Chapter Three: Estrus

Present Day, Eight to Midnight


“Esther.”

The voice was familiar, but her mind was burning with medication and sleep still clouded her senses. The dim light of the lamp beside her bed barely banished the predawn gloom.

“Esther, wake up.”

Esther Dizon blinked. For an all too brief moment she thought it was Anton calling her name. She smiled in her haze and reached out with arms that refused to move. And then the nightmare of reality came crashing back down on her, shaking her awake. It couldn’t be Anton because he left her over four months ago. And her arms would never move again, unless the various specialists she had seen over the last year were wrong.

The familiar smell of antiseptic wafted into the room as Helen, her personal nurse, changed the IV bag.

“What time is it?” Esther’s voice was a weak croak. It broke her heart every time she heard it. Lord, how much further do I have to fall? The thought slithered along the corner of her mind, teasing her with the promise of worse to come.

“Good morning dear. It’s four in the morning, time for your treatment.” Helen was the picture of quiet efficiency, but it was her gentle friendship and irrepressible optimism that Esther prized more than anything else. Helen had been instrumental in helping her come to terms with her condition and stopped her from slipping into the bouts of bitter self-pity that struck without warning.

It had been little more than a year ago when the signs first appeared. The slight shaking of her left hand which she had written off as the side effect of her coffee habit. Then she began to suffer from bouts of dizziness and weakness that left her bedridden for days. The diagnosis was an acute case of Parkinson’s disease, which the doctors had all agreed would end her life within the year. The news left her desolate, and for the first two months she lived like she was already dead.

Once upon a time, Hollywood was her personal playground. As a famous Latin-American dancer and singer, Esther’s body and voice were her pride and joy, the keys to her entry into the kingdom of wealth and privilege. She was renowned and in demand among the circles of the elite. When word of her illness spread, well-wishers were quick to visit and equally quick to disappear. In this town, disease was a death sentence. No one wanted to get too close to the sick, it reminded them too much of their own imminent mortality.

Now her world was reduced to the four walls of her bedroom overlooking the valley. It became little more than a prison where she lay day after day as her muscles wasted away from disuse. She would alternately weep and rage at the unfairness of the hand she was dealt until she was left emotionally drained and empty, until her fire, which had blazed a trail from poverty to the dizzying heights of fortune and fame, flickered and died.

Esther watched with detached interest as Helen quietly began the daily ritual of injections which slowed but could not halt the terminal march of her sickness. She had faced many betrayals during the course of her life, and it had gotten so that she was able to protect herself from the lies that were so commonplace in her world. Most of the time the kisses of men meant little and she drifted in and out of relationships aloof and untouched by the emotional entanglements that invited betrayal to begin with. But this, this was different. Her body had betrayed her, and to add insult to injury, it robbed her of her dignity before it would rob her of her life.

“So how are we feeling this morning Esther?” Helen roused Esther from her reverie. She smiled as she finished washing Esther and changing the adult diapers that were soiled during the night then applied alcohol to Esther’s privates. Esther accepted the indignity as a matter of course.

“Same old, same old. I’d rather be dancing.” She smiled weakly. It was their daily ritual. The banter and the little things that Helen would do to pull Esther (Sometimes willingly, sometimes not.) out of her shell. “Of course I don’t think that there are any clubs open this early, maybe later?”

Helen laughed as she rubbed Esther’s face with a moist towel. “Well, since clubbing is not an option, you’ll be happy to know that I’ve set up your favorite place out front. It’s time you got a little more summer sunshine.”

“But-“

“Leave everything to me, just sit back and relax.”

“Like I have a choice.” Esther grumbled, but a smile played along the corner of her mouth in spite of herself.

“Let’s put on some music then, while I get you dressed.”

There’s too much, that I keep to myself and I turn my back on my faith, its like glass, when we break I wish no one in my place.

“Oh, it’s one of your favorite songs Esther!” Helen turned up the volume, tapping her feet to the music.

Actually she had grown to hate the song. The words of the Love Spit Love music haunted her, mocking with sentiments that mirrored how she felt. But she suffered it in silence, preferring to let the words wash over her.

Goodbye, lay the blame on luck. Goodbye, lay the blame on luck.

She hated the idleness more than anything. Some days she thought that death would be a welcome release. But she wasn’t ready to go just yet. She would stay the course and maybe a miracle would still come and rescue her. She even followed the developments of stem cell research. But she knew that a cure, if it came, would almost certainly arrive too late. Just her luck.

Helen was feeding her some mashed fruit when the door to the room burst open.

“Hey! How’s my favorite auntie doing today?” Esther smiled as Nelson entered with a pot of fresh tulips.

“Nelson! You’re just in time. Helen and I were just about to sit out front together and trade gossip.”

Nelson was her nephew, and only living relative. At least the only remaining one who bothered to visit. Esther never had much time for family, preferring to forget the humble beginnings which she labored so hard to leave behind. Nelson showed up at her doorstep one day, soon after the disease had reached the tabloids. She barely recognized him, having last seen him when he was ten years old. It was through him that she learned that her sister had passed away some four years back.

He was always bringing something to brighten her day. Esther felt guilty whenever he visited seeing how she had forgotten family in her rush for a place in the sun. His visits became the highlight of her day.

“Sounds great! How can I help?” Nelson placed the tulips on one side of the bedside table and planted a light kiss on Esther’s cheek.

“You can help me wheel her outside in a minute.” Helen finished with Esther’s clothes and began brushing her brittle hair.

Nelson walked to the French doors that dominated one side of the room and led to the front yard. As soon as he opened them the antiseptic smell was banished by a fresh breeze, bringing the scent of pine to replace the lingering odor of illness.

Esther managed a wan smile. She struggled to sit up as Nelson and Helen half-carried her into the wheelchair that was her only means of mobility. Nelson slowly wheeled her through the French doors. She flinched at the sudden glare of the outdoors, and waited for her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t even lift her hand to shade her eyes.

She enjoyed the day despite herself. Perhaps it was the simple joy of seeing the world bursting with life that made her appreciate the beauty that was still around her. With death breathing down her neck, life became more precious. She and Helen laughed as Nelson read aloud his latest copy of the National Enquirer. It was the story of a club in New York where people had seemingly melted away, leaving nothing but empty clothes on the floor that really left them in stitches. Spontaneous combustion, the headline read. Esther couldn’t believe how people could come up with such drivel.

They watched the sun set together and had an early dinner. Nelson excused himself when Helen declared that it was time for Esther to get to bed. Her spirits remained high and she fell asleep quickly, exhausted by her foray into the world of the living.

The clock on the bedside table blinked 11:40.

Esther woke up. She shivered despite the heavy comforter that covered her withered body. She couldn’t get back to sleep. Something felt wrong. She could feel it deep in her gut, like snakes twisting restlessly. The night was filled with an electric charge, the invisible herald of an approaching storm.

She sighed and stared at the crack on the ceiling, the same crack that stared back down at her day after day, night after night, chronicling her descent into infirmity. Sometimes her mind would wander and she would imagine the crack was a road, a series of pathways to other worlds, happier times. Other times she fancied that the crack would open up and swallow her. Take her to a better place away from the pain. God, she could just die for a smoke.

“Esther” A voice whispered in the darkness, seductive and deadly. “Listen to the night Esther.”

She couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from and she suddenly felt vulnerable and alone. A wave of nausea overtook her. She was about to press the button that would call Helen to her side when she heard them. Nelson and Helen in the living room. She could hear them talking, like a PA system had been left on outside.

“Does she know?”

“What?”

“That she’s dying tonight.”

“Don’t be stupid Helen. I made sure she wouldn’t suspect a thing.”

“I feel so dirty Nelson. I swear. I mean, she’s a really nice person. We could have just waited. Four months or six and she’d go on her own.”

“Shh, don’t. It’s done. I confirmed with the lawyers that she left almost everything in my name. If I have to spend another day smiling at her I’m liable to puke all over her face. The drugs you got will kill her in an hour and no one will suspect a thing. This time tomorrow we’ll be on a plane to the Bahamas with her money. Now get going, it’s time you did your part.”

Esther gasped as she felt her world crumbling around her. Nelson and Helen were planning to kill her. Tonight. Her mind was spinning in a cloud of disbelief. It couldn’t end this way. It was like a bad movie plot. She wanted to scream, knowing that escape was an impossibility. She resolved to meet them head on. She would not go quietly. They would find that Esther Dizon still had some fire left in her.

The door opened, and Helen peered into the room. Esther shut her eyes, pretending to be asleep. Her heart pumped furiously as Helen approached.

She opened her eyes suddenly as Helen prepared the needle to end her life. For an uncomfortable moment they stared at each other.

“Oh, Esther, you’re still awake. I thought you were asleep.” Helen stammered, and managed a weak smile. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to put your medicine into the IV.

“Murderer.” Their eyes locked and Helen backed away.

“Now Esther, you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re still half asleep.”

“No, Helen. I’m more awake now than I’ve ever been. I heard you and Nelson outside. How could you?” She was almost screaming. Her rage burned daggers in the air at Helen.

“No. It’s not- How did you?“ Helen backed towards the door.

“So the secret’s out.” Nelson burst into the room. “What are you going to do about it? Call 911?”

“Stop it Nelson, don’t…” Helen tried to keep him back but he swatted her hand away.

“She has it coming, don’t you dear auntie?” he sneered.

“Why?” Esther was surprised at the calm that settled over her. Maybe this is what death is about, the calm after the storms of life. “I’ve left you everything.”

“It’s not the money.” Nelson walked up to the bed, his face a map of rage and madness. “It’s about family, or lack of it.”

Esther thought he would hit her then, but he just moved his face over hers, until it filled her world.

“Your sister suffered for years, raising me alone. Slaving to keep food on the table. She always spoke so highly of you, how you made it big. Even if you never visited, never answered any of her calls or letters. She loved you that much. Did you know that as she lay dying delirious from pneumonia all she could talk about was how you would finally come see her? But you never did. Did you? You didn’t even know she was dead!” Nelson moved closer still, his breath smelled of cigarettes and festering anger. “She had scrapbooks filled with pictures and articles about you. But we were always beneath you, beneath notice. Well Esther, the wheel turns. I prayed this day would come, and now it has.”

“You’re insane!” Esther stared back at him, defiance etched on her face.

“And you’re dea-“ Nelson stopped short. Esther gasped in disbelief as she suddenly found herself staring into eyes of glass.

“That will be enough, Nelson. Your part in this little drama is over.” The voice filled the room without warning, and Esther felt a chill march down her spine like a trail of ants. Helen screamed and Esther turned to see where she was pointing. She saw a man dressed in black and white, all contrast, stark and larger than life. Like someone who stepped out from an old black and white film. He approached the side of the bed where Nelson stood, a frozen replica of glass.

“Bitterness and betrayal can be such brittle things.” The Rumple Man reached out and with one push sent Nelson crashing to a million pieces on the floor.

Helen screamed. She fell backward as the Rumple Man turned her way. Esther couldn’t see what happened next, she heard a low moan, a gurgling sound, and then silence.

Esther prayed she would wake up, that it would all be a horrible dream induced by her deteriorating mind. But the voice whispered in her ear and she knew she was lost.

“Now then.”

“Why? You didn’t have to kill them.” Esther felt her sanity slipping.

“They betrayed you. They deserved it. In your heart you know it’s what you want.”

“No. Not even after what they did- what they were about to do.”

“Enough.” The Rumple Man held out a white-gloved hand. “Now, get up, take my hand and you can walk away from all this.”

“No. I won’t.” Esther closed her eyes as tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt the terrible gaze fixed on her.

The clock flashed 11:59.

“No?” The Rumple Man’s voice covered the room, drowning out all sound. “People want what they don’t have. You are Estrus. Wanton desire, animal sexuality. I offer it all to you again. Or would you rather perish as a helpless vegetable.”

“Not this way. There are some things not worth having. Not at the cost of your soul.”

The clock read 12:00.

The room grew still, and the Rumple Man frowned. He pulled back as a blazing crimson light flushed the darkness from the room.

The Master of the Marquee clapped as he stepped into the room. He turned to Esther, and bowed with a flourish, taking off his top hat. “Bravo. A command performance.”

“You.” The Rumple Man turned to face his nemesis.

“Yes, me.” The Master of the Marquee approached the bed. “Time is up. Leave her now.”

“I don’t think so. This one is mine.”

“She has denied you. Twice. Leave now or-“ A thundering roar filled the room, a great wind whirled around the Master of the Marquee. His aspect grew terrible to behold. “Do you want to take me on now?”

“Well now, I didn’t know you had it in you.” The Rumple Man backed away as shadows pooled around him. “There’s still some fire left in you skin after all. Perhaps the game will be more interesting this time.”

Then he turned to Esther and her world went blissfully black.

“You will come to regret the allegiances you make this night, my love.” And the Rumple Man smiled one final time. A puissant smile that remained hanging in the night, long after the rest of him was gone.

“Estrus.”

The voice was warm and comforting. Her mind felt clear for the first time in months. Light filled the room, filling her with renewed strength.

“Wake up, Estrus.”

Estrus opened her eyes. The Master of the Marquee called out to her and she reached out and took his hand. Her body responded with lyrical grace, dead muscles throbbed with newfound life. She was beauty and desire. She was animal sexuality and she never felt more alive.

“Welcome back Estrus. You are my sun, and you will burn the stars from the sky.” The Master of the Marquee smiled. “Make me proud.”