“Fine.”
After I’d signed the slip and he handed me the bag, Donna and I turned and started walking toward the door.
“Thank you,” I mumbled. I didn’t feel like conversing with the man any longer that day. I wasn’t even sure that I would come back later and talk about the accident with him. I just needed to leave.
He said nothing in return until we reached the door, and then, “Funny thing, Mr. Cushman.”
I turned and looked over my shoulder. “Yes?”
“You have the same last name as the man in the paper a week or so ago. The one involved in that accident on 270.”
“What?” I mumbled.
“You know, you really didn’t have to give me your business, Mr. Cushman, just because you ran over my daughter.” he said, without the slightest change in tone.
I stood in the doorframe. My jaw had dropped. I struggled to come up with an answer to his statement. I couldn’t. The moment had turned into a nightmare.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Cushman? You didn’t think that I knew who you were?” He laughed.
“No, sir,” my voiced creaked like a child’s. “I’m, uh, sorry that happened to your daughter, Mr. Evans. I feel like it was my fault, but I can’t for the life of me remember what happened. Do you know?” After the words came out of mouth I realized that he couldn’t possibly know, he wasn’t there. What a stupid question.
“No, but you do.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, but you do. You deserve to die! Now get out of my store and don’t ever come back here, you murdering bastard! I don’t want your business!” he screamed. His voice seemingly surrounding us, like he was on loudspeaker – coming from all directions at once. His eyes flashed red as I turned and went out the door. I did a double-take and his back was already turned. I stared for a moment and he pointed to the street, without turning his head. Like he knew I was watching.
I took the hint.
“Fuck. That didn’t go well. What kind of whack job is that guy?” I thought.
“I’m just glad we’re out of there,” Donna said.
“You’ve got to stop doing that, darling.”
~
Donna was downstairs finishing up the dishes from dinner, when I went up to bed to watch one of my shows on the DVR. It was “Fringe,” that night. She wanted to watch her “American Idol” but I had lost all respect for that show after they gave Melinda the shaft. So, I chose to relax in the bedroom.
By the time the show was over, I was beginning to doze off.
The dreams that I had were more vivid and sinister than they had been thus far. And since I had met Mr. Evans, he entered my dreams, too.
Everything played out as usual until just after his daughter started spitting maggots from her mouth. Someone approached me from behind and grabbed my neck with both hands. “Hello, Mr. Cushman,” Gerald said.
I tried to break free from his grip but I couldn’t move. “Do you see what you did to my daughter, Mr. Cushman?” he asked with a sinister laugh. I felt his wet tongue on the back of my neck and his teeth grating against my skin
I screamed, “Let me go!” as I tried to break free.
His gripped tightened and I could feel his tongue beginning to stretch around my neck. He let go with his hands and I was turned to face him by the strength of his tongue, which had turned into a snake slithering out of his mouth.
As his snake tongue tightened around my neck, his head began to elongate upwards. His nose became longer, his teeth became sharper. His eyes became blacker. He opened his mouth wider than my head and started to drag me closer to his teeth with his snake tongue.
I screamed as he engulfed me and was swept away to a dark cavern of fire, lava, and steam.
Mr. Evans was standing below me about 100 feet away. He was completely blackened as if burnt and his eyes were now blood red. He had hooves for feet and he was squatted on his haunches manipulating some items inside of a circle of flames.
He began to chant in a ritualistic fashion using a tongue that made no sense to me. Each time he repeated a stanza, he would sprinkle something on the flames that made them jump high above his head. Illuminating the deep cracks in his blackened skin.
He wasn’t aware of my presence, it appeared, as I watched him perform his ritual for the better part of five minutes. I could do nothing but watch, as if in a trance.
The moment that I started being concerned about whether or not he was watching me, Mr. Evans turned his blood red eyes in my direction, as if he heard me, and asked me if I liked my new home.
“This is where you’ll be after you die a horrible death, Mr. Cushman. Right here with me, imprisoned in hell.”
He turned the rest of his body toward me and began to run directly at me and screamed, “Because you deserve to die!” Spittle flying from his mouth. “Janie didn’t deserve to die!” He was almost on top of me “But you do!” His rotted meat breath upon my nose.
I screamed.
“Wake up, Howard. It’s okay. Wake up,” I heard from somewhere behind me
The scene morphed into my bedroom and my wife was shaking me awake.
“It’s okay, honey, you had a nightmare,” she said.
I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night. I lay awake in bed tossing and turning until the clock radio started blaring the country station that my wife liked so much. I personally couldn’t stand it, so I turned it off as quickly as I could and headed for the bathroom. We had one of those clock radios that had two separate alarms. Why I didn’t turn mine off before bed, I don’t know, but it gave me an excuse to get out of bed. Donna’s alarm wasn’t set to go for another hour and a half.
7
I originally went to college to study music, and actually graduated with a degree in it. My dream was to become the next great rock and roll musician, but reality brought me to the teaching arena.
After ten years of teaching, I found out I was much more a creator than I was a teacher and stumbled into the role of a carpenter when a friend of my father’s retired and asked me if I wanted to look after a few clients of his. He was a somewhat successful contractor through most of the 90’s, and since I discovered that I liked it better than I did teaching, I took his clients and built a respectable business, that is, until the bottom fell out of the real estate industry in the early part of the new century during the Bush era. My friend and I – who helps me run it – still have enough work to be profitable, but we had to cut at least fifty percent of our labor force.
In my free time, which was little to nil, I still played music, in fact, still had a gig or two occasionally with a couple of friends I had met in college. And I sang with the community choir in the fall to prepare for each year’s Star of Wonder Christmas Concert.
I didn’t, however, take up my father’s drinking habit. I’m pretty much just like him except for that. Well, and the constant fear that he used to instill into his children. Two boys and two girls. I was the second to youngest and usually got left alone. He would take the belt to my older brother, and most of the time I think he deserved it, from his provocations. But, he left the rest of us alone for the most part.
He never did treat our mother very well, though. For extra Christmas money she used to cocktail waitress at the Eagles every Friday and Saturday night while my father played the horn with his band. And if she got out of line, as he would parrot his friends, he would put her back in her place. I could testify to a number of times when that happened.
She was very beautiful when she was younger, and retained her beauty, but not her figure, into old age. I think that he resented her for that, which to me, was such a chicken-shit way to rationalize his sleeping around. I knew he had other women in his life. He probably knew I knew, too.
That’s another thing I didn’t get from him. I loved my wife dearly. We had our problems like many other couples who have been married a lengthy time. She had become more and more inhibited as the years passed. I had a little trouble getting
the tent pole to stay up, so I didn’t mind, really. But, she was my best friend and I relied on her so much.
It was 6:30 AM according to the clock on the microwave. I was sitting at the kitchen counter drinking my second cup of coffee and looking through one of my wife’s magazines. I usually didn’t make breakfast in the morning, just headed for the c-store on my way to work. That day, I had nowhere pressing to be, so I made the whole shebang. Donna must have smelled the coffee or the bacon. She usually didn’t get up until 7:00.
“Good morning, darling,” I said.
She returned the greeting and planted a kiss on my forehead. “Couldn’t sleep again, dear?” she asked.
“I did a little bit, but…”
“Why don’t you take one of those pills?” she interrupted.
“I’m just not comfortable with them, you know? I want to ask Dr. Morrissey about them, but I keep forgetting. I couldn’t find them on the Rx list online, but that doesn’t mean much other than they are not any known drugs that can kill me, at least.”
“Well, remember, darling, I’m going out of town this afternoon to attend the NASW conference. I’ll be gone until Monday. Kate is going to be home every night, but Brandon is going to Aunt Karen’s house on Friday and Saturday.”
“That’s this weekend?” I asked. “And what does Brandon want to do that for? Doesn’t he see your sister enough as it is? I was thinking about taking him fishing this weekend.”
“Darling, he wants to go, and besides, I don’t think you should be out running around in the woods until you see the doctor next week and he okays you for work.”
“She is mothering me,” I thought.
“Work and play are two different things,” I said as I noticed the wrinkles on her forehead beginning to get deeper and knew it was time to give it up.
I was silent for a moment. “Okay, honey, but next weekend, Brandon and I are going fishing. Kate can come along if she wants. We could even plan a camping trip if you are up for it.”
“I’ll think about it, but I wouldn’t mind a weekend to myself at home. I need to start working on the garden and well, I could use a break from all of this.” She motioned with her arm across the sink full of dishes. I knew exactly what she meant.
“All right, honey. How about some coffee? There’s a few pancakes and bacon left that I can heat up for you if you’re hungry.”
“That’s okay, you just sit. I can do it.”
“Well, at least leave the dishes for me. You have to go to work,” I said, and smiled.
~
The morning and early afternoon came and went. Donna got off to Chicago okay, and I was in the living room watching television waiting for Kate to come home. She usually picked up Brandon on the way.
“Dad, my friend, Jim, wants to come over and study with me, is that okay?” Kate asked me almost as soon as she came in the house.
“Who is Jim?”
“You know, you met him a few weeks ago, the guy with the eyebrow ring,” she replied.
“Most of your friends have eyebrow rings, Kate,” I said with a laugh.
“No, they don’t, Dad.” She was giving me that look. The one that teenage daughters are famous for. “But Jim has one that dangles, remember?”
“Oh, right. What pray tell are you going to be studying? What type of lip gloss tastes the best while kissing?”
“Daddy.” She rolled her eyes.
“Daddy, what?” I mocked back at her. Kate pretended like she was going to smack me in the back of my head.
I grabbed her hand and said, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Where are my pleases, and hugs, and kisses?”
She bent down and hugged me and kissed my forehead.
“That’s better,” I said. “You can if you don’t stay up too late, okay? I didn’t sleep well last night and I think I’ll be heading off to bed early.”
“Nine-thirty, Dad, I promise. I’ll kick him out at 9:30,” she smiled as she planted another kiss on my forehead.
Nine-thirty came and went and Jim left as promised. I had decided to have a scotch or two about an hour prior to see if that might help me sleep better.
Sadly, I tossed and turned for about an hour before my weakened inhibitions from the two scotches allowed me to take one of the sleeping pills, which Gerald Evans gave me, against my better judgment.
Whether or not it was a good idea, I sure fell asleep fast.
~
I was startled by a loud knock on my bedroom door and my daughter, Kate, screaming in the background. I mumbled, “Come in.”
Brandon came tearing into my room and jumped on top of me. “Dad, Dad,” he said, shaking me. “Kate needs help, Dad, wake up!”
I tried to open my eyes without success and mumbled, “Can’t you help her?” The sleeping pill was working too well.
“Dad, come on,” Brandon said as he squatted down to look under the bed. He knew that was where I kept the “intruder eluder,” otherwise known as a Louisville slugger.
He grabbed the bat, and ran out of the room. I had somehow followed him, but wasn’t quite within my senses. When we reached the door to Kate’s bedroom, her screams becoming louder and more terrifying, Brandon tried it and it wouldn’t budge.
I said, “Let me try, buddy, look out.”
As he moved out of the way, I took one step back and put my full force behind a kick to the door right next to the knob, and the door frame splintered inwards. Since I didn’t figure that the door would give way so easily, I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor.
I saw Brandon run past me with the bat held high, and the next moment I heard a low thumping sound, and a scream of pain. Only this time from a male.
“Get off my sister!” Brandon screamed.
The bigger of the two tumbled off the bed. “Hey, you little shit, that hurt,” I heard him say.
Another thumping sound, only this time it included a crack like a tree limb breaking, and the man tumbled to the floor.
I hurried to my daughter’s side and reached out to hold her. She sat up as if pulled by a string and screamed, “Get away from me!”
“But, honey, it’s me, Dad.”
“Get away from her,” the lump on the floor said and started to get up.
I looked at him, and then looked back at Kate. She had turned very pale, and started to vomit down her bare chest, only it was a chunky dark maroon substance that looked like melted black cherry jello partially liquefied.
I turned my head away and threw up on the bedcovers. As my head was down, I saw the man stand up and he grabbed the back of my neck. I could feel his nails digging into my neck as he put his other hand under my robe and between my legs and dug his nails into my scrotum. I heard a wet ripping sound as he tore my balls away from my body and threw them against the wall.
I screamed, but instead of feeling any pain, I felt my son pounding on my chest
“Wake up, Dad, wake up. I think I killed him, Dad,” he said as he started to shake me while pounding on me. “Oh, Daddy please wake up.”
When I heard the word killed, I forced my eyes open and managed two small slits. I saw Brandon crying above me
“What’s the matter, Brandon?” I asked. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I can get up.”
“I heard Kate scream and I went into her room and saw her friend, Jim, on top of her on the bed, then I came in here and tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t get up, so I took the bat from under the bed and ran back to Kate’s room and hit the guy in the back of his head. Anyway, Dad, he tumbled off the bed and now I don’t think he’s alive, Dad. He’s not moving, and Kate is sitting on her bed with her arms wrapped around her legs and she’s crying into her knees.” Brandon took a deep breath and continued. “Dad, I can’t believe you didn’t hear all of that. I can’t believe you didn’t come with me and help.”
My eyes were fully opened by then and I saw the fear and pain in my son’s eyes. I reached out to hug him and he crumpled into my
arms.
“It’s okay, Brand, it’s okay. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” I hugged him for a moment and said, “Let’s go see about your sister, ‘kay?”
“Okay, Dad, but can I stay here?” His eyes were wet and his upper lip quivered.
“Sure, buddy. Call me if you need me.”
Before I had arrived at Kate’s room, I heard what sounded like a window slamming and when I walked into her room, she was sitting exactly as Brandon had described and looking at the window. There wasn’t anyone else in the room.
“What’s the matter, Kate? Brand said that Jim was in here.” I didn’t get any response from her. I could tell that she was upset. “What happened, Kate?”
She looked at me as a tear dripped off of her chin. “Oh, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Why didn’t you help me? Where were you, Daddy?”
8
“I will kill the bastard. Rapes our daughter in our own goddamn house. Where does he live, Donna, I’m going to rip the kid apart?”
Donna had come home as soon as she could after she heard the news. It was Friday afternoon. Kate was in her room sleeping. Brandon had left for Aunt Karen’s house. Donna and I were in the kitchen. The mess from the night before was still in the sink.
“Before you go off and get yourself a prison sentence, Howard, let me try to handle it, okay?”
I looked at her with disbelief. “What? Are you serious?”
“Yes, Howard. Most boys who are convicted of second degree sexual assault are labeled and registered as sexual deviants, which only increases their chances of becoming a sexual predator. Not to mention that jail time is mandatory. If we keep him out of the system, he has a much better chance of living a normal adult life. If he pleads to a lesser charge of statutory rape he will probably get probation and be able to stay in school. I’ve met Jim and talked to him a couple of times. He acts like a very responsible and caring young man.”
Dream Sweet Page 3