“Geegee? Come—come here girl.”
Kat’s voice sounded comparatively quiet, as if afraid to leave her mouth and find its own way in the world. She checked behind her, to make sure that the cabin was still close by, and discovered that she had scarcely walked a yard from the porch steps. Swallowing, she took another step forward, craning her neck in a vain effort to pierce more of the white wall before her.
“Geegee?”
She took one more step, then stopped. She wasn’t sure if it had simply been those few feet that she had progressed, or if some silent wind had blown some of the mist aside, but suddenly she could see into the mist a little further. A person stood there.
Kat’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly stumbled backwards. Then the person bent and patted the top of Geegee’s head, and across the distance Kat could hear a woman’s voice saying, “Oh yes, you’re a friendly dog, aren’t you? Yes, you’re a good, friendly dog out for morning walk.”
The voice felt warm and genuine. Something about it disarmed Kat and, after a minute’s evaluation, she began walking towards the woman in the mist.
“I’m sorry,” Kat said as she approached the stranger. “She’s a friendly dog. I hope she didn’t scare you.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble,” the woman said, looking up, “I had my bear repellent ready, in case she wanted to start something.”
As less and less misty air separated Kat from the stranger, Kat was able to make out more of the woman’s details. She was short and thin, with long hair that hung in braids over her shoulders and down her front. Necklaces—quite a few of them—swooped down from her neck at different lengths. Many of them seemed to be handmade, Kat guessed by the woman herself, with large beads that rattled against one another as she moved. Beneath the necklaces she wore a fuzzy sweater and denim pants, but no shoes. By the time Kat stopped walking forwards, she was able to see the woman’s face clearly—one eye, the dark color of rich soil. The other was the smeared blue of the sky before rain, with no pupil and no sight within it. Her skin was thin and wrinkled, like a grocery bag, but her smile matched her voice, and Kat felt herself at ease.
“You’re here visiting,” the woman noted.
“Yes, just for the weekend.”
“That’s wonderful. It’s a lovely weekend to be here. I like to come by and see if somebody’s in the old rental or not—gives me something to do on my morning walks.”
“Yes, well, I hope that you aren’t normally accosted by overly-friendly dogs.”
The woman waved a dismissive hand towards Geegee. “She’s fine. I like dogs plenty well.”
“Yes, well, we’d probably better get back inside and let you continue your walk.”
“There’s no need to rush yourselves on my account. It’s a beautiful morning, and mother earth meant for each of us to enjoy it.” She smiled at Kat and patted Geegee’s head once more.
“Well, we’d better get inside, all the same,” Kat said.
The woman fixed Kat with a different kind of gaze for a moment, her smile fading. At first Kat didn’t notice it, but then an odd sensation of being exposed came over her. It took only a few seconds, but in those few seconds Kat felt as if a great many things about her had been revealed. It was an odd, unnerving sensation.
“You have a lovely aura,” the woman said. “And you’ll be a great mother. Don’t worry about that.”
“I’m not— How did you—?”
Kat didn’t realize that the woman was reaching towards her until she felt her soft, thin-skinned fingers on her cheek. It startled her, but did not frighten her.
“But there is a dark energy looming over your shoulder. It is poisoning your bright aura. You need to get rid of it.”
The feelings of warmth and comfort departed in an instant, and Kat stepped back from the woman, out of reach of her grocery-bag-skin fingers. She felt wrong now—violated in some way.
“Geegee, come on,” Kat said.
The dog looked up at her and whined. Kat looked at the woman, raised the sternness in her voice, and commanded, “Geegee, heel.”
Geegee moved to her side. Kat looked up from the dog and into the woman’s face one more time. Her mismatched eyes stared into hers, and the woman said, “It’ll be alright. If you want to speak to me more, I’ll be in town.” Then she nodded, said, “Good morning,” and turned and started walking away from the house, back into the mists, her bare feet silent on the dirt path.
“Come on, Geegee, let’s go inside.”
The dog whined, still watching after the retreating woman.
“Geegee, come on,” Kat said as she began walking in the opposite direction, back towards the cabin.
The dog still just stood there for a moment longer, then followed after her, catching up to her as she began mounting the porch steps. Kat paused at the top and looked back to where the hole in the mist where the woman had gone, and a shudder ran up her spine.
6
Alex had been in the bathroom when Kat had finished her cereal. Sitting there in the small kitchen, she’d seen the twigs that Alex had talked about the night before, rising up from around the sides of the window frame and creeping above the old kitchen radio that rested on its ledge. The morning was still, and the twigs weren’t scraping up against the glass as they had the night before, but still Kat thought it would be a good idea to do something proactive about it, just in case the wind picked up again that evening. She slipped back into her shoes and walked back outside, going to the car and opening the trunk.
A few loose water bottles rolled around beside a half-empty jug of motor oil. Packed into a back corner of the trunk sat a bundle of rope. She reached in, careful not to get any of the gunk from the car on her husband’s hoodie, and grabbed the rope.
It only took a few throws before she’d managed to loop the rope over the large bush. It grew close to the window—too close, actually. Whoever had planted it there hadn’t been thinking very long-term about it, and whoever did the maintenance on the cabin should have trimmed it back a long time ago. It rose upwards in a semi-thorny mess, stretching out along the window and nearly covering the whole thing, obscuring an otherwise wonderful view. Annoyed, Kat tightened her loop around the bush, cinching together the bundle of branches into something smaller and more manageable. Then she took the loose end of the rope and tied it back to a stump a few feet away, stepping back afterwards to survey her handiwork.
It felt good. It didn’t look good, but it felt good, being proactive. The bush bowed away from the house, low to the ground and far from the wall and the window, securely restrained.
Feeling something of a handyman’s high, Kat walked around the perimeter of the little cabin, searching for any other shrubbery that might be scraping up against its walls. She found none—just that huge bush by the window. It was just as well, since she was now out of rope and didn’t intend on actually cutting back any of the foliage—that was somebody else’s job, and she wouldn’t take it from them, regardless how poorly they were performing it. Satisfied, Kat headed back into the cabin.
Geegee was in with Alex, and the buzz of his electric razor emanated from the bathroom. Kat stood in the front room, letting the door swing closed behind her. She looked around at the few shelves, scanning the titles of the dusty vacation books that had been either intentionally placed or accidentally left in the cabin. None of them caught her attention. They were going into town eventually, but until then, what were they going to do? Alex could call it a second honeymoon if he wanted to, but she doubted that they’d spend this one as passionately intoxicated with each other as they had five years ago. She wanted to actually go out and about—to go and do something while they were here.
She sat down on the little couch and looked down at her legs. If she and Alex were going to go somewhere, she should probably put on something a little nicer than gray sweatpants. She nearly pushed herself off the couch but then stopped and settled back into its dusty cushions. She’d wait to see what Alex ha
d in mind for the day before she changed out of the sweats. After all, there wasn’t anything more comfortable inside that suitcase.
Kat looked at the TV screen, then searched around idly for the remote, wondering what channels, if any, came through to this place. Before she found it, she looked back up at the TV screen, just in time to see her reflection blink.
She paused, hand held over the table beside her, eyes fixed on the screen.
Her reflection matched her pose, but it watched her with darker eyes. Then, slowly, the image set her hand down on the table and picked up an object. At first, Kat thought it was the remote. Then the light coming through the window caught its surface, reflecting brightly off its polished blade.
Her reflection glowered back at her with a knife clenched in its hands.
Kat fought the urge to scream, to yell for Alex. Instead, as calmly as she could, she stood and stepped into the bedroom, where she picked up a spare blanket. Steeling herself, she walked back into the living room and placed it over the screen to hide her reflection, careful to not touch the screen itself. Then she gripped the hefty television set with both hands and started spinning it to face the wall.
“What are you doing?”
Kat jumped at the voice, turning around to see Alex standing in the doorway to the bathroom with the razor in his hand and concern on his face.
“Alex, you— I thought you were still in the bathroom. You startled me.”
“Kat,” he said, taking a slow half-step forward, “are you okay? What are you doing?”
“The TV,” she said, nearly stumbling on the words. Then she swallowed and said, “I was about to turn it on—you know, just, like, out of habit or something. But then I thought that we should be spending this time together. So, I figured I’d turn the screen away so that it won’t be a distraction or a temptation.”
“Okay,” he slowly replied, “but, do you think we could’ve just decided not to turn it on? I don’t....”
He didn’t have to say what was on his mind—she could see it in his eyes, and even if his face had been hidden, it was obvious in his voice. He doesn’t want to think that his pregnant wife has gone insane, she thought.
“I just thought, this way, we won’t even think about doing it,” she said. When he looked like he was on the edge of believing her, she decided to risk pressing the point. “We can always watch our stupid shows back home. But while we’re here...” she stepped up to him and placed a hand on his arm, “I just want it to be us,” she whispered. “No TV. No distractions while we’re here. Time for us to just talk and be together.”
His eyes jumped for a few seconds between hers, then he smiled, apparently deciding to let the issue drop. “Okay.”
7
Alex wiped at the corners of his mouth with a napkin, then crumpled it up and stuffed it into their meal’s paper bag. Seeing that Kat was still several bites away from completing her chicken sandwich, he began picking at the fry crumbs left rolling around in the fry pod. After he’d picked out what he wanted, he ripped it open and placed it in front of Geegee, who eagerly licked out the remaining oil and salt.
“What do you think? Not too bad, huh?”
Kat nodded her head and took another bite. “It’s good.”
“Did we eat here five years ago?”
Kat shrugged, chewed a second longer, then said, “We must have. It’s not like there are a bunch of other places around here that we would have eaten at.”
“Huh. I guess I just didn’t remember it.”
He leaned back, resting his hands in the grass behind him and shifting his weight to his arms. They’d found a small park to picnic in, with a large oak tree that threw off plenty of shade. Not far away, a mom sat on a bench with a paperback in her hands while two kids chased each other around the playground. Kat watched them, staring at the woman while taking her final bite of chicken sandwich. The stranger she’d met in the morning fog had told her that she would be a good mother. It had felt nice to hear—even coming from someone so peculiar—but would it be true? She had worried about it before, but before she hadn’t been seeing things in the television set. Could she be a good mom while living in a psychiatric ward?
“I wonder if it’ll rain,” Alex said, his head tilted back and facing the sky. Kat looked up as well. There were clouds aplenty, but they seemed light and airy to her.
“Maybe,” she said, wiping her fingers and palms with her own napkin. “Do you want to stay here or walk around?”
“Let’s walk around,” Alex said. “We can do some window shopping down the main street, see what weird little places this town has to offer.” He stood and offered his hand. “Shall we?”
“Sure,” Kat said, taking his hand and letting him pull her to her feet. Physically, at least, she was feeling much better now than she had been in a while. The first trimester was nearly over, and already her nausea seemed to be fading more and more each day. A walk down main street sounded lovely.
They strolled through the park to the sidewalk, side by side, with Geegee trailing a few feet behind them. A car or two moved down the street, rumbling quietly past. Down the road, a shop had an outdoor table where a group of older men sat together. Mostly, however, it was quiet and empty, making Peascombe look like a bustling metropolis. It was quaint, but to a large degree these types of places had lost their charm to Kat. Life in Peascombe had ruined them for her.
Halfway down main street they found a small fudge shop. Different shades of brown with a variety of crushed-nut mix-ins sat before the window on a white tablecloth, looking ready to melt. Alex paused.
“Okay, I do remember this place. Do you want some fudge?”
Kat considered the chocolate lumps, then shook her head. “I don’t think we even finished it last time. Besides, it’s way overpriced.”
“Well, supply and demand,” Alex said, still looking at the window display. “I can’t imagine there’s much demand around here, though.”
“Probably not,” Kat said, “though it seems like you’re generating plenty all by yourself right now.”
Alex turned from the window and started walking beside Kat once more. “Maybe I would be,” he said, “if I didn’t have a penny-pincher wife.”
“Maybe,” Kat said as she slipped her hand into his.
They walked past a few more shop windows—a small bookstore, the shell of a convenience store with an “OUT OF BUSINESS” sign hanging in the door, and a laundromat. As they reached the end of the shopping district, Alex stopped and peered between the last two buildings. The alley was clear, save for a few taller weeds that had sprouted from cracks in the sidewalk. Someone obviously kept it swept and cleared the trash that blew in, and a large welcome mat sprawled itself out beneath a hanging sign that read, “Madame Suzzane’s Souvenir Shoppe.” Beneath that, a poster of gaudy, neon paint exclaimed, “Doodads, Tchotchkes, Knick-Knacks, and Trinkets—all made BY LOCALS with LOCAL MATERIALS.”
Alex chuckled, then mumbled, “Location, location, location.”
“Seriously,” Kat said. “How many people do you think ever find this place?”
“Apparently enough to keep it going,” Alex said. “Want to check it out?”
“Sure.”
Kat let Alex lead the way into the alley. When they reached the door, they were somewhat surprised to see that the shop was open, as if they’d secretly expected the establishment to have folded under and had only approached it to verify their suspicions. After telling Geegee to wait outside, Alex pushed on the door and it swung back, sending a little bell into it’s brief song of greeting overhead.
The place was ill lit, and it took Kat’s eyes a second to adjust to its dimness as she followed in behind Alex. It’s probably to hide the quality of the souvenirs, Kat guessed. What was that phrase?—“Beauty is only a light switch away.”
As the darkness settled in her eyes, she could see the rows and rows of...junk. Pine cones that had been done up like little birds; soda cans that had been cut, bent,
hammered, and twisted into Mount Rushmore, the Eiffel Tower, Marilyn Monroe over the grate; there was a chess set whose board was made from stained wood, with cut bullet shells for the pieces; a long shelf crammed with pottery lined one wall, and a collection of tie-dye shirts hung on a rack beside it; dream catchers, cheap jewelry, and carved walking sticks each had their own places. Little oddities filled the shelves and lined the walls, and almost none of them featured price tags.
“Huh,” Alex said, “Take a look at this one.”
Kat stepped up beside him. The figure, made from carved wood and some string, was of a man holding an ax, with a cut of wood waiting to be split in front of him. To the side, a squirrel sat atop a log, watching. Alex put his finger to the squirrel and slid it forwards on the log. The little wooden man swung his ax down simultaneously, and it hit the cut of wood with a satisfying little plink.
“That’s pretty good,” Kat said
“Yeah, it is. I wonder how long it would last before it wore down.”
“A long time, actually.”
Alex and Kat both jumped at the voice, which spoke from just a few feet behind them. Whirling around, Kat saw long, gray braids coming down from a wrinkled face set with miss-matched eyes.
“Geez lady!” Alex said, putting a hand to his chest. “You just about scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d heard me walk up behind you. With the kinds of troublemakers we’ve got around here, you didn’t really think I’d leave the store open and unattended, did you?”
“Well, no, but—”
“You’re the woman from earlier,” Kat said, cutting Alex off.
“Yes,” the woman said, nodding at her, “and you’re the weekend-vacationers.”
Alex looked between them, confused.
“We met this morning,” Kat said to him. “I took Geegee outside when this lady came by on her walk.”
“I’m Suzzane,” the woman said. “And that little trinket behind you is carved from some very strong stuff—it’ll last a long while, so long as you don’t let the dog or the little one play with it. You can have it for forty.”
Cleaving Souls Page 7