Patricia Carragon

Sunshine

 

 

Before her first cup of coffee, Elaine would light two candles, burn some sage, and chant. As she chanted, she clasped the lapis lazuli malas. As she meditated, her life flashed before her. Approaching her mid-eighties, she has lived a full life, mostly good than bad. After her radical mastectomy two years ago, she accepted her scars as her badge of courage and had no shame when she modeled in the nude. Her spirituality and confidence made her more beautiful than before. Her latest tattoos of voluptuous flowers covered the areas where her breasts once were. Albese loved her without breasts, even more for her spirit, and now he was gone—a heart attack at the age of ninety-three. Mara, her closest friend and loving wife, prayed by her side. Elaine, a rape survivor who has made peace with men, was blessed with two good marriages, beautiful children, grandchildren, as well as having successful modeling and art careers at her advanced age.

 

          Elaine and Mara still prayed for Lynda’s soul. Society placed too much pressure on people to be coupled, and Lynda suffered the consequences. Before the return of Lynda’s rapist, Elaine did daily three-card tarot readings. Oddly, for the past week, the same disturbing three cards were picked and all were upright—the Knight of Swords, the Queen of Cups, and Death. The Queen of Cups card sat in the middle. Elaine was a Scorpio, and that card either represented her as a water sign or a woman of emotions. But did that card represent Lynda, not Elaine? On the left, was the Knight of Swords, which could mean danger, violence, or someone who would stop at nothing to get his way, while on the right, the Death card meant either an end of a cycle or transition.

 

          Even odder were her nightmares of Lynda attacked by a pack a wild dogs in Prospect Park or dressed in a tattered wedding gown, falling down a grease-smeared shaft in an abandoned building in the Bronx.

 

          All dreams stopped after that balmy Sunday afternoon, when Lynda came home in the white dress Elaine gave her and the scarf that was lost when Elaine fell on the subway stairs. Although her face and body exhibited bruises and two of her front teeth were missing, she was calm. She claimed she had sex with a wonderful bald stranger on a park bench. Having intercourse with the stranger was rough like Pete’s, but she vicariously thought of Michael and reached orgasm twice. She originally avoided the man’s eyes since they made her uncomfortable. However, she did fall in love with the stranger and would plan on living with him, even marry him before cancer takes him. Because his feet looked like Pete’s, she stupidly got scared and wanted to leave. This same man gave his middle name until he admitted that he was Pete Seamus. She caused this same man to beat and rough her up in the bushes. When he pulled up his zipper, she pleaded for him to come back, but he ran off instead.

 

          Lynda implored Michael not to report it. It took her thirty years to realize that she loved Pete and had to be by his side. He was dying, and she hoped that he would forgive her for all the harm she caused him. She washed the evidence of her encounter and asked that her clothes be burned in the fireplace, except for the scarf given to her by Pete. She packed it with the rest of her clothes in two suitcases and left the premises, not saying where she was going.

 

          While she was showering, Michael took a peek into her shoulder strap bag. Next to her cosmetic case was a folded brown paper bag. An address written on it was the identical address and apartment where he and Mara once lived at when they got married. After Lynda kissed him goodbye, he could never forget the way she smiled as she walked out the door. He reneged on his promise and called the police.

 

          When the police arrived at the Bronx residence, the suspect was found naked on the bed with hands folded on his chest, holding on to an old pair of rosary beads. On the dresser was an empty bottle of arsenic and a glass half empty. Evidence of the suspect’s lips and his set of fingerprints was found on the bottles and glass. The coroner’s report mentioned that the suspect, Peter Jacob McCabe, died approximately around 8:45 p.m. from arsenic poisoning. In the apartment, they found fingerprints and hair samples belonging to a female. They also found evidence of sexual activity prior to death. His oversized feet were covered with lipstick kisses and dried saliva from that same female. Next to the corpse was a printed copy of the song, “Moonlight Shadow,” except the handwriting scratched over it was done by the suspect:

 

          Now I’m free, free like birds in the sky and fish in the sea. Free from your wicked hands and deceit. Free from the curse you’ve put on me. But never free from my love for you.

 

          A burly neighbor claimed to have heard a woman’s voice outside Pete’s door. The woman asked to be let inside. The door opened, and the sobbing woman begged for forgiveness. Shortly after, the neighbor heard her cry out in pain, pleading not to be beaten again. As the bed repeatedly knocked against the wall, her cries softened into moans, and the two of them engaged in erotic pleasure for almost an hour. When it got quit, she shouted that she would never report him and wanted to marry him. There was a loud thump, and the man yelled, “You were always a liar and never gave a shit about me. You only fucked me because I reminded you of that bald guy from your building. I’m dying of cancer and want to end my agony now, and it will be your fault. You ruined my music career and happiness and murdered my son by having that abortion. I even blame you for the cancer that’s eating up my liver. I hope you rot in hell for what you’ve done to me. Now get the fuck out of here!” A minute later, the poor woman left the apartment, slamming the door behind her, crying.

 

          The woman was never found, nonetheless, Elaine, as well as Michael and Mara, knew she had to be Lynda. 

 

          A few months ago, Elaine walked by a homeless colony in Borough Park and was appalled at how the nation neglected this escalating problem, especially now in the Age of Trump. She volunteered to work in the soup kitchen and donated money and old clothing, and knitted sweaters, scarves, and hats. She has personally worked one-on-one with a few homeless men and women to obtain descent housing and jobs.

 

          Recently, a woman with disheveled long black hair would always smile at her whenever she received food. A newcomer to the community, this woman was almost forty and looked cute wearing one of Elaine’s knitted berets. She sported black plastic glasses held together with duct tape. By her side was her boyfriend, Sonny, of whom she called her “hot common-law husband.” He was almost the same coloring as her husband, Albese, and wore his long gray hair in regal dreadlocks. They may have been homeless, but the couple showed a deep affection that only people in love would understand. Although most of her teeth were missing, her chubby face radiated a love and inner peace that poverty couldn’t destroy.

 

          When she asked the woman for her name, she responded, “Just call me Lady Sunshine, Sunshine for short.”

 

          Yesterday, at the soup kitchen, Sunshine was wearing a long gauze coral and lavender scarf around her head. The scarf was the same as the one that she had lost and was found by Pete.

 

          Elaine remarked, “What a lovely scarf you’re wearing. Was it a birthday present?”

 

          “Nope,” answered Sunshine. “A lady gave it to me over a year ago. She and I used to live in another colony on Church Avenue, but she caught pneumonia and died at Lutheran Hospital. The lady’s name was Lynda McCabe. She was the kindest and happiest person in the community who would literally “give the shirt off her back.” She never regretted the pain in her life and kept saying it made her a better person. She joyfully relinquished all her possessions, only retained the clothes she wore. How odd that this scarf was the last piece she gave away! She claimed that she was a selfish and cruel woman who needed to repent. She used to accuse her husband of rape when she was the one who was the aggressor. She liked rough and degenerative sex and teased her husband too much in bed. She eventually confessed that she was cheating on him and broke her husband’s heart. Because of her infidelity, her husband was driven to drugs and alcohol. Because she kept screaming the name “Michael” in the heat of passion, her husband would beat the crap out of her. He would also beat her up for no reason. She lost her two front teeth, received a broken nose, and had bruises all over her body. She was also a little nuts and missed him and his humongous genitalia, plus, she had a weird fetish for his enormous and malodorous feet. But when she did come back to apologize for destroying his life and music career, aborting his son, and for giving him cancer, he threw her out. But I guess living with an abusive man would make a crazy woman crazier. Sad that she died so young. She was a sweet lady who would sacrifice everything for the broken man she deeply loved and accepted his abuse as her fault.”

 

          The smile on Sunshine’s face faded.

 

          “Elaine, did I make you upset? I see tears in your eyes. Did you know her?”

 

          Elaine paused and replied no.

 

          “It’s okay, my friend. Don’t be so sad. I’m sure she is at peace. Smile, dear lady! You have such a pretty smile.”

 

          Sunshine pulled the scarf off her head and handed it to Elaine, saying, “God bless you, Elaine. Here’s her scarf. What a shame that it has a few snags in it, but please take it! It’s a gift from me and Lynda. Her spirit is telling me to give this you. Dear lady, you need closure for whatever has been bothering you over the past few years.”

 

          Elaine accepted the scarf that now draped the altar. She and Mara prayed again for Lynda’s safe journey in the afterlife. There was no wind, however, the candle flickered rapidly. When done, they chanted another round of Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō. As Elaine blew out the candles, smoke rose in an hourglass shape over the Yin candle holder, while smoke rose straight up over the Yang candle holder. Both intertwined before disappearing into the smoldering incense.

 

 

 

A longtime Friend of the Macabre, Patricia Carragon’s recent publications include Bear Creek Haiku, First Literary Review-East, A Gathering of the Tribes, The Café Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Poetrybay, and Krytyka Literacka. Her latest books are The Cupcake Chronicles (Poets Wear Prada, 2017) and Innocence (Finishing Line Press, 2017). Patricia hosts the Brooklyn-based Brownstone Poets and is the editor-in-chief of its annual anthology. She is an executive editor for Home Planet News Online.