Something Down There

by Nancy Widrew

  “But Jeremy,” she said, forgetting to lower her voice as she wailed with frustration. “The timing. And not only that. Don’t you see? We’ve fallen into their trap.”

  Jeremy ground his teeth. “I know and, damn it, that’s the worst part. But it’s beyond our control, and, anyway, there’s a plus side to this.”

  “Plus side. You’ve got to be kidding!”

  “I never thought much about fatherhood before,” he said. “I figured some day in the future. Way off in the future. But now I have a purpose again. Don’t you see? For the past few weeks I’ve been a dead man. Nothing mattered. Now I have a reason to live, and a reason to get us out of here. And I will, Karen. I won’t let my baby be born into captivity.”

  Hearing a harsh laugh, Jeremy stopped, caution written in the deepening horizontal lines across his brow. Karen grabbed his shoulder, and they both realized their mistake—speaking too loudly, too openly—and turned in the direction of the eavesdropper.

  “What makes you think it’s your baby, Jeremy?” said a female voice. He knew immediately whose voice and waited for Mary to creep in from the shadows.

  Fixing her predatory, birdlike eyes on Karen, Mary said, “Tell him. Tell him what you did.” The veins in Mary’s temple stood out, blue and pulsating under her skin. The ferocity behind her pulled-back lips exposed her gums, fiery and red, reveling hatred, an about-to-explode-hatred.

  “What’s this about?” said Jeremy, shaking his head.

  “I-I,” said Karen.

  Mary guffawed. “Can’t tell him, can you? Well, I will and gladly.” She flicked her tongue, spewing forth bullets disguised as words which hit their target right on the mark. “You betrayed us all. Me. Jeremy. Even yourself. I could overlook your betrayal if not for your supreme stupidity, although I suppose Jeremy will have to make his own choice. But what I can’t forgive is that you’re having his baby. His!” Her fevered eyes shifted from Karen to Jeremy.

  Jeremy’s skin burned, and he kneaded the back of his neck. “What’s she talking about, Karen?”

  Karen opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  Mary immediately cleared up the confusion. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything. It’s Rahm! Rahm’s baby!”

  Torn and bloodied from Mary’s caustic tongue, Karen stumbled backward, barely recognizable as if her whole body, from top to bottom, had been exchanged with someone else’s. Others, hearing the commotion, crowded around.

  “I was supposed to be next!” Mary screamed. “How could you? Now they’ll never let you go. Never! It’s all your fault!”

  Jeremy went to his wounded wife. “Tell me she’s lying. Please! And not with Rahm. Tell me she’s lying.”

  Karen crouched down, head brushing knees, keening as if she were at a funeral.

  “She can’t tell you that,” said Mary, “because it’s true. I was there when it happened, over by the lake. I saw everything. Their silly games. Their flirtation. I saw it all.”

  Jeremy’s open, beseeching hands rounded into threatening hooks. Rahm and Brian stood nearby ready to jump in if necessary.

  “Do it!” begged Karen. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

  Instead his expression shifted from love to hate before fixing into a rigid mold that said I never knew you.

  Karen shrank inward, cowering like a guilty person about to be sentenced. The last thing she remembered was Jeremy walking off without another word. He’ll never be back, she told herself. “God help me. What have I done?”

  #

  Jeremy collapsed into folds like the pleated remains of a car totaled in a deadly accident. Although he had only gone a short distance, he fell to the ground, weak and disjointed, unable to breath. Memories of his life with Karen flashed before his eyes. He knew he should cry, rave, do something to rid himself of the fury pulsing throughout his body; instead he sat there, immobilized by grief, the victim of a bad joke, pretending to go along with the mockery to spare himself further shame.

  I should have done it, he thought. Killed her. First her, then me. Realizing it wasn’t too late, his mouth shifted perversely, one side going up, the other down, while his mind with the help of willing fingers, considered the best way to proceed: strangling or stabbing. He depicted them both. Strangling, he decided; he’d watch her face as she succumbed.

  He lay still for hours, obsessing, until crazed with madness and feeling less than human, he crawled then stumbled upright along a passageway. Hearing movement, he realized he was no longer alone. “Who’s there?” he said.

  Lily struck a match, lighting a candelabrum. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t you know where you are?”

  Jeremy sneered at the two fertility gods: the larger male one and the recently completed female with its stone adornment hanging from its neck. Together they were symbols of an ugly act which spoke the worst type of duplicity. He got up to leave, but Lily’s questions stopped him. “Wait,” she said. “Is something wrong? I heard yelling before. Can I help?”

  “Can you teach me to fly? Can you save my soul? No, of course not, but sure, you can help. Why not?”

  He let his eyes roam over her form, before resting on the small, triangular mound under her flimsy nightdress. “You want to be useful? Take off that silly gown and lie still.”

  “But …”

  “And shut up while you’re at it.”

  “There’s no need to be rude. It’s just that I thought—I mean, what about your wife? Norman warned me.”

  “Wife! I have no wife.”

  Lily opened her mouth, then closed it. She crossed her arms and yanked the little bit of fluff that passed for covering over her head. Only a thin cord with an irregularly shaped rock remained on her body.

  Jeremy reached out and touched the hateful symbol, lying against her skin. He twisted the figurine, causing the cord to cut into Lily’s flesh.

  “Stop it,” she screamed, but Jeremy persisted, oblivious to her cries. He continued to twist and pull until Lily raked her nails across his hand. He finally let go but grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. She swiveled at the waist and freed herself. Flailing pell-mell, she found his hair, pulled hard, coming away with a few strands. Jeremy yelled. She spit at his face, he spit back, pushing her down.

  Lily looked up and stopped fighting. “Who are you?” she screamed. “You’re just like the others. Bastards!”

  Jeremy flinched, pulled back, unable to make sense of what was happening.

  In the mayhem, Lily grabbed her nightdress and fled.

  Now alone in this hateful, decadent spot, Jeremy wrapped himself in his arms, trembling like a fledgling cast from its nest. He pounded his head with his fists until all thoughts, all feelings were blocked from his mind. Finally, overcome with exhaustion, his head bobbed back and forth and he fell into a restless sleep.

  By morning all the candles had burned out.

  #

  Mary stood guard, waiting for Jeremy to open his eyes. She relit the wicks and her face appeared softened and unlined in the flames’ mellow glow. Surprisingly, there was concern written in the set of her mouth and the slump of her shoulders.

  “I don’t know what took place between you and Lily,” she said, “but she won’t come back while you’re here. You’ll have to leave; the men are waiting.”

  Jeremy snickered and grunted, “Big fucking deal.”

  Mary overlooked his foul language and disposition, saying, “I’ve set up a new place for you. I’ve already moved your belongings. I hope that’s okay.”

  Before he could answer, her nostrils twitched and she placed a hand across his mouth. “Shh. Rachel’s coming. It’s time for her hocus-pocus. By the way, I hear she’s planning ongoing services in the chapel on Sundays.”

  “‘Chapel’? Where’s that?”

  “At the end of the trail. Shh. Here she comes.”

  Rachel arrived carrying a cheesy, white substance, its pungent smell filling the room. She placed the bowl on the altar and bowing low, spoke to the go
ds, asking forgiveness for not thinking of this offering sooner. With her task complete, she acknowledging Mary and Jeremy. “It’s royal jelly,” she explained. “Queen bees use it to lay eggs. Rahm brought it back from his last trip. Came straight from a bee farm. We’ll add it to the food for the ovulating women. By the way,” she said, looking at Mary. “Can I have your ring?”

  Mary touched the red stone on the fourth finger of her right hand. “You can but you may not,” she said with a snort. “Besides, what do you want it for?”

  “Rubies are good for fertility. We can add it to the altar.” She opened her palm, thrusting it at Mary as if expecting immediate compliance.

  “You nuts or something?” said Mary. “You most certainly may not have it.”

  The corners of Rachel’s lips turned downward. “You always were selfish, only thinking of yourself.” She yanked off her own ring. “It’s an emerald. Opens hearts, not wombs, but I guess it will have to do.”

  She placed the ring among the other amulets on the altar and picked up one of the sacred books. She began to read.

  “‘And he will love thee, and bless thee, and multiply thee: he will also bless the fruit of thy womb …

  “‘Thou shalt be blessed above all people: there shall not be male or female barren among you, or among your cattle.’”

  “‘“Cattle”?’” said Jeremy, inching closer to Mary. “What is she talking about?”

  Mary scoffed, mocking Rachel from behind. Still, she took care to speak in a whisper. “She’s a flip-flopper when it comes to religion. Also a fanatic, but worse, a hypocrite. Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Don’t worry. I prepared a place for us both.”

  “What do you mean ‘both’?”

  “You’ll see. Follow me.”

  Mary led him to a small space hidden behind a huge column, which provided a measure of privacy. On the ground were two twin mattresses, pushed together. His few possessions, packed into a few boxes, rested on one.

  Jeremy’s mouth formed the shape of the letter o, his brow furrowed, and his eyebrows rose like twin peaks. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Mary wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. “You need a place to stay and so do I.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re married to Brian.”

  Mary kept her voice flat. Only her trembling fingers, hidden behind her back, divulged an honest assessment of her feelings. “The man’s a beast, and I’ve only stayed with him all these years because I took a vow—‘until death do us part.’ But you know what? In some cultures you merely have to declare you’re divorced and it’s official. Therefore, I make you my witness.” She stretched her neck, straightened her shoulders, and stuck out her chin. “I’m divorced!” she said with proud defiance. Immediately, she felt a wave of relief, adding a silent prayer of gratitude for her newfound release from bondage.

  To Jeremy she said, “I’m sure you hate me, for telling you about Karen and Rahm. But I’m a believer in truth. My upbringing, I guess. And I know I’m nothing to look at compared to Karen, but I’m offering myself to you as a friend or”—she lowered her eyes—“a lover. It’s up to you, but whatever you choose there’s one thing you can count on: I’ll never let you down. You see, I also know what it’s like to be disappointed by those we love. Those we trust. Anyway … I’m sorry about Karen.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me. Still, she’s the only woman I ever truly loved. But strangely enough, now I feel nothing. Like she never existed.”

  “I know what you’re saying,” said Mary. “Brian was different, too, years ago. He called me his goddess when we first married. Even told me I was beautiful. Imagine that!” She avoided Jeremy’s face, afraid he would laugh.

  “It’s okay, Mary. I’ll stay here with you, that is, if you’ll keep your promise to help me escape.”

  Mary’s pulse raced at his touch. “I will,” she said. “Count on it. I’m a man of my word.”

  Jeremy, standing almost a head taller than she, said, “No way you’re a man. I’m fully aware of that fact.”

  Mary turned lobster red. Her knees started to buckle. If he had not been holding on to her, she would have sunk to the ground, just as she had years ago when watching “Elvis the Pelvis” gyrating on the Ed Sullivan show.

  As Jeremy took her in his arms, Mary felt the solid muscles of his chest pressing against her soft, generous breasts. He pulled her tighter until she could barely breathe, but the sensation was delightful, sending hot and cold currents throughout her body. Mary gasped.

  #

  Following a sleepless night, Karen decided she could no longer remain in the area she and Jeremy had shared as husband and wife. Despite the knifelike pounding in her head, she piled her belongings on top of her mattress and dragged it to the mushroom garden. After several more trips the job was done, and she returned for a final look.

  Except for dirt, rocks, and useless rubbish, all that remained were painful reminders, and she wiped the raw skin under her eyes, burning from the flow of tears. Doubling over in grief, she sat on the bare earth and ran her hand along its cold surface. Her fingertips brushed against something hard; something smooth, round, and familiar. “No, not that!” she wailed. Her eyes narrowed as she rose to her knees, searching carefully. She found it and clutched it to her heart. How could he? she asked herself. How could he throw it away as if it meant nothing?

  Her fingers tightened around the simple gold band as she pictured herself selecting it from a tray of matching his-and-her sets just over one year ago. She sat down again, screaming obscenities to the uncaring emptiness. With her moans at fever pitch, she didn’t hear Norman’s approach.

  She started then collapsed as he pulled her toward him. “He’ll forgive you,” he said. “You’ll see. He just needs time.”

  Karen sobbed, blew her nose into the tissue Norman offered. “No,” she said. “If it had been anyone but Rahm, maybe. But now I’m all alone.”

  “No you’re not. You have me.” He circled her with a protective arm. “Any time you need to talk, day or night, you know where I am.”

  Karen placed her head on his shoulder. “I won’t forget. You’re the only friend I have.”

  But she had misspoken, and after he had left and the shock began to subside, she remembered her mushrooms. Although not friends in the usual sense, they were friends nonetheless. Not only were they steady, loyal companions, they gave her a reason to go on, a lifeline to cling to.

  She got up from the ground and brushed off her clothes. Removing her own ring, she placed it alongside Jeremy’s—together again if only on a rudimentary level—inside her palm. She kissed them both, symbols of eternal love, and wrapped them in a clean rag, tucking them safely inside her pocket. With a final glance, she blinked away the last of her tears and left for her new quarters, her boggy nook, where the mushrooms, her fungal family, were waiting. Work would now be her sole salvation.

  Chapter 17

  Brian beamed, proud to be chosen to preside over this once-a-year election, but after banging the rock on the table and getting nothing but indifference and disrespect, he bristled in anger. People continued talking, laughing, playfully poking each other as if his role were merely a joke. Exasperated, he climbed on a chair, waved his arms, and yelled, “Shut up!” This time his efforts proved fruitful, and his eyes popped owl-like, astonished by the quiet faces suddenly staring up at him.

  “That’s better,” he said, climbing down, his tone a mix of satisfaction and admonishment. “And now, let’s get down to business. As you know today is March twenty-first and as we do yearly, we vote for the best candidate to take the reins, insure our future, and lead us down the right path.” He turned to Rahm, who met his gaze with a smile of approval.

  “There will be one slight change this year. Since I’m chairing the meeting, David has volunteered to take on the duty of Minute Keeper and will summarize my notes from our last community meeting. Since we
covered some significant issues, please pay close attention. David—”

  David walked to the head of the table, flashing his best “on-air” smile. Only his eyes betrayed a glitch. Over the past few months, his vision had steadily diminished so that he now required the use of a magnifying glass to read the small print. Hiding his embarrassment behind a show of authority, he addressed the group.

  “At our last meeting we discussed Helene’s idea to stagger the work hours. It was voted down. Sorry, Helene,” he sniggered, making light of her “Humph.”

  “On a happier note, we did vote in favor of Karen and Jeremy becoming members of our community with all rights and privileges, thereof. Although their requests came separately and took us by surprise”—he snuck a peak at them, sitting on opposite ends of the table—“the yeas were unanimous for both. I want to again take the opportunity of welcoming them into our group. Now we are up to eleven adults.” His voice rose to a crescendo. “Isn’t that great!”

  After a round of applause, David took his seat.

  “Thank you, David,” said Brian with a patronizing wave of his hand. He was about to announce they begin the main event when he noticed Karen staring at Jeremy, who, in turn, seemed to regard her as if she were a piece of furniture. Brian chuckled, and then scratched his head, confused by their behavior. Why the hell did they want to become members, anyway? Doesn’t make sense.

  He knew they no longer spoke to one another, no longer lived together, yet he perceived something funny, a conspiracy perhaps? In fact, he and Rahm had discussed such a possibility earlier. And Mary? He wouldn’t be surprised if she were involved in some type of stunt. Then noticing teardrops on Karen’s cheeks, he switched his musings to one of a more personal nature: Karen’s rejection of his advances. Ha! he said to himself. How does it feel to be the object of contempt? Hope it burns like a hot potato. His upturned lips spread wider, until a nod and a double click from Rahm, forced him to return to the meeting’s primary business.