Detritus

by Kealan Patrick Burke

  "Can't a girl come see her sister?" Meredith shifted, and Kate noticed the luggage on the floor.

  "No, not you." Kate walked toward her desk and stopped at the steps that led up to her apartment. Over her shoulder, she sighed and asked, "Are you coming?"

  Meredith's too high heels clicked rapid as the pilot case wheeled across the floor. "Thanks, Katie. I promise I'll only be here tonight."

  Kate felt her heart lurch and her hand instinctively fell between her breasts. Meredith ran past her up the stairs, not noticing Kate steadying herself. It had been like this since the surgery eleven years ago. Once Kate had the pacemaker put in her heart, Meredith stopped noticing anything that Kate did. Kate was twenty and Meredith had turned sixteen a week before the surgery. Their lives went in different directions.

  The clocks welcomed Kate up the stairs with their steady rhythm. It took effort, but Kate managed to keep their ticking synched. If one was off, she knew it, found it, and fixed it. The sound soothed her.

  "God, Katie, I knew you had a thing for clocks, but really?" Meredith dropped her suitcase in the foyer at the top of the stairs. She pressed her hands to her ears. It looked like she smelled something horrible by the way her nose wrinkled. "I mean, do you even know what color the walls are?"

  Kate brushed by her and continued to the kitchen. Every day at three, she made a cup of tea and sat at the small table with a book. While she knew that the peace and quiet of reading would be impossible, Kate still wanted her Oolong blend. Meredith followed her, still complaining about what she said was noise. Kate took a teacup and saucer from the cabinet. She paused and brought out another set for Meredith. Her mother would expect Kate to be cordial even if she wasn't here to see what went on between the two sisters.

  "How can you stand the noise?" Meredith asked as she sat in Kate's chair at the table.

  Kate filled the kettle. "I've lived with it for eleven years."

  "Oh," Meredith huffed.

  "You still haven't told me why you've come." Kate kept her back to Meredith as she adjusted the heat on the stove. Slow-boiled water made the best tea, in her opinion. Just because her sister interrupted her carefully constructed life didn't mean she should change her routine.

  "Cale kicked me out last night." Meredith sounded neither upset or surprised as she announced this news.

  "Why?" Kate walked to the table, momentarily forgetting that Meredith was in her seat. She stopped and then took the chair across from her sister. "Why would he kick you out for no reason?"

  Meredith stared out the little window. The sun broke through the clouds and bathed her in a golden glow. It suited her. Meredith was the golden child of the family. She was the cheerleader, the scholarship winner, the perfect girlfriend then wife. Meredith could do nothing wrong. Kate had a bad heart and cost the family most of their savings.

  "He found out about Rodney," Meredith stated as if Kate should already know who he was.

  She didn't. "Who's Rodney?"

  A smile played at her sister's lips. "Rodney is... everything Cale isn't. He's smart, funny, and passionate." She sighed, letting the smile spread across her face. "Oh is he passionate." She paused, and Kate sensed her sister was remembering something she herself could never imagine. "Anyway," Meredith said as she broke from her reverie, "Cale came home early. Rodney was still getting dressed when Cale found us in the bedroom. As I'm sure you can figure, I was still naked on the bed. So, here I am."

  "Why would you do that to Cale? You've been together since you were freshmen in high school." Confusion clouded Kate's mind. Why would anyone cheat on the person they'd devoted their life to?

  "Cale was boring. I needed more than the same old life." Meredith laughed.

  Kate's shock was mimicked by the teakettle whistling. She hurried to the stove to steep her tea and forgot to offer her sister any. Then again, she didn't think Meredith deserved it at the moment.

  "I just need a place to stay tonight, Katie. Then I'll be out of your hair, okay?" Meredith stood and stretched her arms over her head. "If you don't mind, I'm going to lay down for a nap. I've been driving for four and a half hours. I'm totally beat."

  All Kate could do was nod. Every romance novel she had ever read never compared to what she saw between her sister and brother-in-law. They were always touching one another, holding hands, stealing looks. It seemed wrong that Meredith would suddenly throw her marriage away for a tryst. She shook the thoughts from her mind. It was none of her business, and she had other things to worry about.

  While Meredith rested, Kate packaged up her online sales from the day and walked two blocks to the post office. She also added an additional stop at the grocery store to get dinner. Meredith's arrival thwarted Kate's intention of eating leftovers. Their mother taught them to be respectful and to serve unwanted guests as they would invited guests. Kate had no idea what Meredith would eat, so she bought the few things she would need for potato soup. On a gloomy evening, soup was exactly what Kate thought was appropriate.

  When she climbed the back steps to her apartment, Kate heard it. A clock was out of sync. It ticked when it should've tocked. After dinner, she would listen until she found it, and then it would be off to the spare room where she kept the tools and parts.

  Meredith walked into the kitchen as Kate finished boiling the potatoes. The off-beat ricocheted in Kate's head, but she tried not to let it bother her.

  "Is that Mom's recipe?" Meredith asked as she closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of cream and chives that simmered in a small pot. She sat at the table, lost in a memory. "It was always my favorite. Remember how she used to make it whenever either one of us was sick."

  Kate nodded but didn't answer. Their mother made the soup for two weeks straight after Kate returned from the hospital with her new pacemaker. After that, their mother rarely cooked the soup even when either girl would beg for it. Kate made it for the funeral six years ago after their parents were killed in a car accident.

  "Then you got sick..." Meredith let the accusation trail off. It was the same old story, and Kate had heard it all before. Meredith's problems were Kate's fault. Like Kate planned on having a heart attack when she was twenty.

  The silence filled the room and the ailing clock grew louder. She tried to figure out what made it so erratic. It sped up in the last few minutes and was now slowing down to the earlier off-beat.

  Meredith chatted about anything and everything that came to mind while Kate finished the soup. Not once did Meredith ask her sister about her life. Nor did Kate expect her too. Still, she thought it would be nice. Not that Kate heard what Meredith was saying anyway. Her ears were fine-tuned to the clock. It was so loud that it had to be somewhere in the kitchen.

  As soon as dinner ended, Meredith excused herself to the living room and turned on the TV. Kate began her search. The most likely culprit was the cute kitty clock near the back door that had been the most recently repaired. She closed her eyes and pressed her ear to its belly. The clock tick-tocked slow and steady, perfectly in time with the rest of the house. Kate proceeded to the cuckoo clock. It was also in sync with the normal rhythm.

  After an hour and a half, Kate determined that the ailing timepiece was not in the kitchen. It was nearly eight when she joined Meredith on the couch. Her sister had turned on some horrible reality show where women do useless things to impress a man. Meredith didn't even notice, or at least acknowledge, Kate's presence.

  But the clock called for her help.

  She stood and meticulously went from clock to clock, seeking out the traitorous rhythm. None of the clocks were injured. Not the large grandfather that occupied the wall between the two windows. Not the three mantel clocks that sat above the fireplace.

  "What're you doing?" Meredith peered over the back of the couch as Kate slipped between it and the wall.

  "One of my clocks is off," Kate replied as if that should explain it all.

  "Off?" Meredith turned around and perched on the couch like a puppy dog. She reache
d out, taking down a small Swiss clock and putting it to her ear. "Sounds good to me. Why don't you sit back down and watch this show? You can figure out which clock is off later. It's not like it's the end of the world." At that, Meredith turned and slumped back onto the couch with her usual dramatic flourish.

  "You wouldn't understand," Kate mumbled to her sister. To her clocks, she said, "But you do."

  When the search behind the couch yielded no results, Kate stood in the middle of the room and listened. First, she focused on her own ticker. The pacemaker's steady rhythm clicked inside her chest. Once she was certain it wasn't her heart that was out of tune, Kate focused on the sound that was disrupting her evening.

  Thud, thud. Thud, thud.

  It sounded like a hammer hitting something organic. There was only one organic clock in the house. Kate hurried to the hallway where she checked the sound of her potato clock. Upon first inspection, she saw that the spuds were wilting. She listened, and sure enough, the clock's tick was slower than its tock. Relieved to have found the problem, Kate changed the potatoes and reset the clock to the correct rhythm.

  She smiled as she stared at it, feeling the world was right once again. Without a word to Meredith, Kate went to her room to sleep off the panic that tried to consume her. She fell asleep within moments of lying down, the tick-tocks lulling her by beating along with her own heart.

  It was almost two in the morning when Kate woke in a sweat. Panic seized her, making her heart beat out of time. She didn't remember any dream, good or bad. The last time she'd woken up with such a start, one of her clocks had tick-tocked a slow death.

  But she checked the entire apartment earlier, and they were all fine.

  She closed her eyes and counted the ticks and tocks until her heart matched the rhythm of the house. Then she heard it. The steady thumping beat out of sync again. It was the same as earlier. Kate climbed out of bed, fixated on the off beat. She closed her eyes and let the sound bring her to it.

  Her toes crested the top of the steps. Carefully, she reached for the banister and took each step down all thirteen stairs. She didn't open her eyes but knew she was on the right track. The thump-thump ricocheted off the walls.

  It was close.

  She used her hand to feel her way down the hall to the spare room. Meredith was asleep inside it, but that's where the ailing clock was. Kate took a deep breath, promising herself to be as quiet as possible as she searched.

  The doorknob was cool beneath her touch. She opened her eyes as she pushed the door open. The shades were closed, blocking out all the light from the alley. Meredith didn't move or acknowledge this blatant lack of privacy. Kate felt ashamed for the first time since their parents died. It wasn't right to enter the room where her sister was sleeping. But it also wasn't right that Meredith showed up out of nowhere, asking a place to stay.

  Kate bucked up the courage and closed her eyes once more. The thump-thump reverberated in her chest. Yes, she was in the right room. She circled the bed, seeking the clock. Each one she touched ticked the right beat. As she made her way around the room, she grew concerned. It was in this room. That was certain.

  Yet each clock seemed to be their usual fine-tuned selves.

  Once again, Kate closed her eyes. The thumping grew louder as she refocused. With her hands in front of her, she tentatively stepped through the room. Her shin smacked the bed rail. It took great effort not to cry out, but she managed it.

  When she opened her eyes, Meredith rolled over. The thumping grew louder. Kate stared at her sister's chest. The beat was Meredith's heart.

  Relief filled Kate from head to toe. She didn't have an ailing clock. Her sister was the one out of sync with the rest of them. Kate almost laughed out loud. The problem would remedy itself the next day. Nothing would have to be done. Nothing needed repaired. Nothing was broken.

  Kate shuffled down the hall, up the stairs, and collapsed in her bed.

  She lay there, staring at the ceiling as the thump-thump kept her awake.

  One sleepless night was okay. Meredith said she'd be gone the next day.

  * * *

  Three days later, Meredith still had not left. Kate's patience disappeared after the second night, but she couldn't kick her sister out. Her mother taught Kate to be kind, and she would honor that memory. Even if Meredith was doing everything she could to drive Kate insane.

  It was worse at night. The erratic thumping of Meredith's heart kept Kate awake. Kate's eyes were red and swollen, burning from the lack of sleep. She called the doctor and he fit her in for a quick appointment. She came home with a prescription of sleeping pills.

  When she walked through the front door of the shop, which Meredith promised to watch, Kate almost lost what little lunch she had eaten. The walls were covered with her precious clocks. And they were all off the normal rhythm.

  "Hey, Katie," Meredith said cheerfully as she walked down the stairs, dragging the smaller grandfather clock behind her. "I thought we could sell these now that I'm home. I mean, they are driving me up the wall with all their ticking and tocking."

  Kate barely heard her. All she could focus on was the sound that the clock made as Meredith pulled it down the stairs. It screamed in agony as it bumped against the banister from Meredith's hippy walk.

  "And since I'll be staying awhile, it would be nice to have my old room back." Meredith sat the clock down rougher than necessary and pushed it against the far wall. "So I started putting your tools in a box." She turned and smiled at Kate. "I hope you don't mind."

  The world started to cave in on Kate. Her heart sped up, and her chest felt like it was caving in. She stared at the floor, and calmly replied, "It's fine."

  But it wasn't fine. She knew it, and Meredith knew it. Kate walked up the stairs like she had these last several years, each foot in time with her heart. She went into her small workroom, Meredith's old bedroom, and began gathering her things on the table. She kept hearing everything out of sync, even though the floor was between her and her tick-tocks. She heard them moaning out of time, ailing that their precision was gone. As she stood over the table, she found the one project she'd worked on for years.

  A tick-tock heart.

  Kate made it when she believed her pacemaker was giving out on her. It was meant to replace the tissue in her chest when it finally, inevitably failed. She held the heart in the palm of her hand. Now she knew it was never truly meant for her.

  Without thinking about the consequences, Kate sat on her stool and began working on the tick-tock heart. In the time it takes to wind a watch, the heart was running. Kate smiled and held it close to her eye. She could see the gears moving, clicking together. Ticking. Tocking.

  After cleaning up the rest of the parts, Kate took her things to her room and stashed the tick-tock heart in the pocket of her sweater coat. The plan formed as she entered the kitchen and saw her sleeping pills sitting on the counter.

  Dinner was a quiet affair. Meredith was too exhausted to talk. Kate was grateful for that fact, although the reason she was exhausted was because she moved all of Kate's beloved clocks to the shop. One of which, the largest of the mantle clocks with the cherry wood base, Meredith sold for a mere fifty dollars. The thought of that clock on another mantle made Kate sick to her stomach. She didn't eat much of the chicken noodle soup she had made from scratch.

  "I'm so tired," Meredith complained as soon as she finished her second bowl. "What is it about soup that always does this to me?"

  "I don't know," Kate responded. She hid the little smirk that crept onto her face. "Maybe it's all the moving you did today."

  "True." Meredith stretched her arms over her head and then stood. "I'll put this away for you, okay?"

  Kate watched as Meredith poured the remainder of the soup into a bowl. She saw Meredith look at the empty bottle of pills that Kate's doctor had prescribed. She noted the realization in her sister's eyes. She stared at Meredith's lips as they asked Kate why.

  She smiled as Meredith lost co
nsciousness and fell onto the floor.

  Kate stood from her chair and knelt over her sister's supine form. The smile never left her face as she stared at a peaceful Meredith.

  "It'll be okay," Kate whispered as she pulled the tick-tock heart from her pocket. She pulled a long thing knife from the butcher block on the counter. "I'll make it all right."

  She placed the tick-tock heart on the floor and then slid the knife into her sister's chest.

  Arkitektur by Michael R. Colangelo

  There's something wrong with the house.

  Pretty wallpaper, yes. Mother upstairs in the attic building her dolls quietly. Her hands move for themselves. Her mind has long vacated her age-ravaged body. But she still retains patterns. Retains enough dreaming to go through the motions and build her dolls up there all day and night as if no one else exists. And they don't. Not for Mother. Nothing exists but patterns. And color, sometimes. On good days, there is color too.

  The wallpaper has some color to it. More important are the patterns. Sometimes little fleur-de-lis, sometimes tiny flowers. Maybe stripes, maybe checks, maybe diamonds. Gold, blue, black, silver, and a kind of yellowing créme that's curdled like the milk inside the oft-forgotten fridge buried deep in the always forgotten kitchen.

  But there are other patterns too. Patterns behind the patterns on the wallpaper. These are always black and grow like creeping spider webs unseen throughout the whole house. They spawn up from the vastness underneath the house. Spores or mold or fungus or whatever one must name things to retain some footing in this world. Mother has forgotten the names of these things already anyway.

  Unlike the wallpaper, these patterns move through the dark and stretch up through the basement and seep into foundations and wooden beams and carpet fibers. It creeps everywhere else too — all but blotting out an old family portrait that hangs above the fireplace mantle. In better days Mother would have thrown it out. These are not better days of course. These days are the worst.

  It has been a long time. They say that isolation and murder bring a type of madness to people that they must live with or forget altogether. Mother has chosen the latter, although she can no longer bear the sight of a bottle of sleeping medication, or an axe, or a shovel and pickaxe. She can't go into the basement anymore. There's nothing down there but patterns, besides.