Cristina

by Jake Parent

Unlike the other two houses, theirs had no garage. Not that it was really an issue. There was plenty of space to park in front of the small crabgrass lawn. Space was something they had in abundance. The shared property was a bit outside of town, and the only thing around for a couple of miles.

  The area behind the house was forested. Mostly a mix of Redwoods and coastal pines. The earthy smells of green needles, dirt, and tree bark nicely complemented the brine of the sea.

  From the front yard they could see a dirt path worn down the hill, leading to a stretch of coast below where the sea butted heads with a rocky cliffside.

  Further out, the sparkling water of the Pacific Ocean filled Pleasure Bay.

  “Momma look,” Anise said, pointing and giggling. “It’s a bunny rabbit!”

  Cristina returned from her thoughts to see that a small brown rabbit with a white stomach had indeed come out of hiding to greet them. His little nose wiggled as he looked up, cautious but seemingly unafraid.

  “She’s so cute! Can I pet her?”

  “Let’s leave her alone for right now, baby. I’m not sure if she’s really that friendly. If she is, I’m sure we’ll have a chance to pet her later. How about . . . we go see your new room?”

  “Yaaaaaay!”

  Anise had spent most of the drive talking about having her own room.

  “How big is it?”

  “Is there a bed?”

  “Where will my stuffed animals sleep?”

  “Can I put pictures on the wall?”

  Cristina had smiled at that one.

  “Of course you can,” she’d told her. “Just no boys.”

  “Eww,” Anise responded.

  “Good girl.”

  Cristina had laughed, but she knew it was only a matter of time before her little girl wasn’t so little anymore. That fact made her even more determined to get busy building their new life.

  She pulled the key to the front door from her bag, inserted it, and turned the knob. As soon as the two stepped inside, a horrible stench blasted them in the face.

  “Gross!” Cristina coughed and covered her face. “What is that?!”

  “It’s yucky, mamma!”

  “I know, baby. Let’s cover our noses and try to open some windows, OK?”

  They made their way down the hall and into the kitchen, where the smell was even worse. Cristina opened the window over the sink with one hand while she continued to hold her nose. A gush of fresh, salty air rushed in.

  Locating the source of the smell, she opened the refrigerator and shrieked.

  Inside was a possum mother and her litter of babies. All dead.

  Before a curious Anise could wiggle around her mom to see what was inside, Cristina shut the door. With a gentle touch, she guided her daughter’s face up to her own. Anise was plugging her nose and breathing loudly through her mouth.

  “What is it, mamma?” she asked nasally.

  “It’s, OK. It’s just some yucky stuff someone forgot to clean up. We’ll get it out of here in no time.”

  Cristina slid open the glass door leading from the kitchen, out into a small backyard overgrown with weeds and bushes. The jungle of growth was surrounded by a short fence. A gate opened more-or-less directly into the forest.

  The worst of the gamey stink was soon carried away by the draft.

  Cristina took Anise by the hand. Together they walked back through the kitchen and down the hallway, toward the front of the house.

  Cristina glanced at the closet door, remembering the newspaper article describing how the previous tenant had taken her own life. A vision of a lifeless young woman flashed into Cristina’s mind, one end of a rope tied to the closet’s wooden hanger rod, the other looped around the woman’s neck.

  She shook the thought away and led Anise up the stairs, down another hallway, toward a closed bedroom door.

  “OK, chica,” Cristina said. “Shut your eyes.”

  Anise used both her hands to cover the top half of her face.

  “Alright, mamma,” she said seriously. “I’m ready.”

  Cristina had barely touched the doorknob when another scene projected itself across her mind: a young girl being pulled from bed, held quiet by an adult’s gloved hand over her mouth.

  The vision disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. All that remained when the door swung inward was a completely empty bedroom.

  “Open your eyes, baby!”

  Anise did as she was told. Her face beamed with wonder. Yet, she hesitated at the threshold, as if unable to believe the reality of what was before her. Glowing with anticipation, her gaze slowly turned toward her mother.

  “Go ahead,” Cristina said. “It’s all yours.”

  With that, Anise dashed into the room, filling the space with a rapid sequence of squeaky giggles. She ran toward each corner and touched the seams where the walls met. Then to the room’s center, where she spun around in circles several times before slowly coming to a stop.

  With a confused look, she asked, “Mamma?”

  “Yes, chica?”

  “Where am I going to sleep?”

  Cristina laughed hard. The joyful sound echoed against the room’s bare walls. She fell to her knees and grabbed Anise with both arms.

  “Don’t worry. Your bed will be here with the rest of our stuff very soon.”

  A few guys Cristina knew from her hometown 12-step scene had kindly volunteered to drive a truck down with all of their belongings. One of them had the hots for Cristina. She suspected he was the one who talked the others into joining the effort. She had zero interest in him – in any guy at the moment – but she’d certainly been grateful for the offer of help. It’s not like they were going to fit it all in the Civic.

  Lost in thought, Cristina didn’t notice that Anise had found a piece of paper, which the girl now dangled in the air with two fingers.

  “What’s this, mamma?”

  “I don’t know, baby. Let’s see.”

  It was a picture of a young girl, and appeared to have been cut from a newspaper clipping. It hadn’t been in the collection of articles the real estate agent had given Cristina, but somehow she knew it was the girl who’d been killed.

  Annie.

  “Oh,” Cristina said. “That must be the little girl who lived here before. Maybe she left the picture because she liked her room so much.”

  “Can I keep it?”

  Cristina didn’t know what to say.

  Where did the picture even come from?

  It most likely fell out of the folder of clippings the agent lady gave me. Or from someone else’s. She probably handed that same folder out to every person who saw the place.

  Part of Cristina wanted to rip the piece of paper into tiny pieces right there, just to be rid of it. But she could tell by Anise’s face that doing so would result in an instant tantrum, putting a damper on an otherwise perfect day.

  So she said, “Um, sure. But how about we go see what else this house has in store for us, huh?”

  “OK!”

  When Anise turned away, Cristina crumpled the piece of paper into a ball and slid it into her pocket.

  4

  There were no more surprises to be found in the rest of the house.

  Cristina called the real estate agent, who, thankfully, was able to get someone out right away to remove the unlucky possum family from the fridge.

  Cristina was sure she would never forget the sight of those poor dead little creatures, but by the time everything was disinfected and cleaned, the refrigerator looked and smelled brand new.

  The exterminator was nice about it all. A little too nice, actually.

  He wouldn’t stop staring at her cleavage as he explained that a cleaning person probably left the fridge open. His guess was that the possums climbed in and made a home, then the wind slammed the door closed, causing them to eventually either suffocate or starve.

  “Happens all time.”

  He gave her his card and told her to call him if she ever needed �
�anything at all.”

  She half-expected him to add a big, cartoon wink.

  “OK, great,” she said, holding the business card up as he packed his things. “You’re the best. I’ll definitely let you know when I need you.”

  She wiggled her fingers in the air as he pulled his van away from the house, adding a bubbly smile for good measure.

  Anise pointed to the picture on the side of the van.

  “It’s a giant bug!”

  “Yes,” Cristina said, chuckling. “It certainly is. How about some lunch, chica?”

  The two went inside and opened a small blue cooler. Most of the food was gone, eaten on the drive. But there were still a few of Aba’s tamales left, tightly covered in Saran Wrap. After Cristina warmed them using the built-in microwave over the counter, they sat on the floor to eat.

  As usual, Anise was quiet the entire time, sitting straight-backed and proper, even without a table. Cristina had no idea where she’d learned the habit of silent eating, but she wasn’t about to question it.

  Just as they finished lunch, Cristina heard the sound of a big vehicle crunching gravel under its tires as it came up the driveway and parked in front of the house.

  “That must be our stuff,” she said.

  “Yaaaaay!”

  The two disposed of their lunch trash in an empty plastic shopping bag. Cristina casually added the crumpled up piece of newspaper from her pocket as well.

  In the courtyard, they found three men doing their best to quickly pile out of a U-Haul truck’s crowded cab.

  “Good lord, Rich,” one said. “Maybe burritos weren’t the best idea before a road trip, huh?”

  Rich was the one with a crush on Cristina.

  The guy giving him a hard time was Brian, his 12-step sponsor. A large man, both in body and personality, Brian was in his fifties and had more than 25 years of sobriety. He’d seen just about everything in his time, and had an endless number of crazy stories to prove it.

  She ran toward him and threw her arms around his hefty frame.

  “Hey!” she said.

  “Oh, hello,” Brian deadpanned. “And you are?”

  She smiled and socked him in the arm.

  He then added, seriously, “How the hell are ya, sweetie? You guys manage your way down here OK? You need anything . . .” He scanned the surroundings and held up his arms. “. . . like a freakin’ roommate? Good lord, this place is sweet.”

  He was purposely ignoring Anise, who now stood patiently looking up at him with bright, round eyes.

  “Helloooo, Uncle Brian!” she finally said with feigned annoyance.

  He acted surprised.

  “Oh, well hello little lady. Where’d you come from?”

  “I was right here the whole time, silly goose!”

  “You were?” he took off his glasses and examined them. “Wow, I need to get these things checked. Well, what’s your name?”

  She laughed at their familiar game. “It’s Anise! You know it! Where’s my candy, mister?”

  “Chica!” Cristina said. “Be polite.”

  “No, no, no,” Brian said, absentmindedly searching through his pockets. “I admire a woman who knows what she wants. Oh, here we go.”

  He produced a green-apple Jolly Rancher. Anise’s favorite. She reached out with a mischievous look, snatching the candy from his hand and immediately unwrapping it.

  “Hey, what do we say?” Cristina asked.

  Using two fingers, Anise carefully placed the candy onto her tongue.

  “Thanks, Uncle Brian!” she garbled through a full mouth, lunging forward to hug his leg.

  He patted her on the head.

  “Where’d the other guys go?” Cristina asked when she noticed they’d disappeared.

  “I don’t know,” Brian said to her, before shouting like a foreman. “HEY! Knuckleheads! Where you be?”

  From the other side of the truck walked two guys who were Cristina’s age. One was Rich. He seemed to be looking around at everything except Cristina. The other was his friend, Pete, who Cristina hadn’t heard say more than a few words the entire time she’d known him.

  “You guys forget how to say hi to a lady?” Brian scolded.

  “Hi, Cristina,” Rich said, finally looking at her just long enough to offer a shy smile.

  Pete waved.

  “Hi guys!” she said. “How was the ride?”

  “OK,” Rich answered. “Long. But, um, not too bad. It was OK. I really didn’t mind it.”

  Pete shrugged.

  As much as Cristina had no problem messing with overly-aggressive males, she hated to see the nice ones squirm. She hugged them both in turn with all the enthusiasm she could manage.

  “Well, thanks for coming,” she said. “I really appreciate you driving all the way down here with our stuf—”

  “HEY!!!” a deep, powerful voice screamed from the other side of the truck.

  All of them jumped, except Brian. Cristina instinctively grabbed Anise by the shoulders and moved in front of her.

  “HEY!!!” The voice barked again. “Whose fucking truck is this?! Whose FUCKING truck is this?! WHOSE FUCKING TRUCK IS THIS?!

  A beast of a man appeared from around the edge of the truck, his face a reddened nest of rage. He was well over six feet tall. White with a shaved head. Bulging muscles bursting from under a white tank top. Tattoos covering his chest, arms, and neck. He even had a couple on his face, but the ink was old and faded, making it impossible to tell what any of it depicted.

  After a moment of shock, Cristina told Anise to go inside.

  Then she snapped.

  “Look, motherfucker!” she yelled at the man, standing on her toes and still needing to reach so she could point a finger in his face. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but I’ve got a little girl and you just scared the crap out of her.”

  At first, he seemed stunned. But after a moment, he crossed his arms and cackled a dismissive laugh.

  “Oh, a tough little beaner bitch, huh? I ought to show you what I do with women who have too much lip on them.”

  He dropped his clenched fists and stared hard, his face now almost purple with anger.

  She didn’t back down or look away.

  With slow patience, she said, “Get. The fuck. Away. From. My house.”

  He snickered out his nose, but broke eye contact.

  “Look, bitch,” he said, still not meeting her eyes. He pointed to the house next door. “You see that? That’s my house. And your shithead friends here are blocking my path to the driveway with their fucking truck. So, unless you move it, I’m going to move it for you.”

  Cristina continued to stare him down.

  After a deep breath, she responded, “I said get the fuck away from my house. I’m not afraid of you, you pussy-ass motherfucker. And if you come back here like this again, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

  He finally looked at her again, trying to scoff and remain hard, but his fierceness had mostly evaporated. Now he seemed lost for something to say.

  He stuck his finger about three inches from Cristina’s face.

  Part of her was tempted to bite it.

  “Move it,” he said, before turning around to head back the way he’d come. As he walked around the truck, he punched its sliding back door, leaving a sizeable dent.

  The crash of metal echoed in the courtyard.

  A few seconds later, they heard his front door slam.

  “Aw, man . . .” Brian said after a few moments of tense silence. “The fine folks at U-Haul aren’t going to appreciate that.”

  The other two guys chuckled uneasily.

  Cristina was still too upset to do anything but scowl.

  “Uggggggh,” she said, pacing the lawn. Her light-brown cheeks were flushed with hot blood. She was on the edge of tears. “Ugggggggggggggggh. I’m so pissed.”

  “I would have never guessed,” Brian said.

  She looked at him with a flash of anger. He distorted his face in
mock fear and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  He put his arm around her, drawing her small frame into his girth.

  “Can I just say one thing?” he asked.

  “What?” she said, still trying her best to be angry.

  “You’re a bad ass.”

  Blood again rushed into her cheeks, although this time in slight embarrassment.

  “I was so ready to kick that guy’s ass.”

  “I know, kid. I know.”

  “What am I supposed to do with a neighbor like that?”

  “Don’t worry about it, OK? In my experience, most bullies won’t bother you once you pop them a good one in the mouth, and I think you accomplished that with your words, if not with your fists.”

  “Is everything, OK, mamma?”

  Cristina turned around and saw Anise staring up at her, clutching her favorite blue teddy bear to her chest.

  Cristina squatted so she was at eyelevel with her daughter and said, “Yes, chica.”

  “We’re still going to stay here, right? I still get my own room?”

  Cristina took a breath, projecting strength outward, a trick she’d learned at a meditation retreat Michelle once dragged her to.

  “We’re going to be just fine,” she said. “Mommy told that mean man to go away, and he won’t bother us anymore, OK?”

  “OK, mamma. Can we go to the beach now?”

  Cristina chuckled uneasily, a mix of emotions still buzzing in her chest.

  “Not yet, baby. We have to unload our stuff first.”

  With that, the crew first moved the truck a few feet closer to the house, then got to work.

  Despite the incident, the mood was light as they unloaded the U-Haul, a levity fueled in no small part by Brian’s jokes and mock-criticisms of their collective efforts. But Cristina couldn’t go more than a few minutes without glancing at the house next door, wondering if this really was the last she would hear from her delightful new neighbor.

  5

  The last few boxes were coming off the U-Haul when a car puttered up the gravel road – an old red Hyundai that looked remarkably similar to Cristina’s car.

  Given what happened earlier with Mr. Psycho, she wasn’t sure what to expect.

  But the man behind the wheel was definitely no crazy skinhead. His puffy, grey beard and thick glasses made him look more like someone who might work at a library. He waved cheerfully before continuing on to park in front of the house across the courtyard, the one nearest the ocean.