Chapter 46. The Dealer's a Monkey (pt. 2)

There were three Sambo's in Santa Barbara at that time. This first was on the beach and another was by the highway. They were all warm places out of the rain for people like me. The same as the I-Hop in Berkeley, there was a general agreement that, as long as you didn’t make a mess, didn’t make any demands on the waitress, and left a quarter tip, you could sit for hours over the universal ten-cent bottomless-cup of coffee. While sitting at the counter, I struck up a conversation with a woman whose name was Pam. Pam wasn’t bad looking but appeared to have gone through the mill with drugs at some previous time. We talked about spirituality, our drinking, and drugging. I felt relaxed and comfortable in the casual easy banter of one worn-out hippy talking with another. During the conversation Bob-O and Serena came in and sat with us.

“We fucking got kicked off the boat!” Serena blurted out as soon as she sat, “Becky told the owner about Bob-O and he blew his top. He kicked us off right then and there. Called me a slut and said he was fuckin’ ‘sorely disappointed’ in me.” By the time she finished she was crying.

Pam must have had some sort of maternal instinct that kicked-in because she put an arm around Serena, “Don’t worry, girl. You guys can stay at my place for a week if you need a place. I know what it’s like.”

She had a one-bedroom apartment on Kentia, off Modoc. Pam shared her bed with Serena while Bob-O and I made a bed on the living room floor. The timing of this rescue couldn’t have been better because, no sooner had we settled in for the night, when a fever knocked me out. All I could remember of it was laying down that night to go to sleep and then it all went black. Pam was a good nurse and kept me warm and drinking fluids… but I couldn’t recall much else.

During that time of blackness, I had a dream. The dream was a scenario in which I was in a dark room with a card table. A dealer sat with his back to a cue of people lined up there to take turns at some game of chance at the table. I stood in line as each player approached, took a seat, and, like blackjack, dealt two cards. The player would look at his cards… and then the dealer… Then the player became paralyzed with fear. Two attendants would then lift him, or her, by the armpits and escort the flaccid body to a door at the far right-hand corner of the room and throw them out into darkness. One after another… each man and woman before me went before the dealer with the same results. Finally, it was my turn. I was at once curious what it was that those before me saw in the dealer’s face and gripped with fear by what the cards might read. As the fear took over I fought back saying to myself, it’s only a dream.

I sat across from the dealer as the others had. I tried to look into the face of the dealer but, because of a visor and the way the light came from a single bulb hanging a half foot above us, the face was obscured. The dealer sent two cards my way, face-down.

“Look at your caardsssszzz, Maaaxxzzz.” the dealer hissed softly… almost sympathetically.

I lifted the cards but without looking at them I tried instead to get a clear look at the dealer’s face. It’s only a dream, right?

“Whatever you sssay, Maaaaxxxssszzz. Look at your cards, please.”

I then flipped the cards over. They were blank. I looked up into the face of the dealer whose face was now clear as he turned it up to the light and let out a shrieking laugh.

I tried to shout out “In the name of Jesus!” but I couldn’t get the words out. Then it was as though a dam broke as I shouted, “You’re a monkey!” I rose up out of my chair, “A fuckin’ monkey… and the cards are blank!” Turning to the others still waiting in line, I shouted, “The dealer’s a monkey! The cards are blank!”

The attendants approached from both side as I shirked off their attempts to grab me by the arms. Instead of being paralyzed with fear, outrage fueled me. I stomped my feet and shouted out loud, “You’re a monkey! And I’m free of you.”

The monkey faded away and the room opened-up to blue sky and white clouds. I was flying above the earth where a voice commanded me. “You’re home now. Get to work, Max.”

I woke up from that dream to Pam shaking me, “Who’s a monkey, Max?”

“You’re nothing but a monkey!” and then I saw her face looking all concerned. “Oh, sorry. It was a dream… just a dream.”

I told Pam about the dream over a bowl of chicken soup that she’s set on a TV tray next to the bed. I’d eaten half the bowl before I realized I was in her bed. The fever had broken, “Where’s Serena? Bob-O?”

 She looked at me, brows pinched with concern, “You don’t know about the past few days, do you?”

“No, few days? What do you mean, few days? The last I remember was going to sleep on your living room floor last night and sweating it out.”

“Last night? No, last week, Max. You don’t remember the paramedics coming for Serena?”

“No, what happened?”

“She had a seizure. I was at the grocery store. You had Bob-O locked out of the place and you’d called 911.”

“A seizure!”

“Yeah, you told me not to let Bob-O back anywhere near her… and then you passed out. I would have called 911 for you but thought better of it since they had just been here.”

She saw that I was still puzzled as to how I ended up in her bed, so she added, “I put you in my bed and stayed on the couch after I saw that you had good vitals. I didn’t know about her meds. When she told me that God healed her epilepsy I didn’t think anything of it. I am somewhat embarrassed because I was a nurse and should have known.”

“Yeah, Bob-O commanded God to do it and then had her dump her meds in the drink.”

“Her folks flew in from New Jersey and retrieved her from Saint Francis Hospital yesterday. I don’t know where Bob-O is… don’t much care after what I’ve heard.”

I understood and had no hard feelings. “Oh, Bob-O, he just got too much of that Mission Jesus stuff going… went overboard with it,” This sudden compassion surprised me, and I wondered… just wondered.

I felt at peace with myself for the first time I could recall since Florida. I was happy that Serena had been scooped-up by her folks and happy that Pam took care of me while I was out with fever. I was grateful to be alive and the thought came to me, forgiveness is the key.