Day 116, Chapter 116
It’s chapters like today’s that make me take stock and really ponder what the hell I have been doing with my life since April 29th. What is wrong with me? At its worst moments – like Chapter 116 – this book truly reveals itself to be nothing more than a manipulative, devious mind-controlling crap fest of bloated emotions, jerky, rickety rollercoaster rides, and half-assed, amateur prose stylings by a hack writer with no soul and an ever-ballooning bank account. Patterson is a sneaky, manipulative devil of a man, as witnessed by Chapter 116, but I will save the rest of my (9th) judgment for tomorrow’s post, thank you.
Just when you think things are wrapping up and we can all go home after 116 days, Joe’s plane has crashed, Lindsay is delirious with grief (“Oh no. Oh God no.”), & everybody’s crying, even Yuki. Great. Even the dog is bummed out.
I was overwhelmed with a horrible emptiness, a pain so deep, so shocking, I wanted to die. I rolled onto my side so I couldn’t see anyone and covered my head with a pillow. Sobs poured out of me.
Then she passes out, hugging Joe’s pillow. Sad, sad shit, to be sure.
I woke up not knowing why I was drowning in dread.
“What time it is?” I asked into the pillow.
“It’s almost five,” Claire said.
“In the afternoon?”
“I’ve only been out for an hour?”
She’s like the kid throwing a tantrum in her room, trying to get her parents’ attention, but only managing to stay in there & remain all emotional for like 5 minutes. (Maybe that was just me. Hi, Mom!) Lindsay pulls the blanket up over her head and falls asleep again. Almost immediately, she wakes up again, this time to the sounds of cheering and a “roar of voices.” For the record, there have been 207 manipulative, emotionally wrenching words between when Lindsay first blacked out from the news of Joe’s death to right now:
I came up from the deep again, this time into a roar of voices, cheers – What the hell? Was I still dreaming? The bedroom door opened, and lights blazed. Joe was standing over me.
I screamed his name.
Was it really him? Was it? Or had I gone insane?
Joe opened his arms, and I threw myself against him, feeling the wool of his jacket scrape my cheek, hearing his voice saying my name.
Wow, it’s just like the season finale of Dallas! Bobby’s alive and in the shower! Hooray!
It turns out, Joe never got on the plane – he received a call while in the airport that the passengers on the hijacked DC plane managed to overpower Waleed Mohammad, the terrorist. (Yes, the hijacker had a name – be thankful that I spared you for this long.) Crisis averted. Joe didn’t know about the plane crash until he was in the car headed home. I assume he thought it would be more dramatic to just burst into the bedroom in a flood of heavenly light, rather than to just call one of the four phones in the house.
I was helped out of the bedroom and brought to the table. Joe sat beside me. The food was rubbery and cold, and it was the best damned meal I’d eaten in my life – in my entire life.
Wine was poured. Toasts were made. I looked around the table, and it finally sank in – Jacobi wasn’t there.
What?! You just found out that your boyfriend wasn’t just killed in a horrible plane crash, but the tremendous thing that is just sinking in now is the fact that your boss never made it to your little dinner party? Will somebody please get me the fuck out of here!! (Sorry for the cursing.)
We raised a glass to Jacobi’s new girlfriend. (Because, of course, he’s off getting banged somewhere, right? What else could it be?) We ate Joe’s apple cobbler with gusto and, by the way, the 49ers won. (Again, please leave my sports teams out of this, JPatt.) I was weak from emotion (oh, I do believe I have a case of the vapors!) and didn’t even try to stop people from clearing the table.
I am also weak from emotion. See you tomorrow for the exciting conclusion of James Patterson’s novel, The 9th Judgment!
Go to Day 117