by E A Owen
I remembered once I had walked by, and something flew off the shelf just inches from hitting me, freaking me out. I distinctly heard a child laughing and running up and down the stairs, but no one was there. And I recalled all the distant whispers and echoes in the house, and the floors and doors creaked, and lights flickered. The house was always cold too. It sent a chill to the bone, making all the hairs stand up. It was frightening, but that’s what I enjoyed about it.
Being scared was an adrenaline rush, and I loved it. There was nothing quite comparable.
***
Dinner at Dad’s was nice. Rachel cooked a pot roast dinner. The meat was always juicy and tender, never dry, and melted right in my mouth. She made the best gravy too, thick and bursting with flavor. I must admit Rachel was a great cook, and I loved visiting for dinner.
After much discussion, we decided the best option for Mary would be home healthcare. Dad would never let her go to a nursing home. A nurse would come by every day to check on her, wash her sheets, start a load of laundry, clean dishes, tidy the house, and take out the trash. Between Dad, Rachel and I, we could grab her groceries or bring her homecooked meals, if she didn’t want to join us.
My Beautiful Wife
I stepped outside and gazed at the sky. To my amazement, five bright full moons casted shadows of warning. Every moon gradually grew bigger in unison and then slowly faded, revealing millions of stars that freckled the darkness. Night turned to day in a blink of an eye.
How could this be happening? I stood shocked and confused. A strong gust of wind whipped around me, as if I was in the eye of a tornado. The storm destroyed my surroundings, shattering everything into pieces as objects float past me. Then everything froze, as if someone pressed Pause—time stood still. I spun slowly in awe at the phenomena, and, just as quickly as it froze, everything crashed down around me.
I gasped. It felt like I had been holding my breath for several minutes. I sat upright in bed—confused and drenched in sweat. What a strange dream. Much different than the recurring dream I’d had of the unknown chasing me and the fear that devours my soul. Dream interpretation had always intrigued me, especially the crazy, absurd dreams that just make absolutely no sense. I found it fascinating how the unconscious mind continued working even during sleep. And why did such unrealistic dreams seem so intense and real at the time, but, when awake, I’d wonder how in a million years I ever thought just for a second it could be real.
I shook my head and realized how badly I needed a cup of coffee. A shot of expresso would do, to add that extra jolt of caffeine I most definitely needed. Or better yet, a shot of rum in my coffee would be nice. Might get rid of this nasty headache. Probably just dehydrated. I walked to the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice and guzzled every last drop within seconds. Now that was refreshing.
I leaned over the kitchen sink and gazed out the window overlooking the backyard, staring at the massive overgrown maple trees that rose nearly one hundred feet. Its branches stretched in every direction with the most brilliant colorful leaves. It was picture perfect, something I’d see framed in an art gallery or adorning on a postcard or highlighted in calendar. It was full of character and life. The colors were amazing and beautiful with shades of pumpkin, crimson, and hints of lemon.
Autumn was my favorite season by far. The foliage was breathtaking. New England was absolutely beautiful this time of year, with all the changing colors. I’d always thought how strange the cycle of nature was, especially autumn when everything started to die but how beautiful that transition was. Also, I cherished looking forward to the holidays with family. I loved Thanksgiving—the only time of year I could stuff my face with all the delicious food and not feel guilty. I looked forward to enjoying the foods we don’t eat all year, like smoked turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and my favorite, eggnog and pumpkin pie. But, to be honest, my favorite was garlic mashed potatoes with thick, creamy homemade gravy made from scratch. I must admit, gravy definitely makes the meal, with its saltiness and rich flavors that melt in the mouth with all its goodness. Just thinking about it made me hungry.
“You couldn’t sleep either, honey?” Rachel asked quietly from behind me.
“No. I’m sorry. Did I wake you, sweetheart?”
“I woke up and noticed you weren’t next to me. Is everything okay, Trevor?”
“Yeah, of course. I just had a crazy dream and didn’t want to wake you. These strange dreams I’ve been having … just make no sense. They must have some sort of meaning behind them?”
“It’s been a stressful couple of months. Everyone is acting paranoid. Life just isn’t the same anymore since the murders. Of course your mind would play tricks in your dream world.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“How are you dealing with everything? The long days at work, being surrounded by negativity twenty-four/seven?”
“It’s not bad all the time, especially when I come home to you every night.” Rachel smiled.
I leaned in for a kiss. “I hope they catch the killer soon, so we can get back to normalcy. I’m so sick of all the whispering and people hiding behind closed doors, afraid to come out.”
“When’s the last time you checked on Mary? Sorry to change the subject.”
“A couple days ago. She seems to be doing fine. This home health care makes a big difference. She has company on a daily basis—cleaning, preparing her meals, and making sure she takes her meds every day. But I’ve noticed how differently she acts now. I don’t even think she knows who I am. She looks lost all the time. It’s so sad to just watch her slowly losing her mind, dwindling away to nothing. Isabella said she keeps calling her Natalie. I’m just glad she hasn’t wandered off again. “
“I can’t imagine what she is going through. It must be so scary for her. Not knowing her own family or where she is half the time. It makes my heart weep. Mary was such a happy, lively woman, even after all the horrible things she has been through. She doesn’t even want to spend time with us anymore. It’s like we’re strangers.”
“I think she feels embarrassed and ashamed, so that’s why she stays away. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, starved.”
“How does blueberry pancakes, fried eggs, and sausage sound?”
“Delicious.”
***
I glance at the clock. Just enough time to shower and fool around before we both head out for work.
I know how to get Rachel in the mood too. She’s not much of a morning person, or should I say, doesn’t enjoy doing it early in the morning. But we need to be more affectionate and spontaneous. Our sex life has gone downhill with everything happening. We just haven’t been in the mood, I guess.
“Why don’t you freshen up,” I whispered in her ear as I slowly placed gentle kisses down her neck.
Rachel looked at me with that look. She slowly licked her lips and bit her bottom lip with seduction behind her crystal-blue eyes. She let out a playful giggle and ran from the room.
I sprinted to the guest bathroom and showered, excitedly thinking of all the things I could do to Rachel. My beautiful wife has been so down lately, and I want to put a smile on her she can’t wipe off. Or better yet, maybe I should just tease her and let her know what’s in store for her when she comes home tonight. Get her all excited with intense anticipation for a night of romance and pure ecstasy. All these amazing thoughts danced around in my head.
I stepped from the steaming shower and dried my wet body with a towel. I walked down the hallway donning a stupid ear-to-ear grin. I slowly opened our bedroom door. Rachel stood by the bed in just a towel—and dropped it, revealing her sexy, naked, toned body.
She gave me a very provocative look, and I couldn’t resist. I dropped my towel and threw her on the bed, passionately kissing her soft lips as I slid my hand, slowly separating her legs and growing rock hard myself. I slowly licked her as she moaned and arched her back. She tasted sweet.
She grabbed the blankets underneath he
r in a tight fist and twisted them as her body squirmed. I worked my magic until she was dripping wet. I crawled between her legs and thrusted myself inside her warm body as she releases a moan that would make any man cum in seconds.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as I thrusted deeper. She raised her legs straight into the air as I got her off several times before I orgasmed. I collapsed on the bed next to her trembling body.
Rachel smiled and pulled me in for an intense kiss. “I love you so much, Trevor.”
“I love you too, baby,” I reply, breathing rapidly and trying to catch my breath.
Rachel snuggled up to me with her leg on top of mine and her fingers gently caressing my chest and arm as she looks into my eyes—her cheeks flushed, hair a mess, seeming more beautiful than ever.
I kissed her forehead and ran my fingers through her long hair, thinking how lucky I was. Rachel was truly amazing. I’d never loved someone so deeply. She completed me.
Mary
I walked out the front door and locked it behind me. An uneasy feeling overcame me. Mary! I darted around the house and toward the guest house. Everything around me slowed down, and my feet grew heavy. My breathing echoed loudly in my head.
Bang, Bang! No answer.
All I heard was my heartbeat throbbing in my head.
Bang, Bang, Bang!
I frantically searched any signs of disturbance, but nothing seemed out of place. I tried to peer through her window, but the blinds were shut. I ran to the clothesline, lifted the top of the pole, pulled off the key attached to the other side, ran to the door and unlocked it.
“Mary!” I pushed through the door but heard nothing but stillness. I noticed how clean her place was, now that she has homecare. It was never like Mary to let the place get so filthy, but she hadn’t been herself lately.
I heard faint music coming from her bedroom—sad cello music. I slowly pushed open her door. It creaked, but Mary didn’t move. She lay on her side, a quilt pulled to her neck. All I could see was her long silver hair.
I approached her bed and whispered, “Mary,” shaking her shoulder. “Mary.”
I pulled her shoulder toward me to look at her face; it was pale. I gasped as I touched her cold skin. I felt for a pulse—nothing. A tear fell, rolling down my cheek.
She was all I had left of the biological family I never knew… And there was the deep, dark secret that Isabella and I were the only descendants left of the notorious Jack the Ripper. Why would I be thinking of such horrible thoughts?
Isabella is going to be devastated.
***
“Dad, what are you doing here?” I asked concerned as I removed my dental gloves and dropped them in the trashcan beside me.
“I’ve been calling and texting you all morning.”
“I forgot my phone at home. What’s going on?”
Dad dropped his head and wouldn’t look me in the eye.
“Dad, what’s wrong?” I lightly grabbed his shoulder and led him toward one of the empty rooms for privacy and closed the door behind us. I could tell by the way he was acting that I better take a seat. I sat in the dental chair and grabbed his hands in mine. “Daaad …?”
“It’s … It’s Mary. She’s …”
“Dad! What’s wrong with Great-grandma? Did she get lost again?”
Dad covered his face with shaky hands and sobbed. I stood and helped him sit in the chair and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, Dad,” I replied gently, trying to comfort him.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Hold on. Give us a minute,” I shouted behind the closed door. “Dad, what’s wrong with Mary?”
“I … I had a bad feeling, so I ran to the guest house. Mary was lying in bed—still. But she wasn’t sleeping. Her skin was pale—cold.”
“Dad, what are you trying to say? Is Great-grandma dead?”
Tears streaked his cheeks.
My heart felt like it had been twisted and ripped from my chest. My soul—empty.
***
I was very close to Great-grandmother. I used to have sleepovers at her house when I was younger. We would do makeovers. She would paint my nails, put makeup on me, and curl my hair, and she would let me do the same to her. Except I wasn’t very good at it, and we would giggle. We had so much fun. Mary said that when her mother was still alive, it was what she remembered most, and she wanted to pass those wonderful memories to me.
But what I remembered most was curling up beside her as she read books to me until I fell asleep. Because of Mary, I became obsessed with books and reading. It was a way I could escape into an imaginary world and completely lose myself. It was addicting and quite exhilarating. I read hundreds of books every year, taking me only a couple hours to finish a three-hundred-page book. Dad even turned the largest room in our house into a library. The shelves were built into the walls and stretch to the twenty-five-foot ceiling. Dad and Grandpa built a rolling ladder, so I could reach the books all the way at the top. My library held over five thousand books. I’ve probably only read about half of them. I had a real problem. I tended to buy more books before I finished reading the ones I already had. I couldn’t visit Barnes & Noble without leaving with at least five to six books. A local bookstore sat just outside of town, with hundreds of books signed by the author, which is pretty awesome. I followed some of my favorite authors on social media, and when they come within a few hours from here, I liked to attend their book signings and meet them in person. I wished I could write a book, but I just don’t have the patience or dedication. I got distracted easily, and my mind would wander. But reading was different. I just read what had already been written by a brilliant, creative mind. I don’t have to think, just read. When I got lost in thought, it scared me. Sometimes I wondered if something was wrong with me, if I needed help. But who wasn’t a little crazy?
I noticed what I was doing, trying to avoid what Dad had just told me. I breathed heavy; the room seemed to shift and go in and out of focus; I stumbled backward, catching myself on a nearby wall.
This can’t be happening. It’s not true. Dad … Dad is mistaken. I slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Mary was just in a deep sleep. She was having a good dream and didn’t want to be wakened. She’s just fine. You’ll see. The thoughts continued, sounding a little convincing. I’ll go over there tonight, and she’ll be sipping tea in her rocking chair, watching the sunset like she loves to do. We’ll sit outside, gazing up in awe at the beautiful display of colors painted across the darkening sky.
“Isabella? Are you okay, sweetheart?”
I snapping back into reality. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”
“It’s going to be okay, Bella. We’re going to be okay.” Dad stammered, trying to regain his composure. “Mary lived a long life. She would have been eighty-two years old next month. Mary has been through more heartache than anyone I know. She deserves to be at peace now.”
Therapy
“I’ve never been to a funeral before. I’ve never lost anyone I love until now. My mom died during childbirth, but I didn’t know her. As hard as it’s been to grow up without a mom, I don’t know any different. It was probably better this way. The pain and ache I feel inside is tearing me apart. I have no idea how Great-grandma could move on after so many deaths.
“First, her parents tragically died in a car accident when she was just twelve years old. I couldn’t imagine, and I’m twenty-three. You’re probably wondering how I graduated from dental school so quickly. First off, I graduated high school early at sixteen, and it took me just six years in college, taking accelerated classes, of course, to achieve my doctorate degree. I’ve been at my practice for almost a year now, and we’re so busy that we can’t keep up with the demand. I apologize, I got sidetracked again. Sorry.
“So, Mary lost both her parents when she was twelve, her husband after fifteen years of marriage, her daughter less than a year later, and her granddaughter which s
he never met, since both my dad and his sister were put up for adoption right after they were born. My dad didn’t even know he had a sister, so he never got to meet her before she died either—so sad.
“Dad contacted all of Great-grandma’s brothers and sister. They flew out for the funeral and stayed a few days before flying back. I had met all of them when Mary and I went to her old stomping grounds just a few weeks ago. I’m glad I met them and spent some one-on-one time with her before she passed. Mary, being the oldest, isn’t far ahead of them in age. Angel is the youngest, and she’s seventy-three. They all promised to keep in contact after the funeral.”
“So, how long has it been since the funeral, Isabella?” Dr. Marshall asked.
“It’s been about six months probably.”
“What made you decide to come see me?”
“The pain has just become so unbearable. I can’t concentrate at work. The other day, when I was filling a patient’s tooth, my hand slipped when my mind wandered and cut his lip wide open. He needed four stitches. I felt horrible.”
“Death can be really hard on people, especially when it affects their well being.”
“I can’t sleep, and, when I do, I have these horrible dreams. Dreams that frighten me. I think something is wrong with me, Doctor.”
“Do you ever do anything fun? I mean, to get your mind off work and your great-grandma’s death?”
“No, not really. I don’t have any friends. I’m a workaholic. I spend all my free time reading. It’s my way to escape reality. I learned to love reading when I was five. My great-grandma moved into our guesthouse shortly after my heart transplant, so she could be closer to us. She missed seeing my dad grow up, since he had been put up for adoption after he was born, so she didn’t want to miss that with me too. Mary and I had a very close relationship. I would have sleepovers at her house often. We’d do makeovers just like her mom used to do with her, and, of course, she’d read to me all the time. She’d get into character, change her tone with each character, and make lots of facial expressions whether it was happy or sad or mad or surprised—you get it. She was very theatrical, and I loved it. My dad tried reading to me, but it just wasn’t the same. He wouldn’t read with the emotion behind the words, like Mary would. She made reading fun.”