DESCENT

by Sandy DeLuca

  * * *

  “I’m taking you home.”

  Jericho carried me to an old pickup truck, gently lowered me into the passenger’s seat.

  Maria yelled at us as he drove out of the boarding house lot. She stood in the doorway; face distorted, smoke pouring from her mouth. Estrella was hunched on the roof like a gargoyle, black wings flapping, and I heard Sammy laughing as a woman pleaded for her life.

  “I’m insane, I—I have to be insane,” I said, slipping in and out of consciousness.

  “Just sleep,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

  I was groggy. Nothing seemed right. Things were missing. Everything had happened too quickly. “Where’s Johnny? Didn’t he want to come along? This isn’t your truck—the bike—”

  “Johnny’s got a lady here. I don’t know when I’ll meet up with him again—if ever. I sold the bike this morning, bought the truck for the trip back North.” Jericho stared straight ahead at the road. “Sleep now. Sleep.”

  * * *

  We rested in Jacksonville. Jericho stopped at a convenience store, bought bandages, rubbing alcohol, some aspirin and gauze then bandaged my wounds and helped me to ease the pain.

  “You’ll heal. No broken bones, nothing that needs to been stitched. No one’s ever gonna know you were involved in what went down. It’s been taken care of.”

  “He’ll tell people.”

  “He won’t. He’s got a million reasons not to.”

  * * *

  A cat crosses in front of me, stops, looks at me and then hisses.

  “Mother cat?”

  I wonder if Mrs. Arsenault has checked on the cats yet. How long have I been wandering in this place? Has it been a day, or merely a few hours?

  CHAPTER 56

  I miss the cats snuggling up against me. I miss the comfort of my paintbrush and canvas. I want to paint imaginary worlds, imaginary beings. I don’t want to be lost in this alien world any longer.

  A woman whimpers, a door slams and a man saunters into the street. There’s blood on his clothes. He’s holding a knife. I take a step backwards and watch as he gets into a car, drives away. Blood spirals through the cracks in the pavement. Am I that woman?

  I must keep going. There’s somebody waiting for me. There’s something I just have to do.

  * * *

  Jericho pulled off the side of the road, stopped in front of a payphone out in front of a small gas station.

  “You should call home, let them know what’s happening, that you’ll be home soon.”

  “I’m supposed to just show back up on my parent’s doorstep? Suppose they slam the door in my face, suppose they won’t take me back?”

  “You’re their blood, their flesh. No matter how much you think they’ve wronged you, you gotta remember that they did the best they could. Right now they’re probably regretting things they’ve said. They’re probably beating themselves up about lots of things.” He took my hand in his. “Maybe you should try calling.”

  “My mother, she—”

  “Your mother never thought you’d stay away for more than a day or two. She didn’t mean what she said to you when you called her from Jersey.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “Believe me, she didn’t mean a word of it.”

  He leaned over and opened my door.

  “Come on, I’ll be right by your side.”

  I felt sick to my stomach and my legs felt like rubber. Jericho put coins in the payphone, dialed my parent’s number.

  “I don’t know, hang up before they answer. I’ll just go with you. I won’t be any trouble I—”

  “Here.” He handed the phone to me.

  My mother’s voice sounded distant, shaky when she said, “Hello.”

  I couldn’t speak. She said, “Who is this? Hello?”

  I took a deep breath. “Mom? I’m coming home. Don’t yell. Please don’t—”

  She couldn’t stop crying.

  My father picked up the extension. He cried when I said I’d be home in a day or two at the most.

  I hung up the phone.

  Jericho smiled at me. “OK?”

  I nodded and began to cry.

  CHAPTER 57

  I felt safe with Jericho. I realized that I never quite felt at ease with Sammy, even in the beginning. He was always bragging about how he was going to do great things, about how he could outsmart others. Everyone he knew was into dark things—evil things, Bob Stanni, Tonya, Andra and Lucy. He had been something of a gentleman when we first met, but it was all a lie. He was a lie, and I knew that now. I finally knew that now.

  I wondered what he was doing as Jericho and I drove cross-country. Was he killing an innocent girl? Was he burning in Hell with Estrella and Maria?

  Jericho rarely spoke, unless it was out of concern, asking if I needed anything, if I was in any pain. He realized I needed some space to try and get things straight in my head, and gave it to me.

  We stopped for food in the Carolinas. That’s where he kissed me for the first time. It wasn’t hard and rough like Sammy’s kiss, but soft, lingering and somewhat sad. Later in Jersey he fed me home fries, stroked my hair. His eyes were sullen and masked many things I could tell he had seen and experienced, not all of them good and not all of them without consequence.

  The afternoon sun was shining when we crossed the George Washington Bridge. I drifted in and out of sleep the whole time.

  It must have been a dream. I thought Jericho stopped on the bridge and we peered over the side—looking at the water—smoky fingers poked up out of the river. Ghostly faces slowly emerged. They smiled and waved their hands in welcome.

  Then we were driving through the city. I wondered why.

  We passed a cemetery where old women and men marched in a funeral procession. The women wore shabby coats with aged fur collars and the men wore straw hats, battered and worn from years of wear. They carried oak stumps and candles burned at the tops. They nodded as Jericho slowed down. He waved back as they laid roses on a fresh grave, and then pointed to a church a few yards away.

  The signs read Prince Street, Spring Street and Broadway. We passed by the SOHO diner. Street vendors sold jewelry on folding tables. Artists lined paintings against brick walls. Why weren’t we on the highway?

  * * *

  A woman crawls out of a doorway. She’s bleeding. Her faced is covered with cobwebs. Her clothes are thick with dust. She turns her head, gazes at me and then she crumbles to pieces.

  You and Sammy murdered me in that hell room. He made you cut me. You’ve denied it, pretended that it was a dream, but you’re just as guilty as he is.

  “No,” I scream to a dusty pile of rags. “No!”

  CHAPTER 58

  There’s nothing there but a bag lady’s discarded shopping cart, some used needles and a coat too thin and torn to keep her warm when her body shakes from withdrawal.

  I can’t stop what they’re trying to tell me, accuse me of. I did dream that Sammy made me kill in Miami, but it’s not true, it can’t be.

  I hear a familiar voice.

  I’ve got to keep on walking.

  * * *

  “Hey, sleepy, girl, I’ll wake you when we get to the Rhode Island border. Connecticut is the longest stretch.”

  The sun was setting when I got home.

  Jericho turned the truck into the driveway.

  “I’ll wait until you’re inside. Go on. Your family’s waiting.”

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “I’ll call you when I get to Buffalo.” He rested his arms on the steering wheel. “Julia, I want to see you again, but I’ve got things I have to work out.”

  I didn’t want it to end. I feared that if he drove off I’d never see him again. I’d fallen in love with him long before our journey home. At times I thought he cared deeply about me as well, but why would he want to leave if he cared? Why would he want to let me go so easily after he risked so much to bring me back here?

  It couldn’t end this way. After all
I’d been through Jericho and I had to stay together. He had to make things right for me. I was hurting and I thought that if he drove away the pain would be unbearable. “I could go with you.”

  “You’re better off here for now, kid. Your Aunt Lil isn’t done with your lessons.”

  My heart sank.

  “Do me a favor; get your art out there. You’re better than you think.”

  “Promise to call?”

  “Promise.”

  * * *

  I stop for a moment, fan myself with my hand. My hair is soaked and my clothes are damp from sweat and rain. It’s not far. I can feel him, and I know there are others waiting.

  CHAPTER 59

  I decide to rest for a while and sit on a nearby bench. After a quick line of coke, I touch up my lipstick and try to distract myself from the tension coursing through me. But I can feel them watching me.

  They can wait, I tell myself. They’ve waited all these years, surely a few more minutes won’t make a difference.

  * * *

  I watched Jericho drive away then walked slowly to the front door and knocked.

  The door swung open to reveal my father standing there, pale; his hair wild. “Julia, we thought you were dead for so long. My God, my sweet Lord.”

  My mother hugged me. “Aunt Lil said the Devil stole you. She always tried to cover up for you.”

  My Aunt Lil grabbed my hand. “He did.” Her eyes met mine and there was understanding. “Cara Mia, I prayed every day and night—”

  My father hugged me, said lovingly. “Your mother changed the sheets on your bed. Everything’s like you left it. I even bought you some new paints, some canvas—just in case you—” He began to sob.

  “Cara, sleep. I’ll send angels into your dreams.” My aunt kissed me on the cheek.

  The sheets were so crisp, so cool. My father had even opened the window so I could hear the trees rusting outside.

  I dreamed of Jericho, riding down a long winding road, Sammy on his tail in that old Impala, a shotgun clutched in his hand.

  * * *

  He’s calling me. I hear him inside my head. He’s only a few blocks away. I’m so afraid. I’m excited. Should I kiss him when I see him? It’s not too late to turn around.

  Julia.

  He knows I won’t stand him up.

  CHAPTER 60

  My feet are aching. They’re swollen and red. My shoe straps are cutting into my ankles and toes. I’ve got to keep walking.

  * * *

  I slept for twelve hours straight. When I woke up my father was sitting at the edge of my bed. He moved closer and kissed me.

  “Feeling better?”

  “It’s going to take time.”

  He thought for a while, his eyes flickered from the window, over my face, over the bruises on my arms. “Were you with Sammy? There’s been some news about him and a mystery girl. He killed people. They say they’re close to catching him. They said the girl is innocent, but she’s wanted for questioning.” His voice was stern.

  “You know the answer to that, Daddy. I’m sorry—I—”

  “Did you leave anything behind? Anything that could identify you?”

  “Everything was burned.” Besides, I thought, Jericho had said everything had been taken care of.

  “I’m not going to ask why.” My father shrugged. “We’ve been telling people you were away in New York, pursuing your art, just like you always wanted to. I doubt they’ll connect it. If they do, then we’ll just lie about it.”

  My Aunt appeared in the doorway, waved her finger back and forth. “Don’t you start on her, she’s been through a lot. If you love her you’ll accept her back with no ques—”

  My father waved his hand at my aunt. “Lil, I love my daughter, mind your business.” His gaze fell on my arms again. “He abused you, didn’t he?”

  “I’m fine. The guy who brought me home took care of me.”

  My mother appeared in the doorway behind Lil. “I’m calling Dr. Alonzo.”

  Lil rolled her eyes. “Oh, no. That drunken Bastard don’t know shit. Leave the girl alone, at least for now.”

  “He’s very old now, he’s a drunk, but he won’t talk.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe later. I’ll make some pasta. Julia’s lost so much weight. When I was her age my face was rosy and full.”

  My aunt sat opposite my father, put her hand in mine. I whispered in her ear. “Things never change.”

  “Stata zita. Can’t you see that they love you? And you’re wrong, a lot has changed.” Tears glistened in her eyes.

  Something was wrong, missing and a terrible darkness filled me. “Where’s Grandma and Grandpa? I thought they’d be—”

  My mother started to sob. “Your grandparents. They’re dead. Freak accident. Grandpa insisted he had to go to see a priest in New York to pray for you. Of all things, a bus accident. Five other people were killed.”

  I got out of bed and hugged my mother. “I’m so sorry.” She remained that way for a few minutes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Me too, Julia. If I hadn’t done—”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  “Oh, look at your arms. They’re all bruised.”

  I ignored her. “I’m sorry, Aunty—about Grandpa and Grandma. How are you doing?” I hugged her.

  My mother didn’t give her a chance to speak. “She’s doing okay. She went out and bought a friggin red Mustang, do you believe it?”

  “I can believe just about anything now. I’ve been through a lot. I’m so tired.”

  “Then sleep.” My father ushered my mother and aunt out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  I dreamed of Miami, of the boarding house on Biscayne bursting into flames and the ghosts of all those who Sammy killed applauding as it turned to ashes.

  * * *

  I wipe my nose with a tissue. It comes back stained with blood, and I can only wonder how much more will be spilled before this day is over.

  CHAPTER 61

  The sun is hot it feels like I’m melting. I hear voices, people crying, wailing like wolves.

  I can still smell him, the subtle odor of weed and sweat. I can feel his whiskers brush across my face, but it’s only the wind.

  I pass an old storefront. I look terrible. My hair is wet, plastered against my face. My makeup has washed away, revealing a grayish complexion and black rimmed eyes. Have I died?

  I hear somebody singing Gimme Shelter. Didn’t he love The Stones as much as I did?

  * * *

  I wondered over and over if Sammy had found out that I was still alive, if he was trekking back up here to kill us all. I also wondered if Jericho was all right. He hadn’t called as he’d promised.

  One stormy Sunday afternoon, after weeks of worry and heartache the phone rang. Jericho’s voice was cool and steady after I’d said, “Hello.”

  “There’s news.”

  A million possibilities ran through my head: Sammy was here, he’d killed more people, maybe he was even standing outside my front door as Jericho spoke to me.

  “Please tell me he’s dead.”

  “No, he’s not dead, but some other people are. There was a fire over at the boarding house, nothing huge, just flames in the front office, but it was enough so that somebody saw it and made a call. Cops and firemen responded to it. Sammy was the only person they found there still alive. He was just sitting by the pool, smoking a joint, reading that fucking book. There were corpses in all the rooms, most of them had been there a long time.”

  “Maria and Estrella?”

  “Funny thing about the boarding house, about the sisters.”

  “What?”

  “Six months before you checked in there with Sammy the two women who’d owned the boarding house were murdered. Some of the guests had been killed too. Fucking creepy shit.”

  “Who were those women, those people?”

  “Some things are better left alone.” I heard traffic in the background; figured Jericho was
at a payphone. “They locked Sammy up, charged him with the death of a young girl found by the pool. They also booked him for the stuff that went down while you two were on the road.”

  “Did he tell the police about me?”

  “No. He claimed the girl who was with him was dead but he wouldn’t tell them anything else about who she was or where her body was, so you’re OK.”

  “And he’s locked up now?”

  “That all went down yesterday. They locked him up and this morning he was gone. Poof, like a puff of smoke.”

  “Jericho, he’ll find me.”

  “Stay calm, kid. I’ll be seeing you.”

  The operator chimed in, asked Jericho to deposit more change. I heard a click and the line went dead. I figured he’d call back in a minute or two, but he didn’t.

  * * *

  I often think that I am beyond fear, that nothing can spook me, not even demons glaring from the corner of a dark room; not the dead who visit me over and over again without warning.

  I’m not afraid to die. I’ve seen what happens when people die. They still exist. They haunt the living. They still reside in the shadows and in my dreams.