The Chrysalis

by Deneen, Brendan

  “Well, that was intense,” Tom said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like that before.”

  “I didn’t mean to freak out. I was just hoping to scare her a little bit.”

  “Well, I think you managed to do that,” Tom said, chuckling bitterly. “Gangbang. It’s kind of hilarious when you look at her now. I can’t imagine her having sex with one dude, let alone a bunch of ’em. But more power to her.”

  “Ugh. I feel terrible about saying that. Who even cares what she did in college? I lost control,” Jenny said, sipping at her tea. They were both still wet from the intense August rainfall that continued to buffet the window next to them, and it was cool in the tiny coffeehouse across the street from Nick’s. “It’s been so crazy since Andrea told me about the … about what happened in the kitchen. A total blur.”

  “I hear you. Between work and the … you know … murder and trying to get the house fixed up … ready for the baby … total madness.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been distracted,” she said quietly, looking back out the window, her eyes resting on Nick’s blinking OPEN neon sign. “I’m so happy about being pregnant … but sometimes I wish we could go over there and cut loose. I still haven’t even met Malcolm. Or his super-angry daughter.”

  “She seems to be getting a little less angry toward me,” Tom said, rubbing the stubble on his face. He caught his reflection in the mirror. Between his messed-up rain hair, five-o’clock shadow, and damp gray T-shirt, he looked a little bit less like a corporate robot. He took a gulp of coffee and smiled at his mirror image. At least some of me is still me, he thought.

  “Well, then,” Jenny said, turning her eyes back to Tom, a wry smile creasing her face, “now I really can’t wait to meet her.”

  Tom sighed. “I told you,” he said. “She’s like the little sister I never had. We’ll get over there one of these days. Last time I saw Malcolm, he even said I could work a shift once a week, if I wanted. Or whenever was convenient for me … for us. Maybe it’s something to consider once we get settled into the house a bit more. You know, when we’re eighty.”

  Jenny laughed, and her smile widened. The sound washed over Tom. He loved her laugh.

  “It’s okay, right?” she said, leaning forward, her face getting serious. Tom realized that she was starting to show—her belly jutting against the low table a little—and another wave of emotion hit him, his eyes welling up unexpectedly. “That a horrible, horrible murder happened in our kitchen? It’s okay, right, Tom?”

  He took her hands in his, tried to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. “Yes. It’s better than okay. I’m going to go medieval on that stain when we get home. I’m gonna scrub like no man has scrubbed before, and the next time you walk into that kitchen, you won’t see it. And pretty soon, you won’t even remember it.”

  “I like the sound of that,” she said quietly.

  “That house is ours,” he whispered. “What happened before we got there is irrelevant. It never happened. The house, and everything in it, is ours.”

  A long black millipede crawled out of Jenny’s left nostril and slithered into her mouth. Tom went rigid, letting go of her hands and inhaling a deep, shocked breath.

  “Tom?”

  What the hell? he thought, his mind flashing to the basement, picturing the chrysalis growing down there, glittering in the dark. Waiting for him.

  “Sorry,” he said, forcing a laugh. “I … got a chill. I don’t know why they have the air-conditioning blasting in here when it’s pouring outside.”

  “Right?” she said, taking his hands once more. “Say it again. What you were just saying about the house.”

  Tom stared at her eyes, trying with every fiber of his being to wipe what he’d seen from his mind. He could feel sweat beading along his forehead even though he was freezing. He knew the millipede hadn’t been real, knew his hallucinations were getting worse the more he came into contact with the thing in the basement. But he wanted to touch the chrysalis again as soon as possible. He missed it so fucking much.

  “It’s ours,” he said again. Mine, he thought.

  * * *

  The following Saturday found Tom in the basement for the first time in weeks. He had fought against the temptation for as long as he could, counting each day that he managed to stay away. He tried giving himself rewards each night that he avoided going down, like an extra beer. Ultimately, the fight was pointless. He had fought, and he had lost. Again.

  He had no idea how long he’d been down there, clinging to the pulsating mass on the wall, the house melting away from him, piece by piece. He fell through an infinite star-scape, memories taking shape all around him, or perhaps future events presented for inspection, or was it all just made up? He had no idea and didn’t remotely care.

  He stretched his fingers and toes out into the void, realizing he didn’t have fingers or toes and that there was no void, at the same time knowing that the void was everything and that he was the void.

  When consciousness finally returned, he was lying on the basement floor, laughing softly, drool stretching from his mouth to the dust. He blinked, trying to figure out where he was, who he was, let alone what time it was, what day. He realized that a voice was echoing in the distance, coming closer and closer.

  “Tom? Are you down there?”

  Tom. He was Tom Decker. The voice was that of Jenny, his wife. She sounded annoyed. How long had she been calling for him? She probably wouldn’t come down to the basement—she hated the place ever since she cut her leg when that stair broke. Accidentally broke, he reminded himself.

  “Yeh … yeah, be right up,” he choked out. With each visit to the chrysalis, he discovered that the physical signs that he’d touched its gelatinous casing, most notably the dilated and bloodshot eyes, lessened. And each time, the high seemed to be getting more intense, more mind-opening, and lasted longer.

  He got up, wiping the drool from his face, and cast one last look at the chrysalis. It was definitely growing, its purple-black veins pulsing farther and farther out each day. He pushed the refrigerator back into place and went upstairs.

  Jenny was standing near the basement doorway, waiting for him. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  “I didn’t, sorry. Trying to clear out some space for my art studio.”

  “I just got back and couldn’t find you. I got worried.”

  Got back? he thought. Where the hell has she been? He glanced at the clock. It was two o’clock, and he surmised that since she hadn’t asked why he wasn’t at work, it had to be the weekend.

  “It’s gorgeous out,” she continued. “You should have come with me. Especially since.…”

  “Since what?” he asked, smiling even as the kitchen walls expanded and contracted around them, in time with his breathing. His skin always felt electric for an hour or so after he touched the chrysalis.

  Jenny bit down on her lower lip and let out a nervous sigh. “There’s an empty storefront on Preston Street, right up the road from the center of town. It’s tiny, but it’s super-cute and it’s right by one of the public parking lots, so it would get a ton of foot traffic.”

  “Whoa,” he interrupted, his head swimming. “What are you talking about?” He could smell her sweat. It smelled delicious. He fought an urge to rush forward and lick her face.

  “I want—” She paused, then went on. “—I want to rent the storefront. Open a little studio, a small one, for personal training. Andrea already said she’s interested in having me be her personal trainer, and I think I could get a handful of clients pretty easily. The people in this town obviously have a lot of disposable income.”

  “Yeah. I guess,” Tom said. “But speaking of income … how would we pay for this? Start-ups cost money.”

  Jenny closed her mouth, sucking her lips in. She looked nervous. “Victoria offered to help out.”

  Tom stared at Jenny. He could tell she was trying to figure out how the news was hitting him, on top of everything els
e going on in their lives. He also wondered how he must look to her after rolling around on the dirty basement floor.

  “But we already owe her so much money,” he stated flatly.

  “I know. I know we do. And that fact makes me incredibly uncomfortable. But this is a dream I didn’t even realize I had. She’s excited for me. Really excited. And they are swimming in money. She clued me in a little bit about their finances. It’s pretty crazy, actually. But this would be a loan. Between your job and my studio, once it gets going, we can start writing her a check every month. Yes, it’ll be another expense, but one that is totally worth it.

  “Tom. I know I can do this.”

  He stared at her with what seemed to be an absolutely blank look on his face, and it was pretty obvious that she couldn’t tell if he was thinking it through or figuring out how to say no or simply zoning out. It was no secret that he’d been acting a little strange lately.

  “Tom?”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” he said, stepping closer to her.

  “You … do?”

  “Yes,” he said. “And I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Tom,” she practically shouted, and kissed him hard on the mouth, trembling with excitement. He kissed her back, their tongues finding each other like two subterranean creatures meeting in a dark tunnel. He shook the image out of his mind and focused on what he was doing.

  The intensity of the kiss increased and they lost their balance, Tom slamming into the counter with Jenny still clutched in his arms. She laughed, but he gasped and said, “Sorry … the baby…”

  “It’s fine, Tom. I want you. Right now.”

  They hadn’t been intimate since the night Jenny got pregnant. With the stress of everything that had been going on, and the changes in their routines, plus her morning sickness—neither of them had particularly been in the mood.

  As they fell to the floor, Jenny shimmied out of her shorts while Tom unzipped the fly of his jeans. He was inside her in a matter of seconds. His senses exploded, his body feeling as if it were merging with hers wherever their skin touched. He fucked her harder.

  “Oh my God, yes!” she screamed, thrusting up onto him.

  As Jenny closed her eyes at the beginning of her orgasm, Tom found his attention riveted by the remnants of the stain on the floor. He’d tried to scrub it away on more than one occasion but it was stubborn. When he touched it, the gray turned red, seeping off the floor and covering his skin, turning his fingers dark crimson. He put them in his mouth and tasted metal, dirt, and something so sweet that it hurt his teeth.

  He and Jenny came at the same time, within minutes of that first frenetic kiss. Afterwards, Tom lay on top of her, breathing heavily. In his mind, they were in a forest, holding hands, and then they were in the Arctic, gliding across bone-white ice. He laughed, eyes closed.

  “That was amazing,” Jenny said.

  Tom opened his eyes and looked into hers, trying once again to remember where he actually was. Slowly, it came back to him. “You’re amazing,” he responded. “And I’m really psyched for your studio.”

  Jenny pushed the hair off his forehead and rubbed her thumb along his stubble. “That means so much to me, Tom,” she whispered, smiling. She took a deep breath, and her smile turned sinister. “Since you’re handling all my good news so well today, I have one more tidbit for you.…”

  “Uh-oh,” he said, kissing her on the lips, then her cheeks, then forehead. “Sounds ominous.” In his mind, they were flying through clouds. His stomach dropped, exhilarated.

  “We’re hosting our first dinner party next Friday. Victoria and Lakshmi. Kevin, of course. And my parents.”

  Tom’s vision abruptly hyper-focused, and his mind returned fully to the kitchen. He blinked at his wife, fighting off a sense of profound disappointment.

  “Your … parents?” he said.

  “Surprised…?” she responded, pulling him closer, kissing his neck.

  Tom pictured Jenny’s mother and father, pictured their aging, wrinkled faces, pictured smashing those faces in with a hammer. Then he willed the images away and focused on the feeling of her lips on his neck.

  Focused on the gaping entrance to the basement that stood only a few feet away from him, waiting for his next visit.

  * * *

  Kevin approached his best friend’s cubicle, but Tom held up a finger, wordlessly asking for silence, trying to focus on the voice on the other end of the call he was wrapping up. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Couldn’t believe, either, how comfortable he already was wearing this stupid headset. Everyone in the office used one. Tom had tried to fight it on his first day, but his protestations lasted less than an hour.

  He also couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying being a salesman. At first, he’d hated it, hated the cold calls and the people hanging up on him. But ever since his last visit to the chrysalis, he was getting better at the job; people were listening to him now. He could practically feel his charm oozing through the phone. Especially on days that started with a visit to the basement. The high took him through the better part of the day.

  “Yes, that’s right, sir,” Tom said, his eyes widening in excitement. “We can guarantee those numbers and that delivery date.” He paused, listening. “Excellent. I’ll email you the contract as soon as I hang up. Yes. Great. No, thank you.”

  Tom hung up and whipped the headset off, throwing it onto his messy desk and smiling broadly at Kevin. “Dude,” he said.

  “Do not tell me you just got the Corbitt account.”

  “Dude,” Tom responded.

  “Do not tell me you just got the Corbitt account!”

  Tom stood up and whispered, “I just got the Corbitt account.”

  “Yes!” Kevin said, slapping his best friend on the shoulder before turning to face the two rows of salespeople, a ragtag collection of twentysomethings and middle-aged burnouts. “Did you hear that? My boy closed the motherfucking Corbitt account!”

  There was some scattered applause and at least one eye-roll before everyone turned back to their own phones. Kevin shook his head, unsurprised.

  “As soon as Kroll gets back from lunch, you’re gonna tell him the big news,” Kevin continued, “and I’m gonna take full credit for bringing you in. In the meantime, let’s get my man a drink!”

  * * *

  “So, you ready for the shit show?”

  “You mean talking to Kroll?” Tom responded, biting hungrily into his medium-rare burger, ketchup smearing across his cheek. “Nah, it’s nice to finally have some good news for him.” He wiped his face with a napkin and took a long sip from the glass of beer in front of him.

  “Good news? Great news!” Kevin shouted, causing people to look over. The restaurant was only half full, the lunch crowd already starting to disperse. “But I’m not talking about Kroll, you idiot. I’m talking about tonight. The dinner party. Your goddamn in-laws!”

  Tom laughed. He studied a french fry before shoving it into his mouth. “Not so much nervous as dreading it,” he said, chewing. “Her family is such a pain in the ass. There’s her mom’s passive-aggressive bullshit, and her dad’s aggressive-aggressive bullshit. Not to mention Victoria. For the life of me, I can’t figure her out. I mean, she is obviously incredibly successful, and she’s smart as hell. But I think she’s pretty much hated me from day one.”

  “Nah…,” Kevin said before polishing off his beer. “You’re being paranoid. I love Victoria. She tells it like it is.”

  “I guess.”

  “Yeah, she’s tough, but she’s not evil, man. She’s just always looking out for her sister, and I’m telling you, I have to respect that. I do the same shit with my brothers. They probably hate me sometimes, but guess who they call when they’re in a bind? If you guessed Kevin Jenkins, then you guessed correctly, my friend.”

  “I know, I know. And she has lent us so much money for the house and now for Jenny’s studio. I don’t know how we’re going to—”

&nbs
p; “Wait, Jenny’s what?”

  “Oh man, I’ve been so busy with Corbitt that I forgot to tell you. Jenny’s going to open a fitness studio. You know, a small thing, catering to housewives and whatnot, but she is so excited.”

  “That is great, man! Shit, that is the best. And it makes total sense. She is so good with people. Wow. I can’t wait to congratulate her tonight.”

  “Well, be subtle about it. I don’t think she wants her parents to know yet. Especially her dad. If that guy knew how much money we’re borrowing from Victoria, he would never let me hear the end of it. Ever. He already thinks I’m a massive loser.”

  “You were a massive loser. But now you’re working for me.” Kevin laughed.

  “Ha ha,” Tom deadpanned.

  “But seriously, man,” Kevin continued, “you should own this party tonight. After closing Corbitt?… Shit, you’re an animal … a fucking beast.”

  “Yeah,” Tom said, laughing, taking another bite of undercooked meat. “That’s me. A beast.”

  * * *

  Tom felt like he was going to vomit.

  Apparently, Andrea had “accidentally” told another neighbor about the get-together, who told another, and word of the party at the Murder House spread like wildfire on Waldrop Street.

  Jenny broke the news to Tom as soon as he and Kevin arrived. Jenny seemed excited, surprisingly, even though the plans had changed, something she normally found unsettling. She preferred it when things went according to a pre-planned schedule, which was happening practically never lately.

  They would still have dinner with Jenny’s parents, Victoria and Lakshmi, and Kevin. Andrea, her husband, and the other neighbors would arrive later, after dinner and after the older couple had left for their nearby hotel. Then the real festivities could begin.

  Tom dreaded the whole evening. He hated crowds, always had, even back in high school and college, despite his reputation of being good-natured and social. Despite his ability to talk easily to people, it wasn’t something he actually enjoyed, and he often found himself in a corner at parties, not knowing what to say to anyone, convinced he was being judged by everyone present, skin crawling with discomfort. Jenny had often questioned his decision to be a bartender considering his disdain for crowds, but Tom felt safe behind the bar, effectively walled off from the horde, in control.