Murray Dunlap — memoir

A Dance of Light

I managed to retrieve feeling in my fingertips when Heather arrived at Fairhope.  And though it had been ages since we had seen one another, we embraced and kissed on the cheeks at the meeting. Heather had just flown in from Charlotte NC, and we had planned a weekend tryst. Her psychology job at Piedmont Behavioral Healthcare had let up for the summer and she had called me with time on her hands.

So after the pecks, I leaned back to take Heather in. I continued to hold her hands for balance, but I had explained all of this to Heather on the phone.

“So literally, if I let go right now, you would fall?” Heather asked.

“Not sure. If I am ready and standing with a bit of certainty, no. But, one unexpected movement to the side, and yes, I’d fall.” I replied, unsure if all of this was too much for Heather.

Heather leaned back herself, holding my hands tight. She did not seem overwhelmed…

“So tell me again, why is balance such an issue now?”

“I don’t even believe the doctors understand. The theory is, my brain injury has taken it from me.  And, you know, I’m just happy to be out of the wheelchair.” I said, with what felt like calm resolve.

A ray of sun passed through the clouds and hit Heather in the hair, creating the most attractive dance of light. Sexy even. I felt a rush of unexpected blood.

“So… is it for life?”

“No idea.” I said. “All cause some fool ran a red light.”

“That’s a mind-trip,” Heather replied.  Strands fell in front of her eyes, the sandy blonde again dancing with the sun.

“Agreed,” I said.

“And you think you’ll eventually get better?” Heather asked with a bit of doubt in her voice.

“I have to believe that,” I said. “Or I would lose enough hope to give up on life.”

“Heavy,” Heather added.

“Yes.”

“So let’s go get dinner!” Heather changed the tone.

“Yes!” I joined. “And have it on the water!”

“Yes!”

So Heather and I packed into my truck and sped off. I hoped to make it to the Bay shore soon.

At the restaurant, Heather made a decidedly affectionate display of taking my arm and wrapping it over her shoulder.  I fell right into her lusty act and squeezed tight. I felt relief as my heart thumped. Since the wreck, I’d wondered if  I’d ever be in this place again. And it was awfully close to going in another direction. The doctors had told me that I had been given only 50/50 odds of waking from my coma. And yet, here I stood with an arm around dear Heather and it felt to me that, once again, anything was possible.

So we sat at a window side table and watched as the fishing boats passed through.  The fishing industry was near collapsing.  Oil had changed the southeast forever. We would no longer assume it was an eternal occupation.

Heather leaned in and gave me a wink, “Hey, I knew you’d get through this.”

I smiled and said, “I sure didn’t. But I do think it’ll be alright now.”

Heather leaned back, catching the sun in her eyes. “Yes. And then some. You have a new book, remember?”

“Of course. The sale of a lifetime.” I said without my usual hesitancy about writing.

“And it’s about us, you say?” Heather leaned forward with great expectancy.

“You know perfectly well that all of my stories are about us!” I said with excitement.

“Perfect.” Heather stated.

“Indeed.”

As two lovers, we renewed our love by embracing after the meal. We stood with arms wrapped around shoulders again and gazed at the last of the sun hitting the Bay surface.

~~

Murray Dunlap’s work has appeared in over fifty magazines and journals. His stories have been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize, as well as Best New American Voices, and his first book, “Alabama,” was a finalist for the Maurice Prize in Fiction. He is currently working on a novel-in-stories called “Bastard Blue.” The extraordinary individuals Pam Houston, Laura Dave, Michael Knight, and Fred Ashe taught him the art of writing. Murray Dunlap co-edited the anthology “What Doesn’t Kill You…” that will be out in October of 2010 from Press 53.

Note: Murray Dunlap was nearly killed on 6–7-08 in a wreck, when a distracted driver ran a red light and struck his car. Murray’s coma lasted three months, his doctors gave him a 50% chance.  In the process of recovery, memory-loss and lack of balance remain highly challenging for Murray as they continue slow yet steady improvement.

–M.P.