by Eve R. Hart
“Do I frighten you?”
I had no clue where that came from. But it was honestly a legitimate question. She knew who I was and what I did. Most normal people would want to run away from that. Or scream out how I needed help and was mentally unstable. They probably pictured me like some kind of serial killer or psycho that loved to bathe in blood.
“No,” she answered in almost a whisper. Which came out sounding a little more creepy than I’m sure it was supposed to. But even with that, I could tell that she wasn’t lying.
“Do you know anything about me other than…what I do?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.”
And then the line went dead.
This was how it started.
With each call, I would push and ask questions and wait for her answers. She would eventually start answering. Most of the time it felt like she would have to psych herself up to talk. But I never rushed her or got irritated. Maybe it was just nice to have someone there, in a way. Someone that knew what I did but didn’t hate me for it. Someone that maybe even understood my world a little.
Sometimes I wouldn’t even ask questions. There was a feeling I got like she was tipping the scales with anxiety or stress and so I just talked. She always listened and didn’t really say much on those days. But I could feel it like she was there and she was actually taking interest in every word I said. She’d always start with a location. And then I’d grab my ready and waiting go-bag, head out the door, jump in my vehicle, and take off with her still attached to my ear.
Two weeks later.
“Is this where you thought you’d end up in life?” I asked knowing it was a bit of a heavy question but I didn’t care. I figured if I kept it to simple yes and no answers then she’d be more willing to stay on the line.
“No,” she said and there was a distance in her voice that made me a little sad.
Then I chose to change the subject because I didn’t like this feeling. I didn’t like to remind her of the bad things, even if I had no idea what they might be.
“I was thinking of taking up woodcarving.” Wow, could I sound any more like a lonely, old guy? But she snorted and I didn’t give a damn if that made me sound lame because that was pretty much close to a laugh. “I don’t really have any hobbies. I like to read, but that’s about it. I think it would be something nice and relaxing between jobs.”
“Sure,” she said and I could hear the laughter in her tone.
“I’m going to do it. What should I make first?”
“Probably something easy,” she said. “You don’t want to go crazy for your first masterpiece. Plus, you have to be careful. Something with a lot of intricacy could lead to lost fingers. And well, that just wouldn’t be good.”
I chuckled, it came out like a low rumble.
“No, that would not be good.”
“A platypus.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I asked jokingly. “Did you say a platypus?”
There was a short giggle that sounded faint, almost like she was trying to hide it.
“Yes. I don’t know. It was the first thing came to mind and it seems like it wouldn’t be all that hard to make. And they are kind of cute.”
An odd feeling came over me. It had started out as a joke but now I suddenly wanted nothing more than to actually carve her a platypus out of wood. I had this image in my head that it wouldn’t turn out looking anything like what I intended, but somehow it seemed fitting anyway. Maybe one day I’d even get the chance to give it to her.
I realized that those thoughts were crazy. I pushed them away with a quick shake of my head and tried to keep the conversation going. I knew that I wasn’t ready for this to be over but I wouldn’t let myself entertain the ideas of why.
“You should do it. Try something new,” she said and then there was silence.
I sat there for a long time, my phone still gripped tightly in my hand and pressed against my ear. Like somehow, she’d come back even though I knew it wouldn’t happen. My mind drifted off, wandering down a strange path and I wasn’t sure how to turn back.
Three days later.
“I decided to try something different this week,” I said already feeling a heaviness through the speaker. “I went to this Irish restaurant that I swear I must have driven by a million times. I always say to myself that I’m going to stop there but never do. But I did today. I had a conversation with the owners. They came out and talked to me because the place wasn’t that busy. They’ve been married over forty years and they still held this sweetness in their eyes for each other.”
I paused because it hit me that it didn’t really feel strange that I was sharing part of my life with her. A simple part, but it still meant something to me. Actually, it meant a lot to me but I wasn’t about to dive into that thought any more.
“The shepherd’s pie was amazing. It was hearty and full of flavor. You could tell that they put everything they had into it. And they were very proud of it. After I was done, they sent me away with a container full of Irish Potato Candies. It sounds weird, but they are so delicious. They are filled with this cream and have a heavy cinnamon flavor. I couldn’t stop eating them after I got back to my place.”
I chuckled lowly and was surprised to hear a distant, light laugh ringing in my ear. I smiled at the sound and was desperate to hear more of it.
“Do you have a favorite dessert or candy?”
“Yes,” she responded and for a flash of a second, I could have sworn there was a hint of snarkiness in her tone. But in a playful way.
“Okay. That’s good. I think everyone should.” Now I had just become a rambling idiot. I was hoping she would tell me what it might be but clearly, she either couldn’t get out more than one word at a time or I was there for her amusement.
“I…,” she said then there was a bit of dead air. “I like these cookies my mom makes. Oatmeal cookies filled with all kinds of random things.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, like chocolate chips and cranberries. Sometimes nuts and dried cherries. And they always have cinnamon and clove in them. She called them Oatmeal Surprise because it was always a surprise what she’d put in them. I…I always get this warm feeling inside whenever I eat them.”
Then she was gone. I couldn’t say that I wasn’t smiling. That was the most I’d gotten out of her and it did something to me.
Eight days later.
“Hi,” I couldn’t help but lamely say as I settled myself behind the wheel of my truck and knew where I was headed.
“Hi,” she parroted with a strained, almost sad, giggle.
There was a heavy exhale that echoed through the speaker of my phone and I felt the weight of her day lift off of her just a fraction. I maybe smiled thinking that I had done that. And for some strange reason, I felt this need to always be the one to lift her burdens. To make sure she smiled each day. To hold her when things got too intense. I couldn’t explain it and maybe I didn’t really want to. I had never actively sought out any type of relationship. I’d never encouraged myself or the few women that had stumbled along my path that showed interest. I just never really saw the point in it all. It wasn’t because I was jaded. Even though my dad at times was a dick to me and cut me down, he loved my mother. He showed her care and tenderness every chance he got. And both my grandparents were the same. So, I didn’t have that hate of seeing how people only brought each other down. And I hadn’t had some tragic relationship that made me start to hate women. I just figured that I was meant to be alone. The older I got, the more that thought took root and now I had pretty much accepted my future as the male version of a crazy cat lady.
Or maybe I was just going insane.
But no matter how I looked at it, my little psychic chick was starting to drill a hole into my heart whether that was her intention or not.
She didn’t say much this time, choosing to let me run the conversation. I talked about random things and tried to get her to
open up. I told her how Fall was my favorite time of year. It was the best when traveling because I got to see how the season change varied throughout the states. I told her that I had always wanted to learn how to play chess but never had anyone to teach me. Hell, I never really had anyone to just attempt to play with me. That led me into giving her the tiniest glimpse into my childhood. I didn’t go into it in too much detail because I was trying my hardest to uplift her spirit and I feared that my lonely, beat down youth would only do the opposite.
“Thank you,” I heard her say just before she disconnected the call.
And I was pretty sure I smiled the rest of the drive to my destination.
Another two weeks went by and I felt it all slipping. Her guard. Her hesitancy. Her voice, and by that I meant it seemed like the distortion faded slightly with each new conversation. I wondered if one day I’d hear the real her. If I would ever get close enough to at least know her name.
Then it happened. No, not the voice thing or the name one.
She asked me a question back.
“Why the white button-up shirts?”
Then there was an audible gasp like she hadn’t really meant to ask that out loud. It also told me something and yeah, maybe she realized that too. It told me that she knew a little more about me than I had thought. It told me that she’d seen me, on more occasions than one. It also let me know me that she paid attention. Well, maybe it wasn’t really that hard to miss, because when I wasn’t behind my closed door, I was almost always in a button-up shirt and black slacks.
“To be honest, I’m not really sure,” I replied as my mind drifted off trying to come up with some answer for her. “Maybe it’s because I need to feel some sort of professionalism in all of this. I have the need to take…well, pride wouldn’t be the right word, but that I take what I do seriously and need that to reflect outward. What I do…it’s not light and it not a joke. What happened to those people is not something that should be taken care of in a sloppy manner. And I feel like that starts with my outward appearance.”
“Why do you do it?”
I smiled, an odd far away kind of smile.
“Not sure on that one either. I’m good at it. I know what to do and I know how to make sure that what I do never gets found by the people I wouldn’t want it to. The people my clients wouldn’t want to. Maybe it’s just that simple. Or maybe I don’t really have an answer.”
I shrugged though she couldn’t see it, well I didn’t think that she could anyway. Who the hell knew, she could have really been psychic and had some sort of visions. She could have been looking through her crystal ball at me right now. Sure it sounded downright mad, but I’d learned a long time ago that sometimes things you didn’t think could exist, really did.
“Why do you do it?” I asked, not really sure what it was.
“Because I have to,” she said and I knew that I had made her sad. “Because I made a promise.”
I knew it was coming. Even before the beep told me that she was gone.
A few days later.
I could tell she was ready to hang up right after she gave me the address. I wasn’t going to let that happen though.
“I’ve been working on my woodworking skills,” I blurted out with an odd sort of nervousness.
It wasn’t a lie. I had been. In fact, I was almost done with my first piece. A really sickly looking platypus. I couldn’t seem to get one of his legs right, so I kept whittling it down. Then it just sort of ended up looking like a nub of an leg more than anything. It wasn’t like I could glue the little shavings back on and start again. His bill was a bit big and his eyes were lopsided. But there was something about it that I found pride in. I knew my first attempt wasn’t going to turn out perfect, but I kept at it. For her. Because there was something deep down inside of me that had a twisted sense of hope. Hope that one day I’d actually get to give it to her.
“Really?” she asked and I could tell that I’d brought a tiny smile to her face. Which in turn, made my own lips tip up.
“Yeah, I think I’m getting better.”
Okay, that part was kind of a lie.
And by the little giggle that rang out with a creepy edge due to what she was using to cover up her real voice, I knew she could tell I was stretching the truth a bit.
“What else do you like to do in your off time?” she asked almost out of nowhere.
There was a lightness to the distortion and a burning curiosity that I could sense immensely. Like she’d been waiting forever to ask that question. Like the answer would cure the world. I couldn’t deny that it shocked me still for half of a second.
I kind of always thought that I was just there. She helped me out for some unknown reason, but in a way, I figured I was just one cog in a wheel. A giant operation that she ran. But with that one question, it had me wondering if maybe she’d thought about me beyond this whole thing of calling me with a direction to go in. And I had a feeling that was just the start. Oh, no, I didn’t mind that at all.
I let out a short laugh. If only she knew how subdued my life really was she wouldn’t have had such excitement in her voice.
“Honestly…”
“Yes, always,” she said and there was a weighted plea in her words.
I wanted to tell her that I’d always be truthful with her but something held me back. Not because I knew I’d lie to her at some point. No, I knew I’d be able to hold myself to that promise no fucking problem. It was more a feeling that I might say too much, go too deep, and scare her away.
“My life is pretty quiet. The whole attempting to make something out of a branch is as about as exciting as it gets. And that’s a fairly new development, so imagine how it was before I tried to find a new talent.”
She laughed. It echoed with a deep static. But I loved it. If I wasn’t driving I might have had the urge to close my eyes and envision what it really sounded like.
She stayed on nearly my entire drive. She talked more. Opened up a little. And hell yeah, I listened. I took it all in and stored it away for later.
I got the feeling that she was significantly younger than I was but I couldn’t put a finger on why I though that or how young she might have been. Life had obviously tossed her a hard curveball and that was how she’d tumbled into this side of the world. The one that I lived and breathed. The side where people like us didn’t exactly follow the normal, real-world laws.
Though I loved to hear her talk about her favorite color—teal, by the way. Or the best way to make mashed potatoes—apparently you whip them with a bit of cream cheese and a dollop of sour cream. The thing that really stuck with me was the things she didn’t say. Like how her life had turned to such a lonely path. How we had that in common. How she had slowly started to slip into something she didn’t like. Which, I suspected had to do with people. I could tell she wasn’t necessarily like me, she wasn’t a fan of people. It was more like she’d hid herself away for so long that she was almost afraid of the outside world. Like maybe she didn’t know how to be—for lack of a better word—normal anymore.
I hated to hear the heartbreak in her voice. It was faint, but it was there.
All I could do was try to put a little bit of light in her day whenever she gave me the chance. And I vowed that I always would, no matter how shitty I was feeling.
Then it happened. The disguise was back in full force though it didn’t hide the stress and panic from her voice.
“Hello,” I answered, like always.
She rattled off an address. One that I didn’t recognize.
“It’s a cabin. There are seven bodies. I need them gone and like they were never there.”
I paused, half bent over, free hand stretched out ready to grab my bag.
This wasn’t a normal call. And the panic in her voice was real. I could hear it, thick and straining, even through the false, robotic voice.
I opened my mouth to say something but she continued talking before I could speak.
“I will pay y
ou. And believe me when I say that these men deserved what they got.” There was a hint of knowing in her voice, like she understood exactly how I worked. Like she didn’t see me as the monster like outsiders would if they knew. It shouldn’t have shocked me, but it did.
“Are you alright?” I blurted out and I honestly could feel the panic starting to wear off onto me.
“I’m fine. I just need this done. Fast, please.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.” I tried to sound calm and reassuring.
It was going to take me a moment to figure out where this location was. Most of my jobs, they were usually in the same places, or close by. I didn’t know this town or where the cabin might even be in that town. I’d passed by it on my way to one of the Steel Paragon’s chapters and so it sort of seemed familiar, but nowhere around the level of comfort I was used to.
But before I could even think about hunting down my maps she spoke again. Giving me directions that I knew would get me to the exact spot she needed me to be at. I just had to find the bar on the main road, then follow everything she told me to a T.
She didn’t stick around after that. And I didn’t think she would. She sounded almost as if she were in some sort of crisis mode. So I didn’t even try to keep her.
The fact that she had said there were seven bodies made me cringe. I hated big jobs. Add in the fact that I’d be in a town I was unfamiliar with, well fuck, I had to do this job perfectly that was for sure. Not so much as a single, tiny slip up. And I had to get in and out of that town without anyone knowing I’d been there.
A seven body clean up came at a hell of a price. I’d done jobs that big only a handful of times in my life and that was it. Most of them early on when I was still making a name for myself. But this job…this one I knew I’d be doing for free. I couldn’t charge her, not after all that she’d done for me. And maybe there was the fact that it felt really fucking wrong. I wouldn’t have called us friends because the definition was just not right. But we were something. Something more than what I possibly even understood. So, yeah, there was no way in hell that I was going to let her even attempt to pay me. And that was something I’d have to let her know later.