DESCENT

by Sandy DeLuca

  “Don’t worry about us,” Sammy said through a bright smile. “We ain’t troublemakers.”

  Using the stash he’d taken from the truck stop, he paid for the first week in cash.

  “You can park your car in back,” the woman said. “Your room is on the second level. Number 213. The number’s on your key.” She smiled at me, reached beneath the counter. “Two keys, right?”

  Sammy grabbed the key. “One’s good.”

  She glared at him and handed over a receipt, then the key. She looked at me. “You want soda or something the machine’s right here in the office. There’s another by the pool in the back. My sister and me are always here if you need anything. I’m Maria. You can reach me on the phone in your room. Just dial nine. It’ll connect to the office.”

  I smiled and nodded.

  Sammy parked the car and we brought all our belongings up to the room. He hid the rifles under his jacket in the trunk and told me we’d ditch them the first chance we got.

  Once we got to our room he lit a cigarette and cranked the air-conditioner up high.

  All I wanted was to sleep, to just fall over and sleep for hours and hours. But Sammy had other ideas.

  “I’ve been wanting you to myself since North Carolina, babe.”

  “We need to sleep, Sammy, I need—”

  “I’m still wired, Julia. Still thinking about all the shit that went down. You know how the pills make me.”

  “I’m so weak.”

  He made a fist, held it close to my face. “What’d I tell you about listening to me?” His voice fell into that eerie calm it always did just before he got violent. “You do what I say, when I say. You got to understand that sometimes a man’s got to show his woman who the boss is. Now come here.”

  “Sammy, promise we’ll talk,” I said, “like you said, remember? After we both crash, promise we’ll talk.”

  Rather than answer he smiled this real slow smile, grabbed me by the hair, stripped me and tied me to the bed.

  I floated away again. I was getting really good at it, slipping away to other places while Sammy did what Sammy did.

  I joined Marla and we sat on top of the dresser, looking down at what Sammy was doing to me.

  I didn’t know he’d saved one of the beer bottles we’d shared with the Southern boys.

  “Jake is calling the Sheriff, Julia.”

  Marla took my hand. We walked together through Southern fields where pecans grew. Fireworks blazed across the horizon. We walked to a place where palm trees bordered a sandy beach. Marla put her arm around me. “There’s an angel beyond those trees. I can’t go with you, but if you keep walking you’ll find him.“

  Hands scooped me up, took me back home. Tender lips kissed me, silenced my screams.

  * * *

  I answer the phone.

  “I can’t meet you now,” I tell him. “My mother’s having an operation and…and I have an art showing coming up and—”

  Meet me soon.

  The voice is hypnotic.

  We need each other, Julia.

  I place the receiver gently in its cradle.

  Beyond weak, I lie down on the floor next to mother cat. She strokes my face with her paw.

  The room spins off into darkness.

  CHAPTER 38

  My brother Paul rocks me gently in his arms, tells me we’ll go out dancing tonight, that things will be the way they used to be.

  But Paul died before my descent. Doesn’t he know things will never be the way they were? Doesn’t he understand they never could be? Never.

  Never.

  * * *

  I woke up late the next afternoon. At first I didn’t know where I was and could only remember walking with Marla. I touched my face, where an angel had pressed his lips, and slowly the events of the past days came back to me. I kicked off the top sheet and sat up, looking around the horrible little room we’d rented.

  The furniture was old and scarred with a multitude of scratches and dents. I imagined that fights, orgies and drug deals and probably worse had gone down here over the years.

  The walls and ceiling were littered with watermarks, and the threadbare rug was puke-green and covered in wine and beer stains.

  I heard Sammy humming.

  The door was open to our room, and he was standing on the balcony looking down at the pool, smoking a cigarette. When I got closer I realized who he was looking at.

  Maria was sweeping the walk. She was quite pretty with her long black hair and colorful low-cut dress. Her legs were long and tanned, her breasts full. She sang something in Spanish, and Sammy seemed to know the tune as he hummed along with her.

  “Sammy.”

  “Julia, welcome back to the world.” His eyes were clear. The drugs had worn off. “We slept for an eternity. I’m feeling better. How about you, babe?”

  “I’m okay.” It stung between my legs, and I needed to pee.

  He kissed me on the forehead. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? Do what you need to do.” His gaze returned to Maria.

  I turned, padded to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. Urinating burned like hell.

  I took a shower then put on a pair of white shorts and a halter-top. After my hair was dry and combed out I looked like my old self again. Almost. Everybody said I was pretty, a little Italian girl with blue-green eyes and pretty hair who never wore makeup, except for a bit of eyeliner. But though I looked a lot better, I’d lost that little girl and could only wonder if I’d ever get her back.

  I heard my mother’s voice. I saw her face staring back at me in the mirror.

  I was prettier than you at nineteen. I could cook and clean a three-story house even after I’d spent the night working in the mill. You’ll never be much good. You don’t take after me.

  Sammy was still on the balcony when I got out of the bathroom. I moved up beside him.

  “You smell good.”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I’ll take a drive up the strip and get us something.”

  “Can I go with you? We need to talk, remember?”

  “I need some space right now, okay? First I need to think about what went down back on the road.” He tossed his cigarette butt into pool. It was already littered with candy wrappers and dead bugs. Maria was gone. I wondered if she was coming back to clean the water. “We’ll talk about what we’re gonna do when I get back.”

  “Okay. Get me some fries if you can?”

  “Yeah, anything you want, Julia.”

  I thought Sammy would be okay for a while now. He wasn’t high anymore. When he got back we’d make plans to get him some help and he’d turn himself in.

  I considered maybe just splitting, getting the hell away from there before he came back, especially since I figured he’d be gone a while. He was planning to check out the area, see where all the restaurants were, shopping areas and banks. I wasn’t sure how much money was left, but he kept talking about finding a bank and having them wire us the rest of my money.

  I rummaged through his clothes, through the bags and drawers. If I found the bankbook maybe I’d leave. Why not? He still had some cash on him. He still had the car.

  No luck.

  I picked up the phone, held the receiver to my ear. No dial tone. I could start walking; maybe find a police station. Maybe Maria would listen to me. My mouth was dry. My hands shook. Who was I kidding? I didn’t have the balls. It was no use. He’d find me. He’d track me down. He’d kill me when he found me.

  I was trapped. Sammy seemed invincible; always a step ahead of me, always waiting for me like... like magic.

  Besides, he said he’d get help.

  I tried to sort my thoughts, to decide what to do, but I didn’t feel well. I had a headache, and kept seeing figures in the corner of my eye slinking across the walls and peeking in the windows.

  I wondered if Sammy had sent them to keep an eye on me.

  * * *

  The doctor speaks to me without looking at me. My mother is in r
ecovery and came through the operation fine. “She’ll be in this wing for a few weeks so we can monitor her progress, of course, but everything looks good. Eventually she’ll be moved to the therapy unit here at the hospital, so there’s no need to worry about moving her to another facility.” He taps his pen. “She’s a strong woman. You were right—”

  “Is that all?”

  He still refuses to look me in the eye, and my irritation with him is growing.

  “For now,” he says. “If there are any changes I’ll certainly let you know.” He adjusts his glasses and finally looks at me. “You doing all right, Julia?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” I rise from my chair, turn to leave.

  “We have a treatment center here—for drug addiction. We have counselors on-site that could help you if you’re—”

  “I’m fine.”

  He is silent as I close the door behind me.

  CHAPTER 39

  I walk around the drugstore, plastic shopping basket hung over my arm, forgetting why I came here in the first place. Was someone following me as I drove away from the hospital? I remember the headlights flashing in my mirror.

  A clerk asks me if she can help. I tell her I’m just looking. She whispers something to the woman behind the cosmetic counter. They both begin to laugh.

  I find the vitamins. There’s a sale, buy one and get another free. I throw two bottles of vitamin C complex and two more bottles of Evening Primrose Oil into my basket.

  I pay for my purchase and exit the store.

  A man is leaning against the phone booth in the parking lot. His body is concealed in shadow. I watch him dial the phone. I hear it ringing in my head and quickly get into my car then drive away.

  I still hear the phone ringing. Why won’t it go away?

  * * *

  I got out my drawing paper and charcoal. I wanted to do something peaceful and pretty but all I could see were the people Sammy had killed. The Southern boys climbed out of their graves in the Carolinas and claimed they had never planned to kill me. Sammy had lied. The waitress from Jersey followed. She was only having a smoke during her break, Sammy asked her for a light. She gave it to him, but he took much more than that.

  Jake and the truckers from Georgia told me about their families. Marla looked at me with those knowing eyes and nodded. They begged me to record the ways in which they’d died, and I felt it only right to obey.

  Marla sat next to me on the bed, watched as my hands moved rapidly across the paper. I began to sketch out scenes of death, the lives Sammy had destroyed, but when I heard Sammy’s approaching footsteps, I quickly tucked everything inside the manila envelope and stuck it all in my purse.

  The ghosts vanished.

  I turned on the TV, eased back against the pillows and propped up against the headboard. An old Twilight Zone episode was on. A monster stood on the wings of an airliner. He taunted a passenger. Each time the man called for help no one believed him. They said he was hallucinating.

  How do you make them see that the monsters are real—that the dead really do come back?

  The key turned. The door swung open and Sammy stood there, arms filled with brown paper bags.

  Aromas of pizza, hot coffee and greasy fries filled the air. My stomach growled.

  “Dinner is served,” he said as he spread paper napkins in front of me.

  We ate in silence while Rod Serling led us through The Twilight Zone.

  Later, I scooped up all the garbage, shoved it into the small can sitting under the dresser.

  Sammy shook his head, “What’s wrong with you, girl? You left half the napkins on the floor over here.” He gave me a playful slap on the butt. “I meant to tell you to make sure you clean up the bathroom after you’re done showering. You’re such a fucking slob, Julia. What am I gonna do with you?” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You could never make it in life alone, that’s for sure.”

  I thought about how Mom always said the same things to me. I was incapable of taking care of myself, weak and really not as smart as she was. Oh, sure I was good at art, but that was silly stuff, not anything anybody would pay attention to.

  I loved Georgia O’Keefe and thought if she could do it, so could I. Then Mom said she’d read an article about O’Keefe. Her husband was responsible for her success.

  “Women should be home taking care of a house anyway. And if you do see one who’s made it big, there’s always a powerful man behind her. It’s a man’s world, Julia. Why don’t you learn to cook like me instead of making such a mess with all those paints?”

  Sammy picked up the napkins, handed them to me. “Try to clean up around here. I’m going to check out the area a bit more. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Sammy changed his jeans, put on a shirt I hadn’t seen before. “I got this down at the men’s store at the end of Biscayne. Looks good, no?”

  “Yeah, looks cool.” I wondered how much of my money Sammy spent on things for himself when I wasn’t around.

  We didn’t have our talk like Sammy said we would. But I figured maybe he still needed time. I always made excuses for him. I didn’t know quite what else to do.

  I worked on my drawings after he left. I sketched the inside of the restaurant in Georgia. I did the movie posters in detail. I drew Jake behind the counter and Marla holding a menu. I realized we’d never eaten a bite there. It might have been different if Jake had made it to the phone. I wouldn’t be here now if Marla’s knowing eyes had realized that Sammy was crazier than anybody she’d ever met. I wondered if those burgers and fries would have tasted good.

  * * *

  I have no idea how long I stand here holding the phone, listening to his lilting voice. I only know I finally agree to meet him the day after tomorrow.

  He sighs, and I hear city sounds around him. A siren blares then fades. People pass by him, speaking another language. He tells me it won’t be long.

  I hang up as Mother cat flicks her tail and night begins to fall. “It’s ok, kitty, I’ll let Mrs. Aresenault know that I may be gone for a while. She’ll check in on you and your babies.”

  Mother cat meows softly then scurries beneath my bed.

  CHAPTER 40

  It’s snowing again. The forecast says it’ll be just flurries and we may have a warming trend in a couple of days—on the day I’ll be meeting him.

  I wonder if he’s aged well or if all the dope and hard living makes him look older than he is. Should I fear him? Do I have anything left to lose?

  I must remember to tell Mrs. Arsenault to check on the cats.

  * * *

  The next morning, while sitting on the bed waiting for Sammy to get out of the shower, I burst into tears and cried like a child. It came over me suddenly and without warning, but I could never be certain how Sammy might react to anything I did or said, and though he would’ve called me a baby if he’d caught me, I couldn’t be sure that’s all he’d do, so I made sure I stopped before he finished his shower.

  I heard a train rolling by and wondered if there was a station close by. My bankbook and the extra cash were in Sammy’s coat pocket. I’d found them when he locked the door behind him, after the water started gushing.

  Maybe I could leave him enough cash to get by on, take back everything that was mine—just run from him. But I kept hearing his voice saying he’d hunt me down and kill me if I ever left.

  I thought about the threats he made to my family, and again, how no matter what I did or what happened, he always seemed a step ahead of me. I couldn’t risk it. He had me completely under his control, convinced that he couldn’t be stopped. And maybe he really couldn’t be.

  A half hour passed. He opened the door, steam billowed out and he followed wrapped in a fluffy towel. Green fish and bright pink seashells floated on a white background.

  He sat down next to me and kissed my bruised cheek. “We need to get to the bank this morning. That money’s got to be transferred.”

  I touched his face as tenderly as I could.
“Don’t forget your promise.”

  He pushed my hand away. “I’m still thinking. I asked for some space. Don’t be such a fucking haunt. Everything’s gonna get done, stop asking me.”

  “Sammy, you think the cops are on our trail? That waitress said—”

  “I was so wise to that waitress,” he chuckled. “She thought she was smart, didn’t she?” He reached for his jeans, grabbed another new shirt from a bag on the bureau. “Stupid bitch found out who the smart one is. And I covered our tracks. Don’t worry about it. That was hick country. They’ll never find us.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “You hear what I just fucking said?” He turned to me. “Don’t doubt my word. Ever.” He picked up the pack of cigarettes on the dresser, took one out and lit it. “Besides those chicks—Andra and Lucy—they’ve been on the road a lot longer than us. They’ve been doing bad shit from here to kingdom come and the cops can’t track them down. If you keep moving it makes it tough.”

  At the time I wanted to believe that Andra and Lucy were just two wild kids who took off from home. That maybe they just stole here and there—just broke the law in harmless ways for cheap thrills, but their eyes told me different. There was evil in those eyes, same as Sammy’s.

  But he was different. I knew he was fooling himself. They’d get him. Eventually they’d get him. Sooner or later the cops always got the really bad ones. Didn’t they?

  I watched Sammy as he slid the small black book out from under his pillow. He rubbed his fingers over the worn leather cover then slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.