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by Charles W Jones

  Tyler shrugged, it wasn’t something he’d considered. He was sure Mr. Bel did more, though nowhere in his memory did he find proof showing him otherwise.

  “It’s just strange—”

  “Please don’t criticize him,” he interrupted. “Not after what he’s doing for us.”

  “I’m not.” Aggravation sharpening her voice. “I’m curious about him.”

  Tyler winked at her as he closed the trunk lid with the shopping bags gripped in his hands. Curiosity about the man on the second floor filled him, giving little else to take his thoughts. Though he wasn’t gay and had never been interested in experimenting, he had an attraction to the man, but he didn’t know why; at least his body didn’t betray the secret as it had when they had arrived. He wanted to know Mr. Bel in ways only lying with him in bed taught.

  She held the glass door open for him to enter the lobby, and the one step up then followed to the apartment door. Again, silence found them. It seemed more prevalent when they were inside the hotel, as though they were waiting for something.

  A shiver ran across her as she entered the apartment. Wasn’t it strange they hadn’t shut the door before they left? It wasn’t as though she owned anything inside, but she still wanted the small amount of separation and privacy a closed-door provided. Then again, who was going to come in while they weren’t there? There weren’t exactly crowds breaking down the door. A smirk crossed her face, which Tyler saw while turning from the bed where he’d put the bags.

  He pulled his shirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. Unfastening his belt, he looked up at her with a boyish gleam in his eye and naughty smile.

  Revulsion washing over her, Jen wrinkled her nose and walked by him to the bathroom. She wasn’t sure why the feeling came on so suddenly, but her interest in him had evaporated. Maybe it had to do with the circumstances of being in Shoshoni, and she wasn’t sure. Something had turned her off to Tyler’s coy overtures.

  “We don’t have time,” she said, hoping the disgust she felt didn’t come out in her voice, entering the bathroom. “We have to get out to Connie’s in a half-hour.”

  “Oh, come on,” he groaned, grinning. “Just a quickie.”

  She shut the door, fighting the bile burning her throat from erupting from her.

  She took in the drab scenery as they headed out of town. The brown grass laid down along the highway while spikes of green forced their way through the newly moist soil.

  The sagebrush glistened with the moisture it seemed not to have had in several years. She still didn’t understand why anyone wanted to live here. It wasn’t as though there was a booming industry near. She had heard Tyler talking about oilfields somewhere close by. Wherever Lysite was located, the oil there had done little for Shoshoni’s stature.

  They turned off the highway onto a dirt road less than a mile outside town, and followed it for less than a minute before he stopped. She looked at him, wondering why he’d stopped at a junkyard when dogs started barking and rushing the car. Tyler laughed and muttered something.

  “We’re here!” He opened the door to the dogs swarming toward him, tails wagging, sniffing, and trying to get closer to him for a thousand licks. “They’re friendly.” He glanced back at Jen. She stared at the mobile home with a falling brown skirt, then to the scattered rundown cars amid the tall dead weeds.

  “They live in a trailer?”

  “It’s not a trailer. It’s a double-wide.” He pronounced with a thick drawl, his smile widening. “Come on. Don’t judge a book by its cover. It’s much different inside.”

  As though in a daze, she reached for the door-handle, never looking away from the double-wide. The dogs jumped and whined, sniffing at them as they made their way to the small porch at the front door. The door opened before they reached the top of the stairs, Carrie glared at them, but it didn’t dim his smile.

  “You should’ve honked. I’d have come out to keep them away.”

  “No problem at all.” He guffawed.

  “Back!” she yelled, causing Jen to jump. “Get in before they make it up the stairs.”

  Jen and Tyler scurried inside.

  Whomp! Carrie slammed the door.

  “Fuckin’ dogs,” she grumbled. “Mom is in the living room. No one else is here yet.”

  Tyler had not lied when he said it was nicer on the inside. Jen took in the beautiful dining table elegantly set, though with old dime-store dishes and utensils.

  Fresh flowers sprung from a diamondcut crystal vase in the center. Mahogany chairs, matching the table, circled its large circumference. A china hutch filled with knickknacks drew her attention. Each item matched what was in the similar cabinet at the hotel. Tyler’s hand took hers, removing her curiosity from the items, and he led her into the living room.

  A long, beige sofa ran from one end of the room to the other under the row of windows facing the early spring landscape. Rain attacked the windows with gentle splats. On either side of the sofa, two-tiered side tables held glass lamps glowing from the base and from under the shade.

  “Sweeties,” the woman said, pressing a button on the remote and placing it on the long, narrow table in front of the sofa. “You made it.” She stood, opening her arms.

  Neither Jen nor Tyler misunderstood her desire for them to hug her. Jen took the cue instantly, rushing into her arms.

  The grip was stronger than she expected, but she took it without complaint. Safety was the way she thought of the encircling arms around her if asked. Feeling the woman’s arms loosen made her want to cry, not wanting to lose the security of those arms around her. But to her discontent, the arms fell away and again she was alone, still yearning for the embrace. She watched with envy as Tyler received his welcome.

  Connie motioned for them to sit as she took her seat in the center of the sofa. Jen sat as close to her as was possible without sitting on her lap; the woman didn’t seem to mind. Comfort seemed to transfer to Jen just by being near her as they chatted idly about what Tyler had been doing and how Jen had come into the picture; they blushed, giving no explanation other than they met at work.

  Carrie joined them, flopping in a chair near the open doorway with a scowl. From the corner of her eye, Jen saw Connie stick her tongue out at her daughter, who returned the gesture.

  Tyler laughed. “I thought age would’ve sweetened you up, even a little,” he said.

  “Fuck off,” Carrie replied. “I thought you’d be less of an asshole by now.”

  Jen chuckled. “You know him pretty well.” Connie was happy watching the interaction. The crow’s feet deepened, adding to her beauty. “Do you need any help with dinner?” she asked, regretting it because if she said ‘yes’ leaving Connie’s side was in her future, and the thought broke her heart.

  “Sure?” she replied, glancing at her mother, the reluctance obvious in her voice. Connie nodded a small, almost unnoticeable nod. “You can smash the potatoes.”

  Jen followed her from the room. As she passed the china cabinet, she observed each item.

  As though reading her mind, Carrie said blandly, “Everything’s the same.” She watched the woman from the opposite side on the peninsula counter. “I don’t know why. When we lived in the hotel, it was only the one there.”

  “They’re beautiful.” She complimented happily, turning her back on the menagerie.

  “A long time ago when we were kids, Tyler and his brother, Cody, stayed there with us for a while. Tyler broke the bluebird, and I got blamed.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Tyler can be a jerk sometimes.” She tried to sound sympathetic about something which had happened decades ago, seeing it was apparent the woman still was enraged by the happening.

  Carrie didn’t respond. She stared with determination into the pot of gravy, stirring in a slow circle.

  “Where’s a bowl?”

  “What?” Carrie came out of her stupor.

  “A bowl for the potatoes.”

  “Oh, down there.” She pointed at the edg
e of the counter near Jen.

  The cabinet was filled with an assortment of bowls stacked on each other. She opted for the large stainless steel one and took it around the counter near the sink. Carrie watched her pour the steaming potatoes into the colander then into the bowl.

  “You can stay here,” she said softly, and without the edge in her voice. “Mom won’t care.”

  “What?”

  Yelling from outside kept Carrie from explaining herself. Seconds passed with the women staring at the front door, then it opened. A man, two women, and three children rushed inside and slammed the door again with the same whomp! The children rushed into the living room, screaming for grandma. The man’s gaze burned through Jen. The family resemblance told her they were Carrie’s brother and sisters.

  The oldest woman departed the group with a green-plastic, covered bowl to the kitchen. Her attention darted to Jen, then to Carrie with a faint smile. She reached out, stroking Carrie’s hair pouring over her shoulder.

  Her smile brightened, returning her attention to Jen, and said, “I’m Caley. You must be Jen.”

  “Yes, I am.” She poured milk into the bowl of potatoes, then reached for the butter. She glanced to the door where the man, she assumed was Eric, and the other woman stood.

  “Don’t be rude,” Carrie glowered. “Get in here and meet Jen.” They came toward the counter, forcing smiles. “Eric and Carli.”

  “Good to meet you.” Jen’s smile began to fade. She cleared her throat and turned looking for the mixer or masher, anything to hold to keep her hands from twitching. Her heart raced in her chest for no reason, and her temperature rose. “I,” was all she that came out of her mouth as her knees buckled.

  “Oh!” Caley said, squeezing past Carrie. She caught Jen before she fell to the floor, holding her steady. “You’re ok, I gotcha,” Caley whispered in her ear.

  “Fuck!” Eric slapped the counter. “How long…” he paused, seeing Carrie shake her head. “Get her in a chair.” He dragged one toward them.

  “What happened?” Tyler demanded from the living-room entrance.

  “I think I got overheated by the potatoes.” Jen raised the corners of her mouth feebly. “I’m fine.” Carli had somehow made it to the sink and filled a glass of water, which she now shoved toward her. The sisters standing around her in the kitchen exchanged wide-eyed glances. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re a guest,” Carli said, turning to glare at her sister. “You shouldn’t have been helping.”

  “Well I couldn’t wait for your ass to get here, and she offered,” Carrie defended.

  “I don’t mind.”

  The abrupt change in demeanor hid the troubling thoughts running in their minds; nightmarish memories never to be purged. They relaxed their fight stances, knowing their mother approached. She didn’t say anything as she entered. Her grandchildren in tow laughed and skipped around her. Connie’s face was as bright as ever. The faded coloring of her face remained the pale reddish-brown it always was. But her hard expression told them—as though lightning sparked behind the dark surface—this was not the time for any sort of disagreement.

  “How’s supper coming along? The kids are starved,” Connie said nervously, eyeing Jen returning the chair to the table.

  “A few more minutes,” Carrie replied in a soft, meek tone. “Just need to finish the potatoes.”

  “Come on, kids,” Connie said, meaning more than the grandchildren, looking each in the eye. “Grab your plates while she’s finishing up.” She leaned down to one of her grandchildren, and said in a breathy voice, “Hurry before the Hiintcabiit gets you.”

  During the meal, they discussed what Tyler had been doing with his life. Then Eric told them about Jade Helm 15 and the dangers it foretold for the United States. Jen noticed his siblings shake their heads when he began talking—obviously, they had heard it before. The tale sounded paranoid to Jen, but she did not comment on his beliefs.

  Since it was raining, the grandchildren couldn’t run amok outside, so they scurried back into the living room to watch cartoons. Tyler and Caley reminisced about growing up in the small town, and all the mischief they found for themselves. Eric interjected with his insight of what had happened, and proclaimed knowing more since he was older than them. Neither disagreed.

  Silence hushed the room, allowing the garish voices and sounds from the television in the other room to swirl around them. It wasn’t awkward when they became silent simultaneously; to Jen, it was natural and whole after sharing their lives in the short time.

  “This has been nice.” Jen broke the silence. “It was so wonderful to meet you.”

  Eric blushed, and she sensed he had grown infatuated with her after a few beers by the way he looked at her with his shit-eating-grin, and keeping eye contact with her. The biggest giveaway was the wink he’d given her moments before silence took the table.

  “There’s something you should know,” Carrie said. Everyone’s attention was drawn to her. Throughout the evening, Jen had seen the grouchy façade the woman wore begin to chip away, and had seen her smile several times.

  But now her face was rigid. The peaks of her brow seemed hard and immovable. Her mouth was tight and narrow. And her eyes, at first Jen thought it was a trick of the light the way her pupil and iris seemed to have melded together, but glancing at the others around the table, no one else had the same darkness. Carrie’s head turned stiffly toward Tyler, and she continued, “He’s only using you. You aren’t the one he wants. Don’t let him come. He can’t come.”

  Silence again. This time it was painful to sit there with no sounds, (even the television in the other room was quiet) waiting for someone to be the first to speak. Jen’s attention flicked toward Caley who had turned her head and puckered her lips tightly together.

  Carli stared at some point of interest in the kitchen, holding her breath. Eric had found a similar spot on his plate while his breaths were quickened as though he were going to hyperventilate.

  Connie, however, watched her daughter with a beaming smile proudly stretched across her face. Then Jen’s studied Tyler. Shock had opened his mouth, giving him a terrorized expression.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Carrie began again, her head now turned to Jen. She said nothing else but didn’t take her gaze from the woman. Carrie blinked, returning the rich brown color. “What?” Her gruff tone returning. “Shit! It happened again.” She tore herself from the table, and disappeared down the hall, followed by the slamming of the door.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Tyler said, standing from the table. “We should be getting back. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Of course, sweetie,” Connie said, watching Jen stand next to him. “Anytime you wanna come out, don’t hesitate. You’re always welcome.”

  When they reached the highway, Jen asked, “What just happened?”

  He forced a chuckle sounding like rocks in a blender, then said, “Carrie has seizures, and she says weird things during them.”

  “What happened in there was more than a seizure,” she retorted. “I’ve seen them. She was completely still, they—”

  “I know. They freaked me out when I was a kid. I forgot what they were like.” He took his right hand from the wheel to squeeze her knee. “Don’t worry. They don’t mean anything.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  When thou buildest a new house, then thou shalt make a battlement for thy roof, that thou bring not blood upon thine house, if any man fall from thence.

  Deuteronomy 22:8, KJV

  Cody sat up in bed, feeling rested (more rested than he had in months). Listening for any sound, he stood, staring down the hall to the living room. The apartment was quiet; too quiet after what he’d been experiencing. No thumps or laughter found his ears. No strange shadows skirted away down the hall away from his inquisition.

  “Just stress from work,” he said, making his way across the bedroom. “Now I can relax.” He expected Hector to negate his statement, but nothing. Shaking
his head with a wry smile, he continued talking to the room, “None of it was real.” He stared into the bathroom mirror. “Just a weird dream.” But his explanation didn’t cover what he found when he entered the kitchen—the trashcan filled with shards of broken dishes, and the demolished coffee machine sitting on the floor next to it. “Fuck,” was the only word his mind wanted to push off his tongue.

  Back in the living room, he found his phone charging next to a stack of books on the table. He scrolled through the contact list, finding the only person seeming appropriate to call. The phone rang insistently, making Cody think he was going to reach voicemail when the bubbling, happy voice answered.

  “Cody!” the voice exclaimed. “You’ll never guess where I am.”

  Cody thought of all the times Tyler had been in trouble, and how he had acted like it was no big deal as he explained his side. Anger for his brother’s bubbly tone and the reason he called him filled him with rage and Cody growled into the phone, “Tyler, I don’t fucking care where you are. We need to talk.” Tyler’s laugh angered Cody further. “God, you’re an asshole.”