“Do you want me to make the call?” he asked.
Sheri shook her head. “No. Just… I’ll be down in five minutes, okay?”
Jerry nodded and left without looking at his daughter again.
12
It took about ten seconds for Jerry to know this wasn’t going to pan out the way he had hoped.
What did you hope, Jer-Jer? That Chinese takeout and a TV show would solve the world’s ills? That’d be a helluva cable subscription.
Still, he had hoped for at least some interaction. But so far the only interaction had occurred when Ann handed out the food. Even that passed in almost total silence. No “Please” or “Thank you,” only an occasional “No, that one’s not mine,” or “Can you pass the sauce?”
Then silence. Broken only by the low sounds of people eating and the noise of whatever cop show Ann had turned on. She liked police procedurals, and though no one else particularly enjoyed them it seemed they didn’t even want to argue over that – just wanted to show their faces for the bare minimum required, eat, and get back to their rooms.
Then Jerry realized that Sheri wasn’t eating. She was staring out the large bay window that allowed a panoramic view of the backyard from the media room. The media room itself was large enough to allow for plenty of space for each member of the family, but Sheri was hugging herself as though crowded on all sides. And staring.
Jerry followed her gaze.
He saw what she was staring at.
The pool.
Jewel-green, with red tendrils –
“Can you hit the blinds?” said Sheri.
“Huh?” Drew said. He had to have heard, but he apparently was pretending fascination with Ann’s show. Jerry didn’t know if that was just sibling rivalry or some passive-aggressive bullshit, but either way he could see that it was going to send Sheri over the edge, and fast.
“The blinds, Drew,” said Sheri. Her voice sounded strangled.
“Why?” said Drew innocently. Then he seemed to know he had gone too far, because he reached for a nearby remote and clicked a button. A thick panel of blackout curtains reeled out from the wall, covering the view of the pool. And not just that, but the lights in the backyard, the neighbors’ lights, the lawn furniture, even the low moon all disappeared. The media room now seemed to exist in a universe that consisted solely of itself and nothing else. You could look up and see the second floor balustrade, but if you kept your eyes level it seemed to be a lone room hanging in an otherwise unfinished universe.
Drew wasn’t done. He hit the rest of the buttons on the curtains remote. Jerry felt a low rumble/whir and knew that similar curtains had been lowered or pulled closed in every room in the house. Total isolation.
He wondered if Drew was being sarcastic and geared up to have a minor bitching-out with his son, but when he looked over he saw Drew’s hand on Sheri’s knee. “All gone,” said the boy.
Sheri nodded. She didn’t say anything, but there was a bright, shining “Thank you” in her eyes. A nice moment.
But it was just a moment. And then it was over. All eyes returned to the show.
They were sitting together. They were eating together. But they might as well have been transients in a truck-stop, Jerry thought. Passing time in the same space, but not sharing anything more than oxygen.
We’re strangers, he thought. He thought he should do something about it. Should fix it. But he had no idea how to go about such a thing.
And a minute later he sighed and he, too began watching the show.
13
The man watches as they divide up the food. Like a good family should. No fighting that he can see, no spats that he can hear.
He smiles and takes the hat off. He hates hats, and normally he refuses to wear them. He never matches when he wears a hat. But the restaurant the family prefers has their delivery people wear hats, so he acquired one and wore it. Because they still don’t know what’s happening. What’s begun.
It didn’t begin with the call, either, when Jerry spoke to him as he sat in the van and answered his call and Jerry thought he was speaking to the host at Chang’s Chinese. No, all this began much earlier. And the family never knew. Never suspected.
Which, of course, is part of the fun.
He tosses the hat on the ground. He’ll pick it up later. Or maybe he won’t. He hasn’t decided yet. He’ll talk it out with himself when he has a moment.
But for now, he’s watching them eat.
Then Drew moves, and the curtains drop inside the room his family is sitting in.
“That was rude,” he says. And as usual, he answers himself. “Cut them some slack.”
“No, rude is rude is rude is rude.” It is a saying that the man’s father always loved, and he is right in this, as he was right in everything.
As if to highlight the veracity of his father’s statement, the curtains all over the house begin to drop. He sighs. They wish for their privacy, their isolation. And their wish is about to come true.
“Shall I?” he asks himself. And the answer is obvious: “Yes.”
He’s already standing near the junction box. He opens it, and only a moment later is in position. Most people wouldn’t be able to do what he has to do, wouldn’t be able to get all the pieces in place. But he’s always had a head for organization. He’s always been very good about using his time well. It’s part of his gift.
“Ready,” he says. He counts to one hundred. Then pulls one of the wires. He giggles as it comes loose.
“Time to play.”
14
Jerry had barely decided to just do what everyone else was doing and simply surrender to the numbing influence of the television show when he realized that the kids were no longer even watching anymore. They were both on their cell phones, texting.
He had no idea who they were sending messages to, but that wasn’t the point. It was just one more reminder of how shattered the family was. Here they were for a dinner and a show that was the closest thing to an official meal they’d had in ages, and the kids would rather send text messages that most often boiled down to a play-by-play description of how bored each party was than attend to their own family.
“Kids,” he said. His voice had that official “Dad” lilt to it, the patent-pending sound that hinted at groundings and time in the cellar if the voice was not heeded.
Both kids looked up… and both went right back to their phones after only a second.
Jerry didn’t know whether to pursue the issue or not. It wasn’t like you could force people to enjoy themselves, right? And at least they were here, so that was something.
He took a bite of his food. Even that tasted off: mealy and chalky, like someone had put a layer of uncooked flour over everything.
Perfect night.
He looked at the wall. There were family pictures in every room, and this one was no exception. Four people in the room. Five on the walls.
I miss you, bud.
Then Jerry almost leapt off his seat as a loud pop bounced through the room. The TV dissolved into a blizzard of static. A second later even that disappeared and a blue box with the words “Cable Signal Lost” appeared over a field of black.
The family groaned as one.
“Again?” Drew half-shouted.
“What is this, like the tenth time?” Sheri said.
“Eighth,” said Ann. But she said it in a tone that made it clear eight was just as bad as ten would have been. Maybe worse.
Jerry felt like putting his head in his hands. What else could go wrong today?
Happy anniversary.
He took another bite of the mealy-tasting Chinese food, then set his tray down and opened up the television cabinet. Under the cable box was a phone number, and Jerry grabbed a cordless phone off a nearby charger base and called the number.
“Don’t worry,” he said to everyone and no one at once. “We’ll take care of this.”
It was a cable company. So it took over twenty minutes of being ro
uted from electronic voice to electronic voice, before Jerry heard himself explaining the situation with a voice that was entirely too whiny, then listening to the operator calmly telling him they’d fix it right away.
“When?” said Jerry. “When is it going to be fixed?”
The operator’s voice was weird, he thought. It was almost machinelike, lacking in emotion. But at the same time it… bounced was probably the best word for it. Just at the end of some sentences, and during some words. As though the guy was really excited, but was trying to keep it under wraps. Like he was planning a surprise party and didn’t want the world to know about it.
“I’m really sorry, sir,” said the operator. “I’ll put a stat ticket on this and we’ll have someone out there first thing in the morning.”
“Tomorrow?” Jerry heard his voice grow shrill. Somehow that was almost the worst of it. That he had been pushed so far that losing cable reception was the last straw, that it created this kind of desperation in him. But try as he might, he couldn’t rein in the jags in his voice. “We need the TV now. Tonight.” His fingers tightened on the phone, so hard he could hear the plastic creaking. “We want this fixed, or we’re cancelling service.”
“I don’t blame you at all, sir,” said the operator. “And I’m so glad it was my turn to talk to you.” Jerry blinked, thinking that was a weird thing to say. Then the operator continued, “I promise we’ll get on this first thing. And I’m going to credit you for this month, since there’s been an ongoing problem with this.”
Jerry said thank you, because that’s what you say at the end of a service call, even when what you really want to say is that you hope the person you’re talking to dies a horrible death and rots in a special circle of hell.
The operator’s strangely monotonous voice brightened a bit. “Thank you, sir. I really look forward to helping you. I’m glad it was my turn to talk.”
Then he hung up. Jerry stared at the phone in his hands, and was going to comment on what a weird freak the cable company had employed, but before he could Sheri said, “Well?”
He looked around and realized the rest of the family was staring at him. They all looked like they were holding their breath. He felt like he had just walked out of the O.R. and had to deliver the bad news of how a tricky operation had gone on everyone’s favorite uncle.
“Nothing they can do about it tonight,” he said. “They’ll be out tomorrow.”
Ann, Drew, and Sheri all deflated. Their shoulders slumped. All hope was gone. Uncle Fred was a goner. Jerry almost laughed, not because it was funny but because it was so damn sad the only thing he could think to do was laugh.
Either that or start screaming. And he was afraid if he did that he might not be able to stop.
15
Without the television on no one seemed to have the energy to even pretend to be engaged in the “family dinner.” Ann was the first to leave. If it had been one of the kids, maybe Jerry could have made a stink, but he could hardly reprimand her, could he?
Still, the minute she was gone he saw Drew and Sheri eyeing one another as though trying to gauge when the most appropriate moment to make their escape would be. Less than thirty seconds later they were out of the room as well, both of them tramping up the stairs with heavy footsteps. He could hear them yawning and thought they were probably doing it for his benefit – Here, let’s show Dad it’s ‘cause we’re so tired, and not because the family’s such a mess – though he supposed they might actually be ready to hit the hay. Both had seemed pretty fatigued as they left, and he felt bone-weary himself.
Death anniversaries will do that to you every time. It’s the new workout craze.
Jerry sat alone in the media room for another minute or two, trying to eat some more of his food. It still tasted awful. Bitter and mealy. Chang’s would be getting a call tomorrow. Actually….
His hand went to the cordless he had replaced on its charger cradle after calling the weirdo at the cable company. Maybe he should call Chang’s now. Give them a piece of his mind and let them know they wouldn’t be getting any repeat business.
He actually started to dial the number before stopping and replacing the phone.
He wasn’t that mad over the food. The family had been ordering Chang’s for five or six years and this was the first time they had ever done anything wrong. He was hardly going to make a fuss over one error.
No, he was just avoiding what he knew had to come next.
But as with everything else tonight, avoiding it was just going to make it worse. Avoiding things always made them worse.
And you know all about that, don’t you?
He pushed that thought out of his mind, then went in search of Ann.
He considered looking around the house, maybe starting upstairs in their room. But he knew she wouldn’t be there. In truth, there was only one place she could be.
He walked through the living room. There was a door that led to the backyard, and he opened it and walked out.
It was like entering another world. A brighter place, a place where hope still existed and time still ran at full speed. He hadn’t realized how dark the house was, but now that he thought of it most of the lights were off inside. That coupled with the blackout curtains still being drawn converted the house into something approaching a dungeon, in feel if not reality.
Jerry went to the pool. It glowed in the night, an uneven green oval with a bright light at one end.
Ann stood on the opposite side of the pool, looking at the deck about five feet from where she was. Jerry watched her. She didn’t look up or even acknowledge his existence.
“Kids are in bed,” he said. Still nothing. “Ann?”
“I try, but I just can’t understand.”
Jerry sighed. He had known this was coming, but he didn’t want to do this again. Not again. Not this same conversation, this conversation that always turned into the same argument. “Honey… he fell. He slipped.”
“I can’t believe that.” Ann finally looked at Jerry, and he almost blanched before her gaze. The passion he had been hoping for only a short time ago was there, but now he wished it was gone. Or at least directed somewhere else.
“The police said –”
“The police said it looked like it was ‘probably’ an accidental death,” she said. The words spat out of her mouth like bullets from a machine gun. “And then they didn’t do shit.”
Jerry did cringe this time. He hated when she spoke words like that. It was just another mark of how far they had come from where they once were. There had been a time when Ann would have just about died rather than speak a four-letter word. Now, though….
“Something happened to my boy,” she continued, “and they didn’t care enough to give it more than a half-hour to find out what.” She looked back at the deck. The same spot. Jerry didn’t. He didn’t want to look.
Ann returned her gaze to his eyes. “They just gave up,” she said. And he knew she was really saying, “You just gave up.”
“He fell,” said Jerry. His voice came out as a monotone. He didn’t have the strength to keep fighting this battle anymore. “He was alone.”
“I should have been there,” whispered Ann. Then she pointed at Jerry and almost screamed, “You should have been there.”
Then she stomped past him in a whiff of perfume, and he wondered if life would have been better if he had been the one to die a year ago.
He turned to follow her. Because this could be fixed. It had to be fixed. The family couldn’t continue like this. It was imploding, falling into itself. And soon there would be nothing left.
But he stopped halfway through his turn. Because he thought he saw something. Or at least some part of his brain insisted that something was out there, even if nothing had actually been seen.
He scanned the huge backyard. Lawn furniture, patio. Gazebo far away near the northeast corner of the privacy wall that ringed the property. A stand of trees near the opposite corner, which wound along the w
all until they came nearly to where the pool sat in shining simplicity near the house.
Nothing out of place. Everything was as it should be, and as it had been every day and every night he could remember.
So why did he feel… watched?
He looked around. Wondered if he should call the cops. Then his gaze fell to the deck. To where it had happened.
He shivered and all but ran back into the house.
16
Jerry caught up to Ann as she opened the door to their bedroom. It was on the second floor, at the far end of the hallway, so he was panting a bit – not to mention yawning every four seconds, so apparently it was past his bedtime. But he had also formulated a plan. They had to get out of this rut. He had to get them out of it. He loved Ann, and he hoped she still loved him.
Strangers Page 6