Eye Bleach

by Paul E. Creasy

  “Yeah, it has been a bit slow tonight,” she said. “It should pick up soon, though. We get a lot of overnight long-haul truckers stopping here on their way to—” She jolted as she felt him reach out and gently touch her stomach.

  “I’m sorry, darling,” the stranger said. “I don’t mean to be so forward, but, life flows so abundantly in you, I just couldn’t help myself. Your glow is simply radiant. They always say pregnant women glow, but darling, you are blazing like a diamond! Again, I am sorry,” he said as he started to pull his hand away.

  JoAnne blushed. She looked down at her stomach, unconsciously twirling her long brown hair on her finger. She bit her lip and held his hand flush against her belly. “Don’t be sorry. I liked it.”

  “Wonderful,” the stranger said. “Now, before I have to leave, I was wondering if you would mind if I prayed a blessing over your baby?”

  “Oh…, ah…, of course not. I would be honored,” JoAnne said. As she felt his strong hands caress and stroke her pregnant belly, an electric jolt ran down her spine and out her toes. It was warm and inviting, like a great bath of delicious sweet honey poured all over her body. It had been so long since she had been touched by a man, especially one as handsome as this one. So very, very, very long.

  The stranger closed his eyes and said, “Oh glorious woman who life bestows, who calms the reaper from ceaseless mow. Like sprigs of pine or babbling brook, from the darkest green verdant nook, Spirit come forth and shine upon, this blessed daughter of your golden dawn!”

  “Oh, that is pretty,” JoAnne said. “Thank you. What does it mean?”

  The stranger took her hands in his and brought them to his mouth. She gushed as she felt his breath wash over her palms before kissing them both. “So lovely, JoAnne. So very beautiful. As it says in the good book, ‘How beautiful are your sandaled feet, princess! The curves of your thighs are like jewelry, the handiwork of a master. Your navel is a rounded bowl; it never lacks mixed wine. Your waist is a mound of wheat surrounded by lilies. Your breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle’.”

  “Oh…, oh…., well…, that ain’t like any Bible reading I ever heard before,” JoAnne said as she blushed.

  The stranger looked up, winked and said, “Song of Solomon, chapter 7, verses 1 to 3. You can look it up.” After a knowing smirk crawled over his face, he added, “thanks be to the Spirit.”

  JoAnne reflexively gasped out, “Amen!”

  They both turned to the right as they were interrupted by the sound of tiny running feet clacking against the tile floor. “I got the top score! I got the top score!” a boy exclaimed as he bounded around the corner into the restaurant like a bull running wild through the cobbled streets of Pamplona.

  The stranger spun around on his counter stool and clapped as the little boy entered. “That’s wonderful, Sport! Just wonderful.” He pointed at the boy, and then back to JoAnne, and said, “I think that t-shirt just looks great on him, don’t you? Thanks for helping us pick it out.”

  It was a slightly oversized blue T-Shirt, emblazoned with a picture of a piece of pie and lettered with the words Big Joe’s All-Day Breakfast Diner - Home of the world-famous Raisin Pie - Allentown Pennsylvania.

  “You are welcome. And you are right about the t-shirt, it sure does look mighty fine,” JoAnne said. Looking down at the little boy, she added, “I bet that is a lot more comfortable than that hot costume you were wearing when you came in here, isn’t it, Sweetie?”

  “Yes Ma’am,” the little boy said. “I was getting kind of sweaty.”

  “I bet,” she said. “But, I must say, you do look handsome in that t-shirt. I’m glad those shorts fit, too.”

  “I have to thank you for helping me out,” the stranger said. “I could tell he was getting overheated. You all sell quite an amazing collection of things here, other than just your delicious food.”

  “Well…, we do like to supplement our food sales with souvenirs. Big Joe was always the best marketer in the business. And like I said, despite the look of the place, it is kind of famous,” JoAnne said. “Just like our giant billboard says out there on the highway.”

  “Hence the reason we stopped. You can tell old Big Joe his billboard worked,” the stranger said. Turning back to the boy he said, “so, Sport, all out of quarters, I suppose?”

  The boy grinned sheepishly and looked down at his feet. “Yeah… Sorry, I tried to make them last.”

  “You did great,” the stranger said. He turned to JoAnne and added, “how far away are we from I-81? We still have quite a ways to go tonight.”

  “Oh, maybe an hour,” JoAnne said. “It isn’t that far. Traffic’s not too bad today.”

  “That’s good,” the stranger said. “I would like to get to Kentucky before midnight.”

  “That might be a challenge,” JoAnne said. “Sometimes 81 south gets very backed up.”

  “Well then,” the stranger said as he turned to look at the little boy. “I think we need to hit the road now, Sport. What do you say? To the Spidey-mobile?”

  “Spiderman doesn’t have a car, silly,” the little boy said as he laughed.

  “Oh? Well…, I think he should, and since you are Spiderman, in your clever civilian disguise, we need to hit the road in the Spidey-mobile.” The stranger grinned as he added, “But, I am going to get one of those big raisin pies to go. We can eat one of them on the road.”

  “Pie? Yay!” the little boy cheered.

  After JoAnne retrieved the pie and placed it in a to-go box, the stranger slapped down a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the counter. “Will this cover it?”

  “Oh, my!” JoAnne said. “I can’t possibly accept—”

  “—Darling,” the stranger said as he took her hand and placed it on the bill. “I insist. With a little one on the way, I have no doubt you can find a home for some extra cash.”

  “Bless you, Father,” JoAnne said.

  “Oh, don’t be so formal, Love,” the stranger said. “I thought we were on a first name basis by now.”

  “Oh, of course,” JoAnne said.

  He lifted her hand to his lips. After lightly kissing it, he said, “it was a beautiful time together, JoAnne.”

  She blushed, as she fidgeted with her nametag. “That’s not fair. You know my name, and I don’t know yours.”

  “Oh? It must have slipped my mind. My name is Theodore, but…, my friends call me Ted,” the stranger said. “Sorry to eat and run, but, we have a lot of miles to cover tonight.”

  JoAnne waved goodbye to the pair. After they left, the door to the kitchen swung open and a cigarette-ravaged, older female voice said, “So, is Reverend Hottie gone?”

  “Myrtle! You shouldn’t say such things. He is a man of God, you know,” JoAnne said.

  Myrtle smirked and shook her head. “Yeah…, I saw the collar, so I know the drill. But, I sure know you weren’t praying while he was in here. I don’t think your mind was filled with holy thoughts, now was it?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” JoAnne said.

  “Puh-leeze,” Myrtle said as she tossed her kitchen towel over her shoulder and leaned against the counter. “Damn girl, I just popped my head in here to make sure you hadn’t jumped that boy’s bones. You weren’t very subtle, you know?”

  “I really don’t know what you are—”

  Myrtle laughed and in a melodramatic manner batted her eyes and leaned over the counter. She imitated JoAnne and said, “Oh Father, can I offer you some of our world-famous raisin pie? Yes? How wonderful,” she added as she swayed her chest back and forth and said, “and maybe you would like two scoops?”

  “Myrtle, you are terrible, you know that?” JoAnne said as she snickered. “I think you have the wrong idea about him.”

  “Oh no,” Myrtle said. “I had his number the moment he and his…, who was that little boy with him anyway?”

  “He said it was his nephew,” JoAnne said.

  “OK, he and his nephew came in here. And look, I may be
nearly 70, but I can still appreciate a fine ass in a tight pair of jeans. And he filled out his spectacularly.”

  “He sure did,” JoAnne said as she sighed. “And he was nice, too. Real polite.”

  “Oh, I bet he was,” Myrtle said. “He wanted to…, ahem, lay his hands on you, as they say. Yeah, I know his type well. Trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E, trouble.”

  “You are such a cynic,” JoAnne said.

  “Well, when you get to be my age, it comes with the territory,” Myrtle said.

  JoAnne sighed. “I think you are wrong about him, though. But, what does it matter? He was just passing through anyway.” She laughed before adding, “And doesn’t it just figure though that the first guy to pay any attention to me in months would end up being a priest? That just seems to be how my luck goes these days.”

  “Oh, let me tell you something, girlie; Reverend Hottie there was no priest,” Myrtle said. “I don’t know what he is, but I know this. He ain’t no priest.”

  *****

  John squinted as he stared intensely at the drawing in his hands. He felt his heart race as his retinas traced over every line, every bump, every patch of skin on the face in the sketch, searching for some flicker of recognition. There was none.

  The person depicted was handsome and looked to be in his early thirties, perhaps forty at the latest. With a chiseled movie star face, and thick, dark wavy black hair he could easily have passed as a soap opera star. In an odd twist, the man was wearing a Roman collar of a priest. The effect was off-putting, like a joke with the punchline not yet known. A priest, a rabbi and an elephant walk into a bar… He put the drawing down.

  “I cannot place his face,” John said. “He is a stranger to me.” He turned to Sylvia and said, “why don’t you take a look, Sylvia? Maybe you can recognize who it is.”

  Sylvia nodded and reached out for the picture. Her hand shook slightly as her fingers stretched for the paper. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt it placed in her hands.

  As her eyes opened and the drawing came into focus, all of the air shot out of her lungs in one loud gasp. Her pupils grew wide and she began to shake, spittle foaming in the corner of her mouth.

  “Sylvia? Are you all right?” John said as his brow crinkled in concern. “Sylvia!”

  “No. No! No! No!” Sylvia screamed, each no progressively louder than the one before. Her eyes started to roll back into her head.

  “Mr. Delaney, we need to call a doctor, your wife is having a seizure!” the Sergeant said. He got up from behind his desk and ran over to Sylvia, grabbing her face and saying, “Try and stay conscious and do not swallow your tongue, Mrs. Delaney. Do not swallow your tongue!”

  “No! No! No!” Sylvia continued to shriek with the words now forming into one long continuous wail. She tried to stand but collapsed as her knees buckled. Now writhing on the floor, she continued to scream, “No! No! No!”

  The Sergeant picked up the phone and yelled, “Code 26, third floor! Code 26!”

  Click… Click… Click…

  Chapter 11

  April 19th, 2017 - Avalon Terrace Apartments, Mountain View California - 7:00 PM

  Sylvia glanced down at Snowy squatting on the grass and shook her head. “Are we done, yet?” she asked.

  The tiny dog stared back up at her blankly and then sat down. The answer was clear. Snowy was not done yet.

  Gently pulling on the leash, Sylvia began to amble across the lawn, the dog reluctantly following. “Well, all right then, get on with it. We don’t have all night,” Sylvia said. “You kicked up such a fuss in the apartment, I thought you had urgent business. I hadn’t planned on taking a fun walk.”

  This little game had gone on since Sylvia had come home from work thirty minutes earlier. It was fast becoming tiresome. She usually enjoyed the normal routine of being greeted at the door with a nightly show of enthusiastic barks, desperate pawing at the air and canine dancing. Snowy was always so excited when Sylvia came home. After being cooped up all day, she was desperate for petting, and dog treats, and most of all, desperate to find a patch of grass to water.

  Tonight’s welcome home was different, however. Snowy was not at her usual post by the front door, but in the back bedroom. The dog was staring and growling into the darkened bathroom, the fur on her back standing up straight. Even when Sylvia opened the back door, something that usually was irresistible, Snowy was not coaxed from her vigil. In fact, nothing would tempt the dog to move. Eventually, Sylvia placed the leash around the dog’s neck, picked her up and carried her out the front door. Once out in the commons the old Snowy returned, complete with many happy barks and yips.

  “Well, at least it’s a lovely evening,” Sylvia said as she and Snowy sauntered across the lawn. It was a slow walk, with the dog wildly sniffing everything in sight, and still refusing to do her business. Sylvia guessed that being in a new place, and with so much to explore, Snowy had forgotten the purpose of the stroll.

  “You are right, Snowy. The air sure is clean here, isn’t it, girl?” Sylvia said as she watched her dog frantically shoving her nose into the air. “It sure beats that noxious stew of bus exhaust and falafel stands back in New York, eh?”

  As if to answer, Snowy yipped her agreement. The dog then paused, pulling the leash tight in Sylvia’s hand, before spinning three times and squatting on the bright green grass. Business, thankfully, was done.

  “Finally!” Sylvia said. “You know, girl, you are getting spoiled going on fresh grass. When we were back in New York, you didn’t make such a production of business time. It was drop, squat and go every night.”

  Snowy responded the way she usually did, by standing on her back legs and pawing the air.

  Sylvia scooped her dog up in her arms and started walking back to her apartment. “Well, we need to hurry this evening up,” she said. “Real Housewives is on soon, and we don’t want to miss it, do we?” As she turned the corner of the hall, leading to her apartment, the dog began growling as she passed the closed door of Apartment 103. It was Alyssa’s apartment.

  Sylvia felt a slight tingle on her neck and shuddered. Snowy felt it too and began trembling.

  “Well…., I guess I have been putting this off too long. I just need to bite the bullet and do it,” Sylvia explained to Snowy as she scratched the dog behind the ear. “I owe it to Alyssa to warn her about that crazy caller. And, I also want to know just how in the hell she got into my apartment and wrote that weird message in my mirror.” She glanced down at her dog and added, “now, you are going to be no help with this, so…, off you go.” With that, she opened her own apartment door and guided Snowy inside.

  After the door closed, she could hear her dog’s crying and scratching from the other side. Snowy hated being left out. It was quite dramatic, but, Sylvia was not moved. She turned and walked over to Alyssa’s apartment and prepared to knock on the door.

  Sylvia heard the TV playing inside through the closed door. This probably indicated Alyssa was home. She couldn’t be sure, though, so she screwed together her courage, squashed down the riot of butterflies wrestling in her stomach and gently rapped on the door. To her surprise, the moment her knuckles hit the wood, the door creaked open. The latch was not engaged. After waiting a full minute, with a healthy sense of trepidation, she stuck her head inside and called out, “Hello, anyone home?”

  There was no answer, only the muffled sounds of the Entertainment Tonight theme song coming from the back bedroom.

  “Helloooo,” Sylvia called again. “Anyone here?”

  Again, nothing. Sylvia started to leave before something caught her attention. It was just a flash in her peripheral vision, but it instantly registered in her mind. It told her something was off —very, very off. Through the open door to Alyssa’s bedroom, she saw a chair. Nothing special, really, just an everyday ordinary chair to a vanity, not unlike the one that she had back in her own apartment. This chair was on its side, however, and that caught Sylvia’s attention.

  That
fact alone would not be remarkable. Lots of people leave furniture scattered about. Not all homes are immaculate. God knew hers wasn’t, but this seemed strangely out of place. Something seemed sinister about this chair laying on its side. It felt like a warning, like a flashing yellow caution traffic light or a do not enter sign. It wasn’t quite right.

  A low bubbling began rumbling in her gut that set her nervous system flashing. She leaned further in and glanced around the apartment again, making mental notes of what she saw. The place was spotless. Everything was neat as a pin with nothing out of place. From the bookshelves to her left to the coffee table in the center of the living room, everything was free from any clutter. The kitchen was visible to her right, and from what she could see, it was sparkling. She could see the sink and noticed it was clean and clear of dirty dishes. This Alyssa was obviously a neat freak, so unlike herself.

  Sylvia dropped her eyes and glanced at the pristine floors. The wood was still shining with that new apartment high gloss, and the carpet in the living room still had vacuum tracks across the fabric. Oddly, despite the obsessive fastidiousness of the surroundings, a thin layer of dust coated all the surfaces. It was as if time had stopped, and, from the thickness of the dust that had flurried onto the dining room table, it halted a while ago.

  “Hello? Alyssa? Are you in here?” Sylvia said as she edged her neck further into the room. Again, silence greeted her. “OK, I am going to leave now,” she said as she began to back up to leave. As her eyes dropped to pull the door shut behind her, she spied the latch bolt on the frame. It was stuck open, with clear packing tape pressed over the tumbler.

  “What the hell?” she whispered. A chill ran up her spine. What was merely strange before now was far more menacing. “Why would she…” Sylvia paused as her mind reeled with the possibilities. Has Alyssa been taken against her will? Should I call the police?

  Sylvia, despite the surge of adrenaline rushing through her veins, and a cool bead of sweat now traveling down her back, stepped inside and closed the door behind her. What if Alyssa is unconscious in the bathroom? What if she fell and hit her head?