The Death Mask

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by Tom Raimbault


  Chapter Eighteen

  It was about half-past midnight and just over twelve hours since the disaster unraveled at the Dickly castle. Very rarely do we hear of the woman being in the doghouse, but in this situation, Amber couldn't help but feel at fault. And she wasn't even going to try slipping in her own bed with Michael. Tonight, she opted to sleep in Trista's bedroom; awakening every forty-five minutes or so in such worry and apprehension. Surely her days—her hours—were numbered at the Dickly castle.

  While lying on her side with eyes closed, Amber could hear the bedroom door carefully open and Michael enter. “Amber, are you sleeping?”

  Amber immediately turned over to face him, “Not really…”

  “Amber, why don't you come to bed? There's no reason for you to sleep in here. I'm still very angry and not sure how to react, but don't sleep in here tonight.”

  Through an afternoon and evening of giving the silent treatment, Michael was finally ready to speak to Amber. The punishment was clearly on his own terms; but again, Amber felt much at fault and was also disappointed in herself for failing the man she loved. Without saying a word, she stood up from bed, checked little Trista who slept in her crib and then cautiously walked out of the room and down the hall.

  She sat on her side of the bed as Michael entered the room and closed the door. Michael softly spoke as if careful not to show anger. “Why, Amber? Why did you let this happen? How did this happen?”

  “I'm sorry, Michael. It's just… We were talking about love and dating, and I realized she never had a boyfriend. I guess I thought… Well…”

  Michael finished her statement, “Turning Paulette over to some stranger on the computer to talk dirty to her would make it all better? Amber, he didn't just talk dirty to her, he said all kinds of things and wrote all kinds of stories to make her fall in love. You don't know what it's like for someone in her condition. How do you know that words don't affect her differently than you and me?”

  Amber sighed, “I didn't find an online pen pal for him to talk dirty to her. I just thought it would be nice for her to correspond with a friend, that's all. The sex talk came after all that.”

  “And you let it continue?”

  “I didn't know how to stop her! I could see she was in love.”

  “Then you should have done like your mother and father would have done, and put a stop to it. You're supposed to be protecting her and taking care of her.”

  Up until recently, Amber would have argued that interfering with Paulette's love life would have made matters worse and resulted in a negative, long-term outcome. But seeing the results of the past twenty-four hours, she had grown into realizing that parents aren't supposed to be a teenager's friend. If only she understood this sooner.

  “I'm sorry, Michael. I really am.”

  Still very angry, but wishing to restore peace in the house, Michael walked over to his side of the bed and slipped back under the covers. “I know you are. I can see that. Make sure you turn your light off before falling asleep.”

  It was such a halfhearted attempt of making up and showing forgiveness. But it was probably all for very, good reason. Amber failed Michael's test; a clear indicator that she was not up to the task of caring for Paulette in Michael's absence. Being that Amber placed Paulette in danger, she was the last person Michael should have trusted. But he loved Amber and needed her so badly. What was he to do? It was too late to fire the caretaker. Michael would fall to pieces upon seeing Amber pack up and leave the Dickly castle forever. As the days passed, he decided to never show forgiveness; only realize how sorry Amber was and see how she had grown from the experience. Perhaps this unhealed wound would have forced Amber to be more careful in the future.

  But an unhealed and unaddressed transgression was easy for Amber to overlook, being that the early spring months brought conversations of marriage, soon to follow an actual proposal with enormous engagement ring and ultimately a beautiful wedding in June.

  But you don't wish to be bothered with the boring details of a perfect wedding made possible by Michael Dickly's wealth. Rest assured it was everything Amber ever wished for. And it made possible for her to overlook those loose ends, mainly items on her own side of the family.

  To begin with, Mother and Father refused to meet or acquaint themselves with their daughter's future husband. Already a few surgeries and still in casts from the accident, Mother was deathly frightened of Amber after that terribly cold day in December. Father and Amber's own brother and sister were brainwashed by Mother. The family shared the belief that Amber was now the estranged member. Out of decency, they did attend the wedding and reception, but remained distant. And it wasn't until near the last minute when Father had a change of heart and decided to walk his daughter down the aisle. After all, what terrible crime did Amber commit? She fell in love with a wealthy man and would spend the rest of her life in comfort.

  Way in the distance of that day, Amber noticed a subtle and frightening strangeness. Against what would have been Mother's wishes, Amber was sure to invite everyone on her side of the family. This included the outcasts of strange people who lived about an hour away from the Mapleview and Sillmac area. Throughout her life, Mother insisted on never associating with those people. One of these people was Mother's own sister.

  Throughout the day of Amber's wedding, she could feel the strange people in the distance carefully watching her. They studied her while speaking in such a way that their whispered words could be heard by Amber—even from a distance.

  But Amber ignored them, insisting that she was not one of them. Occasionally one of the strange people would approach and congratulate Amber with eyes deeply set into Amber's as if carefully reading and seeing through her. Of course she was sure to mask herself. Amber was a happy, young woman who married the man of her dreams. That was the only thing important on that day, and the mask she wore to fool everyone, including herself.

  * * *

  It is also worth mentioning the honeymoon that Amber chose. With children each of their own, Michael and Amber's honeymoon was more of a family vacation. Paulette certainly couldn't take care of herself, and it would not be possible for Amber to have her own mother care for Trista while gone.

  It was an easy solution for Michael. A nice two week cruise would have provided plenty of fun and relaxation for the family.

  But Amber wasn't so thrilled with the idea. “Michael, how many cruises did you and Linsey go on as a family?”

  “Oh, plenty! We'd go on a cruise at least twice a year. If not, we would spend a week at some tropical resort.”

  Amber quickly replied, “So that Paulette could do nothing but sit and enjoy the scenery?”

  Michael was at a loss of words. How could Amber have cruelly stated the obvious? Of course Paulette was taken into consideration for each family vacation! She was confined to a wheelchair, and a cruise was easy. Just set her out on the pool deck all day.

  Amber then asked, “Has Paulette ever been to Disney World?”

  “No…”

  Caring for a paralyzed girl would take much work. But being Paulette's new mother, Amber felt the best gift would have been to give her teenage daughter a fun-filled vacation at Disney World. She would ensure that every attraction, every ride and every show would be enjoyable for Paulette, regardless of any inconvenience brought on by her condition. And Disney makes plenty of accommodations for handicapped individuals. There was no reason for Paulette not to visit.

  Chapter Nineteen

  How times change! Married at twenty-three years-old; seven years later made Amber a woman of thirty. And seven years certainly aged Michael so that his hair turned all gray. Being that his business continued to expand, there was an increasing demand for Michael's attention; so much, in fact, that his body changed into that of an overworked businessman who spent many hours traveling, living in hotels and eating things that would certainly alter his physique into that of being mushy, flabby and unappealing.

  But these things
didn't cause Amber to feel as though she married the wrong man. It was the fact that Michael spent so much time away from home on business. And when not on business, most certainly he would be on golf outings with friends and colleagues, many of these outings in another state. Although pleasure, Michael stressed the importance of playing golf as it was his way of networking.

  The beautiful, wilderness town of Sillmac has many of these stories of lonely housewives. With such an elite population of wealthy people, surely one spouse out of every marriage is overworked from a career. And this is why Amber did not blame herself for her recent behavior. A simple trip to the grocery store would usually precede stretching into a nice pair of tight-ass jeans and a matching top that boasted her beautiful skin. Sometimes her top would be low cut to reveal cleavage that had been squashed together by a pushup bra. Her hair would be done extra nice along with subtle hints of makeup that might have called out for attention. Amber was a lonely woman; and although not ready to surrender to infidelity, she needed to know that men still found her attractive.

  Looking outstanding was important to Amber. Not all the women in the grocery store would be lonely housewives seeking attention. Some of them were quite happy in their marriages. It's just that times have changed, and married women remain attractive through the years.

  There was once-upon-a-time when a wife might have walked past her husband who sat on the sofa, drinking a beer. The husband would be quick to ask, “Where are you going?”

  “To the store.”

  “Dressed like that? I don't think so! Get back in the bedroom and put something decent on. You're not going out dressed like that!” And then he would take it a step further. “What are you getting at the store, anyway?”

  “Milk… We need milk.”

  The husband would reassure his wife, “I've got enough for cereal in the morning. You don't need to run out and get milk. Stay home!”

  And that would be the end of the conversation as any obedient wife would do as her husband said.

  But today's husbands are so adoring and respectful of their wives. They realize there is cost for having an exceptionally beautiful wife and allow them to prance through the stores and public places with tight-ass jeans, revealing tops, done-up faces and styled hair. It's why my own wife won't even let me out of the house. There is plenty of heart-racing eye-candy walking the streets and shopping centers in my neighborhood.

  Satisfied that she could compete with the other beautiful women who would be shopping that fine, Saturday morning in June; Amber's next order of business was to locate her eight-year-old-daughter, Trista. Surely Trista was outside on this fine, Saturday morning in June. Before running downstairs, Amber peeked her head into Paulette's bedroom, “I'm going to the store. You'll be alright for about an hour?”

  With greasy hair, scummy teeth and still in her sleepwear; Paulette nodded.

  “I'll give you a bath when I get home. Just sit tight. I have some things to do this morning.”

  And Amber had things to do yesterday, and the day before that. Paulette was now going on three days without a bath or having her teeth brushed. She remained in the same nightgown for nearly three days and was beginning notice her own stink. Even worse, Paulette hadn't been downstairs in three days—the last time being Wednesday when Father left for his golf outing. In recent times, Paulette wished her father had more time to be at home. It would appear that Father's absence brought with it some neglect on Amber's part. But she couldn't blame Amber for not going downstairs this time. Somehow the chairlift broke while bringing Paulette up the stairs on Wednesday night. Fortunately the lift made it to the top of the stairs!

  Most of Amber's neglect and hidden resentment wasn't done on purpose. With Trista getting older, there were new obligations as there are for any parent. As a toddler, it was easy to care for Trista along with Paulette. Although certainly challenging at times—up late at night with a sick child, dealing with temper tantrums, etc—a toddler's needs are simpler than a kid in grammar school. A toddler only needs Mother to be near, showing affection, providing food or changing a diaper. But Trista now had new demands for her mother. Not only did she require help with homework and needed to discuss conflicts or silly happenings at school; there was an increasing demand for Amber to come to the school assemblies and support Trista in her sudden interest in extracurricular activities. Caring for an invalid, twenty-three-year-old, adopted daughter took a backseat. Aside from that, Amber wouldn't have Trista feeling that she was second best.

  Just as expected, Trista was outside enjoying her jumbo playground. Her favorite activity in recent times: practicing penny drops from the monkey bars. Tumbling was every Tuesday and Thursday night, and Trista was very proud at her ability to do an advanced exercise.

  “Come-on, Trista, let's go to the store.”

  “Awe, how long are we going to be gone?”

  “Not long, about an hour.”

  * * *

  Just as expected, the Saturday grocery store was a regular meat market of gorgeous women who browsed the aisles in their finest, sexy attire—some of them screaming for attention just as Amber did. To eliminate the competition, Amber tried going to the store on Friday nights, but men usually didn't shop on Fridays.

  While picking out fruit for the week, Amber felt and soon noticed the chubby, shaggy-shoe-horse-bald produce manager with cheesy moustache watching her. That wasn't exactly what she had in mind. He'd give any woman attention; even force it on her like some creepy stalker. Was there anyone younger and more appealing?

  Although quick to give a barely-noticeable glance, younger men were usually in the honeymoon phase of their marriage and walked very close to their wives. In fact, a younger man seemed to follow his wife around like a lost puppy dog. A newlywed wife appeared to have had quite enough of her new husband and it was time to enforce who was boss in the marriage. Only showing kindness in rare moments, a newlywed wife was… well, a spoiled, little bitch. These young women had no idea how nice they had it. Amber would have gladly traded her absent, gray-haired, old-man husband for a younger, loving man who only wished to enjoy his wife.

  Further walking along the aisles was like a gallery that illustrated the progressive stages of marriage that might have caused Amber to consider where she stood in the order of chaos. People were so wonderfully in love before getting married. But then a newlywed wife, who left the comfort of mom and dad's wing, might have become unreasonably disappointed with her new life and projected haughtiness towards her husband. A couple kids later might have transformed her into a worn, haggard and miserably plump woman who dressed in sloppy sweatpants and a dirty, messy shirt. And this was the sort of wife who was accompanied by the good-looking hunk in his early thirties. A small child sat in the shopping cart and another clung to his wife's shirttail while walking beside her. Although her husband was attentive and did what he could to make the morning easier, he could sense a considerable animosity from his wife. What ever happened to the tenderness and romance of earlier years? Why couldn't he reach her? Why did she fight him so?

  She was too worn out to enjoy her marriage. And this obviously showed as her husband soon took notice of Amber. That was the sort of man who Amber wished attention from! His chemistry announced how he wanted her so badly as his deep, bedroom eyes locked with Amber's. But Amber was safe. He was with his wife, and wouldn't dare approach the exciting woman. Amber merely smiled and walked past while giving her ass a little twitch—some eye-candy to be seen and not touched.

  And all these things took place on a Saturday morning in June: haughty, newlywed wives; bitter, resentful and haggard moms; and women like Amber who pranced about the store while silently begging for attention. Perhaps women were better off in the old days when a fat, beer-chugging slob would dictate, “You're not going anywhere! Stay home!” Did women feel more loved and appreciated, then?

  * * *

  Rest assured, Paulette received her long, overdue bath just before lunch and had her teeth light
ly grazed with the toothbrush.

  “Your Father is coming home, tomorrow.” said Amber.

  Thank God for that! At least Paulette would have a brief moment of daily hygiene while Father was in between business trips, conventions or golf outings. Paulette considered advising Father of the mistreatment that started in recent years. But she feared punishment from Amber when Father went away. Even still, what if Amber left? Would there come a day when Paulette would be dumped in a nursing home because Father was busy? Unfortunately, this question only spawned further concerns for Paulette of her future. There would certainly be a day when Father would be gone and possibly Amber. How could Paulette prepare for her future?

  Chapter Twenty

  By Sunday morning, the wheelchair lift magically worked again! “Maybe something was shorted.” was Amber's quick and easy answer. Whatever the reason, it was now possible for Paulette to come downstairs, cleaned and dressed in fresh clothes to wait for Father's return.

  There was no point in wishing as it wouldn't come true. Although Amber would have wanted her husband to return home in the morning—hours before dinner—Michael was scheduled to return home in the late afternoon. Surely this would mean a quick greeting and brief peck to Amber's lips before visiting a moment with Paulette and Trista. Then he would ask of what's for dinner. Upon hearing the answer he would announce going down into the cellar for a bottle of wine. Amber once tried pulling a bottle of wine from the cellar before Michael came home. But sure enough, it wasn't the type or flavor that he wished for that night. It was necessary for Michael to hand pick his own bottle upon returning home from a trip, which usually took about an hour-and-half.

 

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