Jase.” The doctor came in abruptly. “Jase, we need to talk.” He pulled me out of the room. “Jase, Jessica has only three more days to live.” My mouth twitched and my eyes as I went back into the room. I’ll be back Jess.” It was a forty-five minute drive and soon I brought the papers I wrote and a book of poetry. I read to her that night and the day after. I made sure she was being treated. I was nothing like my father and I loved Jessica with all my heart. Jessica I had kissed on the forehead as she had quietly died. She was everything I had. At her funeral, l had decided to give her red roses, a sign of love. After the funeral, I cried. I cried really hard.

***

I was strapped in bed. My head hurt and l couldn’t get up. Jessica was just sitting on the chair nearby a wall. I looked up at her. “How did you know my name?” “l know everything there is to know about you Jase.” l stirred in my straps uncomfortably. “It’s what psychopaths like me know best about normal people.” l was very scared. l was so scared l almost wet my bed sheets until she started unstrapping me. “Jase, we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”