Delia

by Jason LaVelle

  Even though she was the more feminine of the two of them, Alice was tough. She wasn’t a scaredy-cat by any means. Her scream chilled Delia to the core, and she burst out of the shower with it still running and sprinted through the kitchen heading for the slider out to the backyard.

  “Alice, where are you?” she screamed. As Delia burst out onto their back patio, into the warm morning sun, she saw Alice standing stock-still at the edge of the yard, staring into the overgrowth just beyond the grass. There was dense growth on either side of the lawn, and straight-ahead was the pathway to the lake.

  “Ali!” she yelled as she ran to her. “Ali, what happened?”

  Alice turned toward Delia and her jaw dropped, even further.

  “Dee, you’re, you’re naked!”

  Delia looked down. Indeed, she was naked. She had rushed out of the shower without grabbing a towel and now her exposed body dripped warm water onto the grass at her feet. She hadn’t cared, though as protecting Alice was her only concern and getting to her was all that mattered.

  “What’s wrong, Alice? What happened?”

  Alice seemed to remember what she was freaking out about again because she jumped back a little from the overgrowth, as if something was going to come out and get her.

  “It’s in there! A dragon!”

  “What?” Delia huffed, a little frustrated. Delia strode up to the overgrowth and peered in. Sure enough, a large lizard was hiding just within the dense cover of weeds and leaves. It was not a dragon, of course, but it did have a very long body and a protruding snout.

  It was only as tall as a small dog, but probably twice as long. Its forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth. Delia could see movement behind it and assumed it was swishing a long tail back and forth. Delia thought she had seen a picture of something like this before, though she hadn’t thought they lived in Florida. For a moment, she was angry with Alice for frightening her so much, but then her anger gave way to little bursts of giggling.

  “What the hell is so funny?”

  Delia looked over at a still-frightened Alice who was now blushing bright red.

  “It’s not a dragon, honey.” Delia was laughing hard now, and doubled over with the laughter. She fell to the ground at her feet, the cool grass felt nice against her skin. The dragon apparently had had enough of the racket because it turned and quickly disappeared into the jungle of bright green bushes.

  “It was huge, Dee, I was scared.”

  Delia just kept laughing for a moment.

  “You know, one of the neighbors across the lake is going to see you like this and then you won’t think it’s so funny!” Alice had her hands on her hips, looking very stern. Delia popped up off the ground and jumped into the air, twirling a little as she did. Alice just gaped at her.

  “There, I’ve given them some entertainment,” Delia told her with a smirk. “We’ll go to the fish and game office today and tell them about the dragon, all right?”

  “Really?”

  “Really, baby.” Delia wrapped her arms around Alice. “I love you, but I’m getting back in the shower. Will you try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone?”

  Alice blushed again and nodded.

  *****

  Delia was smiling at the memory. They had found out later from a DNR agent that the dragon was actually an Asian Water Monitor. He said it was most likely a pet at one time and that the owners had probably released it when it got too big – which was a common occurrence with exotic animals, according to Mr. DNR.

  The landscape they were passing now became more and more familiar. The city was far behind them and they were rolling into farm country. It was apparent not from a change in the actual landscape, but from what covered it. Where the city was bathed in miles of steel and concrete, Delia could now see only wheat as far out as the horizon. She watched the golden stalks sway lazily in the breeze. Even inside the car, the earthy smell found her and brought back memories that had been tucked away for years.

  Then Alice went and said something that ruined it all. She hadn’t meant to, of course. No one ever does.

  “Do you think Francis is still in your hometown?” Alice asked.

  Delia froze. The corners of her eye twitched just a little. Her breath caught deep in her lungs as a cool liquid poured over her heart. Suddenly, the slight whispers that had been quietly rustling through her mind were crystal clear to her.

  She strained to hear if there were any words in them, but they were still very quiet. Delia tried to think if they were getting louder as they neared Grattan. She couldn’t tell, and the anxiety she had once felt back in the hospital in Liege settled back over her mind again.

  “Dee? Are you okay, honey?” Alice’s voice was worried. She had seen the sun drain from Delia’s face.

  Delia turned to her slowly and nodded. “Yes Ali, I think he’s still there.”

  Alice took her hand and tried to be reassuring. “Don’t worry; I’ll be here with you.”

  Delia had a terrible feeling that Alice may not be enough, not if the hatred Francis had felt for her still lingered. She had put him out of her mind long ago. It was a selfish thing to do, but she had to move on with her life. Would he try to talk to her if he saw them in Grattan? Would he try to hurt her? Could he still be angry after all these years? The last time she saw him he was confined to a hospital bed. He was missing fingers, a leg and a lot of skin.

  A wave of guilt washed over her and she quickly tucked it away. Delia had come to grips with her actions regarding Francis long ago. After she found out it was him that had been wrapped up like a mummy in her hospital ward, she had lost several nights’ sleep wondering what she could have done differently, how she could have eased the pain, and if she was partially to blame for his terrible injuries. Alice told her she was crazy for being so worried, but the Francis she knew had been completely infatuated with her and Delia was afraid that finding out about her infidelity had thrown him off balance or weakened his battle resolve somehow.

  She knew now that she had never really loved Francis, but she had cared for him deeply, and she would not have wished his injuries on anyone. She had never intentionally hurt him. She could not help what happened between her and Alice. It was love, real love. It was a connection brighter and stronger than she had ever felt with anyone in her life. She sometimes felt so full of her desire to be with Alice that she was afraid she would burst.

  Delia was still looking forward to being there, but as they crossed the last few miles to her childhood home, she noticed despairingly that the whispering in her head was indeed getting louder. God help her get through this visit. She was sure Francis would find out about Don’s death; but perhaps he didn’t care, maybe he didn’t care about her at all anymore. Delia hoped this was true, but the ominous rushing in her mind argued against that. No, he would find out about Don and he would know that she was coming back. He’ll be waiting. She didn’t want to think about that, but Delia knew. There was going to be trouble in Grattan when she returned.

  The house came into view and Aunt Deb must have heard them approaching, because she was waiting on the porch, just as she used to when Delia was just a child. Delia smiled out the window at her. She tried to mask her disappointment that Lilly wasn’t out there waiting as well. Perhaps she was inside. Alice’s grip tightened on her hand. Delia looked into her eyes for a long moment.

  “I love you, Ali.”

  She nodded. “I love you, too. Can I stay close to you?”

  “Definitely.”

  *****

  As the late afternoon sun made its way across the sky, a rusty red pickup truck sauntered slowly up the driveway to the butcher’s house. Randy McCaul was driving the truck. His personal exterior wasn’t much better than that of the vehicle he drove. His face was covered with patchy brown stubble and several teeth were absent from his salacious smile, a smile he only seemed to flash at young girls he saw around town.

  The butcher was home, he could tell because the green Chevy
3800 he drove was in the driveway, between the meat house and the house proper. As the truck rattled to a stop behind the green pickup, Randy knocked his fist into the center of the steering wheel, causing the horn to bleep briefly before he climbed down out of the truck.

  It stank out here. Randy had a feeling that the butcher had stopped burying the great carcasses of cows out back like his old man had. He had a feeling they were just piled up in the woods behind the meat barn. Whatever. He did not care what the butcher did; he was just here for his meat order. Standing in the dusty dirt driveway, Randy arched backwards, feeling the satisfactory crackle of the bones in his back shifting around.

  The door to the house cracked open just a little and Randy saw the butcher peer out at him, so he offered up a wave. Then the butcher came out into view. He was shirtless today, with only tattered jeans and dark brown boots to cover his body, what was left of it at least. Though Randy tried, it was impossible not to stare. The man was a freak show of shiny twisted skin. Randy tried to pry his eyes away as the butcher approached. He wore a large knife on his hip, strapped to him by the same cracked leather belt that held up his well-worn jeans. As usual, Randy became just a little nervous as the butcher approached.

  The butcher’s limp drew more attention to his gross deformities. Randy had never seen it, but he knew the butcher had a fake leg. The kids around town said it was a human leg that he had cut off someone himself and sewed onto his stump to replace the one he had lost. Silliness, of course. Still, like a frightened dog, the hairs on the back of Randy’s neck rose up and his legs began to fidget. The butcher came to a stop only a foot away from him. His grisly form stood several inches taller than Randy, who was still staring at the mess of flesh. When the butcher spoke, his voice was low and abrupt.

  “Your meat order is ready.”

  “Okay, yeah, that’s why I came.”

  The butcher brushed past him toward the meat barn.

  “Back your truck up to the overhead door,” he said without looking back.

  Randy just nodded and climbed back into the truck. He never liked being in close proximity to the butcher. He was uncomfortable around his mangled body. There was something else, too. The butcher felt - dangerous. Randy was no coward. He had fought in the war; he had done his time, thankfully with no injuries. Even so, the butcher made his skin crawl and his heart beat just a little faster in his presence.

  “The monster butcher,” he mumbled quietly as he started up the old truck. Looking back over his shoulder, Randy backed the old truck up to the large gray overhead door that was the butcher’s loading dock. The door was open but the inside of the barn was dark. He couldn’t see the butcher anywhere.

  Randy climbed out of the truck once more and made his way up to the barn. The stink of death was stronger by the barn. The meat he received from the butcher was always good, he had no worries about that, but he didn’t want to spend any more time on this property than he had to. Randy waited by the door for a minute, but when the butcher did not reappear, he ventured inside.

  The area he was in now was a foyer, of sorts, for the barn. It was an area about eight feet deep and as wide as the barn, perhaps twenty feet. It was not lighted, and sitting in stacks and heaps were lawn tools, both modern and antique. There were a wide variety of cutters, trimmers and edgers, though from the state of the butcher’s property he did not invest much time in using these instruments. A large lawn tractor, one of the few he’d ever seen, was set just off to his right. This looked like the one item in the barn that got any real use.

  One entire sidewall was lined with axes, mauls, two great long band saws, and hatchets. There were machetes and, of course, a long scythe. Randy was familiar with all of these tools, having used them growing up as most men in these parts had, but looking at the wall of instruments and thinking of them in the butcher’s hands, made him shudder just a little.

  Directly across from the large overhead door, and in the direction he was facing, was the door to the meat room. It was a large steel door and Randy knew it led to the refrigerated room because of the condensation that was beaded on the outside of the door. The butcher still wasn’t coming out so Randy walked up to the door and gripped the handle. It was cold in his hand but turned easily.

  Randy pushed the door in and was greeted by a blast of cold air. Skinned carcasses hung from hooks in the ceiling. It smelled of blood, a thick, metallic odor that turned his guts. He was pressing the door open farther when a dark form stepped in front of it from the meat room.

  “What are you doing in here?” the butcher asked as he loomed over Randy. He was carrying a large box of packed meat - Randy’s meat order.

  “I-I was just coming to help you.”

  The butcher moved toward him, forcing Randy to back out of the doorway without saying a word. He shoved the heavy box of meat into Randy’s arms and then reached behind him and slammed the door shut to the meat room. When he turned back to face Randy, his eyes were dark with hate.

  “Don’t open that door again,” he said, very slowly. “It lets the cold out.”

  Randy nodded his head quickly.

  “Thanks.”

  The butcher just stared at him in reply.

  “Did you hear your neighbor died?” Randy asked, trying to divert the butcher’s attention away from his intrusion.

  The butcher only had one eyebrow, but it rose when Randy asked him the question. “What neighbor?”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear. It was Don, the veterinarian just down the road there. Died just two days ago from what I understand.”

  The butcher’s face was doing something Randy didn’t quite understand. The twisted flesh was twitching and moving, the corners of his mouth inching up his face. It was a ghastly expression. Randy thought he might be trying to smile.

  “You can leave now.”

  “I’ll leave now. Thanks.” Randy stumbled backward and turned quickly. He tossed the box of meat into his open truck bed and hurried to the driver’s door. As he opened the door he glanced over his shoulder to see the butcher still standing just inside the darkened barn. His arms were crossed over his chest and he glared out at Randy with the same sick smile cut into his face.

  Randy raced off the property.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Alice and Delia walked up to the back porch, each carrying a small suitcase. Their hands were held between them. Delia fought hard not to fidget as they approached her Aunt Deb, the woman who had raised her for the second half of her young life.

  Deb said nothing as they approached, so when Delia was standing directly in front of her she offered a wide smile.

  “I missed you so much Aunt Deb.”

  Deb eyed her and Alice for a long moment. Her expression was only one of curiosity, and Delia did not see anything disapproving in it.

  “So this is what it took to get you to come home, huh?”

  They were quiet for a moment and then Deb stretched her arms out.

  “Give your aunt a hug? I could really use one.” Deb was trying to smile but she just looked sad.

  Delia stepped up to the porch and wrapped strong arms around her. “I’m so sorry Aunt Deb.”

  Deb patted her back. “Thank you Delia. The way that man ate: a half pound of bacon plus sausage and eggs every morning. Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time.”

  At last they broke their embrace and Delia turned toward Alice.

  “Aunt Deb, this is Alice. She’s my…she’s my girlfriend.”

  Alice smiled up at her proudly.

  “Hello Alice,” she said, and extended a hand toward her.

  Alice took the hand but then stepped closer so that she could capture Deb in an embrace of her own. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Deb nodded appreciatively.

  “So,” Deb began. “Girlfriends, huh? How does that work? Which one of you does the cooking?”

  Delia chuckled and glanced over at Alice again. “Well, that girl can’t cook worth a darn.”<
br />
  “And she can’t seem to tell the difference between whites and colors in the wash,” Alice piped up.

  Deb nodded with a small grin. “So you two complement each other well, then.”

  “We do, Aunt Deb. And more than that, we’re happy.”

  “Well, you’d best come in and have some supper with me,” Deb said. Then to Alice, “I’ll show you who taught Delia to cook so well.”

  Delia was a little startled but she thought she saw Aunt Deb wink. Well this went better than I thought it would.

  *****

  Delia’s Aunt Deb did not drink; neither did her late Uncle Don, so there was no alcohol in the house. Alice lay next to Delia on the tiny twin-sized bed in the upstairs bedroom of her late childhood home. Delia was exhausted. The stress of coming home had worn her down and she crashed hard once she lay down.

  Now Alice was left staring up at the ceiling in the not-quite-dark-enough room. Delia was snoring softly next to her, but Alice was not ready for sleep yet. She hadn’t had a drink all day and she normally had a Bloody Mary or Screwdriver with breakfast, a Rum Runner or Rum Punch after lunch, and she would always partake in a little red wine after dinner. Today she had had nothing and was feeling jittery.

  Alice never felt like she had a drinking problem. She did not get drunk very often; she just enjoyed having a cocktail now and then. She knew that once in a while she got a little out of hand, but Delia was always there to take care of her. Now, as she stared up at the ceiling, she felt like her head was buzzing, and she had anxious energy coursing slowly through her. Just enough to keep her awake.

  She wanted – needed a drink. There was an old blue dodge sitting next to the house. Perhaps she could take that to the store and buy some alcohol. To the store? What was she thinking? Alice shook her head. She was in the middle of farm country. There were no stores anywhere nearby, and the closest store, in the heart of the tiny town of Grattan, would have closed down hours ago.