I am happy to report that Marty Bulfinch is not dead. Marcel figured this out later Saturday night, but since I’ve gotten the cold shoulder from him I wasn’t made aware. When I was going on shift last night he was leaving. I told him I was sorry I didn’t take Marty with us that night, but if I had Virgil would have known something was up. “You’re my friend,” I said. “You come first.” Marcel put his hand on my shoulder in a big, sexy brother kind of way. He apologized too for not telling me Marty wasn’t dead, even though he’s known since thirty minutes after I left the apartment complex. Turns out Marty and Virgil came home soon after I left.
As it happened, I guess Virgil telling the dream had an effect on him. Sitting alone with Marty, both of them staring into their hands, Virgil broke down into tears. He gushed to Marty that he’d never told anyone that dream in all the years he had it. He said for twenty years he’s tried to make it to his wife’s grave, but each times he turns around early. His daughter comes and asks him if he wants to come with her when she goes, but he never can. Marty told Virgil he’d take him if he wanted, so the two left for the cemetery, which is about forty minutes away. Once Virgil got to the cemetery he just couldn’t go any further. He did, however, do what he does every time he fails at getting to the grave—he went to Arby’s—and bought Marty a sandwich for going with him.
I told Marcel that none of this changed the fact that Virgil Ray murdered his wife. Marcel said I would have the chance to say that to Virgil’s face. When Marcel apologized to him he said he didn’t know how to help, but could offer a free analysis of Virgil’s sleep just to see how much rest he was getting in a night. Virgil agreed to come next week.
I don’t know what I’ll say to Virgil when he comes. I’m not going to apologize since interpreting his dream was not my idea, and the interpretation I made was correct. I was not wrong when I interpreted my mother was going to go blind three months before she saw the first signs. Her body “knew” what was happening before the conscious brain did, so it was expressed in a dream. I was not wrong when I interpreted that Rachel, no matter how much she denied it, wanted to see her brother again. I was not wrong when I told Charlotte not only would she have a boy, she would name him Boyce Jr. I was not wrong when I interpreted to my uncle that he would one day die from the substances he put into his body. Though to be fair, his liver was pickled by the time I was out of diapers.
And I am not wrong now. Virgil Ray, the bell tolls for thee!
