GETTING A LIFE

            From . . . NEVER

            A watch with the insides showing.  Naked in front of him.

            Even so, one dark snowy afternoon, hidden in our blue-and-gray refuge from the rest of the ward, using our time slot in the tiny room like a prostitute and her customer would, I feel an unexpected sense of closeness to him.  Drawn to this thin blond-faced doctor.  This man who controls how much longer I have to be a psychiatric patient here.

            From . . . SUMMER OF THE SPIDER

            It hung suspended like a trapeze artist on a wire fence next to the Baptist Church.  A big black spider covered with yellow splotches.  Fine orange fuzz sprouted on its long legs.  What made it unique was the white gluey substance that spun from its spinneret in up and down strokes that looked like writing.  Reverend Aiken said,  "The spider has written War.  A message from God that the war will go on."

            From . . . CROSSROADS

            "I tried to kill myself last Christmas."  John Connelly, the group leader, threw out that laconic sentence, its seven words exploding like grenades, one after the other.

            Lorenzo's white cane clattered onto the tile floor, its impact resounding like still another bomb.  He barely heard Dr. Schroeder murmur:

            "What stopped you?"

            "Nothing stopped me!  I didn't take enough fucking pills!  I slept a day and a half, woke up alive and Christmas was over."

            From . . . TRIANGLE

            I'm bending over the bathtub, giving it a decent scrub with a new Teflon sponge I found in the kitchen drawer.  The Comet Cleanser I've sprinkled into the tub smells like bleach.  My eyes smart as I inhale the green powder, that's now mixing with the thin layer of water in the tub.  Scrubbing away in the corners, up around the rim, I sense Richard at the door.  Maybe it's his aftershave, the pad of his bare feet.  Something.

            He comes up behind me.  I'm only wearing a long tee--and it's riding up over my butt.  I know what's next and brace myself.

            From . . . TROPHIES

            Frank raised the fish and slammed it onto the sharp spikes.  You could hear the sound of tearing flesh.

            Madeline began to hit Frank.  "You bastard," she cried.  "Are you satisfied now?"

            "You crazy woman.  Leave me alone."  At that, Frank began to walk toward the bar.  "I need a drink."

            Madeline fell to the foot of the display board.  She was crying bitterly now.  The blood was running down the fish's body and onto the ground.  Little by little it began to lose its brilliant colors, finally turning a dull, metallic grey.

            From . . . SWEETS

            I was awakened by the shuddering crash of the front door slamming.

            "You will not call a cab, bitch.  I'll take your stupid mother home!"

            I snapped fully awake and realized with astonishment that it was Paul's voice I heard.

            "Please keep your voice down, Paul.  You'll wake the baby."

            "The baby, the baby," Paul simpered, mimicking Liz.  "Always the good little mother.  Can't stay up late anymore.  Have to get up early to get to work to make out with the boss!"

            "Paul, for God's sake, Mom will hear you--"