Edge of Reality [Elvis]

1977 - Part 2: Going Home to the Angels

This chapter was hard to write. Poor Elvis...  =(

~ ~ ~

This was odd, becoming a member of the Memphis Mafia. Women rarely got into the group, but with Elvis's permission, I was in. Really, the Mafia was just his group of friends and family that palled around with him everywhere. Even though he wasn't going anywhere until near the end of the month on a tour to Maine, the Mafia was strong on the Graceland property.

Linda and Priscilla weren't there any longer. After the news about me got out among the Graceland community, Linda packed her bags and left. Priscilla went back home to California, and Lisa would return there when the summer was through. It was the middle of August, so she had about two weeks left. Of course, like any kid, she didn't want to end her summer vacation, especially since she loved spending time with her ill father who would still sleep during the day. Elvis reprimanded her when she stayed up until four in the morning just so she could spend some time with him. He really wasn't doing too well, and my procrastination with our marriage wasn't helping either. Even though I was there, as well as his daughter, father, friends and other family members, he was depressed, and his doctor came by every other day to see him.

The 14th hit, and he was no better than when I first arrived, regardless of him flushing four bottles of pills down the toilet. He was too far gone in his illness, but I still tried to help him. We all did.

"Daddy," Lisa whimpered when Elvis fell just walking from the stairs to the living room, and he lay on the floor in the entryway. She knelt beside him, and Vernon and I were there as well, tears in all of our eyes. Lisa held her father's hand. "Daddy, please don't die..."

I knelt down, and Lisa and I helped him sit up. He was sweating, and he was as white as a sheet. He looked at his daughter as tears streaked her cheeks. "Baby girl, d-don't cry. Daddy's gonna be... fine."

He even sounded ill, more so than before. Lisa did just as he told her not to and cried as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her with one arm. His gaze went to me, and I saw the weariness, fatigue, and... peace. That shocked me.

"Lisa, honey, help your daddy stand, okay?" he said.

She sniffed, and it took me, Vernon and Lisa to help him up. Charlie came into the room from the kitchen and helped as well. Elvis leaned on Charlie, who developed tears in his own eyes.

"To the sofa?" he asked his best friend, and Elvis nodded. The two went to the long white sofa and sat down. Elvis looked at me with glassy eyes.

"Everyone... could I talk to Meara alone?"

"But Daddy..." Lisa protested.

"Just for a few minutes."

"C'mon, sweetie," said Vernon, and he, Lisa and Charlie went through the entry and dining room to the kitchen. I sat down next to Elvis on his right. I brushed his black bangs from his forehead. They were plastered there from his sweat.

"Are you still not willing to go to a hospital?" I asked.

"You know... that w-will bring about attention."

"People know that you're sick, though. Elvis, you told me you would listen to me. This is how you get better—going to the hospital."

He shook his head. "You know... that I'm not getting' better. I'm just gonna get worse."

I blinked hot tears, and they fell down my cheeks. I took his arm and leaned on shoulder. "No," I whimpered. "I don't want to accept it, not after all that we've been through. You'll get better, Elvis."

"No, I won't. And... I'm prepared for that. To m-meet my maker."

I cried into his shoulder. "No..."

He pulled his arm out of my hold and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me close. "I've... come to terms w-with it."