Page 2 of It Takes a Thief

My fast-paced, action-packed life was just getting to me.

Turning me into a zombie. I had a few holes in my screen door. My mind was in neutral, but my body was in gear. I was more vegetable than protein. I was one Gilligan short of an island.

Funny thing was, I didn’t feel that. It’s only in retrospect I see I was having some sort of breakdown. No, I just kept striding away importantly, stethoscope swinging around my neck professionally, bowling people out of my way. Imagining I was onto something hugely vital, something that would turn my life around, a religious zealot in pursuit of the truth.

It was the cafeteria smell that got to me. My mouth usually watered at that smell. The company contracting there was quite good with burritos and tortas made on the spot, fresh beef stew, even matzo ball soup. Because I was always dieting, I usually only allowed myself a tiny portion, but it was delicious. Today, though, it hit me like a two by four upside the head. My sure steps stumbled. I reeled toward the flu clinic, a place I usually avoided like a pile of radium.

Winston caught my arm. “Maddy, Maddy. Do you need some fresh air?”

“Fresh air,” I mumbled. “That’s it. Air.”

Out front, he led me to the right to avoid the comings and goings of patients. We sat on a bench where I breathed deeply, eyes closed.

The words still floated against the electric backdrop of my inner eyelids. Usually, I felt faith in life lifting me up like feathers. Other times, no. This was one of those times. I was utterly lost, at the mercy of the winds, just being buffeted by events. Going with the flow. Never taking action myself. Had I enjoyed a wild ride with the Bare Bones MC? Was it coming to an end? I had thought it was my entire life.

“What happened in there?” asked Winston quietly. He patted my hand. “Suddenly you didn’t want to be there. Did something scare you?”

I whipped my head to face him. “Nothing scares me,” I reminded him.

More hand patting. “I know, I know,” he said warmly. “But why’d you run out?”

“I didn’t run.”

“Walk. Why’d you walk?”

Then it all gushed from me. One second I was in deep denial. The next, I was clinging to Winston’s pastel shirtfront and sobbing like a snotty kid.

It was one of those horrifying sorts of breakdowns, the likes of which you haven’t felt since you were two. The kind that wrenches every organ in your torso. You sob until you can’t breathe anymore. Your lungs clench so tightly it’s like they’re two decompressed balloons.

In between silent sobs, there’d be those frightening inhalations. Ripping through every layer of cells, torturing you with each tiny uh-uh-uh-uh. The shoulders shaking like an unstable washing machine.

And you know it. You’re leading up to the biggest wail that was ever ripped from the heart of man.

Winston knew it, too. He gathered my face closer to his warm shirt. Wrapping his arms around me, he was trying to prevent any patients from viewing this unsettling sight.

I don’t remember if he succeeded. The all-encompassing wail was tearing apart my trachea. It was ripping the bronchioles from the muscle of my lungs. My diaphragm was a hard bowling ball.

I shook uncontrollably, silently, until the big build-up. Who knows how far my wail could be heard? It was like a rotating siren, whaa, whaa, whaa echoing down into the parking structure, bouncing back off vehicles.

And the repetition of Winston murmuring, “Ssh. Ssh. Ssh.”

I didn’t know if he was trying to soothe me or shut me up. This went on for God knew how long until I could take a gulping, shuddering breath and form words.

“I—can’t—do this—anymore!”

Softly he said, “You mean the sick people?”

Like I was some fucking kid! Which, at that point, I guess I was. “No! Well, yes! Sick people, well people, okay people, fucked-up people, just people-people!”

“When’s the last time you had a vacation?”

I couldn’t remember. Bare Boners didn’t take vacations. We went to rallies, which was sort of like work sometimes. Seeing the same people you normally saw at fish fries, babies’ birthdays, the Bum Steer for adult birthdays. Toys for Tots runs, swap meets, poker runs. At first, it had seemed like my family had expanded tenfold when I joined the brotherhood. Lately, it had just seemed like my world was shrinking. Even with our other chapters in Flagstaff, Prescott, Phoenix, and our brother clubs in Arizona and Nevada—well, after ten years, those people started looking as old as Jericho, as old as heartache.

I pulled back from his shirtfront, leaving a trail of snot which I wiped on the back of my forearm. “It’s not that, Win! I wouldn’t need a vacation if I was happy!”

We both calmed down a bit at my admission. What had I just said? Wasn’t every Bare Bone old lady happy as a pussy that sees cream? I blubbered, “I don’t mean that. I mean—”

“You do too much, Maddy. That’s it. You’ve got two kids, your club, your demanding job.”