by Fran Friel
"'Well, any girl that stands my boy up ain't worth shit, as far as I'm concerned. But don't you worry, your mama will always love you.'
"I felt a little better with Mama talking to me again. ‘Thanks, Mama,’ I said. ‘I know I'll never find a girl like you.’ As we rode home in silence, I decided I needed to make a phone call. I headed for the nearest payphone. ‘Hello, this is David,’ I said. ‘I'm the new assistant manager at the Arch Street Shoppette. I was wondering why Victoria, uh, I mean, Vicki didn't show up for work today.'
"'Vicki's home sick,’ said Missus Lystner. ‘What did you say your name was?'
"'David. I'm the new assistant manager. When can we expect her back at work?'
"'I already told Mister Harris that she would be out for a while.'
"'Are you sure? He didn't tell me that. What exactly's wrong with her that kept her from coming to work on such an important day?'
"'What are you talking about—important day?'
"'Oh, nothing. I'm sorry, I must be confusing her with someone else. But it's important to tell me what's wrong so I can pass it on to Mister Harris.'
"'Well, if you must know. Some creep played a very sick joke on Vicki in your store. She's had a difficult past and that prank really upset her. If we didn't need the money, she'd never come back to work there.'
"The damned lipstick! I felt worried that my plan was unraveling. Mama's condition was getting worse, so I needed her to meet Victoria soon.
"'Well, if she wants to keep her job,’ I said, ‘she better be back to work by Monday. We've got a business to run here.’ It was a gamble, but I had to push her.
"'I don't like your tone.'
"'Well, does your daughter need this job or not? I have a list of candidates eager to fill her position.'
"'Well, yes. Unfortunately, she does,’ said Missus Lystner.
"'We'll see her on Monday, then. Right?” I sounded too eager, but the gamble had worked.
"'Yes.’ She hung up.
"I was back on track, but with Victoria's unstable condition and Mama's deterioration, I had to speed up my plans. Victoria would be going back to work on Monday, so that left only three days before I'd have to put my final plan into action. The house wasn't nearly ready, but Victoria would be marrying me, not the house.
"By Sunday, the honeymoon suite was almost complete, with white satin linens, new curtains, and a lace canopy with fringe. Mama told me girls like fringe. I scrubbed and polished the fancy woodwork, and I hung out of the windows, cleaning them until they shined. In the morning, I would add candles and flowers as the finishing touch.
"The rest of the house was still a sight, but the wedding suite was ready, and by the end of the day I was dead tired. After tucking Mama into bed for the night, I turned in. It had been a busy weekend, but worth it to please my Victoria. I knew Mama would love her once they met. Or at least, I hoped so.
"For once it was warm in my room from the heat of the day, so I stripped down to my underwear and climbed into bed. I'd fallen asleep quickly, but sometime in the night that damn chill filled the room again, and I woke up freezing. It was still summertime, and I couldn't explain the cold that kept creeping into the old house.
"It was dark as pitch and the wood floor was chilly on my bare feet as I shuffled around, feeling for my shirt and pants. Moving around blind, my foot hit something cold that blocked my way to the dresser. I didn't remember leaving anything in the middle of the floor. If I was anything, it was neat and tidy.
"When I reached down to move whatever was blocking my way, my hand sunk into a cold and fleshy blob that shivered when I touched it. Shocked, I stumbled backward and fell, hitting my head on the bed frame. I yelled in pain, and a female voice from the fleshy mass began to giggle under its breath, the sound growing until it became a hysterical cackle that echoed through the house.
"Terrified and freezing, I groped for the bed and squeezed myself underneath, the old springs stabbing my naked back. I held my breath, straining to see what was in my room, but it was too dark. The laughter stopped suddenly and a slow shuffling sound moved across the floor toward me while the springs of the bed creaked to life above.
"'Hen-ry, you can't hide from us,” a voice teased from on top of the bed. An icy cold hand grabbed my foot, and the cackling started again. I screamed, struggling to get loose. Like a vise, the hand held my foot and another hand yanked at my toes.
"'This little piggy went to market,’ it giggled. ‘This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef.” Then it screamed, ‘But this little piggy had no fucking toes to keep counting because Henry Fucking Rutt cut them off!’ A searing pain ripped through my foot as my toe was severed. I shrieked in agony.
"In a frenzy, I screamed and kicked until my foot came loose from the icy grip. I scrambled on my hands and knees toward the door; mercifully, it was open. Grabbing the doorframe, I struggled to stand up and hobbled down the hall as fast as I could move.
"A shrieking voice came from behind me, ‘Where do you think you're going, Henry Rutt?’ Heading for the stairs, I tripped and fell in a heap at the open door of the honeymoon suite. I stood up, wincing, and saw that the room was ablaze with candles. The canopy was shredded to pieces and streaked with dark stains; the furniture lay smashed and scattered around the room; and my black leather bag of mementos was tipped over, the wet fingers oozing over the satin covers. MURDERER!! was scrawled on the wall above the headboard in dripping red letters.
"A glint of candlelight caught my eye. Skewered on the bedpost by my own blade was a severed toe. A sharp heel struck my back, and I toppled to my knees. With a gust of cold wind, the candles blew out and I was hit hard across the back of the head. As my consciousness faded, a chorus of cackles grew with one voice cutting through the noise.
"'We're just getting started, Henry ... and your mama can't help you now!’”
January 27—Personal Journal
I received an urgent call...
The pudgy floor nurse struggled to keep up with Rebecca's strides. She didn't notice the nurse's breathlessness.
"I'm sorry I had to call you so early,” said the nurse. “But Frank Doe wouldn't speak to anyone but you. He's been extremely agitated, and last night he became inconsolable."
"I understand. Do you have any idea what the problem is?"
"It started with a nightmare and escalated to wrapping his foot in blankets and demanding pain killers. He wouldn't let the PA touch him, so the orderlies restrained him. We couldn't find anything wrong with the toe, but as soon as they let him loose, he wrapped it back up again."
An orderly was waiting at Henry's door and unlocked it when Rebecca arrived. She found Henry huddled on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chin. He rocked and whimpered, holding his swaddled foot.
"My toe ... my toe."
"Frank?” He didn't respond.
"Frank, it's me, Doctor R."
He continued to rock, but he glanced at Rebecca with wary eyes.
"What's happened to your toe?"
Wild-eyed and still rocking, he tilted his head at the nurse and the orderly, then back at the door.
"Oh, I see,” she said. “Would you mind stepping outside while I talk with Frank?"
"I don't know if that's a good idea, doctor,” said the orderly. His thick muscles appeared coiled with tension from a long night dueling with his patient's neuroses.
"Leave the door open. We'll be fine, won't we, Frank?” she said.
He rocked, offering only a silent blink.
"Nurse, you're free to return to your station. Thank you for your assistance."
The orderly left the room with a “you've been warned” shrug, but the nurse looked relieved to be going back to her desk. Relief by way of the morning shift would be arriving soon.
"What about that toe, Henry?” asked Rebecca.
Craning his neck to make sure no one was listening at the door, Henry whispered, “They cut it off."
"Who cut it off?"
"The ... the orderlies."
"Why would they cut your toe off, Henry?"
"They know what I did.” He rocked harder and began whimpering again. “They're punishing me. They've been listening to our conversations. They know!"
"I've told you our sessions are completely confidential."
"Devices,” Henry whispered. “They're using devices to listen—like my daddy used."
"I'll be sure to have the office swept for bugs so they can't do that anymore, but you have to let me take a look at that toe. Okay?"
"Pros. You've gotta hire pros for the job, or they'll find out."
"Okay, pros it is. Now how about letting me see your toe?"
Henry looked at her like she was crazy. “How can you look at it, if it's not there?"
"Okay, how about let me see the empty place where the toe used to be?"
Henry peered around the room, up at the corners of the ceiling and back to the door. Satisfied, he slowly unwrapped his left foot while the doctor stood by him.
"Is it okay if I touch your foot, Henry?” He nodded like a wounded child. Reaching over, she took hold of his foot and helped Henry extend his leg out straight. With a firm grip on his foot, she used her other hand to count. Starting with the big toe, “One, two, three, four, five,” she said. “Hmm ... everything seems to be in order here, Henry. Maybe it's the other foot."
He looked startled, staring down at his toes. The doctor counted them for him again. He pushed his right foot forward and watched the count.
"Yup, five toes there, too, Henry. Seems your toes are safe and sound."
"But I felt it,” he said. “They cut if off with a knife, last night while I was sleeping."
"Henry, you've had a tough week. We'll give you the weekend off so you can rest up. If you feel up to it, we'll start again on Monday. How's that sound?"
Henry just wiggled his toes and stared at them.
"How about I see if I can have your clay project brought here to your room? I'll have to keep your tools, but with the spray bottle and your talented fingers, you should still be able to enjoy your work. Sound good?"
Henry nodded, still staring at his feet.
"Okay then, I'll see you on Monday.” Turning to leave, Rebecca was startled when Henry grabbed her hand.
In a cold, calm voice, Henry said, “Thank you ... Rebecca.” Still gripping her hand, he gazed at her fingers and smiled a twisted smile.
Rebecca yanked her hand free and shoved it in the pocket of her white jacket. As she was leaving, she replied in a cool tone, “You're welcome, Henry. I'll be sure you get your spray bottle and clay for the weekend."
January 30—6:00PM: Frank Doe Session
Note: Received reports of increased delusional behavior over the weekend, after working with the clay (claimed the sculpture was threatening him). The clay was confiscated and Henry arrived lucid to his appointment.
"Feeling better, Henry?” said Rebecca.
"You know they took my clay away, don't you?” he asked, ignoring her question.
"Well, there were concerns about what you thought you were hearing from the sculpture, Henry. They took it away to protect you, but I have it here for you along with a fresh misting bottle.” She lifted the plastic covering from the sculpture on the table.
"I don't want them touching it anymore! It upsets her...” Henry's ranting trailed off as if realizing he'd said too much. “But it doesn't matter now,” he said as he reached for the clay, handling it with tender care. “I have a lot to tell you today."
Surprised by his abrupt change of attitude, Rebecca slid the freshly mixed spray bottle toward him. The empty vial rested in her pocket.
"Whenever you're ready, Henry."
He misted his hands and then the clay, smiling as if his skin were thirsty for it. Beginning the final stages of refining the facial features of the sculpture, Henry said, “Well, I had a bad night when they chopped off my toe."
"The orderlies, again?"
"No.” He looked at Rebecca as if she had gone mad. “The girls in the mansion!” He shook his head and went back to working the clay, talking to Rebecca as if they were having a friendly chat over coffee.
"I woke up very late the next day with the noon sun glaring into the room. I'd never slept that late before, so I woke with a start. Naked beside Mama on the bed, I sat up too fast and she rolled onto the floor with a thud. I jumped up to help her, and that's when I felt a throbbing pain in my foot. I yelped and looked down at the jagged stump where my toe had been. I fell back against the bed, gripping my aching foot as the memory of ‘We're just getting started, Henry’ rang in my head. My entire body ached. It all came back to me—the sound of the cackling laughter, the sight of my toe skewered to the bedpost, and my rage at the destruction of all my hard work in the wedding suite.
"The pain in my foot was screaming. I'd been squeezing it hard to try to stop the ache, but when I opened my hands to finally take a closer look, the toe was there! I touched it and tugged at it. I was so relieved, tears wet my eyes, but the throbbing continued and I knew that somehow they were responsible.
"'You bitches, whoever you are! You can't scare me. Fuck you!’ I winced with pain, but I kept shouting. ‘Hear me? FUCK YOU!'
"I heard a muffled voice. It was Mama, and she was lying face down on the littered floorboards. As soon as I lifted her, she started in on me.
"'Henry, you're a disgrace!’ she said as I propped her on the pillow. ‘How could you let them women bully you like that last night? They touched me, you know. And I don't like their kind touchin’ me!'
"'I'm sorry, Mama.’ I cringed as the pain in my foot got worse.
"'You wimp! What's wrong with you, boy? Are you gonna give them bitches the satisfaction of seein’ you in pain? Take some of Mother's Little Helpers.'
"It might have been the pain, but it seemed like Mama wasn't moving her lips. ‘But Mama,’ I said, ‘you always told me those were special, just for you.'
"'I know, boy, but times is changed, ain't they? Are you gonna be a pussy all your life?'
"'No, Mama,’ I said.
"I found Mama's little blue pills and swallowed a couple. It wasn't long before the pain began to subside. It was a good thing too, because I was running late to see Victoria. I got dressed, and when I was putting on my socks, the image of the jagged toe-stump wavered in my vision. But I touched my toes and they were all still there. The pain was gone, but just in case, I shoved Mama's Little Helpers in my pocket.
"Pushing the old Ford hard, I made my way into the city in record time. Like magic, traffic just seemed to move out of my way, and when I got into town I was even lucky enough to get a spot near Victoria's work. Seems fate was on my side, and I was just in time to greet my bride. She was crossing the street, heading for her bus stop as I walked toward her through the afternoon rush. She didn't see me coming when I bumped into her with a hard shove.
"'Hey!’ she hollered as she crashed to the pavement.
"'Oh, I'm so sorry, miss,’ I said. ‘Please, let me help you with that.’ Her purse had fallen and the contents spilled out onto the sidewalk. I picked up each item, fondling it before handing it to her. I could feel Victoria through each thing I touched. She glanced up, and I could swear she recognized me, but she looked away and scrambled to pick up the rest of her things. I noticed a tear on the knee of her tight jeans. Blood was oozing through the rip in the material.
"'Look, I've hurt you,’ I said. ‘Oh, miss, I am so sorry.'
"When she looked down at her knee, I grabbed her arm to help her to her feet. She stared into my face, speechless with her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. I had that effect on women.
"I guess she was in a hurry, because she wrenched her arm out of my grip and rushed to the bus as it pulled to the curb in a cloud of dust and heat. She glanced back at me and I waved as she climbed aboard. Being coy, she turned away without waving back. The rush hour crowd moved around me while I waited and watched the bus pull away
. I was pleased to catch a glimpse of her peeking at me through the crush of bodies on the bus. I grinned when I saw her, and she quickly turned her head. I just loved that she was playing hard to get. In fact, I thought our date went well. It felt so good to touch Victoria again. I couldn't wait until the next day, when she would meet Mama. If Mama approved, I could finally take Victoria as my bride.
"The pain started to creep back into my foot, so I took a few more of the little blue pills. Mama was right—they were very helpful. Several pills later I was back at the estate, and I slept like the dead all through the night with no interruption from them.
"I woke up at noon, late again. Feeling nauseated, I headed to the bathroom and found YOU'RE A DEAD MAN written on the medicine cabinet mirror in Mama's red lipstick. I smeared it around with some toilet paper, then brushed my teeth staring into the sink. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of mocking me. I washed and got dressed in my best Wrangler jeans and a new white T-shirt I bought special for the occasion. And of course I wore my cowboy boots.
"As I was leaving the mansion, I saw KILLER painted across the front door. I was in too much of a rush to clean it off since I still had another wonderful surprise to take care of for Victoria. I was picking up her mother so she could be waiting at the mansion with Mama when we arrived tonight for our special evening together.
"To give me a boost for the long day ahead, I took a couple of Mama's Little Helpers and headed for the city. It was getting late by the time I convinced Missus Lystner that it would be in her best interest to go along with my surprise. When I dropped her off at the estate, it was dark outside. Fortunately, Victoria was working the late shift so I rushed back to town for the rendezvous with my bride.
"I had all the details carefully planned, and the first was a single pink rose. I paid a teenager on the street to deliver it, and of course, I added a romantic note: ‘For my beautiful bride. Love, Henry.'
"I watched through the window as Victoria received the rose. I told the boy to say only, ‘For you, Beloved.’ She tried to ask him a question, but he kid ran out the door without answering.
"Alone in the store, she looked around nervously. She was so moved she just set the rose down on the counter and stared at it. I was getting impatient for her to read the note. Finally, she picked it up, opening the folded paper in her shaking hands. Suddenly, she crumpled the note, threw the rose on the floor, and stomped it under her heel until it was smashed into a pulpy pink mess.