was put to rest without a proper funeral.
“Where were you when she died?” Sovereign asked one day when he felt thatshe could bear the strain.
“With Lemuel,” she said. “That was when he had got out of jail for sellin’ drugs. We was up in his apartment in the Bronx for eight days. Auntie G had a heart attack and I didn’t even know.”
“No one called you?”
“The phone was disconnected.”
“And why didn’t your mother bury her?”
“She got into one a’ her moods and couldn’t do nuthin’. When she get like that she go in the bedroom and don’t come out for days.”
They were sitting on the white sofa and Sovereign felt her grasp his forefinger and thumb, one with each hand.
“It wasn’t your fault, Toni.”
“I would’a broke it off wit’ Lemuel back then but when he heard about what happened he brought me white roses and said that I should put them on the table and that could be my funeral for my auntie G.”
During those weeks the machinery of the couple’s life worked perfectly. Sovereign, though he never articulated it, had accepted his blindness as he did the daily conversations with Seth Offeran. When Toni wasn’t there he’d listen to books on tape, the news, or just errant sounds out the window. His exercises leveled off at thirty-three circuits.
Then the mechanism broke down.
It started on a Tuesday evening after Toni had gone home. The day had been spent at a fancy grocery store where they ate lunch, shopped, and then came home to watch pay-per-view TV.
Toni had departed at seven-oh-seven by Sovereign’s talking clock.
The phone rang soon after that.
“Hello?” Sovereign said.
“Mr. James.”
“Dr. Offeran?”
“Yes.”
“This is a surprise. I didn’t even know that you had my number.”
“Dr. Katz had it. He called and told me that the insurance company has requested that you submit to further testing now that therapy has proven ineffective.”
“That means you give up?” James felt victorious and contradictorily nauseous at the prospect.
“No, not at all. I feel that we’ve made great progress and that you are on the verge of a significant psychic event. It’s just that it has taken longer than the timetables allow for in the insurance medical books. So Dr. Katz needs to see you tomorrow at the time of our session. You go to see him, he’ll find that your physical condition is unchanged, and we will have our appointment day after tomorrow as usual.”
“What do you mean, a significant psychic event?”
“We’ll talk about that at the next session.”
Sovereign was still trying to decipher the term
significant psychic event
when the phone rang two hours later. He was sure that it was Offeran calling to apologize for not making himself clear, and at the same time, he knew that the psychoanalyst would never call back like that.
“Hello?”
“May I speak to Sovereign James?” a woman with a slight Jamaican lilt asked.
“This is him.”
“You’re Sovereign James?”
“Yes.”
“I have to change your appointment with Dr. Katz to a ten-forty-five slot,” she said.
“Tomorrow morning?”
“That’s right. Can you make that time?”
“I guess so.”
“Should I e-mail or fax you the information?”
“What is Dr. Katz’s specialty?” Sovereign asked, irked more by the change in plans than anything else.
“Come again?”
“Katz specializes in blindness, right?”
“Yes.”
“So what am I going to do with a fax?”
“Ten forty-five tomorrow morning,” she replied. “Do you need directions?”
Sovereign hung up the phone.
The eye exam was the same as it had been three months before. There was a lot of waiting and craning his neck, sitting inside of a machine that made a high-pitched hum now and again while the doctor asked questions about his vision.
Joey Atlanta from Red Rover picked him up and drove him home.
“What time is it, Joey?” Sovereign asked before getting out of the car.
“One fifty-two,”
“Where were you when she died?” Sovereign asked one day when he felt thatshe could bear the strain.
“With Lemuel,” she said. “That was when he had got out of jail for sellin’ drugs. We was up in his apartment in the Bronx for eight days. Auntie G had a heart attack and I didn’t even know.”
“No one called you?”
“The phone was disconnected.”
“And why didn’t your mother bury her?”
“She got into one a’ her moods and couldn’t do nuthin’. When she get like that she go in the bedroom and don’t come out for days.”
They were sitting on the white sofa and Sovereign felt her grasp his forefinger and thumb, one with each hand.
“It wasn’t your fault, Toni.”
“I would’a broke it off wit’ Lemuel back then but when he heard about what happened he brought me white roses and said that I should put them on the table and that could be my funeral for my auntie G.”
During those weeks the machinery of the couple’s life worked perfectly. Sovereign, though he never articulated it, had accepted his blindness as he did the daily conversations with Seth Offeran. When Toni wasn’t there he’d listen to books on tape, the news, or just errant sounds out the window. His exercises leveled off at thirty-three circuits.
Then the mechanism broke down.
It started on a Tuesday evening after Toni had gone home. The day had been spent at a fancy grocery store where they ate lunch, shopped, and then came home to watch pay-per-view TV.
Toni had departed at seven-oh-seven by Sovereign’s talking clock.
The phone rang soon after that.
“Hello?” Sovereign said.
“Mr. James.”
“Dr. Offeran?”
“Yes.”
“This is a surprise. I didn’t even know that you had my number.”
“Dr. Katz had it. He called and told me that the insurance company has requested that you submit to further testing now that therapy has proven ineffective.”
“That means you give up?” James felt victorious and contradictorily nauseous at the prospect.
“No, not at all. I feel that we’ve made great progress and that you are on the verge of a significant psychic event. It’s just that it has taken longer than the timetables allow for in the insurance medical books. So Dr. Katz needs to see you tomorrow at the time of our session. You go to see him, he’ll find that your physical condition is unchanged, and we will have our appointment day after tomorrow as usual.”
“What do you mean, a significant psychic event?”
“We’ll talk about that at the next session.”
Sovereign was still trying to decipher the term
significant psychic event
when the phone rang two hours later. He was sure that it was Offeran calling to apologize for not making himself clear, and at the same time, he knew that the psychoanalyst would never call back like that.
“Hello?”
“May I speak to Sovereign James?” a woman with a slight Jamaican lilt asked.
“This is him.”
“You’re Sovereign James?”
“Yes.”
“I have to change your appointment with Dr. Katz to a ten-forty-five slot,” she said.
“Tomorrow morning?”
“That’s right. Can you make that time?”
“I guess so.”
“Should I e-mail or fax you the information?”
“What is Dr. Katz’s specialty?” Sovereign asked, irked more by the change in plans than anything else.
“Come again?”
“Katz specializes in blindness, right?”
“Yes.”
“So what am I going to do with a fax?”
“Ten forty-five tomorrow morning,” she replied. “Do you need directions?”
Sovereign hung up the phone.
The eye exam was the same as it had been three months before. There was a lot of waiting and craning his neck, sitting inside of a machine that made a high-pitched hum now and again while the doctor asked questions about his vision.
Joey Atlanta from Red Rover picked him up and drove him home.
“What time is it, Joey?” Sovereign asked before getting out of the car.
“One fifty-two,”
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