Tally Me Margarita

A Story by Merry

What if Paradise was really a paradise? Oh, and they have the best margaritas you could ever imagine.

"Come Mister Taliban, Taliban my banana!" screamed my little sister in backseat beside me. She bounced in her seat and laughed, trying to keep time with the radio. I pushed back into her spot off of me.

"Krissy! The song is not about bad people! It goes, 'come mister tally man, tally me banana'" I yelled back at her.

"Moooom! James pushed me again!"

Just as she finished whining to mom, I put my feet up between us, as some sort of barricade.

My mother looked behind her seat at me and then at Dad. "Have you been letting her watch CNN again, Rick?" He shrugged his shoulders. Mom sighed. "She has to stop her insomnia sometime. She's only three for crying out loud. And God knows that a three-year-old insomniac shouldn't be watching TV, let alone CNN, which you leave on."

This time it was his turn to sigh. "Look, I've tried to leave it on something else when I go to bed and turn it off," he said, waving his hands everywhere, not even looking at the road, " but the kid knows how to work my iPad more than I do, and naturally she knows how to work ever other electronic in the house. She makes better toast than I do!"

"You let her make toast?!" Mom's eyes widened like the would pop out of her head.

Krissy stood up in her seat leaning as far as the old seat belt would allow. "Yeah, Mommy! Daddy said he couldn't figure it out, and I climbed up on top of the counter when he went to the bathroom �"and-and I made toast! Aren't you proud of me, Mommy?"

Mom smiled at Krissy.

"Yes, very proud of you. And sit back down. Cops are out this weekend." I pulled a protesting Krissy back down, and manged to get punched back in the face several times. I finally pushed her into the seat beside me.

This is how the summer I got high on life started. Actually, it started after the crash �"Dad didn't have his hands on the wheel again- and during a coma. Whoa, that sounded freaky didn't it? That's my last memory of 'natural' life before I woke-up...ten years later. I'm twenty and only lack a year before I can drink, though I've done plenty of that at the Island.

Wait...I'm sounding New Age-y, whatever that really means.

I don't really know why they kept my body alive. I wasn't there anyway. I was at the Island with the men and women who danced, drank, and lived. Life in this reality isn't real enough. No one here does anything. They work. They eat fating food that doesn't even taste good. They have kids that no one really takes care of. At the Island everyone is around thirty-years-old. I should know. I lived there for fifty years, their time, and I was the best guitar player there, or at least that's what the ladies said.

The only time I ever feel at Home is when I dream of surfing and try to remember all those wonderful, happy songs. I can only dream now, since my body isn't used to working anymore. I want to walk,run, dance, and play my guitar, but no. I'm only now getting my hands to work properly.

This place is hellish for sure. South Carolina, United States, North America, Earth, A.K.A. HELL. And all I can hear are the bongos, the drummers singing along with everyone, and the margaritas! Oh, damn, those margaritas! Best in the Universe. And what about all my friends? Oh, I'm sure they're fine. They were the ones calling my name when I was "pulled back" here, to this stupid, regional hospital. It may take a year before I function right again. Ahhh...Just mentioned not functioning. It seems to be all I can think of when I used to run for miles with the sea gulls.

And 'Mom' and 'Dad aren't as I knew them. Dad's hair is gray, and Mom can only cry when she hears me speak. Krissy went to her own Island that day. We've met in the past by boat. Something about that boat of hers... And Corona, my dog, wanted to jump into that boat! Ha! My dog is something! So smart and happy. How funny that day was. But now all Mom can say about Krissy is,"Did you ever see Krissy? Is she okay? She's not in Hell is she?" And all I can say back is,"No, I am." This always makes her cry even more, and once Dad even yelled at me for that. He's no longer allowed in my room, let alone the hospital.

There is this one nurse who listens to me and actually doesn't cry. She always say I remind her of her favorite song artist. I tell her about my adventures and happy times at the Island. She nods a lot and smiles. I'm not sure if she believes me, or is she just humoring me? Nurses tend to do that when I ask for the Reggae music channel to play in my room off one of those tiny TV sets. What happened to nature and healing there? She will sing along with me, even when I can only mouth the lyrics since my vocal chords get tired after awhile.

Man, this story is so depressing. Never was depressed till I came to Hell. I hate downing people.

Let's end this story on a good note.

Earlier today, my nurse friend came in all smiles. I asked why she was so happy, and she said she was going to a Jimmy Buffet concert tonight.

"Oh, yeah?" I croak. "Who is that?"

She eyed me and grinned. "Oh, you know! That guy you remind me of!" She started to clear off the table that somehow stays on one leg and hovers over yourself.

I watched her for a minute and said,"No, I don't know."

She just smiled more, happy to share her knowledge of this guy she is so fond of.

"He's a singer-songwriter, and he sings about the things you talk about: good times, Margaritaville, cheeseburgers in paradise, volcanoes, and all sorts of things! I'm wearing my coconut-bra just for the occasion." She leaned over me to fluff my pillows and to make sure I was up enough in this odd, hellish contraption wrongly called 'a bed.'

"You mean he sings about Heaven?" I asked her.

"No. It's all made-up, sweetie."

I shook my head. "No. It's real. I've been there. I lived there for fifty years and then somehow I was pulled back her to be in Hell. All I have are two parents who were selfish enough to take me away from Paradise. "

She looked at me and sniffed while wiping her eyes. "Well, if that's Heaven, I can't wait to go. "

"No," I said, "You do your job here first. I was done with mine, and got called back because of my mom's begging."

"She wasn't begging, honey, she was praying." Her back was to me now, as she fiddled with something on the other side of the room.

I shook my head again. "Doesn't feel that way to me."

Sandra, that's her name, let out a big sigh and turned on me. "You should be glad you're here, d****t. If I ever saw such an ungrateful son-of-a-b***h there was, it's you! She loves you and all you can think of is your Jimmy Buffet themed coma-induced dream. Be glad you're here and then you can dream. Now take you're medicine."

She put the pills and injections on the table hovering over me, ready to medicate me. Before she could think, I somehow managed to pull my IVs out of my hands and turn off the machine by slamming all the buttons downward.

"You idiot!"

She ran to the doorway, screaming, calling for help. Faintly, I remember people all around me, calling out commands and my mom screaming and crying at once.

I just laid back and kept my eyes closed. If that's not peace, I don't know what is.

"Mom is still grieving." Krissy looked into the tide coming on the beach and the hermit crabs scuttling along the sand.

This evening I was on her Island, just visiting of course. The sun set differently here. Its more red and pink and gold, while mine is more purple.

"I know. But I don't understand why she pulled me back." I kicked a shell into the tide. "I just don't get it."

"Because she spent ten years asking the Universe for you to recover. Somehow, she got her wish, but it didn't last." Krissy looked at me through her red hair blowing over her face. "Did you really have to come back with a scene? You could have done that when they were out of your room, you know."

"Didn't we both leave in a scene?"

"That was a car crash. Not fifteen doctors and nurses trying to revive you with Mom and Dad in the corner crying their eyes out. You could have a been a little nicer." She then grinned at me. "Even though you had to leave in that very rude way, I'm glad you can finally come see my bungalow. I did some new decorating while you were away." She then waved her hand towards her little beach cottage for me to follow.

I follow her away from the sunset.

I'm feeling better today.

END