Night Court

by Ashley Fontainne

  In the distance, she heard the bowl crash against the tiles along with a low yelp from Percy. Merry tried to stand up—to move—but all she could do was curl into a ball, her palms crushed against her ears. Tears of anger and terror raced down her cheeks.

  Come on, pills, come on! Kick in! Oh, God, I can’t…stand…this.

  Drifting…She was drifting away. The sounds and smells of the kitchen vanished. Her mind disengaged from the overwhelming pain. Dancing on the sharp edge between consciousness and sleep, disturbing visions swam inside Merry’s mind.

  She was helpless to stop them.

  ***

  Joshua stood in the doorway, his once strong physique transformed into a walking cadaver. Flat, dead eyes stared at them like they were strangers. His clothes hung limp on his thin frame, like he was still a child wearing his father’s shirt and pants. Body language full of defiance and anger, Joshua turned and walked away, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m outta here.”

  “Son, please! You need help. Let me make a few phone calls…get you a bed at…” Merry begged.

  “You’ll do no such thing. He’s already been three times, Merry! Insurance won’t pay for any more treatments. If he wants to get a taste for what life is really like—on his own without you coddling him every minute—then let him go. He’s a grown man, and we can’t stop him. Can’t force him to get clean. That he has to do—to want—on his own. Honestly, I’m sick of dealing with this shit.”

  “Harold!”

  Voice louder, Harold continued. “Joshua, if you want to destroy your life, that’s completely in your hands. Not ours. Until you get yourself together, don’t come back to this house. Next time you show up here high, I’ll call Derek and have you arrested.”

  Ignoring Harold’s rant, Merry pushed past her annoyed spouse. She reached out for Joshua’s arm just as he opened the front door. “Son…don’t do this. Don’t walk away. You’re dad’s just angry…”

  “Damn right I’m angry! The boy is over twenty-one and has done nothing with his life except get high! Oh, and wreck his car, lose his license, bring trash into my house! You do realize drug dealers know where we live now, Merry, don’t you?”

  “Screw you! The minute I broke my leg, I’ve been nothing more than a financial burden to you, Dad,” Joshua spat out, a hint of red dotting his pale cheeks. “Once I wasn’t the star football player anymore, I ceased to exist.”

  Harold lunged for Joshua. Merry saw the fury, rage, shame, and heartache glinting in his eyes. She stepped in between father and son. Both men were screaming at each other, with Merry caught in the middle. Harold and Joshua were livid, and before she could calm either of them down, or duck in time, the punch landed.

  Harold’s fist slammed into her mouth, and the impact left her dazed—but only for a second. “Enough! Both of you!” Merry screamed, holding her hand under her face to catch the dripping blood. “All this isn’t helping one bit! We need to sit down—talk about this as a family—just like they suggested in counseling…”

  “No, Mom. We don’t. There’s nothing left to discuss.”

  In a flash, Joshua turned and disappeared into the darkness. Merry and Harold stood on the front porch and watched him climb into the passenger seat of a waiting car, silent tears racing down both their cheeks. Stunned, and fearful it would be the last time she saw her son alive, Merry didn’t even notice Harold leave until he held out a damp cloth in front of her.

  “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, honey. You know I didn’t mean to…”

  Merry heard the hitch of tears in Harold’s voice before it trailed off. She took the hand towel and held it against her face. “Hit me? Yeah, I know. It’s much worse than that, Harold. You were going to strike our child. This? I can forgive this,” she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood, “but you were going to hurt Joshua. That I won’t forgive. Ever. He hurts himself enough. He doesn’t need anything from you except support and love. A fist in his face won’t solve a damn thing.”

  “I do love him, but I won’t condone what he’s doing to himself. What he’s done to our family. Won’t have it in my house.”

  Merry faced her spouse of nearly twenty-three years, her eyes blazing with anger. “You mean our house. And I won’t have my son living on the streets because you can’t handle his medical issues.”

  “Medical issues? Oh please, not that again, Merry! He’s just a headstrong kid who wants the party life rather than real life!”

  “He’s an addict, Harold. Heroin is one of the hardest habits to overcome! He needs to detox, stick with counseling, and be part of a supportive environment…”

  Harold threw his hands in the air in frustration. “No, what he needs is…”

  Merry lost it. “I’ve had enough of you telling me what he needs because you don’t have a clue! Hell, even I’m at loss at this point. What I do know—what I feel in my heart—is Joshua needs to know we will always be here for him, no matter what. Because the world he’s in now will destroy him. You may have given up on him, but I certainly haven’t. He’s not a broken toy you can just discard, Harold. He’s our son.”

  Merry threw the blood-soaked towel on the porch and went back inside. Snatching her purse and keys from the kitchen counter, she raced back to the front door. Harold stood in the same spot, unmoving, staring down the dark street. Moving past him, she took the stairs two at a time.

  “Where are you going?”

  Over her shoulder Merry yelled, “To find our son and bring him home. Try to stop me, and you’ll find yourself single.”

  ***

  It took Merry several attempts to open her eyes while she clawed her way up to awareness. The medication had finally kicked in and alleviated the stabbing pain inside her head, but it left her motor skills on the fritz.

  The heartbreaking memories of the night Joshua left home and she went after him made tears roll down her cheeks. She wanted to erase the images of finding him hours later, incoherent, curled up in the fetal position on the porch of a drug den, a needle still in his arm.

  “No! Please, I don’t want to think about those times! Why can’t I recall the good ones?”

  Her answer was a lone whine, followed by a wet tongue on her arm.

  “Oh shit! You scared the crap out of me, Percy! I forgot you were here. Gee, thanks for not munching on me while I was out.”

  Though still a bit groggy, Merry forced her muscles to work. She sat up, her back against the cabinet. Judging by the amount of sun streaming through the kitchen window, she’d been out for a while. She looked at the microwave for confirmation, and sure enough, it was almost eleven a.m.

  They are coming faster and lasting longer. This one was bad. I was out for almost three full hours! Guess it didn’t help Mookie smacked me around. Oh well, he certainly won’t be doing that again to me…or anyone else. Fucker.

  Percy was right next to her, tail thumping, snout inches from her leg. His focus never shifted from Merry’s face. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you look worried.” She reached out to pet him. “Be glad you’re a dog and don’t get migraines. The pain is beyond excruciating. Makes you want to blow your brains out.”

  Percy’s long, unkempt nails scratched on the linoleum when he scooted closer. After one more lick, he rested his head on her thigh and snorted out a burst of air. Merry glanced over to the broken bowl and uneaten tuna on the floor, surprised Percy left it untouched. He had to be hungry.

  “Okay, so I failed at dog ownership 101. Tuna is for cats, not canines. I don’t really have anything else here yet, so I’ll need to go shopping. I’ve got some other items to buy besides dog kibble—plus I need to clean out my car—so it might take me a while. Come on. Let me show you where you’ll be staying until I get back.”

  Percy followed her like he’d been by her side his entire life. They trudged through the high grass, out past the pond, and over to the old barn that was nearly two full acres from the house. The old building was completely hi
dden from view by an overgrown section of pine and magnolia trees. The barn had four stalls and a hayloft. Merry went over to the first stall and peeked inside. There was an old water trough. In the corner by the steps leading up to the loft, there was an old hose attached to a spigot. She smiled, glad she’d had the utilities turned on the week prior. In minutes, Percy had fresh water.

  She considered locking him up in the stall, but couldn’t bring herself to confine him in such a small area. Walking the perimeter, she made sure there were no holes or missing sections of wood.

  Percy scoped out the place via his nose. Kneeling down, she called to him, and he trotted through the dust to her side.

  “For now, at least temporarily, this will be your new home while I’m gone. Wasn’t planning on being here until Saturday, but that’s changed now. So, let me get some things we’ll both need, and then I’ll be back.”

  Percy nudged his moist nose against her forehead. As Merry petted him, she felt a lump underneath his neck. Inspecting it closer, she realized it was a scar. Percy whined and pulled his head away. Suddenly, she realized why she’d never heard him bark. “That bastard! Rest assured, while I’m still alive, your life will never consist of pain or violence again. That’s a promise. Enjoy exploring your surroundings. I’ve got to go. Be back soon.”

  Percy’s gaze shifted when the sound of something scurrying in the farthest stall caught his attention. She used the moment to leave, shutting the heavy door behind her.

  After retrieving her keys, she went to the car. She gathered up the ruined towels and walked out back, tossing them into the old, rusty drum used to burn garbage. Once back at her car, she gunned the engine and took off, eager to get to her other house to shower and change before she went shopping for supplies.

  14

  3:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon

  New cell phone acquired and trunk packed with groceries and clothes, Merry headed out to the farm. She already knew cell reception was terrible at the new place, so she decided to make a few phone calls while she still had service. Waffling back and forth over whether she should call Deb or Derek, she settled on Deb, since she hadn’t returned her calls from the other day.

  On the second ring, Deb answered. “Well it’s about time! I’ve only called you like twenty times!”

  “Sorry. I dropped my phone in a sink full of water the other day. Tried to let it dry it out a couple of days in a bag of rice, but it was a dead horse. Had to suck it up and buy another one today.”

  “See? That’s why you have a dishwasher! Washing plates by hand went out of style decades ago. What’s wrong with yours?”

  Exiting the main highway, Merry responded, “Nothing is wrong with my dishwasher. Unlike you, I like to pre-rinse.”

  Debbie snorted. “Waste of time and bad for the manicure. Enough about that topic. Glad you’re accessible again because I’ve missed talking to you. How’s your vacation?”

  Oh, just fine! Killed two people in less than three days, and acquired a new dog! Yours?

  “My forced time off has been a blast. Really. I mean, things can’t get any better.”

  Debbie burst out laughing. “My bestie—always the comedienne. If you’re bored, you should come hang with me. Our favorite zombie show has a new episode tonight. Oh, better yet! Want me to come over and help you finish packing so things will go smoother on Saturday? We’ve got five hours until show time. I’ll even bring dinner.”

  “You are sweet to offer, but I’ll pass. I’m actually on my way to the new place right now with a load of items. Wanted to start trying to settle in a bit at a time, you know, before I’m forced at once?”

  Debbie softened her tone. “That’s a good idea, sweetie. This is going to be a major transition for you, and breaking it down into manageable pieces is probably best. Are you going to spend the night, too?”

  “Yep. It’ll be strange for sure, but I’ll manage.”

  “Of course you will, dear. If you get freaked out, just call Derek. Or me. You know we’re always here for you. Always.”

  “Yes, I know, even though both of you sometimes are a tad overzealous. As I’ve mentioned numerous times, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

  “The bigger the girl, the larger the shoulders needed to cry on. Mine, along with my ass, are huge. Okay, so now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, I’ve gotta ask you…Did you put in a good word for me the other night?”

  “I tried, but I’m afraid it didn’t help. Derek will always see you like he does me—a little sister. You’re on your own, girl. Maybe wear something clingy and sheer on Saturday. He does think you’re gorgeous, funny, and smart. His words, not mine. So, you’re going to have to approach this in a different way. I’ll let you figure exactly how on your own. Fair?”

  Debbie squealed so loud Merry held the phone away from her ear. “Yes! That’s a start! Thanks for telling me. You just made my evening!”

  The phone beeped with an incoming call. Merry stiffened when she saw it was from Derek. “Speaking of your quarry, that’s him. Let me call you back.”

  Merry didn’t wait for a response from Debbie. Instead, she swapped calls. “Hey, bro! Done playing detective for the weekend?”

  There was a long pause before Derek spoke. “Nope. The job’s like herpes: it never really disappears, only hibernates for a while.”

  Merry sensed the unease in his voice and figured Mookie’s remains must have been discovered. She had to force herself to not sound giddy. “Derek…what’s wrong? And don’t tell me ‘nothing’ because I hear it in your voice.”

  Ignoring the question, Derek prodded. “Where are you?”

  Yep, he knows. Shit! Did I leave something behind, and he’s going to interrogate me? Maybe someone saw me running with Percy?

  “Driving. Unfortunately, there was a tragic cell phone accident that didn’t get fixed until today. Spent most of the weekend moving small things, you know, so Saturday won’t take so long? So, if I missed a call from you before, I’m sorry.”

  “We need to talk. No, I need to talk. In person and not on the phone. I’ll meet you at your place.”

  The bruises on her face would take days to heal. Sunglasses only hid so much, and she couldn’t get away with wearing them while inside. She had to convince Derek to wait. Merry forced her voice to remain calm. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow, or you just tell me now? I’m dancing close to a raging migraine. Planned on taking my meds and conking out early.”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “Did you piss off your captain again? Don’t tell me you got suspended for letting your temper get the upper hand over your mouth?”

  Derek grunted. “Seriously, Sis. We need to talk. It can’t wait, so I’m coming over. Be there in thirty.”

  “Derek, please? Not today. I don’t feel very well and just want to rest. It’s been a really long weekend.”

  Silence.

  “Derek? You there?”

  Dead air.

  Glancing at her phone, noticing she had no service, Merry ground her teeth. She dropped the phone into her lap, made sure no one was around, and did a u-turn. Even if she could, it wouldn’t do any good to call him back and beg. She heard it in his voice—the determination and wariness—and it sent chills up her spine. She could probably make it back home in twenty, so she had a brief window of opportunity to get things in order before he arrived.

  A killer’s life is never dull! Sorry, Percy. Dinner’s going to be late.

  ***

  Bursting through the front door, Merry made a beeline for the bathroom. After washing her face, she covered the dark bruises the best she could with concealer. Thankfully, it was on the right side of her face, so she let her hair down. With a good finger-tousle and head flip, along with a generous shot of spray, it cascaded just right to help aide in the concealment.

  Stepping back, she gave her face a good once-over and then scowled. Though the makeup and strategic hair placement helped, the knot and discoloration were still
visible. In the reflection, she noticed her knuckles still looked ugly, and traces of the tattoo remained on her arm.

  As she scrubbed the last remnants of the tat from her bicep, she forced herself to calm down. She knew Derek would notice her injuries, yet maybe they could easily be explained. He knew she worked out like crazy, so if he asked, she’d simply tell him a partial truth and a blatant lie.

  She attacked the bag without her gloves on, which made her skin crack and bleed. She’d been upset when she started, hadn’t eaten anything, and overextended herself. Got dizzy and fainted on the garage floor, which left her with an ugly lump and a shiner. If he questioned her story, or seemed at all hesitant about believing it, Merry would take him to the garage. Show him the punching bag and the streaks of red.

  That should shut him up! At least until I’m finished with my projects. Still can’t believe Tad Tompkins is involved.

  Merry made her way to the kitchen to fix a cold glass of tea for them both. When she passed the living room, she noticed the remnants of her old cell strewn across the hardwood. It took her a full minute to gather all the broken pieces up and toss them into the garbage. Then, she grabbed the tea and fixed two drinks. No sooner had she filled the tumblers with ice, Derek knocked once and then opened the front door.

  “Merry?” Derek shouted while ambling up the stairs.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep, relaxing breath. You can do this.

  “In the kitchen. Just made some tea and took my pill. My advice is to hurry up and tell me what’s going on before I zone out. Can’t promise how long I’ll be awake.”

  “Shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked, Sis,” Derek muttered walking into the kitchen. “It’s dangerous. Wow, you’ve been a busy gal. Not much left for us to move on…yikes! What happened to your face and hands?”

  Merry tried to keep her tone normal, steady. It didn’t work. She heard the edginess in her voice and internally cringed at the words. “Looks worse than it really is. Getting older makes injuries seem bigger. Uglier. Oh, and age also brings balance issues front and center. Discovered the hard way that when you jab and punch without gloves on, you bleed. Step in said blood, you fall. Hard. Enough about me. You wanted to come over here and talk about something important, so spill.”