by Phoef Sutton
She resisted at first, but so half-heartedly, it was almost funny. “Don’t worry,” he said, “you’re not my type.” He kept talking as he pulled the dress over her head, just to pass the time. “But I could, you know. Nobody would know. You wouldn’t even know, because you’re too fucking crazy. Did you know that? It’s the old philosophical question, if you fuck a tree in the forest and no one hears it, does it make a sin?”
The phone rang. He started to answer it there but he figured it would be better to take it in another room. When he locked the bedroom door he could just see her half-naked, crawling back under the bed.
He dumped the dress in the kitchen trash can and picked up the phone.
Presser was on the other end. “Ted, this is Dennis. Look, this is difficult…”
“I know what it’s about, Dennis. I talked to Mr. Kallen, he called my wife…”
“Well, Ted I know this is difficult, but we really have to check these things out.”
“Dennis, I understand, you got your job to do. Besides, this is a serious matter and it really has to be looked into.”
“That’s right.”
“I mean,” Ryan went on, sympathetically, “we all suspected this girl had problems, but I don’t think any of us guessed how serious they were until today.” He reached over and flicked a switch to start the coffee brewing.
“Well, yeah, Ted, her parents are very upset,” Presser said, not giving anything away.
“Of course they are and how can you blame them? They love her, naturally they’d believe her. I’m surprised that she’d exploit that, but to be fair to her, she’s very confused.”
“She seems confused.”
“So you’ve talked to her?” Ryan asked.
“Well, we’ve spoken. I really tried to call you first, but you were out.” Was that a slightly apologetic tone creeping into Presser’s voice?
“Well, Gloria was very upset about this whole thing,” Ryan explained. “She’s going to visit her sister and, well, this’ll sound silly but I went out for a burger and a shake.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t have to tell you there’s no truth to any of this, do I, Denny?”
“Of course not, Ted, of course not. But you understand I have to check…”
“Hey, don’t apologize, we all want to help this girl. She’s one of my best students, I’m very fond of her. I guess that’s why I let her get me into this mess. I never thought she’d follow through on that crazy threat, but I guess she was scared.”
“Why don’t you tell me your side of it, Ted?”
“What do you mean ‘side’?” he allowed a little irritation to slip into his voice. “I’ll tell you the truth if you want.”
“That’s what I meant, Ted. I’m sorry.”
“Well, I went to my office to finish up a little paperwork and do a little maintenance on the lights in the auditorium, when I smelled what I thought was pot. I mean I’m thirty-six, I don’t have to pretend I don’t know what it smells like, do I?”
Presser laughed. That was good, thought Ted.
“And I couldn’t tell where it was coming from until I heard something behind the wall.” He noticed the coffee was ready so he poured himself a cup and drank it while he finished the story. He left out the part about the vomit; he thought that would be more impressive as a surprise.
“She started crying, she said if I told her parents she’d make up some crazy story about me attacking her. I didn’t believe her, but I have to confess I wasn’t going to tell anyone. She seemed like she needed a second chance. Now I guess it’s too late for that.”
There was silence on the other end and Ryan felt the coffee start to brew again in his stomach. “Jesus,” Presser said finally, “She seems like such a nice girl.”
“Of course she is Dennis, otherwise she wouldn’t be so scared. I mean, you’ve met her father, haven’t you?”
“Sure.”
“How did he strike you?”
“Well, he’s upset…”
“No, I mean in general. He didn’t seem violent to you? He didn’t seem to have a temper?”
“…You think he’s abusive?”
“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth. I just think she might be really scared about him finding out.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dennis sighed. “Sometimes I wish I’d stayed a teacher.”
Ryan gave what he hoped was a wry chuckle. “That ain’t always so easy either, Bud.”
“I know Ted, I know. Look, I want to resolve this without any legal shit.”
“I appreciate that. If you just let me talk to her,”
“Whoa, I don’t think I can do that.”
“Hey, don’t give me that, we’re human beings, can’t we just sit down and talk like human beings? Let’s forget the red tape and just cut through to where this girl is hurting.”
“No, that is absolutely out of the question, absolutely, you understand that?”
Back off Ryan, he told himself. But it was good to ask; it sounded so sincere and even naïve. Also it gave that asshole Presser a place to put his foot and feel like the boss. A place that didn’t matter.
“You think there’s any evidence of this substance abuse in that tunnel?”
Great, he’s saying ‘substance abuse,’ he’s already applying the proper clichés. “I don’t know Dennis, I wasn’t thinking that way.”
“It’ll be easier if there is. Look, come by my office in a half hour, we’ll clear this up.”
“Thanks, Dennis.”
“Sorry about all this.”
Ryan accepted the apology.
When she woke up she couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about. She couldn’t even remember that she’d been asleep really, but you had to be, didn’t you, if you woke up? Anyway, she went from dark to light, from nothing to something, so that must have been sleeping and this must be walking.
She was huddled half under a bed and there were tears on her face, but no reason to be crying. Must have been a really bad dream, she thought, glad that she couldn’t remember it. She rarely had bad dreams.
She reached out to pull herself from under the bed and her hand surprised her by aching with pain. It felt for all the world like it had something dropped on it, but she couldn’t remember that happening. And as she crawled out she felt the pain coming from everywhere. Her head, when she moved it, started whirling with a hard, metal tasting pain.
It must be a bad flu, she thought, finding pain even in her scalp. She’d had a flu like this before – just before the fever set in you felt for all the world like someone had been beating you with a rubber hose.
She kept thinking that until she came out into the light and saw the blood on her hand. She gasped in confusion, wiping at the blood to see where the cut was, but it wasn’t really a cut, more like a long torn bruise. She tried to pull herself up with the bedspread and it wasn’t until then that she realized she didn’t know where she was and that she was almost naked.
She dropped back to the floor wishing she could remember her bad dream. She looked around the room, trying to find some clue that could tell her why she was here. It was an ordinary bedroom, a grown-up bedroom. There was a double bed with blue sheets that were tossed and tumbled. There was broken glass on the floor. Other than that there was nothing threatening about the place except for her being there in her bra and panties, beaten and bleeding and not knowing where she was.
She brushed the broken glass away and sat back against the bed table. Her body seemed wrong too, heavy and sagging. Her breasts were drooping, her stomach seemed distended and her thighs were bloated. Something awful had been done to her. She couldn’t have been raped, could she? But how could she forget something like that? As easily as you could forget being beaten up.
She heard a door open and she flinched, not knowing where to run, not even knowing where the door was. But the man she saw ran to her and kneeled next to her.
“God, are you all right?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I woke up and…”
“You don’t have to say it, I know. We have to get out of here fast.”
He lifted her to her feet and she leaned on him gracefully, not even feeling self-conscious about her nakedness. He seemed a little embarrassed by it though, he kept his eyes turned away and she thought that was cute. He picked a t-shirt and a pair of jeans off the bed and handed them to her.
“Here, you better put these on.”
He kept his eyes away when she dressed and she thought that was even cuter. She thought it was strange that she could be attracted to a man after what she’d gone through, but when she remembered she didn’t know what she’d gone through, it didn’t seem so strange after all.
He led her out into the living room. He said he thought they had time for a drink before they ran and took her into the kitchen. He got her a Coke that said ‘classic’ on the side. She laughed and said she thought it was good but didn’t think it was a classic. Then she asked who they were running from.
“It,” he said looking straight at her.
“What’s it?”
“The evil monster who stole eighteen years from you and killed everyone you know.”
It was only then that she noticed the cut on his forehead and realized he might have been the one who was hitting her. She must have gotten a funny expression on her face, because he started laughing then. It was a hearty, good-natured laugh and for a second she joined in. Then she bolted from the table and ran for the kitchen door. He was there first, blocking her way, still laughing.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. Bad taste, bad taste. It’s the strain.”
“What strain?”
“You know, coming home, finding all those dead bodies in the basement, you upstairs.”
“Bodies?”
“Yeah, the cleaning lady and a couple of the neighbor kids. You were a lucky girl. Unless…You weren’t the one who chopped them up, were you?”
“Did you call the police?”
“The phone’s dead. Even the phone is dead,” he said, doing his best Boris Karloff from his favorite movie, The Black Cat. “Finish your Coke, we have to run in case he comes back.”
He opened the door and ushered her out to the garage. It smelled of oil and old paint. The car was oddly small and looked like the back end had been lopped off. He led her around to the passenger side and opened the door. He was still smiling at her.
She lunged at the door, knocking it against his side. She climbed onto the hood of the car, rolled over it and ran into the kitchen door, slamming it shut and locking it. She ran to the phone, picked it up and dialed 911.
The kitchen door swung open and he stood there, leaning on the door jam, smiling. “It’s my house, I got a key, you know.”
She threw the phone at him and ran but she didn’t know where the front door was and she turned the wrong way and ended up in a little office without any exit. He was there again, blocking her way. She picked up a heavy paperweight and held it high.
“Come on Jesse, I’m just trying to take you home, I’m trying to take you to see Carl, don’t you want to see Carl?”
She wavered. “How do you know Carl?”
“He’s my best friend, he saved my life in ‘Nam. Tell me where he lives, I’ll drop you off.”
“Fuck off.”
“Okay, I’m off on the wrong foot. I’d wait fifteen minutes and start fresh but I got to be somewhere, so just put that down and come with me!”
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
She’s not, he thought. He was the fool to try to play games with her. Look at her there, holding that weight in her hand, beaten but defiant, without a bit of fear in her. She even looked young. He felt a surge of respect for her and a sorrow that he wasn’t going to get to know her better.
He was even going to miss her, he realized. He’d spent so much time with her today. He’d been totally involved with her for hours now and she’d been so many things to him. First a druggie teen-ager fucking with his brain, then a poor lunatic and now this woman standing in front of him like a warrior, bloodied but unbowed. How many love affairs had that much variety?
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper Carl had given him. He dialed the number off it and held the phone in her ear.
She watched him suspiciously, listening to the phone ring. Then a voice said ‘hello’ and she grabbed the receiver.
He figured he’d just let her talk, let them plan a place to meet and then take her there. But then he thought about Carl knowing his face, knowing he was at the school and that she must have been there too. So when she said, “Carl, is that you” he pulled the cord out of the wall and grabbed her, thinking he didn’t know what – thinking he could force her into the car, drive her out to the freeway, leave her there and still make it to the school in time, even though he had no idea how you could drag someone out of a house and into a car if they didn’t want to go.
He couldn’t. Just when he thought he had her arms pinned, one snaked free and she slammed the receiver into his groin. He fell back, groaning. She rushed by him, but he only reached out his hand and it didn’t do a thing to stop her.
He heard her running and tried to put the pain out of his mind as he struggled to his feet and limped into the kitchen. He’d left the keys on the table when he ran after her and they were gone now. He heard his car start and staggered to the garage just in time to see it peeling off down the street. He thought about running after her, but it still hurt when he moved, so instead he just walked into the garage, sat down and laughed.
He knew another man might have been angry or worried, but he was always able to see the humor in things. That was what gave him his healthy attitude towards life.
TWENTY-THREE
Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher were gone for the day, and their daughter was back from college watching the baby, so she was the one who answered the door this time.
At nineteen Lucy had been living on her own at the dorm for two years and she’d seen a lot so she wasn’t as scared as she might have been before. But she was young enough not to be as careful as she would be later, so she didn’t slam the door and lock it or even talk to the lady in the doorway. Instead she asked her in.
The lady didn’t know if she wanted to come in at first. She seemed very confused and just wanted to know where her house was. But Lucy didn’t blame her for being confused. Not when she’d been beaten up that badly.
She offered the lady coffee but she wanted a Coke. She got some Zephrin Chloride from the bathroom and cleaned the wound with some ice to put on her eye. Then she asked if she should call the police.
“I really just want to go home,” the lady said.
“What’s the number, can I call?”
“It’s supposed to be here. God, I’m so fucking confused,” the lady looked up at her, embarrassed. “Sorry,” she said.
“That’s okay, just relax.”
Then little Alex started crying upstairs – that loud kind of howling that sent chills through Lucy whenever she heard it. She ran up, as always expecting to be greeted by gushes of blood and a ghastly accident.
Alex was standing in his crib howling and pointing at Mr. Bear who had slipped through the bars and was on the floor. Neither of them appeared to be injured. Lucy sighed with relief and tossed the bear back in the crib, telling her brother that Mr. Bear was okay.
Alex kept crying. She picked him up and tried bouncing him a little on her hip. He kept howling and started tugging on her shirt trying to get at her breasts.
“Sorry Honey,” she said, “Sister’s not equipped. If you’re hungry I’ll get you a bottle.”
“Can I hold him?”
She hadn’t known the lady had followed her up, but she was glad for the help and she slung the kid over to her. It wasn’t unti
l she was down in the kitchen and noticed that the crying had stopped that she thought that giving the baby to a stranger had been an incredibly stupid thing to do and her mother would kill her if she ever found out.
She ran back upstairs and found the lady sitting in the rocking chair, cooing at the baby who smiled at her adoringly.
“Who’s a beautiful boy, who’s a beautiful boy?” the lady was asking. Alex smiled, knowing it was him.
Lucy handed her the bottle.
“It’s cold,” said the lady.
“That’s okay, he’ll eat anything.”
He took it and started sucking hungrily.
“Look,” said the lady, amazed, “he’s trying to hold it! What a good boy.”
“You’re good with kids,” Lucy said. “You have any?”
The lady shot her an exasperated look and rolled her eyes. “No. But I got a little brother. He’s ten years old now and a real monster, but when he was a baby he was almost as cute as you!” She was talking to the baby again and the baby was laughing. “No, he says, nobody is as cute as me, I’m the cutest.”
Alex loved this.
She asked what his name was and Lucy told her. The lady said her name was Jesse and she wanted to know if Lucy was in college. She said she was, in her Sophomore year.
“Oh great, what’s it like, do you like it? I’ve been thinking of going, but I can’t decide, I just can’t decide.”
“It’s fun, I like it. I think it’s cool that you’re thinking of going.”
Jesse looked a little surprised. “Thanks.”
“Mind if I ask you why you didn’t go before?”
She shrugged. “Well you know, I have to finish high school.”
Lucy nodded. She admired the lady for trying to start over. She’d obviously had some tough times.
The lady stood up and walked to the window, looking at the Stuarts’ house next door.
“That’s the Harrigan’s house.” She turned to Lucy. “That is the Harrigan’s house, isn’t it?”
“No, the Stuarts live there.”
“But it looks the same, everything looks the same.” She sat in the rocking chair again, still cradling the baby in her arms. “God, there must really be something wrong with me.” She looked at the bruise on her hand. “I don’t remember how any of this happened. And my house is supposed to be here.” She looked out the back window. “There’s the eucalyptus tree. But Christ, it’s so much taller. My house is supposed to be right here. How long has this house been here?”