The Deadly Electric Current

"It's beautiful," I say to Jimmy as I trace my fingers over the words he's engraved in Annie's headstone:

Sister and Friend

"She'd like that, it's simple.  Understated," I tell him as he wraps the stone in a blanket and places it in the trunk of the car for me to bring to her grave when I leave.  The car has been ready for a few days, but my health still needs some recovery -- or so that's what Donna tells me.  I think she likes my company and might be prolonging my stay.  We seem to get along better than the others, and I think Donna will be sad when I leave.

It's dusk.  The haze in the upper atmosphere has almost lifted -- so tonight we are gathering to gaze at the stars for the first time in months.  Some of the others have been busy constructing benches and barrier stones for the community fire pit.  Tonight will be the first time we've gathered to enjoy a fire rather than use it for incineration.

"When do you think you'll leave?" Asks Jimmy as we walk along the road that will lead us back to the centre of town.

"Well, I would like to leave soon.  I feel strong.  My hair is growing back," I say to him without making eye contact, which somehow makes it easier to say what I want to say.

"Ah," he says as we make our way towards the fire. 

As we approach, Donna greets us and ushers us over to a bench that she's saved.

"Aren't you going to help?" Someone asks from behind.  I don't recognize the voice, so I don't turn around.

"Hey, you!  Lazy bitch, I'm talking to you," snarls the same voice.

I turn around to see who they are starting a fight with, when I realize that the harsh words are directed towards me.

"Huh?" I say as eloquently as I can muster given my confusion.

"Leave her alone," pipes Donna who has some sort of authority because she is one of the few doctors in town.  "I've requested she not do any work in order for her to recover.  She's been through more than any of us.  So, back off."

That seems to shut the bully up for the time being, but I can still feel the animosity writhing through the air like a deadly electric current aimed at my soul. 

I try to smile and make pleasant conversation with Donna, but the seed has already been planted.  The woman who made hard words at me sits to the left with her arms crossed muttering to some of her friends who nod in agreement. 

They're blaming me for not being able to help them -- even though they know that I needed to recover and was far worse than any of them.

You would think that since there is so few of us left now, that they might have a bit more compassion for those of us who can't pull our weight.

But they don't.

And so, as the night sky begins to seep into vision, causing the flames to glow a brighter shade of white then orange, I wonder how much time is left before that current inevitably becomes an under pull, dragging me down to a place where I am rendered useless -- both in the cold lurkings of their imaginations, and by the warted concensus of virulent opinion.