I close the front door securely behind me. Out here, I can barely hear the sounds from inside. The air is cool, wrapping itself around my hands. By the time I get in the car, they have cooled enough for me to grip the steering wheel without burning it.
Back on the main road, I notice my gas gauge is low. I've got time to stop and get some gas. Maybe something to drink.
While my tank fills, I run into the convenience store. Iced tea sounds really good right now. As I scan the glass doors for tea, a couple moves up beside me. The man is dark haired and wearing a wife beater and black athletic shorts. The woman is in a tank top and jean shorts above flip flops, her medium length blond hair in a ponytail, light freckles dusting her face. He opens the door next to the one I'm standing at and reaches in for a Pepsi. "Don't worry about the fire restrictions," he says. "The rangers hardly ever check."
"Yeah, but if we get caught with a fire at our camp they'll fine us," she says.
"It's not a big fine. I think it's something like fifty bucks."
"Oh, I guess that's not so bad."
He closes the freezer door with a click. "Yeah, it's really not a big deal. And why are there still fire restrictions, anyway? It's not like it was this summer."
I grab the freezer handle. The rubber grip melts under my hand, running down the glass of the door. I allow the heat to leave my chest, take a piece of me, wrap around their throats.
I'll find them later. When the time is right.
The Tourist
The sound of his own breaths puffed into his ears. He needed to calm down, but he always got so excited when he was sightseeing.
Leaves rattled above him, their yellowed flesh dry and withering in the autumn night. Those that had fallen to the ground already skittered across the pavement like nails raking down the inside of a coffin. The smell of wood smoke reached his nose, a hearty fall scent.
He knelt at the base of the tree, hidden amongst the evergreen bushes that always smelled like cat urine. His trench coat, collar pulled up, kept them from scraping at his skin, along with the leather gloves and knit cap he wore. He was toasty, all bundled up, only his eyes exposed.
Before him stood a quaint little Victorian on the outskirts of downtown. A rounded tower ran up the east side of the building, the light on in the uppermost window. Though the curtains were pulled, The Curator seemed not to know they were see-through, at least to a point. He watched as her shadow moved about in the room. She wasn't doing anything dirty, no. This was her office. His many sightseeing trips this month had shown him that.
Three voluptuous pumpkins stood on her front porch, battery-powered candles flickering within. They were carved into cutesy shapes, no gruesome maws for this gal.
He set his gaze back on the lit window, waiting for that light to go out and the next to burn into the night. Lucky for him, it was only a matter of minutes. Right on schedule. Keeping steady hours was an important aspect of a Tourist Destination.
When the first light died, he pulled his leather briefcase closer to his leg. As he often found happening, almost without his will, his right hand slid inside, pressing deeper into its depths to feel the materials the bag hid. The leather of his gloves slid smoothly over the metal of the blades, the polished surface of the hilts. Next to these larger blades, he inventoried, by sensation, the small cloth pouch that held his surgical instruments, followed by the firm roll of tape, scissors, a tie, a cord from an old phone, rough rope, a hammer, and a screwdriver. He knew the items in this bag better than the back of his own hand, more than the sight of his eyes in a mirror, more than his own hair-covered toes.
He liked to have options.
A deep exhalation left his body, and he felt his entire being relax. The lights had progressed in her usual bedtime routine, finally ending up in another top floor window. The bedroom. The room he'd been waiting for all evening. This was the last stop on the tour.
A quick glance showed him an empty street. He stood, brushed off the leaves and grass that had gathered on his coat, and stepped from beneath the tree. To anyone who might see him, he would simply look like any professional walking home from work a bit later than usual. This proximity to downtown meant plenty of businesses and restaurants were within walking distance. A nicely dressed man with a briefcase wouldn't raise an alarm.
As he waited, watching for that final light to disappear, he grew increasingly excited. Already he could hear the sounds she would make. It was always fun to try to predict whether they'd be a screamer or a whimperer. Some simply passed out, ruining all his fun. Some combined screams with whimpers, shrieks with sobs.
His hand tightened on the bag's handle, his muscle memory filling in the sensation of a scalpel cutting through human skin, scissors cutting with that wonderful crisp snip so reminiscent of the sound his mother's scissors had made as she glided them across fabrics of various thicknesses. He delighted in the smells, even the tastes, all sensations rich and warm.
The light snicked out. He stepped into the street, started to cross it, his gaze fixed upon the now darkened window.
He was fairly certain she'd be a screamer.
Just as he neared the center of the street, lights washed over him. He turned his head, saw a car coming his way, picked up his pace. Hopping up onto the sidewalk, he started to walk in the direction the car was coming from, not wanting to be seen in front of this house. Remembered. The car would pass quickly and he'd be able to double back easily.
But the car didn't pass. It slowed then pulled to the curb, rolling past him to come to a stop in front of the very house he intended to visit.
Damn.
He continued to walk until he reached a corner, where he turned left, moving quickly out of sight. He pressed himself against the house on the corner, peeked around, and watched as a man got out of the car, shut the door, and proceeded up the steps, past the still flickering jack-o-lanterns.
Unaware that someone watched in horror, the stranger knocked on the door. A moment later, it opened, so quickly that she must have been waiting.
The house swallowed this interloper as The Tourist watched. Disappointment colored his emotions. He sank to the ground, bag at his side, the slight sound of metal tinkling against metal inside it.
But disappointment couldn't last. No, he always had a backup in case a Sightseeing Destination was closed. A good tourist is always prepared.
The Tourist picked up the pace as he crossed yet another street, heading for a destination just two short blocks up the way. There'd still be a light on there for another half hour. That Curator stayed open a bit later. He'd always liked that one motel's slogan. His sightseeing destinations always kept a light on for him so he'd know they were waiting.
He could already hear it. This one was surely a whimperer.
Cravings
When Ted first laid eyes on Meria, his heart stuttered. Time slowed. He was a walking romance cliché. She was gorgeous, the sun behind her creating a golden halo of her breeze-lifted hair. Her laugh burbled out and grew into something warm and infectious. Forgetting his usual shyness, he approached her.
"Excuse me," he said. When her eyes met his, warmth suffused his entire body.
"Yes?" she asked with a smile. "Can I help you?"
"It's just that, well, I think you're beautiful, and your laugh is amazing. Would you consider having coffee with me?"
Looking down at the cup of coffee sitting on the table in front of her, she laughed again. "I believe I already am."
From there, the relationship sprouted. They had so much in common, but were different enough to have plenty to talk about. After six months of dating, Ted proposed. Meria accepted. Their parents warned them against such a quick marriage, told them they were too young. But at twenty-five (him) and twenty-three (her), they felt they were plenty old enough to get married. Begrudgingly, their parents allowed themselves to be swept up in the wedding plans.
As beautiful as she'd been when he'd first seen her, she was stunning at their wedding.
An angel in white and gold.
Three years into the marriage, she reached for his hand across the table at a dimly lit restaurant, clasping his fingers. "I want to have a baby. If you're not ready, that's okay, we'll wait, but I need you to know that it's something I've been thinking about, and I'm ready."
He hadn't realized it until then, but he was ready, too. To create another life with the woman in front of him seemed somehow perfect. "Let's make a baby."
Happy tears ran down her cheeks.
A year later, the tears were for a different reason entirely.
"From symptoms you've mentioned, it appears you have endometriosis," the doctor said. "This would explain why you aren't getting pregnant, as well as the painful cramps, heavy bleeding, and the other issues."
"So I can't get pregnant?"
"We can do a laparoscopy to diagnose for certain, and then explore our options from there. It's possible you can't get pregnant, but more likely that you can, just with some intervention."
Two surgeries, several months on fertility drugs, and the tears were finally due to happiness once again.
“I’m pregnant.”
Ted dropped his bag on the table, held his breath. Had he heard right?
“I was trying to think of a way to surprise you or announce it better, but it took everything I had to just wait until you got home instead of calling you.” She hopped from foot to foot, hands clasped in her excitement. Her blue eyes sparkled, ponytail bobbing with her movements.
“Baby, that’s wonderful!” He crossed the room and took her in his arms. It was good to see her happy again after almost two years of her sinking further and further into depression.
Now her eyes were bright, her cheeks glowing. She was the woman he'd first seen at the café that day.
Ted couldn’t contain his excitement. His chest felt full, swollen.
Then he had a thought that froze him. “How do you know you're pregnant? Did the doctor confirm it?”
Meria laughed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “It's for real, honey. The doctor confirmed it today. We’re going to be parents!” She pulled back and looked up into his face. “I guess this is why I’ve been so hungry.”
“Now I have an excuse to bring you everything your heart desires.” He pulled her close for another hug.
***
“Ted? Honey, I’m hungry. Can you go to El Carne and get me some tacos?”
Groggily, Ted rolled over and peered at the clock on his nightstand. 3:12 A.M., really? He groaned and rubbed his eyes, picking up his glasses and slipping them on.
“Tacos? I don’t think that place has vegetarian tacos. You want something else?”
Meria, a vegetarian since her teenage years, had never so much as sniffed a burger in his presence. On their first post-café date he’d taken her to one of those Brazilian restaurants that brings out meat on a stick until you’re full. He was still surprised their relationship had survived that debacle.
“No, just tacos. I need some meat.” Meria rubbed her belly. “I know that sounds crazy, but it’s all I’ve been able to think about lately. Thank you, honey!”
So it went, day in and day out. Increasingly, she craved meat, whether pork chops, chicken, ribs, steak, or burgers. Ted fetched whatever she asked for, enjoying the relish with which she ate. She acted like she was starving. He’d never seen her take down a carrot this way, groaning and taking a second bite before she’d even swallowed the first.
When he asked her about it, she shrugged. “The doctor says cravings are normal, and that I’m not the first vegetarian she’s seen crave meat during pregnancy. At least it’s not cigarette butts or dirt. My friend Kat told me about this woman she knew who had pica and kept eating handfuls of dirt.”
At least there’s that. Compared to cigarette butts and dirt, a little meat craving is no big deal.
***
"What is this thing?" Ted asked, holding aloft a piece of rubbery foam shaped like an open rectangle. It flopped around in his hand.
Meria laughed. "It's a bumper for the fireplace. So the baby won't bonk its head when it falls."
"I feel like this doesn't really have to go up yet. What are the chances of the baby falling any time soon?" He appraised her melon-sized stomach and raised an eyebrow, earning a light slap on the arm.
"I figure we should be ready in advance. That way, accidents don't happen because we weren't prepared." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, a small smile touching her lips. "Besides, he—"
"Or she," Ted interrupted.
"Or she…will be a genius. Walking before we know it."
Ted stood up and wrapped one arm around her, placing a hand on her stomach. "Well, we've put child locks on everything that can possibly move, made it impossible for anyone other than Thor to open the toilet lids, and now we're making the fireplace cushy. I guess it's time to decorate the nursery."
Meria clasped her hands together, smile widening into a grin. Then her expression changed, a frown creasing her face. "Let's grab lunch first. I'm starving."
"What sounds good?"
"Beef. Let's get burgers."
Ted shook his head. "Burgers, it is."
***
Weeks passed. He watched her excitement build alongside his own. Her belly grew rounder, and she became happier, rubbing the mound of her stomach and talking to the baby as if it could hear her.
"You should talk to the baby, too, Ted."
"Why? Will it talk back?"
"Ha ha, funny guy." She shot him a disapproving, but playful, frown. "I've read that the baby can recognize your voice. You could read a book if you feel weird talking."
"Okay, okay." He moved to the floor in front of the chair she was curled in, placed a hand on her belly, and leaned in, mouth close to her belly button, which now poked out through the thin cotton of her shirt. "There once was a baby who held the whole world in its hands, like a rubber ball. One day—"
The baby moved, a ripple under the soft cotton. He gasped and looked up at Meria, who smiled and pressed her hand next to his, eyes shining. Before now, he'd heard about the mystical flutters only Meria could feel, but had never felt anything himself.
It wasn't long before the ripples turned into kicks, then full-on acrobatics. A matter of weeks. He didn't even have to touch her to know when the baby was moving. Rather, he could watch her stomach heave and shift, a fascinating sight. She took it all with grace, peace, and happiness. How, he had no idea. It couldn't feel good to have something that size moving around in you. Kicking you. Doing somersaults. A simple gas bubble could cause pain in his intestines. Never mind a miniature human.
Pregnancy was amazing in so many ways. And each new step in the process brought them to a whole new level of happiness.
At first.
Eventually, anything other than meat made Meria sick. She pushed her vegetables around her plate and declined bread. She could still stomach milk and water, which gave Ted a measure of relief, at least, and her doctor insisted she continue taking her prenatal vitamins.
"At this point, Meria, there is no medical reason you can only eat meat. Your tests come back normal. This has to be in your head, an issue you're creating." Dr. Marlo cocked her head slightly to the side. "It could be guilt, because of your vegetarianism. Whatever it is, you need to push past it. Eating a more varied diet is going to be healthier for both you and the baby in the long run."
Meria burst into tears, but promised she would do her best to eat better. This promise didn't last long. In her seventh month, Meria started ordering her meat rare. By the eighth month, she was sending Ted out for carts full of raw meat. At first, she would dress it up to look like a meal, but eventually she gave up and ate it straight out of the white carton it came in, juices dripping down her chin.
“This can’t be good for you or the baby, Meria. What about bacteria? E. coli? Please let me cook it, at least a little,” Ted begged.
“It makes me sick if it’s cooked. I can’t stand the taste or th
e…" Meria gagged. "The smell.”
"You need to talk to Dr. Marlo about this then."
"No. I'm done talking to her about my diet."
In fact, she now lied to the doctor at each appointment. Ted tried to talk her out of it, but Meria's response was to stop allowing him to come to her appointments. "You don't know what it's like to be judged for everything you do. Everything you eat, every pound you gain, every decision you make. No more."
As her belly swelled, her cravings became more of a physical agony than just an urge or desire. "It's like hot coals are ripping through my belly." The baby would writhe within her, causing her to clutch her stomach, moan, sometimes vomit or cry. Ted couldn’t turn down her requests when she was obviously in such agony. After all, he was the reason she was suffering this way. Without him, there would be no baby inside her.
He pushed his worries aside, and brought her what she asked for. He took to shopping at a different store each day in order to get the freshest meat possible. Eventually, he found a few butcher shops, as well as a nearby ranch. He kept a running schedule in his mind of each place, trading off in order to get meat on the days they put it out.
“I’m so hungry. Please! I need some meat…now.” Her voice melted away into a groan. Face pale, she clutched her belly. Ted watched it ripple from the inside, like a large fish moving beneath the surface of a pond.
The baby is hungry.
This thought sent a chill up his spine.
Though barely nine in the morning, Ted rushed out to the butcher’s. He had it down to a science now, there and back in twenty minutes.
Upon his return, he placed all but one of the bundles wrapped in brown butcher paper inside the refrigerator. Whistling a cheerful tune, he walked toward the bedroom where Meria spent most of her time. The pregnancy was making her miserable; she often lay still in the darkness of the bedroom, sometimes whimpering, sometimes snoring loudly from the pressure of the baby on her diaphragm and lungs. Ted felt hopeless in the face of her discomfort. Other than keeping her fed, there was nothing he could do for her.
Blue Sludge Blues & Other Abominations Page 8