Excerpt from The Madhatter's Guide to Chocolate, page 254
... from Max the Madhatter’s notebook, March 2, 1957
Good comes out of bad. All the time. Like when I have one of my spells, and I’m shocked by the simple beauty of what my hand has drawn on a blank page. Beauty and goodness can paint over hate and meanness, given half a chance.
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Excerpt from The Madhatter's Guide to Chocolate, page 86
I sat with Jake, relishing the silence in the aftermath of the harrowing interview.
He pinched his eyes shut and winced.
"Let me call the nurse and see about getting you something for pain."
"Sister-girl." He grunted. "I've been back in the world less than three hours and you want to put me out again!"
"No, Jake, I…."
Jake held up his hand. "I know what you're trying to do. It's kinda good in a bizarre sort of way to feel every part of my body -- even if it's pain. It reminds me that I am alive." He moaned. "I sure could go for one of your lovely full body deep tissue massages."
I looked him over. Very little area was not covered in bruises, snaked with wires and tubing, or wrapped in bandages. "Your left foot! It's the only thing not covered. I can do some reflexology! That would make your whole body feel better, and it wouldn't hurt anything!"
Jake moaned. "Lordy, yes! Ask Nurse Nancy for some lotion. I'm sure they'll add $30.00 to my bill, but I really don't care at this point."
I rummaged in my purse. "I have a sample of massage cream in here somewhere…Ah-hah!" I held the small plastic container up like a trophy.
"Sister-girl, we need to get you onto Let's Make a Deal! I'm sure there's nothing Monte Hall could ask for that you don't have somewhere in that bottomless pit you call a purse. You hidin' a couple of hard-boiled eggs in there, too?"
"No, but…I do have half of an energy bar."
He rolled his eyes. "Like I said!"
I sat at the end of his bed and gently started to work the pressure points on the bottom of his left foot.
He flinched.
I stopped. "Am I hurting you?"
"No, no. It's not you, my right leg's doing a cha-cha under the splint."
He closed his eyes and fell silent for a few moments, releasing himself into the pleasure of the foot rub.
"Sister-girl, tell me what happened…"
"Jake, haven't you been through enough for today?"
"There's no way I could feel any worse. I have to understand. You are my eyes and ears." His boyish face was marred by purple-black bruises and slashes of tape. My soul felt as if it was crumbling under a weight of tremendous sadness. "Why would Marshall Thurgood do this to me? I've never tried to hurt anyone, at least consciously, in my whole life! Why me?"
"Jake, I…"
"Please, Hattie." He closed his eyes again. Tears glistened on the tips of his eyelashes.
As I continued to massage his foot, I unfolded the story of what I knew of the attack -- my arrival at the shop, the trip to the ER, his surgery, the hours of worried vigil by his bed, and the extent of his wounds. Then, I recounted Thomas Thurgood's visit.
The slight whir of the electric wall clock accompanied the silence.
"Could you get the nurse, now?" He asked in a soft voice. "I think I will take you up on the pain medicine."
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ISBN: 0-9743039-0-9
Publisher: Rabid Press, Austin, Texas
Date of publication: October, 2003
List Price: $14.95
Available in bookstores or online.
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Book excerpts and cover art reprinted with expressed permission
of Rabid Press, Austin, Texas.
©Rhett DeVane 2006
