by Unknown
The skunk bent down, lifted its tail, and sprayed.
It was so vivid, so real, that when I awoke and sat up in bed, I had to slap my face twice. The smell of the skunk lingered, even as I stood up, even as I walked to the other side of the room. I clenched my nose with my fingers. The odor didn’t dissipate until I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I checked my phone. 7:30 AM.
“Shit,” I said.
I jumped in the shower, and rushed to get ready. I threw on whatever clothes I had handy, brushed my hair for about five seconds, and grabbed my binder. I opened the door to leave—but then stopped.
I turned around. Sniffed. The smell was still there. Was it a dead mouse? Inside the wall or something? I shuddered, slammed the door, and ran down the hallway.
In all my rushing, I still barely made it to my ethics final. I found my seat and didn’t even have time to catch my breath, when Mr. Cutler dropped the tome of a test on my desk. Eight essay topics, and we had to choose five of them. I picked the one that looked easiest, and started to write.
As hard as I tried to stay focused, however, the beach dream with Evan wouldn’t leave my mind. It had started off so great.
But what was up with that skunk?
Chapter 13
Three down, two to go.
Wednesday’s 8 AM final for History of Africa was guaranteed to be the worst one yet, so I scarfed down a ham sandwich in the Lair and returned to the library for another round of studying. I was so close to done with the semester I could almost taste the tap water at my new Culver City apartment. Three more days. I kept repeating it in my head, over and over. When I wasn’t learning about iron ore and apartheid, of course.
History of Africa was the one class Lukas and I shared (we had sociology together, too, but on different days, annoyingly), so I was grateful when he showed up in the early afternoon to work with me.
“Did you just come from a final?” I asked. “You didn’t text me back.”
“Yeah, Sound Design. The test was like a thousand questions long, I didn’t tell you about that?”
“No, uh-uh.”
“It sucked. Probably still more fun though than this Africa test is gonna be.”
I laughed, and continued filling out my index cards. “I don’t think a final, in any shape or form, is supposed to be fun, Lukas.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, then shot me a big grin. “I can't believe this is my last one.”
“Really? Already? I’m so jealous. I think I should just skip my stupid Gender Communications final on Friday, and declare tomorrow the official start of summer.”
“Yeah? You worn out?”
“We shouldn’t have studied so late last night, I’m exhausted.” I pushed the binder over to Lukas, and pointed at the terms and definitions on page two. “So can you start making flashcards of these, and I’ll do the ones on the first page, and then we can quiz each other—”
My phone started ringing. I ignored it for a second, and put an asterisk near the section I wanted Lukas to look over. But the phone kept buzzing, a third time, a fourth time.
“Hold on,” I said. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at the Caller ID. I didn’t answer right away. I just stared.
“What?” Lukas asked, looking up. “Who is it?”
“It’s… uhh… Evan.” He never called me. Ever. I didn't even think he had my number.
Lukas motioned his head toward the phone. “Well, aren’t you gonna pick it up?”
I nodded, and pressed the phone against my ear. “Hello? Evan?”
“Hey Sydney.” His voice sounded deeper than usual, like he had spent the morning puffing away on cigarettes. He also called me Sydney, and not Syd, never a good sign.
“Hey. How are you?”
“I'm, uhh...” he said. “It’s Melanie.”
“Melanie? What about her?” Again he used the full name.
“She’s not answering her phone.”
I glanced at Lukas. He pretended to be studying, like he was not interested in our conversation. But I knew he totally was.
“Well, maybe try her again?” I said, like a moron.
“I’ve called her a hundred times today. I thought she was just ignoring me, but now I’m getting worried. I haven’t talked to her since Saturday.”
“Since Saturday?” My jaw dropped a little. “But... isn't today your anniversary?”
Lukas finally looked up. Closed his binder. “What’s going on?” he whispered. I shook my head, and turned my chair around.
“Yeah, but she hasn’t gotten back to me,” Evan said. “I’ve made all these plans, and she’s not picking up her phone. Have you seen her?”
“I haven't been in the dorm much these last few days, but yeah, I saw her last night. She was asleep when I got back from studying. Maybe go check in the room? See if she's still there?”
“Oh, thank God.” He let out a noticeable sigh on the other end. “Oh, that's such a relief to hear. Thank you.”
“Sure, no problem.” He was acting so weird. What had gotten into him?
“Are you in the library?”
“Yeah, why?” I hated that I frequented the place so much it was an easy guess.
“I know you’re probably busy, but can you come unlock your dorm for me?” he asked. “I don't have a key.”
I didn’t have to think it over. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right out.” I hung up. Looked at Lukas.
“What’d he say?” he asked.
I got up, slid my chair in. “Can you watch my stuff? I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah, but... wait…” I started walking away. Didn’t look back. “Sydney, where are you going?”
I rushed through the book aisles, down the stairs, out the main door. I turned to my left. Didn’t see him.
“Sydney!” Evan shouted, from my right. As soon as he saw me, he started running.
“Evan! Hey!” He slowed down when he reached the library, then stopped to catch his breath. “Is everything all right?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m this close to calling the police.”
“The police? Why?”
He coughed, and brought his head back up. “This isn't like her. Going days without returning my calls. I'm scared.”
“Evan, calm down,” I said. “I’m sure this is just some misunderstanding.”
We walked down the sidewalk, and headed up the hill toward the sophomore dorms.
“She’s never just ignored me like this, not once,” he said. “She knew our anniversary was tonight. Good or bad, she should have told me if she wanted to cancel it. If she wanted to break up with me.”
“You really think she wants to break up with you? How do you know?”
“I don't... I just... she might be,” he said. “I feel like I don't know anything anymore.”
I searched for excuses. “Maybe her phone died.”
“Her phone didn’t die. What, for three days? Come on.”
“Maybe she’s been busy with finals. There’s not good reception in the library, maybe that’s why you can’t reach her?”
“She’s not in the library. Melanie never goes to the library.”
“Maybe there was an emergency? Something to make her leave campus?”
He shook his head, over and over again. “No. Something’s going on. I need to get in the room. See if she's still there. Or if she left me a note or something. You said you saw her, right?”
“Yeah, last night, before I went to bed. She was asleep. She hasn't disappeared or anything, Evan, don't worry. You certainly don't need to call the police.” We reached the top of the hill and took the last steps toward McCarthy Hall. “Wait, so all this time and you didn't think to go to the room and knock on the door?”
“Of course I did. Once yesterday, and twice this morning. There was no answer.” He pushed his hands against his neck, like he wanted to cry, or start screaming, I couldn't tell which. “I went and talked to Lea, Daisy, Kendra. Anyo
ne I could think of who she could have been with these last couple days. Nobody’s seen her since Saturday night. Well... nobody except you.”
When we reached the front of the building, I dug my student ID out of my pocket and slipped it through the lock. “This is ridiculous,” I said, and opened the door. “I don’t know why she’s doing this to you, Evan.”
“I don't either. I swear, if I can't find her by tonight...”
“We'll find her before then, all right? I promise. I won't leave your side until we do.”
“Thanks,” he said, and waved me to the stairwell.
We ran up to the third floor and headed down the hallway. I slipped my ID through the slot, but it blinked red. I tried it again. Red.
“Goddammit,” I said. I pulled against the handle, but the door was locked. I slipped the card in a third time. Red again. I tried it a fourth time, a fifth time. Why did it always take me so long to get in the room? It was like the universe was willing the door not to open.
“Here, let me try,” Evan said, and he grabbed the card from me. He slipped it in and out, real fast. Green.
“Guess you have the magic touch,” I said.
“Guess so.” He pushed the door open.
I took only two steps, before I almost collapsed from the stench. I struck my hands against the wall and hunched over. “Oh… oh Jesus…”
Evan brought his hand to his mouth, pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger. “What is that smell?” he asked. “Is that coming from the bathroom?”
“No, it can’t be.” I pinched my nose, too, and glanced, apprehensively, at the toilet. Nothing. I looked at Evan and shrugged. “Maybe it's a dead rat in the wall?”
He shook his head, and stepped closer to Melanie’s desk. “Melanie? You’re not in here, are you?” No response.
I headed toward him, took another whiff of the godawful stench. It smelled like chicken breasts left in the back of a refrigerator two months past their expiration date, or the dead carcass of a Mastiff I once came across in a back alley while jogging. Five more seconds and I was going to upchuck all over the carpet, so I whirled around and ran out of the room—and Evan followed.
We both started coughing when we reached the hallway, and I gagged into the nearest trash can. “Oh God,” I said. I breathed in and out, tried not to throw up. Breathing in the moldy trash was a relief; it smelled like a newly planted pine tree compared to the stink in my dorm room.
I turned around and hobbled toward Evan. He was in better shape, standing perfectly still as he tried to regain control of his breathing, but he still didn't look too good.
I pulled out my phone. “I’m gonna call the main office downstairs. See if they can send someone.”
Evan took out his phone, too. Started dialing.
“Who are you calling?” I asked.
“Who do you think?” he said. “Melanie.” He put the phone up to his ear. I noticed tears welling up in his eyes, like he knew an awful truth I hadn't begun to imagine. “I’m gonna keep trying her… until she picks up… until I hear her voice… until…”
The ringing was faint, from inside my dorm. But it was there. Evan brought his phone down and stared at me, and I stared right back. Neither of us said a word. We both covered our noses and opened the door. The ringing echoed across the room, and came from under the desk.
From Melanie's purse.
I walked across the room, dropped down to my knees, and pulled the purse toward me; it had been hidden pretty well under her desk, but I was still shocked I hadn't seen it before. I accidentally caught another whiff of the smell, and gagged, briefly, against the carpet. I took out the phone. It was Melanie’s. It rang one more time, before Evan’s call went to voice-mail.
I looked back at Evan. He wasn’t focused on me; he was looking up, in a hypnotic trance.
“Oh dear God,” he said.
I followed his gaze to the top bunk. The realization didn’t hit me right away. I still thought the smell had to be coming from a dead rat, or a dead mouse, or any other kind of dead critter.
But then I saw the feet. Again.
“What?” I said.
I jumped up on Melanie's desk and darted my eyes toward the bunk. Near the edge were the covers, rolled up into a ball. On the other side, shoved up against the wall, was a body, turned on its side. Flies were circling it.
“No,” I said. “No, no, no, no…”
I crawled up onto the bed, brought my hand down from my nose to the mattress. My tears started to overwhelm me, to the point that the stench didn’t faze me.
“Melanie…” I reached out for her arm. My hand was shaking. My whole body trembled with a miserable medley of terror and grief. “Melanie, talk to me…”
I pushed on her shoulder, and she rolled toward me. I struck my fists against the ceiling and screamed.
Her eyes were all white, her skin was piss yellow, her face was melting against the sheets like a microwaved ice cream bar. Her mouth dropped open, and a worm slithered out, right onto my hand.
I screamed, again, this time so loud I must have caught the attention of the entire campus. I fell off the bed, and slammed my head, my back—everything—against the carpet.
I got the wind knocked out of me.
But I really wished I had blacked out.
“Melanie,” I said. “She’s… she’s…”
Evan pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me. He started sobbing, uncontrollably, against the top of my head.
“She’s gone,” he said.
Chapter 14
“Are you ready?”
I stared at myself in the mirror. The lipstick was too much. I grabbed a piece of toilet paper and blotted it off. “I just need one more minute,” I said. “Can you hang on a sec?”
I pulled down on my dress, the only one I had in the appropriate color. It was so tight and uncomfortable that I considered tossing it in the trash and buying something at a thrift store along the way, but there wasn’t time.
I cocked my head to the left and right, then grabbed another of my lipsticks. Raised it to my face.
Another knock on the door. “Sydney, we have to go. We’re gonna be late.”
I sighed, and set the lipstick down. “All right, I’m coming.”
I followed Lukas out of our apartment, toward the parking lot. We headed down the two flights of stairs and passed the crowded swimming pool. He unlocked his Volkswagon Jetta and opened the passenger door for me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“It’s fine.” He nodded to me as I sat down, then hurried over to the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. He was wearing all black—shirt, slacks, belt—but sported a pink tie. “The funeral should have a little color,” he told me an hour ago. “It’s what Melanie would have wanted.”
I wanted to assure him he had no idea what Melanie would have wanted, but then I remembered he knew about as much as I did. Would Melanie have wanted to be buried or cremated? Would she have wanted her funeral to be in the morning, afternoon, or evening? Would she have even wanted me there?
These were questions I kept asking myself all morning, but the only person who could have answered them was gone, for good. One minute I was yelling at her at the side of a road, and the next, she was dead. I was grateful for our encounter at the coffee shop, that her last memory of me wasn’t my screaming like a maniac—but still, as her roommate, and as her friend, I could have done better.
Lukas pulled out of the complex and headed down Canterbury Street, toward the 405 freeway. “Do you know what the parking situation is there?” he asked.
“I'm not sure, actually. I've never been to this part of the city.”
“You know the exit we take, right?”
“Yes. Here, I have the directions.” I pulled the paper out of my purse, and unfolded it. “So the place is called Oakwood Memorial Park. Take the 118 east to Topanga Canyon. It's in Chatsworth.”
“Chatsworth? Really?” Lukas let out a qui
ck laugh. “I’ve been there before. That’s where they make the porno movies.”
I rolled my eyes. “They do not.”
“They do, too! I read it online. Apparently if you rent a place in Chatsworth, you have to check off on your lease agreement that you’ll let them film sex scenes, gay and straight, in your bedroom. And if you say no, then you have to...”
He stopped his lame joke when I started crying. I’d cried enough for five years in the never-ending week following Melanie’s passing, and I didn't think I had an extra tear to shed. Of course, I was proven wrong last night, and again now, as we pulled onto the freeway.
“Aww, Sydney…” Lukas said. He grabbed the box of Kleenex from the back seat and handed them to me. The man had come prepared.
I blew my nose, then shoved my hands over my face. “Oh God,” I said. “It’s horrible, it’s just so horrible…”
“I know.”
“How could I have let this happen?”
“It's okay. We've gone over this—”
“How could I just let her die?” I struck my fist against the glove compartment.
Lukas didn’t yell at me, didn’t scold me for beating up his car. He just said, as he always did, “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I was so stupid,” I said. “I was such an idiot. Three whole fucking days…”
“I know,” he said.
“She was dead in the room, all that time, and I didn’t even know. What good is an A on my sociology final when I can’t fucking see that my roommate’s dead?”
“Hey, you deserved that A—”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. If I had just paid a little more attention to Melanie than to my goddamned finals, maybe she’d still be alive.”
Lukas bit down on his lower lip, like he was trying to find the right choice of words to put me at ease. “You don’t know that, Sydney. Melanie died in her sleep. Even if you had found her the next morning—hell, the middle of the night—there’s nothing you could have done.”
I shook my head. I thought back on that weekend over and over again, like a nightmare I could never wake up from. It had been two weeks since her death, eleven days since we found her rotting in the dorm, and all I’d accomplished since that catastrophic moment was moving into my new apartment and learning the joys of insomnia.