Mama's Boy and Other Dark Tales

by Fran Friel

  "Rebecca, please give us an update on Frank Doe. He's slated to be moved to the new facility within the next three weeks."

  "Well, although Frank has made remarkable progress in his ability to communicate and to return to normal activities, I'm afraid he's showing disturbing signs of severe delusion. He is having terrifying nightmares and indicating an extremely violent fantasy life. I would advise strongly against moving him at this time. He may not only be a danger to himself, but he could be a threat to others."

  "Thank you for your assessment, Doctor, but he hasn't exhibited actual violent behavior for close to a year. I appreciate your recommendation, but for now his transfer stands."

  "But Doctor Silvani, I've been working very closely with this man, and I'm concerned about his volatile state."

  "I understand that, Doctor, but we have certain criteria we must follow. I wish we could always make these decisions based on our gut feelings, but I have a hospital to run and serious budget issues to face. To keep good doctors like you on staff, I have to move non-violent patients elsewhere, to someone else's budget."

  Rebecca sat back, trying to cover her upset. She had known the director planned to move Henry, but she had hoped there would be more time. Hearing very little of the other patient reports, she ran plans through her mind for accelerating Henry's process. When the meeting ended, Rob shoved his chair back hard, stalking out of the room without looking at Rebecca, but she was focused on getting to the director before he dashed out.

  "Doctor Silvani!” she called as he headed for the door.

  "Yes? Please make this quick. I'm running late."

  "Would you please reconsider Frank Doe's case? I really don't..."

  "Rebecca, my decision is firm. Now, please excuse me.” He walked into the hall; Rebecca followed.

  "Would you at least consider increasing the frequency of his sessions until he leaves?"

  The director stopped, files tucked under his arm, well-worn briefcase in hand. He exhaled heavily before he spoke.

  "Look, Doctor. We're all impressed with your work, but you need to keep a healthy perspective or this job will burn you out. But against my better judgment and since it's only for a few weeks, you may increase the sessions—but on your own time. You must maintain your other duties. Understood?"

  "Yes, Doctor."

  The director turned and marched away down the hall.

  January 26—6:00PM: Frank Doe Session

  "Henry, thank you for agreeing to work with me this evening. As you know by now, I've been given permission to see you more frequently. So why don't we get started right away. How about the nightmares you were suffering—any improvement there?"

  "A little bit,” said Henry.

  "That's good news. It means we're on the right track. Since that's the case, why don't you pick up where you left off on Tuesday—you'd gotten some information from one of ... uh, Victoria's high school friends?"

  Rebecca crossed her legs. Henry noticed.

  "You look very pretty today,” he said, blatantly scanning her body.

  Rebecca shifted in her chair. Suddenly uncomfortable in her short skirt, she resisted tugging at the hem.

  "Thank you. Now, shall we begin?"

  "I'm always talking, but you never tell me anything about you."

  "That's how it works, Henry."

  "Well, it's not fair. I want to know something about you. Are you married? Do you have a family?"

  "I'm not supposed to share that kind of information with you, Henry."

  "You can tell me something, can't you?"

  "No, I really can't. Now let's get back to work."

  "Well, I'm not telling you anything else until you tell me something.” And he drew his fingers like a zipper across his thin lips.

  Rebecca's cheeks flushed hot under Henry's rheumy gaze, and she worked to maintain her composure. “There's nothing to tell, Henry. I'm married to my work."

  Henry crossed his arms and waited in silence. The mixed expression of child and letch on his hideous face unsettled Rebecca. She felt small and frightened, like the girl who first heard her mother's terrifying stories of abduction.

  "Okay, I have no family. My mother ... died ... when I was a child.” Sweat beaded along her hairline.

  "Sorry about your mama. What happened?"

  "She's dead, Henry. Okay? That's it. Back to work or we'll just end this session right here."

  "All right! I just asked a simple question.” Henry looked hurt. Furrowing his brow at her, he pouted.

  "I want my clay!” he demanded.

  Relieved to step away, Rebecca retrieved the clay from the cabinet. Placing it on the table without looking at him, she handed over the spray bottle, happy for its spiked contents.

  "Where are my tools?"

  Rebecca hesitated, considering the recent incident with the knife. Then she turned and pulled the pouch of tools from her desk drawer, and with something bordering on petulance, she thrust them at Henry. Trying to regain her professionalism, she masked the tension in her voice as best she could, “Can we begin now?"

  Henry stared at Rebecca with a self-satisfied grin and nodded, turning his attention immediately to the clay. He began his next account.

  "Okay, Doc. Whatever you say.

  "Well, I guess you could say I studied Victoria's life real careful-like, and I knew it was time to move to the next step of my plan—a personal visit. That's where all my patience would pay off. But I still had to take it slow, so I decided that my first visit would have to be secret.

  "I knew her schedule like clockwork, so at the end of her Friday afternoon shift, I slipped into the convenience store. She was busy cashing out and talking with the grungy girl waiting for her own shift to begin. Wearing a hat and sunglasses, I walked by unnoticed, dropping a small package at the end of the counter. Then I headed for the coolers in the back where I could watch from behind the bakery shelves.

  "Shortly after, an older woman walked into the store. I recognized her from newspaper clippings. It was Victoria's mother, Becky Lystner.

  "Victoria smiled. ‘Mom! What are you doing here? I thought you were working late.'

  "'I got off earlier than I expected, Hon. Good thing, too. The warehouse was a zoo today. Since I got done early, I thought we could ride the bus home together.'

  "'Yo, Vicki,’ her spiky-haired co-worker interrupted from the end of the counter. ‘Looks like someone left you a present.'

  "'What do you mean?'

  "The girl held up the little box, shaking it with a sly grin. ‘A present, duh? It's got your name on it.'

  "Victoria took the package. She had a strange look on her face, like she was real uncomfortable. I hadn't put a message on the card, just her name in fancy letters.

  "'Well, it is very pretty,’ she said as she touched the little box with the pink ribbon. Her favorite color. ‘Must be a mistake, though,’ she said. “I don't know anyone who would leave me a present.'

  "'Maybe it's from a secret admirer,’ said the grungy girl.

  "Victoria and her mother looked at each other funny. I was confused, but I knew she'd be happy once she opened my surprise.

  "With elegant fingers, Victoria unwrapped the package, being careful not to tear the paper. She opened the box and pulled back the tissue, and saw my special gift. She must have been really surprised, because she dropped the box on the counter and stepped back, covering her mouth with her hand.

  "Vicki, what's wrong, honey?” asked her mother. She looked worried.

  "Victoria was quiet; stunned, I guess. I had no idea such a small thing could have such a big effect. Her mother reached over and pulled the pretty tube of lipstick from the box. It was Victoria's favorite, according to Wendy.

  "'Oh my god,’ said Missus Lystner. ‘Whose sick joke is this?'

  "What! I almost said it out loud. Confused and pissed off, I started to fidget. I was finding it hard to stay quiet.

  "'What's wrong with it?’ asked Miss Spiky Hair.


  "'My father used to make me wear that color lipstick,’ said Victoria, brushing the back of her hand across her wet eyes. Her mother pulled a tissue from her purse.

  "'Shit, my father wouldn't let me wear lipstick at all.’ The stupid girl rolled her eyes at Victoria. ‘Hey, if you don't want it, I'll take it,’ she said. ‘That shit's expensive.'

  "'Take it,’ said Victoria with a wave of her hand. ‘Just don't wear it around me.'

  "I was outraged. How dare she give my gift away? How dare she disrespect me like that? I was her husband, or at least I was going to be. I couldn't tolerate it anymore. In a fit of anger, I slammed my shoulder into the bakery shelf; bread and donuts spilled all over the floor.

  "The women gasped as I ran past them, escaping through the door and into the street. Running down the sidewalk, I turned the corner and screamed, ‘That lying bitch!’”

  "I jumped in the van and took off, disappearing into the traffic. Rummaging through the papers on the passenger seat, I nabbed just what I was looking for—Wendy's address. A little side trip was in order before going home to Mama. I reached under my seat, excited by how good it felt to wrap my fingers around the hilt of my buck knife again. And besides, my memento collection was getting a bit stale.

  "Wendy and I had a great time that night—that is, once she apologized for being such a bitch and ruining Victoria's surprise with her lies. But I was forgiving and treated her like I treated all my girls. If I'm anything, it's a gentleman.

  "It was a night to remember for sure. A slice here, a stab there, and an amazing fuck. What a shame to have to end it, but I had to be true to my Victoria. Wendy was just a distraction—an appetizer before the main course. But she did have lovely fingers. Although I hadn't planned to visit the bitch, I was fortunate to find plenty of baggies in her kitchen. I didn't think she'd miss them anymore.

  "It was well past midnight when I got home, and I was surprised how understanding Mama was when I went in the bedroom to say goodnight. It seemed that she'd had a real change of heart since her illness. In fact, she didn't really say much of anything anymore—she only seemed to talk when I was feeling upset.

  "I hadn't told her about Victoria yet, but after my evening with Wendy I was feeling better about the whole lipstick mess and decided to make the news about Victoria a special surprise for Mama. She hadn't left the house since her illness, so I thought we'd make an outing of it.

  "'You get a good night's sleep now, Mama. I've got a surprise for you tomorrow.’ I kissed her cold forehead. The twist at the corner of her mouth hadn't healed yet, but I was sure I saw a hint of a smile. By the haze covering her eyeballs I could see that she was tired, so I tucked the covers up around her ears so she wouldn't roll off the bed or get a chill. Even in the warm weather she was cold—poor circulation, I guess.

  "Since there was no electricity, I'd rigged up a propane tank and a heater for the bath. It was time to get myself cleaned up after a busy day. Wendy had turned out to be a very dirty girl, but truth be told, I liked it messy. So I fired up the heater and filled the old tub. One of those odd chills in the house made the steam roll off the water like fog. I added some of Mama's rose oil and slid into the hot water with my buck knife and sharpening stone in hand. The curve of the old claw foot tub felt good against my back as I circled the blade of my knife slowly around and around on the smooth stone. Sharpening was like meditation for me, and soon my body relaxed and my mind began to wander.

  "The thought of Victoria's milky skin and long legs came into my head. I imagined her naked, stepping into the tub with me. I felt my dick harden at the thought of her smooth ass lowering into my lap and the curve of her back pressing against my chest. In my mind, steam from the bath beaded on her long black hair as I smoothed the soap over her shoulders and around her breasts. She'd arch her back when I bit her tender neck. Then my beautiful Victoria would move in slow circles against me, and when she finished her teasing, she'd lean forward onto her knees, lifting her ass in front of me. Grabbing the rim of the tub, she'd looked back with a smile, and say, ‘Fuck me, Henry.'

  "I kept hold of my buck knife while my other hand slipped from the sharpening stone to my dick. I was fully enjoying my fantasy when I heard a sound outside the door. It was late and Mama wasn't getting around so well these days, so I was surprised to hear her out in the hall. She stopped outside the bathroom door.

  "Goddamn it, Mama, I thought to myself, but instead, I said, ‘What is it, Mama?’ No answer. So I continued with the work at hand.

  Just as I was about to finish my business, the door opened a few inches. I was too far gone to stop. I still had a grip on my knife and I jerked my dick with a vengeance just to spite Mama for interrupting me. I wasn't giving this one up for anything. It was for Victoria!

  "'Hen-ry.'

  I jerked harder and faster; ready to go. Fuck her! I thought.

  "'Hen-ry.'

  "A rotting gray hand curled around the edge of the door, and through the steam I saw the index finger had been hacked away. All at once, I came and screamed and leaped out of the tub, brandishing my buck knife. Body still twitching, I stood naked, dripping on the dirty tiles of the bathroom floor. The fingers slipped away and the door closed after them as I stood there staring, bug-eyed.

  "The room was suddenly ice cold and reeking with a musty smell. I shook from the chill or my fear, or both. What the fuck was that? I inched over to the door, and with the tip of my knife I flicked the lock. Reluctant to touch it, I listened for sounds in the hall, but hearing nothing I finally gave in and pressed my ear hard against the wood door, straining to listen. BAMM!

  "The sound seared through my ear as something smashed into the door with such force that it split the oak panel. I nearly pissed myself jumping back behind the tub, clutching my knife so tight that my fingers ached. I stood there shaking, waiting, but the house stayed quiet and the chill in the room disappeared and it was filled up again with the warmth of the steamy bath and the scent of Mama's rose oil.

  "I managed to dress myself without letting go of my knife. What I'd seen just didn't make sense—it couldn't have happened. Since putting things out of my mind was a skill I learned from life with Mama, I tried to convince myself that it had all been my imagination. With my knife and lantern in hand, I opened the bathroom door. The split wood panel was hard to explain, so I just ignored it. The house was silent, but when I shined the light outside the door, the hall floor was covered from end to end with hundreds of empty baggies.

  "'What the fuck is going on?’ I screamed to the house. Trying not to fall on the slippery plastic bags, I went down the hall to the room where Mama had been sleeping. I slammed the door behind me and locked it. Lifting the lantern, I could see that Mama was lying peacefully, tucked right into the middle of her pillow like I'd left her. She was oblivious to what was going on in the house. Not knowing what else to do, I held onto my buck knife and climbed into bed next to Mama. Of course, I was only there to make sure she was safe. She never stirred. I layed awake most of the night, but drifted off eventually, waking just before dawn, as usual. I was still holding my knife and Mama was there beside me.

  "Slipping out of bed so as not to disturb Mama, I walked across the cold floor and poked my head out the door. All the baggies were gone from the hall. Suspicious of what might be waiting for me, I made my way to the bathroom. There was no crack in the door. Relieved, I decided I must have dreamt the whole thing. What else could it be?

  "Mama was groggy and her eyes were cloudy when I woke her, but I could tell she wanted to go out. I washed her face and brushed her hair, taking a little extra time to make sure it was just right. Since her illness, Mama's appearance had deteriorated, and because she was so self-conscious about it, I wrapped her up and tucked her in a sack. Since she was always cold, it worked out well. The flies had become a nuisance, so I grabbed some bug spray on the way out.

  "I carried Mama to the van. She complained that the seatbelt was uncomfortable across her chin, so I unbuck
led her, hoping she wouldn't roll off the seat. I fired up the van and we headed into Philadelphia for a surprise visit to see Victoria.

  "'Mama,’ I said, ‘I know you've been worried about me finding a good girl. Right?’ No response, but I could tell she was listening by the tilt of her head. ‘Well, I've found her! Her name is Victoria Lystner, and I'm taking you to meet her right now.'

  "I was worried when Mama didn't say anything. I thought she'd be more excited, but I knew once she saw Victoria she'd be happy for me. We parked close to the convenience store, and I went around to help her out of the van. Carrying her to the store window, I said, ‘Now Mama, this is kind of a double surprise. Victoria doesn't know we're coming, so I'm going to let you peek in the window before we go inside.’ I uncovered her and lifted her up so she could see over the signs in the window. ‘Just keep your eye out for her. She's the tall, pretty one with the long black hair.'

  "I thought I heard a scream from inside the store, but I didn't want to alarm Mama, so I said, ‘Isn't she beautiful?’ No response. ‘Mama?’ She seemed a little miffed, so I stepped up to the window myself. No Victoria. There was only the stupid girl that stole her lipstick. She was screaming about something, and pointing in my direction.

  "I was pissed. Where in the hell was Victoria? She was supposed to be working that day. I had painstakingly mapped out her schedule for weeks and she should have been there!

  "'Goddamn it!’ I said. ‘Oh, sorry, Mama. I know you don't like it when I cuss.’ Mama didn't say anything, she just stared off into the distance, but I could tell that she was insulted that Victoria hadn't shown up. I was beginning to have second thoughts myself, and feeling that old rage rising in me like it did with the other girls. I tried to contain my anger, but I was a little rough with Mama when I put her back in the van. I couldn't seem to get her in the seat right. She kept listing to one side. Noticing how upset I was, she looked at me with her hazy blue eyes, and spoke clearly for the first time in weeks.

  "'Henry, if that girl can't even show up to meet your mama, she ain't no good!'

  "'I don't know, Mama. I thought she was different.'