I ended up at his farm. I only had the few dollars from the night before and the money he'd already given me. Free food sounded good.
He put together some ham sandwiches and pulled out a bowl of potato salad from the refrigerator. After the food I'd been getting, the meal was a major feast. I stuffed myself as if I hadn’t had food in months.
It didn’t take long for the full stomach and warm kitchen to make me drowsy. I felt as if I’d been drugged. Surely, he wouldn’t have done that. Could I have been so naïve to have fallen for that?
Jim kept talking, his monotone voice doing its best to put me under. My suspicions grew, and I fought to stay awake. Then, he showed me a letter.
He had received it a month after talking with his son. It was a legal order with a court date.
“Deja vu,” I whispered to myself. It was an exact copy of the one I'd received—only the name and court date had been changed.
Debating whether to tell him about my experience, I weighed the odds of him turning me in to the police. Deciding it best to keep quiet, I did recommend he get a lawyer and find out what it was all about.
We sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and talking most of the day. Like myself, Jim had served in the Army during the Vietnam conflict. We discussed some of the good times, but we both grew quiet thinking of the bad. Some things, like killing and seeing your buddies killed, have a lasting effect, whether you want them to or not. We both admitted at times, it’s hard to remember you’re not still a killing machine.
The eerie silence that followed was like being back in Nam. The only thing missing was the buzzing of the tropical insects around one's face.
Switching topics, I told him I was surprised at how tidy he kept things around his home. He said he did it with his wife in mind. When she looked down from Heaven, he wanted her happy, not shaking her head. That made me admire him even more. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how immaculate he kept the kitchen. At the risk of sounding like a housekeeper, I asked, “Jim, what do you use on your kitchen floor? It’s the cleanest I've ever seen.”
“Ajax powder and some bleach,” he responded. “Cleans up any floor stain.”
Evening arrived before either of us were ready. Jim asked me if I wanted to sleep in the spare room as we ate the chicken fried steak and gravy he'd cooked. I accepted his offer with a nod and a mouth full of steak. He'd brought out some canned corn relish from the refrigerator. I went crazy over it and finished the jar. It tasted just like my grandmother's a half a century ago.
“I got some more in the basement so eat all you want. I'll be right back.”
Jim opened the basement door next to the refrigerator and vanished down the steps— each one thudding under his heavy work boots. I figured it to be twenty steps to the bottom. Deep, by any standards.
I got up and waited behind the door until he came back up to the top of the stairs. As he reached the top step, I jumped out and gave him a hard shove backward. Tumbling down the steps, Jim’s head bounced, and his body twisted. He was dead before he hit a metal dolly at the bottom. To my amazement, the jar of corn relish lay unbroken next to him.
Stepping around his sprawled body, I checked out his vitals. Jim didn't have to concern himself with appearing in court. He'd died in his own home, stomach full, and happy about meeting a new friend.
The next morning, I woke feeling refreshed. After breakfast, I took my time exploring the house. Jim had more money than he'd let on. Three old coffee tins under his bed provided quite a find. Being close to the same size, I helped myself to a couple of sets of clothes and drove the pick-up truck about an hour down the road before leaving it on the side of the road.
I often get rides from the nicest of people. A girl on her way to college in Florida said I reminded her of her grandfather. An elderly lady told me her husband had always stopped to help people and she had done the same since he'd passed on. There was even a preacher heading to a new church in Mississippi. They were all good people. Naive, but good. There have been many others. I just don’t remember them.
I saw on the television news the other night where the police had found a bunch of human bones in my old basement as the house was being torn down. Destruction of my house was being held up until the investigation was completed. I saw the developer complaining about it. Glad I could cause him a long delay.
I lost track of how many I’ve killed over the years a long time ago. Can’t even remember their faces anymore. I guess my memory is going bad. Seems like I heard that somewhere before. If only I could remember.
** * * *
“I remember when people used to have to use typewriters. They were either more careful when they typed, or spent all day using this white liquid to cover up their mistakes.”
Gabriela loved disrupting my chain of thought with nonsensical tidbits. It was as if the demon in her had to amuse itself.
“Technology has come a long way,” I replied, knowing no matter what I said she would continue to talk. She was in one of her moods.
“Oh, it’s come a long way, but it’s not the only thing out there. In fact, some of the stranger occurrences have taken place since the Internet was invented. Want to hear about a couple?”
“I take it that’s my cue to get ready to type.”
“And, who said you can’t train owners? Let’s do it.”
Text Me
“Damn it! If you kids don’t sit your butts down and put on those seatbelts, you can stay home and eat cold lunch meat sandwiches instead of going out for hamburgers.”
Jennifer stared hard at the two in the backseat. She meant every word she’d spoken, and they knew it. They’d pushed her beyond the “cool mom” limit and into the “I’ll show you” monster. The threat had been made. Wanting burgers, the two settled back and latched the belts tight.
God, it was so tough being a single mother. Each day was a battle. Getting the kids up and off to school, going to work, buying groceries, taking care of the house, and trying to find enough time to take a bath without being disturbed—it was one battle after another. Life’s challenges had toughened her up.
No longer was Jennifer the sweet, gentle girl from the small town. Now, she didn’t take crap from anyone about anything. She paid her own way without any help from the government and took care of the kids the best she knew how. That was all that mattered. Her mama would have been proud, if she had still been alive.
Jennifer watched the boys eating their hamburgers. At eleven, John was the responsible one—today having been the exception. He had teased his younger brother without mercy, resulting in a steady stream of whining. Repeatedly, she’d ordered both to stop and been ignored. Holding the threat of staying home on their weekly big night of eating out was her last card. It had worked!
Yeah, big night out—hamburgers at the local cheap joint. Some treat. At least I don’t have to cook.
Evan looked like his father, even with a mouth full of junk food. At nine years old, his chin was forming into a strong foundation for his wide jaw bones. The blonde mop atop his head covered his face every time he leaned over to take a bite of his sandwich. He’d be the handsome one in a few years. Suitable for a magazine cover, Jennifer knew he would follow in his father’s footsteps of breaking the heart of every girl he met.
A bad taste filled her mouth and it wasn’t the hamburger. She had been naïve, deep in an endless love, or so she thought. The night at the lake together had been everything she had dreamed. Two months later, it was time to wake up when the test proved positive. Marriage was talked about, but no date set. They moved into a cheap apartment and, in another year, found that practice without protection repeats similar results. Baby number two was on the way.
Her partner had not shared her enthusiasm. Within a month, she was on her own, one baby in diapers and another on the way. She had come home from work and found him gone and the baby crying. No surprise. Jennifer had known he wasn’t the type to hang around. He had never committed to being a father, o
r to changing diapers or giving up running with the guys. The only thing he was committed to was selling some pot for beer money.
“Mom, we’re done.” Evan’s voice deflated the black cloud in which she’d been mired and brought her back to the greasy diner. “Can I have your fries if you’re not going to eat them?”
“You two share them,” pushing them across the table. I’m almost ready to go.”
Soaking them with catsup, the boys went through the large order before she could finish her burger. No chewing, just soak and swallow. They might as well have been swallowing goldfish. Kids are friggin’ amazing. How can you not love them?
“Stop wolfing those fries. You’re going to choke if you’re not careful and I don’t know that maneuver to keep you from suffocating,” Jennifer warned, trying to hold back a laugh at their antics. “You’ll be down on the ground gagging with no one to save you. Of course, losing one of you would cut my work in half, but for now, let’s just keep things as they are.”
Once home and the boys in bed, Jennifer lay in her hot tub soaking in dollar store bubbles. Lying in the bubbles, crackling in her ears as if she was cereal in milk, she relaxed for the first time all day. It’s been one hell of a Tuesday. Can’t wait to go back to work tomorrow and make minimum wage. Stop it, Jennifer. Give it a break. This is your time—enjoy it!
In her hand was escape from her mundane life. She loved her cell phone more than any other item she possessed. It was her gateway to a world that held excitement, laughter, and endless possibilities. Jennifer didn’t just enjoy social networking, she cherished it. And, since she had no money for a computer, her phone was the key.
A few days before, a friend had contacted her about a guy she knew that might be a good match and had asked permission to have him contact her. Although reluctant, Jennifer had agreed. Tonight, his email awaited her. Living dangerously, she opened the message.
Hey, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I’m kind of at a loss of what to say. I’ve just taken a new job at the university as associate professor in the Sociology Department. Your friend recommended that I ask you out. Of course, I know Internet dating is dangerous and a long shot, but if you’d like to meet, we can always do so at the Food Court at the mall. Write me back and let me know if you’re at all interested. If so, at least you can get a free meal out of it. Later! (Hopefully) Jerry Whitcamper
Staring at the screen, the debate between taking a chance on Internet dating or not raised its ugly head. Interesting, a professor at the university—not the regular type of bum I usually end up dating. Fuck it, if he’s decent looking and can talk about something besides himself, why shouldn’t I meet him? Who knows, maybe he likes kids.
* * * * *
They’d met that Saturday, had lunch, talked about crazy things, and laughed like a couple of teenagers. Other dates followed. Gradually, they developed a need to be with each other and started longing for the next meeting.
Jerry met the boys and became a big hit. He was good with sports, brought great movies to watch, and loved playing video games. Not surprisingly, they liked having him around, almost as much as Jennifer did. Within a month, he moved in on a trial basis.
For a month or so, all went well. They were the happy little family, going out and doing the things that fit that title. Gradually, Jennifer noticed a change in Jerry. The romance was still there, but not as intense as she’d expected.
“Jerry, we need to talk,” she spouted out one evening when the kids had been put to bed. “What’s wrong? Have I done something? Things are different than they were. If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to. You know that, don’t you? Game playing isn’t my thing.”
“Whatever gave you the idea I didn’t want to be here? I love being with you guys.” His eyes told her that was true. “You’re never going to get me to leave. I’ve made a commitment to stay, whether you want me or not.”
As he scooted over to her on the couch and held her close, emotions surged, but Jennifer knew something didn’t feel right. Still, his arms held her tight. He seemed to care.
Maybe I made something out of nothing. Maybe it will be okay.
* * * * *
“Hey, look what I got you … a new phone!”
“I don’t want a new phone,” Jennifer replied, doing her best not to sound as upset as she was. She loved hers—they’d been together through tough times and it had never let her down. “I love mine and know how to work it just fine. Don’t be mad, but I don’t want it.”
“But, this one has all types of new features. I thought you’d be happy about it,” holding it out for her to take. “I want you to keep it with you at all times.”
“No, I’m keeping my old one,” Jennifer insisted, a little pissed that he hadn’t asked her first. “I don’t want that one. Get it through your head.”
“Keep your old phone but keep this one with you,” Jerry offered as a compromise. “I got a new one, too and already have your new number programmed in it. It’s the number I’m going to text or call from now on. Don’t forget to take it with you when you leave the house.”
“You make it sound like an order.”
“Take it any way you choose,” he said, stern in his tone. “Just be sure to take it.”
He’d left mad but had tossed the new phone in her lap. Setting it on the end table, Jennifer went back to her own phone to go on the web. Before she could log on, a text alarm sounded. Checking it, there was no number from where the text had been sent from—only two words.
Thank you.
* * * * *
“Mom, what’s wrong with Jerry? He’s changing,” John asked before going to bed. “He used to hang out with us. Now, all he does is order us around.”
It was only one of many questions her sons had asked in the last couple of months. It was true, Jerry wasn’t the same. He complained about everything they did and demanded complete control over every move they made. She had been ordered to quit her job and did so, with major reservations. She had first thought him joking about having the new phone with her at all times. She had felt his wrath several times about it and wondered how he knew she had left it at home. Then, she’d discovered a tracking program within it. The bastard doesn’t trust me! This is going way too far.
Totally upset, Jennifer had confronted him, and their first major argument brought out a side of Jerry she’d not experienced before, violence. She had felt the force of evil in his fists pounding her stomach, and the slaps to her face. Her body displayed the bruises and her mind the contempt.
On several occasions, she had asked he leave them. She had suffered for doing so. He was obsessed with control and obsessed with staying—nothing she said or did could change that. She had even threatened to call the police. That had resulted in him holding her index finger and reaching for a knife to hold against it, saying, “If you want to keep this finger … and your life, you’ll forget that idea.”
After each argument, Jennifer would receive a text from the unknown source. “You have to kill him before he kills you. Let’s do it … now!”
* * * * *
One evening, both boys sat down on the couch beside her. John spoke first, “Mom, before Mr. Asshole comes home, we need to talk.”
“John, don’t you ever call him that again,” she scolded, afraid that it would become habit and slip in front of Jerry. “Go on, tell me what you need to say.”
“Me and Evan are fed up with him. He’s too bossy and always orders us around. We can’t ride our bikes in the neighborhood like we used to, he’s packed up our video games and won’t let us play them, and he’s always on us about doing homework, even when we don’t have any. I can’t even get phone calls from my friends without going through the third degree afterward. I know things were tough when you were alone, but at least we did things together. Now, we don’t do anything but get bossed around and spanked for little things. Evan is sad all the time, just like you are. No one seems happy. Can’t we get rid of him?”
>
Jennifer’s eyes began tearing up, knowing everything her son had said was true. She felt like a ping pong ball being paddled between her love of family and her fear of Jerry. Happiness was supposed to be present in families, not fear. But, family members were supposed to have unconditional love for each other, also. There was no happiness or love in this house, only fear. It wasn’t a home as it once had been, only a prison with Jerry as the warden!
* * * * *
The carpet is going to need cleaning immediately, before the blood has a chance to stain it. The drops of blood flowed from the inside of her mouth. The force of Jerry’s blows caused her teeth to slice the inside of her gums. She wanted to rise, but her stomach cramped from the effect of his fist smashing into it. She had fought him. No one would be allowed to hurt her son. John’s face had turned deep red from being unable to breathe in Jerry’s grasp. Her son, helpless and gasping, had pushed her into action. She’d taken a vase and slammed it against the back of Jerry’s head. It hadn’t broken. It had only made Jerry madder. He’d dropped John and gone after her, the full fury of his temper driving his anger. She’d been a punching bag, taking all he could deliver, until she’d fallen when her legs numbed. He was still ranting above her.
“I told you before, I’m not leaving. I won’t let you kick me out. I have a nice, little family that better do as I say. If you don’t you’ll all be sorry. You were a nothing when I found you and you are still a nothing. I’m the one who’s a professor. You don’t even have a fucking job. Continue to give me trouble, and you’ll get more of what I just gave you.”
Only the crying of her two sons broke the silence after the door locked behind him. What had she done to herself and her children? They had no money, no escape, no way to protect themselves. What if she called the police and they did nothing? They were trapped.
Later, when cleaning the blood from her face, she looked down at her phone. Wishing it could provide her an exit from the misery she’d brought into the house, its text notification sounded.
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