Last Car to Annwn Station

by Michael Merriam

  “What’s that?”

  “Neither of us will ever get that time back. And you’re out three ninety-five.”

  “Actually, half the cable bill is yours now.”

  “I’m sure I shouldn’t be made to pay for that. In fact, I think I’ve already paid enough. What are you planning to do for the rest of the evening?”

  Jill shrugged. “I could paint your toenails.”

  Mae laughed. “Why?”

  Jill wiggled her own toes with their burgundy-colored nails. “Because it would make you feel pretty, oh so pretty.”

  Mae turned, pointing herself at Jill. She rested her right arm on the back of the couch and laid her head on it. “Could I ask you a personal question?”

  Jill’s pale blue eyes held surprise, but she nodded. “Sure. I guess there are a lot of things you don’t know about me. Ask away.”

  “Tell me about your family.”

  Jill drew a deep breath. “Well. You really went for the big one, didn’t you? Is there anything left in that bottle?”

  Mae lifted the wine bottle. “No. We drank it all to numb the pain of the movie. Should I open another?”

  Jill smiled, all lopsided and melancholy. “Yes, please. Get the merlot out for this.”

  Mae returned with an open bottle and two clean glasses. She poured for both of them and passed a glass to Jill. “You don’t have to—”

  “No. It’s okay.” Jill took a long sip of her wine then began to idly play with a bit of loose thread on the back of the couch. “When I made that little comment about taking you to meet my mother, well, it would be more to horrify her than anything else. You don’t deserve that, and you never have to meet my mother or my father, unless you feel a deep burning desire to do so.”

  “I take it they don’t approve of your life?”

  Jill raised her eyebrows and nodded. “You could say that. My father does something in real estate. Buying. Selling. Leasing. Something. He’s been quite successful at it, as was my grandfather and, if the stories are true, my great-grandfather.”

  “Your family has money?”

  “My family has a lot of money. My family lives in one of those big houses in Edina. My parents and brother belong to the country club. They own vacation property on Lake Minnetonka and back east in the Hamptons. There’s a hunting lodge in Montana. Please don’t hate me.”

  “You can’t help your upbringing,” Mae said, her face completely straight.

  “No, but you can rebel against it.” Jill took another, deeper drink of her wine. “I just don’t want to come across as being all ‘oh, the poor little rich girl’ or anything, you know?”

  Mae nodded and refilled Jill’s glass. Jill nodded her thanks and continued, “My mother is very active socially. She sits on the board for a major local charity. She manages fundraising events and gives generously to the local arts. She drives her Jaguar to shop at 50th and France. She throws extravagant parties, and she attends all the best social events and she is loved by all. My mother is very conscious of her position.”

  Mae took a small sip of her own wine. “I see. And she expected her daughter to follow in her footsteps?”

  Jill nodded shakily and drank half her glass of wine in one gulp. “Oh, God yes. And anything I took an interest in that might not fit the little round hole I was to slip into was frowned upon. Sports of any kind. Books, music, clothes and friends of the wrong sort. As a rule, curiosity was not rewarded. I was to conform to an ideal.” Jill smiled a nasty, humorless smile. “My mother frowned a lot, at least at home.”

  Mae peered at Jill over her glass. “Then you were the rebel child.”

  “I had to be. My brother, you see, is the oldest. The boy. The heir to the empire. The one with the penis that will provide more little Halls to carry on the noble bloodline. Nothing but the best for him. The best tutors, the best private school, a spot at Yale waiting after graduation. Robert Coleman Hall the Stinking Third was groomed from conception to play his part.”

  Jill held her glass out for a refill.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mae asked.

  “All I have to do is make it up the stairs and fall into bed.”

  “As long as you don’t fall on the stairs.”

  “Never. Now top me off, sister.”

  Mae refilled Jill’s glass and sat back to let Jill finish her tale.

  “I, being the girl, was held to a different set of obligations and expectations. My every bit of schooling was geared toward making me the perfect little upper-society trophy wife.” Jill leaned forward conspiratorially. “My sixteenth birthday was the social event of the season.”

  “Like a debutante ball?”

  “Exactly. Oh, it was technically an event for some charity or other of Mother’s, but everyone knew what it was in reality. It was my mother’s way of saying, ‘Here is my daughter, meticulously groomed to be a model bride and the quintessential rich man’s wife. She will be educated and ready for marriage soon, so you young gentlemen start considering the possibilities.’”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  Mae noticed that Jill was starting to slur her words. She was about to suggest that they call it a night when Jill suddenly shifted position, ending up on her knees on the couch, mere inches away from Mae. Some instinct made Mae reach out and take Jill’s not-quite empty glass and set it on the table.

  Jill’s eyes lit up as she leaned closer to Mae, so close that they were almost touching. “So you know what I did? I had sex with Mindy Johnson—one of the other potential young trophy wives on display—in the coat closet. Loud, vigorous, ‘everyone for two city blocks can hear it’ sex.” Jill burst into wild laughter and fell backward. Her voice stilled suddenly.

  “Jill? Are you okay?”

  “It was a stupid thing to do, really,” Jill whispered, a sad, faraway look in her eyes. Her smile returned. “Anyway, after that my mother and I tried to ignore each other. I became progressively wilder and she got a little drunker every day. They had intended for me to attend the College of St. Catherine, because a proper lady should be well educated, you know. I decided I wanted to be as far from them as possible. I told them to keep the damned trust fund and I moved to Madison. I enrolled at UW, majoring in alcoholic binges and library science.”

  Jill grinned up at Mae from where she lay. “By my junior year I started hating the hangovers, but I loved books. I sobered up and got a master’s degree. When I graduated, I realized I missed Minneapolis, so I moved back. And here we are!”

  “And here we are,” Mae said softly.

  Jill giggled in reply. “Now, if you will help me up from this couch, I need to pee, and then fall on my nose in the bed. Because some of us are indeed a little drunk and some of us have to work tomorrow and you, my dear Mae, are neither of those people.”

  Mae reached down and took both of Jill’s hands, helping her up off the couch. She steadied Jill as she climbed the stairs, then waited patiently for her to use the bathroom, making sure Jill did not pass out or need to throw up. When Jill was safely tucked in bed, Mae went back downstairs and cleaned up.

  Once back in her own room, she gave the clothes on the floor a tired look and decided they could wait until tomorrow. Besides, Jill was supposed to help her, and who was she to deny her friend the opportunity to play with her underthings?

  Dear Wall,

  It’s hard to write in the dark, but I can’t sleep and I don’t want to turn on the light. I don’t want to look at her.

  I’m scared. For the first time since they brought me here, I’m really scared. In truth, I’ve been scared the whole time, but I’ve been able to deal. I knew someone would come for me, or I’d be able to trick someone or sneak my way to freedom. But now I realize I am alone in this, with only you words and the wall for comfort.

  I can’t get the smell of Chrysandra out of my nose. It’s into everything. My bedding, my clothes, my hair. They brought her back into the room as I was going to bed.
She is just sitting in the chair, smiling at me with her ugly black lips, staring at me with her dead eyes. She’s starting to ooze. It’s nasty.

  Is that how I’m going to end up? Some rotting piece of meat kept alive for some secret reason?

  Chrysandra’s making little wheezing noises. I think she’s trying to cry.

  I hate them all. I hate them for locking me away. I hate them for what they’ve done to Chrysandra. I hate them for what they’ve done to the Hounds.

  I wish Chrysandra wouldn’t try to cry. It sounds like the whimpering of a dying animal. I wish I could do something for her. I can’t stand listening to her. I can’t stand looking at her. I can’t stand smelling her.

  I can’t leave her alone. No one deserves to be alone.

  I’m going to turn on the light now. I’m going to try to do something to help her. You have to hide.

  Jill sat up in bed, the sharp scream coming from her throat cutting off as she surfaced from the nightmare. At some point she had kicked all the covers to the floor and now she was cold. She drew her knees up to her chin and rocked slightly on the bed, sniffling and waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal.

  Her door opened, letting in light from the hallway. Mae walked into the room slowly, probably trying not to startle Jill with her presence. “Jill? Are you all right?”

  Jill swallowed and nodded. She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. “It was just a bad dream.”

  Mae settled on the edge of the bed. She did not seem convinced. “You want to talk about it?”

  Jill shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”

  Mae put a hand on Jill’s knee. “Because sometimes it helps. Sometimes it’s better to talk or do something than to brood. You know, like when you’ve been forced into an unwanted vacation by your boss.”

  Jill sniffed hard and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Mae grabbed the box of tissues from the nightstand and passed it to Jill. She pulled five pieces out and blew her nose.

  “Why don’t I make us a pot of green tea?” Mae said.

  “That would be great. I take mine with honey.”

  Mae stood. “You want to come downstairs or should I bring it up?”

  “Up here, if that’s okay?”

  Jill drew a long breath and steadied herself. She stood on shaky legs and went to the bathroom, splashing some water on her face. By the time Mae returned, a tray with two cups and a teapot in her hands, Jill was back in the bed, sitting up against the headboard, pillows behind her to cushion her back. She had pulled the duvet and sheet onto the bed.

  “Join me?” she asked Mae.

  “Trying to get me into your bed, Miss Hall?” Mae teased lightly. Jill gave her a smile and patted the empty spot. She took the offered cup as Mae climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up around them both.

  Jill shivered again. “I should have asked you to turn up the heat.”

  “I did. It should kick in any minute. It’s snowing outside, by the way.”

  Jill raised her steaming cup to her lips. “Well, it is Minnesota in late October. What else can you expect?” She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Good stuff. Thanks.”

  Mae settled next to her. “So?”

  Jill shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the bed. She set her tea on the nightstand and picked nervously at a stray thread. “It’s nothing really. It’s just a stupid nightmare I have sometimes.”

  “Honey, you were screaming at the top of your lungs. People down in Eagan heard you. It’s more than just a nightmare.”

  Jill sighed and leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. “I was so fucking stupid. It was a long time ago. I was just a stupid kid and most of the time I don’t even think about it anymore, but sometimes the—sometimes what happened after comes back and—” Jill closed her eyes and began to cry again. “And sometimes I really hate myself.”

  She did not resist when Mae pulled her close, letting Jill lay across her lap. Mae reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tissues again, setting the box in front of Jill.

  Mae began slowly rubbing her hand up and down Jill’s arm. “Tell me.”

  Jill sighed in resignation. “I was a stupid girl.”

  “Um-hmm. What makes you think you were stupid?”

  “Remember what I told you about my little coming out party?”

  “I’m guessing we’re talking about the loud sex in a coat closet part?”

  Jill snuggled closer to the soft warmth that was Mae, curling up into a tight little ball. “Yeah.”

  Mae stroked Jill’s hair. “I take it your parents weren’t happy.”

  “Mother was furious. I was going to be a horrible scandal, and we couldn’t have that could we? No, appearances had to be kept up. Something had to be done to hide ‘Jill’s little perversion.’”

  “What did they do to you?”

  “They sent me to a camp in SoCal. It was supposed to help confused young people sort out their sexuality. Basically, they were trying to cure me,” Jill said. Her chest felt tight, as if she were being squeezed.

  Mae continued to stroke Jill’s hair, soothing her. “So what happened?”

  “I hated the camp, hated California, hated my mother for sending me away from everything I knew. So like any dumb, headstrong teenager, I compounded my mistakes. I ran away. I made it all the way up to Seattle, and I let the cops pick me up for shoplifting.”

  Mae chuckled. “Clever.”

  “Thanks. I made sure the cops knew who my parents were and how to find them. Mother and Father were forced to fly out and pick me up.” Jill paused her story to grab a wad of tissues and wipe her eyes. “They didn’t understand that all I wanted was to come home. No, that was totally lost on them. They just knew their useless daughter had forced them to drop everything to come and get her, and then their useless daughter put them in an awkward position with the local authorities. They were embarrassed and angry. Once the police released me, my parents took me back to the hotel. We fought.”

  “Bad?”

  Jill trembled, remembering. “Mother slapped me a couple of times. Then Father proceeded to tell me exactly what I was going to do when we got home. That they were going to check me into a center so I could ‘get my damned head on straight’ before I damaged the family reputation any further. The next morning we flew back to Minneapolis.”

  Mae’s arms held her tight. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Mae whispered. “Tell me.”

  “The first night back, my brother, Robert, cornered me in my room and told me—Mindy, the girl I’d had sex with—her parents didn’t react any better than mine. Robert told me that the day I left for camp they found Mindy hanging in her closet. She had killed herself. Mindy was dead. I decided it was my fault.”

  “Oh, Jill.”

  “I took every goddamned pill in Mother’s bathroom and washed them down with half a bottle of scotch. Let me tell you, that is not the way to kill yourself. I threw most of it back up. I don’t really remember much else about that night. I passed out, of course. Two days later I came to in the hospital.” Jill let out a long breath and lay still. Mae began to gently play with her hair.

  “I’m so sorry, Jill. I’m so sorry. But honey, you were just sixteen. That’s not an age for making good choices, especially not when the people around you are making matters worse.”

  “I know I was young and stupid. It’s not that I’m sorry I lived, it’s just that I feel so—I feel like a terrible excuse for a human being. There it is, nothing to be done about it.”

  “Of course there’s something to be done,” Mae whispered. “First, you forgive yourself for your mistake. Then you live the best life you’re able. You’ll never forget, but what you can do is live.”

  “You sound like the voice of experience.”

  “I am. But that is a story for another night.”

  Jill nodded and closed her eyes. She shifted into a more comfortable position, but did not leave Mae’s lap. “Mae? Will you stay with me, at l
east until I fall asleep?”

  “Of course.”

  Jill closed her eyes and took a contented breath. After tonight, it would be easier to tell Mae about Robert. She relaxed as Mae continued to gently stroke her hair.

  Friday, 27th of October

  Dear Wall,

  They took Chrysandra away this morning. I think the plan is to exhaust me, because Elise keeps coming into my room, checking to make sure I’m not asleep.

  It stinks in here.

  Poor Chrysandra. She knows what she is. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. I got her to talk to me last night, in her wheezy voice. I had to constantly remind her to breathe. She doesn’t remember much about what happened to her, only that it had something to do with Mr. Hodgins and “Mother.” She thinks she may have died in a magical accident.

  I took a chance and confided in her. I’m never going to get out of here on my own. You words and the wall have been great, but I need a friend who can help me escape. I hope she doesn’t betray me.

  Last night I placed five drops of my blood on the underside of Mae Malveaux’s picture. I couldn’t find anything to cut myself with, and was getting frustrated, when Chrysandra grabbed my arm and slashed me open with her thumbnail. For an undead girl, she’s pretty bright.

  I think I worked the summoning right. Now it’s all up to Chrysandra. She rolled Mae’s picture up and hid it in her clothes, promising to burn it as soon as she can. Chrysandra pointed out some writing and numbers on the back of the picture. She said she might be able to contact Mae Malveaux if she can slip her minder, Ilona, for a few minutes.