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The Prisoners’ Dilemma Perched in the shadowy hospital room, Harriet Garvey set her needlework down and gazed across the polished tile floor at Alfred. As usual he was catatonic, head lolled to one side. Sighing to herself, Harriet looked towards the curtains and steadied herself. The same question that had been there all afternoon reemerged. What will I do with myself if he doesn’t wake up? Sunlight was stabbing through the cracks surrounding the curtains, playing thin blades of light along the walls. Drawing courage, she stood up and pulled the shades aside quickly, bathing the room in a blinding box of light. She looked back at Alfred, who hadn’t stirred. She cleared her throat. Nothing happened. She cleared her throat louder. Still nothing happened. She began to shake. “Oh dear Lord!” she wailed. Had he moved? No. No, his chest was still rising and falling calmly. Harriet went to her large flowery purse and extracted a roll of cloth. She unfurled it and studied the image on the front, a beach at sunset behind the emblazoned words of the Serenity Prayer. She had bought it at a small Christian bookstore earlier that day, hoping the words would, if not revive her husband, enliven her spirit until he awoke. She took out another plastic bag, which contained a box of nails and an enormous hammer, also purchased that morning at the hardware store. Extracting a nail and standing steadfast by the head of the bed, she held it up on the wall and swung the hammer. Alfred bolted awake at the noise. “Damn it!” he shouted, squinting in the light towards his wife. “What in the name of all things holy do you think you’re doing?” Harriet hung the scroll on the nail, from which cracks traveled out through the drywall, dropped the hammer to the floor, and clutched Alfred’s veiny white hand. “Oh, Alfred, you’re awake!” she gasped. “Of course I’m awake!” he shouted. “You damn near blinded and deafened me is why!” “Please, dear, don’t shout at me! The Lord knows I’ve put up with all a woman can…” Harriet moaned and, slumping to a chair, began to sob with her face in her hands. Alfred frowned. “Now, now, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” he said softly. “I… I’m sorry, darlin’. God knows I am. It’s just this whole business of dying. It’s got me scared right out of my wits. I’ll be nice though, up to my dying breath. I promise.” Harriet straightened up, the tears already dry. “I got a letter from Sarah today,” she said brightly. “She said she’s doing fine now, and hopes you all of the health in the world.” Alfred grunted. “Dear, I really think you should call her, or at least write to her. You both need to smooth things over. Talk it all out.” “If you think that… that deadbeat daughter of ours cares about me, you’re out of your mind! Why, she hasn’t even come to see me… me, on my deathbed! Oh, all the nights I’ve spent praying she’d see the light and come guided back to the righteous path!” Alfred patted the well-worn bible on the table next to his bed. “Shit.” “You know she’s in school now, sweetheart,” Harriet said. Alfred clicked his tongue. “To meet boys, no doubt…” “And anyway, you don’t need to… to apologize,” Harriet offered delicately. “Just maybe… explain, is all…” “Explain what?” Alfred exploded, sitting upright. “Explain nothing. Shit. There’s nothing to say except what a selfish, spoiled girl she’s become!” “But dear, she’s been threatening to turn you in…” Alfred suddenly fell back against the pillows clutching his chest. Harriet jumped to his side. “Oh, sweetheart! What is it?” “Heart attack! I think this is it!” he yelled. Harriet’s eyes widened, looking excited, almost oddly aroused. “No!” she wailed. “Please don’t leave me alone!” She threw herself onto his chest and wept. Alfred closed his eyes. His breathing soon relaxed, and he was still. He put an arm around Harriet’s shoulder. After a few minutes a young man in scrubs came in and nodded at the two. Alfred pushed Harriet off of him with a jerk of his shoulder. “Punkin, would you mind going and getting me a copy of the paper? I’d love to read it… one last time…” “Of course,” Harriet said, beaming. “Perhaps that’s just the thing it’ll take to keep you going!” “No, no,” Alfred said. “It’s too late for me…” “Oh, don’t say such things!” she screamed. “Go get me the paper, then!” he shouted back. Harriet huffed and stalked out of the room. Alfred eyed the man in the scrubs, who was pulling the bag out of the garbage can. “Psst!” Alfred hissed, though they were the only two in the room. “C’mere a minute.” The young man turned and looked at Alfred, and walked to his bedside. “Listen…” Alfred said, eyeing the man’s nametag, “Listen… Manuel. You speak English?” Manuel scowled at him. “Of course you do, of course you do,” Alfred said quickly, looking towards the door. “Listen, Manuel, I need your help.” He paused theatrically. “Well, the truth is, I’m dying, son, but I need you to fetch a couple of things for me.” “Mr. Garvey…” Manuel began, and Alfred threw himself back against the pillow. “Oh Lord I can see you now!” He shouted. Manuel stared at him. Alfred picked up the bible and slipped a twenty-dollar bill from the back pages. He held the money up weakly towards Manuel. “Look, Manuel, this is what I need,” he said. “I need you to go to Lone Star Liquor, you know the place? About a half a mile down the parkway? I need you to pick up some bourbon, whatever’s on sale, and a carton of Tareytons. I also need a racing form for Sam Houston. Bob who runs the place should have one saved for me… you can keep all the rest of the money for yourself.” Alfred flourished the bill proudly. “Mr. Garvey, I can’t go and…” “Listen kid, I’m D-I-E-I-N-G! I don’t have much time left! A man ought to be able to enjoy himself once in a lifetime… don’t your people have any beliefs like that?” Manuel glared fiercely again. Harriet came into the room like a bumblebee, rattling off information from the front page of the paper. With a deft plunge, Alfred stuffed the bill into the Manuel’s breast pocket, and began writhing on the bed. “Oh Alfred!” Harriet screeched, and flung herself onto him. “Oh dearest love of mine, my heart is at its end,” Alfred gasped, then winked at Manuel over Harriet’s shoulder and shooed him from the room with a wave of his hand. Manuel started to speak, and Alfred shouted. “Go get the doctor! Go get the doctor! This is it! This is it! And don’t forget a simple man’s dying wish!” Manuel left the room, and Alfred relaxed. Harriet stood up and straightened her blouse. She handed him the newspaper. “Oh darling, I can’t read right now! My eyes are going weak! I see… I see a blinding light!” Harriet cried out. “Shut the blinds,” he said flatly. Harriet obeyed, and the room returned to shadows. “Oh honey,” she said, “I just wish there was something I could do for you to ease the pain!” “Me too,” he said, and patted her hand. “I think I’ve found a reason to hang on for a bit longer to this old life, before I greet Jesus up in heaven. I had a nice chat with that Mexican boy. He told me he’d be praying for me with all of his kind, and hoped to bring me some salvation.” Harriet looked towards the door. “He did?” she asked, sounding pleased. “What a nice boy. See, Alfred, you were wrong about his people. They aren’t all just lazy and greedy.” “It’s true, it’s true,” he said. “But a man can admit he’s wrong and still be a man.” “So does that mean you’ll talk to Sarah…?” “Damn it all, Harriet! We’ve already been over this a dozen times! Why does she only care about me the moment I’m dying? So she can get her hands on my fortunes, that’s why!” Harriet stiffened suddenly, and loomed over her husband. “You are the reason she doesn’t come to Christmas any more! We haven’t seen our granddaughter since…” she screamed, then suddenly trailed off. Alfred sank into his bed, and began to tremble. “You’re right, dear, you’re right,” he said weakly. “OK, tell her to give me a call and I’ll talk to her.” “No, Alfred, you need to call her!” “I would dear, but my eyes… they grow so weak….” “I can open the curtains again,” Harriet replied. “I’m the one dying here and all you can do is poke fun at me,” Alfred said. “You’ve destroyed our family, Alfred!” “Oh no!” “Oh yes!” Harriet’s eyes were wild. “O Lord, come to me in my hour of need!” Alfred shouted, scooping up the bible and holding it up towards the ceiling. “I’ve carried this book with me through the best of times, and now I carry it with me through the worst!” He held the book open. Though the cover was battered and stained, the pages inside were pristine and crackled as if they were being opened for the first time. Alfred opened the book to a page at random, and began to read in lofty tones. “The nakedness of thy son’s daughter, or of thy daughter’s daughter, even their nakedness thou shalt not uncover: for theirs is thine own nakedness!” Alfred paused and squinted at the bible, and shot a panicked look at Harriet. He recovered quickly and flipped to a different section of the book, the fresh pages crinkling under his rough fingertips. “And with them he sent Levites, even Shemaiah, and Nethaniah, and Zebadiah, and Asahel, and Shemiramoth, and Jehonathan, and Adonijah, and Tobijah, and Tobadonijah, Levites; and with them Elishama and Jehoram, priests!” Alfred laid the book down, careful to keep the stack of bills in the back tucked in place. “Oh, Alfred,” Harriet said, sobbing in her chair. “It’s OK,” he said bravely. “I can see the light…” “No!” “Yes, peace is with me now, my love. Please, you have to help me.” “No, no!” she screeched, her eyes lingering on the hammer on the floor. “Harriet,” Alfred said sternly. She instantly stopped crying and looked up at him. “It’s time. I need you to do it… I need you to… pull the plug!” Alfred pointed towards the large machine next to his bed. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” Harriet chanted. “You must,” Alfred said. “It is the only way.” “Oh, Alfred, you mustn’t say such things, the Lord will never forgive your trespass…” “The Lord will forgive me. Jesus is a forgiving Jesus. Please, Harriet, if you’ve ever loved me at all, even for a second…” Harriet stood heroically and stepped up to the machine. “Oh Alfred,” she said. “I don’t think I have the strength…” “Do it, love, do it for me. It’s the only way all will be forgiven. It’s what Sarah wants…” Harriet reached out and grasped the thick black cord. “I’ve loved you my whole life long,” she sobbed. “I’ll be waiting for you in heaven… why, I can almost see the heavenly arches now! I can hear the heavenly choir! They’re calling my name! O Lord I’m coming to you! I can see Him! He’s holding his arms wide! Jesus is there too I think! Do it now, Harriet! Do it now! I am floating! Ascending! Levitating!” Harriet yanked hard on the cord, and it flew from the socket in the wall. As the lights and screens of the machine vanished, Harriet turned her eyes on her husband, who had sunk back to his pillow, looking ashen and wasted. “What was that, sweetheart?” Harriet asked, lowering her ear to his lips. “Tell Sarah I forgive her,” he said faintly. “Will you do that for me?” Harriet nodded. “Of course I will. Of course I will.” In a few moments it was all over. Alfred was on the bed, still and lifeless. Will I be forgiven? Harriet asked. Please Lord, forgive my trespass… For a moment, everything was silent. Suddenly, heavenly bright beams of light filled the room. Harriet squinted against the holy illumination. A voice spoke from the light. “Mrs. Garvey!” a voice commanded. Harriet looked up. The floor nurse stood by the doorway with her hand on the light switch. “Mrs. Garvey,” the woman said sternly, “what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” “I—I—I had to…” Harriet sobbed. The woman walked briskly across the room and plugged the heart monitor back into the wall socket, then hit a couple of buttons on the front panel. “Mrs. Garvey, I thought I made it very clear to you yesterday,” the nurse said. “What did I say?” “No touching,” Harriet said quietly. “I understand you want to be at your husband’s side, but you can’t keep unplugging this. It needs to remain on so we can keep an eye on his… condition.” The nurse walked over and opened the blinds. “OK, Mrs. Garvey?” the nurse said to Harriet, who had buried her face in her hands. “OK, Mrs. Garvey?” the nurse repeated. “Yes, yes, yes, OK,” Harriet replied, kicking her feet. “And you,” the nurse said, looming over Alfred. “What have I told you about harassing the staff?” The woman extracted a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and put it on the nightstand. “Please refrain from bribing, or insulting, the staff, Mr. Garvey.” Alfred opened an eye. “So weak,” he said pathetically. “Well,” the nurse said, “the good news is all of the test results look OK. Not great, but OK. You’ve been in here four times this year already, Mr. Garvey, and it seems even though you’re still smoking and drinking—” “I quit both!” he demanded, but lowered his gaze when it met the nurse. “Are you going to let me finish, Mr. Garvey?” “Yes’m.” “Remember it’s in your best interest to quit. We’ve got plenty of literature on the matter, so let us know what you’d like and we’ll provide it for you.” “A man ought to be able to enjoy himself once before dying!” “And if you stop drinking and smoking, you’ll have another twenty years to do it,” the nurse said, turning on her heels and exiting the room. Harriet waited until she was gone, then looked up at her husband, who was tucking the money into the bible. He slammed the book down, which caused the Serenity Prayer scroll to fall from the wall and land in a crumpled heap on the floor. They stared at each other. “Well!” Harriet said, and picked up her needlework.
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