Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I see the married life is setting in nicely, huh?” Buford said.
“You can say that...”
“Believe me, I know, buddy. Tied the knot three times already, and this latest one…goddamn…just the sound of her voice lately makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. You and Suzey, you been married, what, a year now?”
“Yep. Just celebrated our first anniversary a couple of months ago. She’s pregnant again, too.”
“Again?” Buford eyed a redhead as she strutted by, his eyes pinned to her swaying ass with no attempt to disguise his gawking. “And you’re nervous about being a father, is that it?”
He shook his head, attempted another sip of his drink. “No, no, not at all. Actually, I’ve always wanted to be a father. But this isn’t our first try…and the babies just don’t seem to survive more than a couple of months. I’m…shit, I’m fucking terrified if I’m telling the truth. I don’t know how much more of this either one of us can take.”
“Shit, man. I’m damn sorry to hear that. And Suzey, she taking it okay?”
Eddie stared into his drink, swirled it around a few times. He didn’t know how to answer that question. “She…she’s handling it okay, I guess. It’s just…she told me…”
“Yeah?”
Eddie bit his tongue, stood from the bar, tossed a ten on the counter. “Sorry, Buford, but I’m going to have to call it an early night. Head’s just all over the place right now.”
Buford’s mouth hung open and he held his hands out. “You gonna leave me here to fend for myself with no wingman?”
“Maybe you should call your wife instead. Get some sleep.”
Buford eyed another scantily clad female, bit his bottom lip. “You handle your marriage woes your way, I’ll handle ’em mine.” He raised his drink. “Have a good night, fucker. And try and celebrate a bit, huh? Order some fucking room service or something. We did good today, buddy. And it’s time to get paid.”
Eddie just shook his head and waved, then weaved his way through the bar crowd and out into the cold night. He tightened his coat, every breath fogging in front of him, and trudged toward the hotel. As he crossed the street, he pulled out his cell phone and saw that Suzey had called three times.
I’ll just tell her the meeting went late, that I couldn’t get away.
He just couldn’t bring himself to call her back. The sound of her voice was something he craved, but right now, he needed time to think. Drinks at the bar seemed like the perfect way to calm down, to relax a bit, get his mind off things. But it did the opposite. The constant buzz in the bar, along with Buford’s constant chattering, was all just static in the back of his mind, Suzey’s words banging inside of his skull like freshly-fired bullets.
Initially, what he said to her was true. He loved her, and no matter what had happened in her past, no matter what mistakes she’d made, it wouldn’t change the way he felt for her. The love he felt for his wife was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Sure, he’d had girlfriends, serious relationships in the past that he thought would stretch on to marriage and eventually children. But when he met Suzey, it felt like a dream. How could a girl be this perfect? he had asked himself. And why in god’s name would she be interested in me?
Because she’s an ex hooker, that’s why.
Eddie clenched his teeth as he entered the hotel. The ride in the elevator was awkward as a young couple dry humped in the corner, but he kept his eyes on the plastic number discs as they lit up one by one. When his floor’s turn came, and the doors cracked open, he nearly dove out.
He remembered how he and Suzey used to be the same way. Just couldn’t wait to jump each other’s bones. They would be half naked by the time they got to his or her place, shedding the rest of their clothing as they shoved through the door. Always such a strong sex drive, his Suzey. Now, the thought made him shudder a bit.
Eddie had always figured she was so horny because she was as into him as he was into her, but now he wasn’t so sure. It was in her nature to be that way. If she could sleep with any random person who had the right amount of cash, then fucking him was nothing. Now that he thought about it, sometimes afterward, she seemed like she wasn’t there, like her mind had retreated and she was just spacing out.
A tactic she learned as a prostitute maybe? Release the mind from the body so her sanity remained intact?
The air in his room was stale, heavy with the breath of past tenants. A hot shower seemed just what he needed, so he ran the water to let it heat up and stripped down. He sat on the toilet and studied his face in the mirror. Deep lines ran along his forehead, down from his nose to the corners of his mouth like knife wounds. Sharp daggers of facial hair sprouted over his cheeks, and he ran a hand over them and inhaled the steam that began to creep from the shower.
Ten abortions? And she wonders why she can’t get pregnant now?
Hot rage boiled within his belly, and it took every ounce of willpower for him not to pick up his phone and empty that rage into his wife’s ear.
Stop it, Eddie. It’s not her fault, and you know it.
Yeah, he thought. That’s right. Not her fault. She’s a wonderful woman, a gorgeous loving wife that loves you and cherishes you. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t you dare fuck this up.
He stepped into the shower and let the scalding water burn away the day’s filth. His thoughts went to Suzey’s grandmother. Images of a withered old witch with sagging bags of flesh hanging from her decrepit body were formed by his mind. He saw little Suzey curled into a ball while the hunched-over hag beat her with a walking cane. It was this woman, he knew, that was the cause for all this, this woman that was to blame for the life Suzey chose to pursue.
And all over some stupid fucking stork story?
He’d heard the story, of course; who hadn’t? A tale told to kids so parents wouldn’t have to explain the uncomfortable subject of sex and birth. Where do babies come from? Why, a great white bird brings them in a sling, just swoops into the window of the nursery and plops the little darling right into its crib.
Did the old woman truly believe this shit? Or was she using a children’s tale to get inside of Suzey’s head, pronouncing her to be evil with some sort of Dr. Seuss limerick.
Of course she would be fucked up. She witnesses her mother being murdered, then gets tortured by her bat-shit crazy grandmother for years.
A deep guilt began to take shape in his head, and now he wanted nothing more than to hear his wife’s voice. For someone to go through all of that, and make it out alive, then have a heart as big as Suzey’s, it was truly a miracle. The woman deserved to be pampered for the rest of her life. When they first met, she had mentioned that she didn’t think she wanted children, didn’t think she would make a good mother. But he had persuaded her otherwise, told her he always imagined himself as a father, a family man. She seemed apprehensive about it, but promised she would keep an open mind. Let’s just play it by ear, she said.
When they found out she was pregnant the first time, they had only been dating for about eight months, but nonetheless, Eddie was excited. This woman was it for him, he knew that, and soon after the news, he proposed, and she accepted. And then the baby died. Then they tried again…and the baby died. Third times a charm? No, another dead baby.
But he had a good feeling about this one, the new life in his wife’s belly. Something told him everything was going to turn out great, that their luck was going to change. And now with this new account, they could expect a nice big check. He already knew he was going to use the money to build a nursery for their bundle of joy.
He cut the shower off and blew the excess water from his lips. With this new knowledge of Suzey’s past seething in the center of his skull like a pulsating brain tumor, he felt it was his duty to help Suzey, do something to help her find closure of some kind. As she told him the horrors of her past, the haunted look in her eyes unnerved him, and it paine
d him to see her this way.
Her grandmother.
Suzey said herself she had no idea if the woman was alive or dead. Maybe if he looked into it, found she was dead, it would exorcize some of Suzey’s inner demons. They could visit her grave, show the old bitch what a great woman Suzey turned out to be, what a great life she was living now.
It’s the least I can do.
He toweled off and plucked his cell phone from his discarded khakis, dialed the number to his newly appointed secretary.
“H-hello?”
“Hey, Paula. Did I wake you?”
“N-no…no, Mr. Buddinger. Of course not.”
“Great. I need your help.”
***
Suzey sat in the living room slicing open boxes with a razor blade. The first box was full of framed photographs, mostly of her and Eddie in various smiley poses, but also a good amount of Eddie’s family. She stared at the picture of his sister Anne and her husband and two boys, their faces all lip, tooth, and gums as they beamed at the camera. Suzey imagined her and Eddie striking the same pose someday, their baby wedged snug between them.
Beneath that was a strip of four photos that she and Eddie had taken in a picture booth at the local fair the first year they had met. It was only a week later when she found out she was pregnant the first time. She would never forget the joy that lit up Eddie’s face the day she told him, and it was then she really knew she loved him.
Suzey giggled as she eyed the photos, each one getting more silly as they went along. The bottom and final photo was them kissing, outstretched and tight lips like two woodpecker beaks.
She set the photo strip down, laughed again, then reached in for the next one.
The glass broke as she tossed the photo away and a harsh gasp swooshed from her stomach. The old woman’s face had leered up at her, the corners of her mouth hanging on her loose jowls. Her eyes had a tight squint, with gleaming hatred seeping from the dark slits. And the picture frame itself had been lined in white feathers, wet and misshapen as if they’d been floating in an oil spill.
Suzey stood, peered into the box just in case anything else was planning on jumping out at her, but there were only stacks of frames, smiling faces. Her eyes rolled to the mess of glass shards and the frame which lay face-down by the wall.
It can’t be…it’s not real.
There were no photos of her grandma at her old home, and even if there were, there was no way in hell Suzey would have kept one. I’m losing my mind, she thought. I’ve finally lost it…finally gone insane.
She tiptoed around the glass, had to concentrate to keep her walk steady as her knees wobbled beneath her and her stomach spun. The tip of her toe nudged the edge of the frame, testing it to see if it was real; fear coursed through her body as if the frame itself would bite her.
Stop being an idiot.
She forced herself to pick it up, and when she felt the soft frame border brush against her palm, a scream trumpeted from her mouth. And she spun the frame, ready to throw it again, ready to scream again.
But she only laughed.
Eddie’s grandmother, now deceased, smiled up at her. The woman’s smile took up half of her face, reached up and touched her eyes. A very pretty lady, and from what Eddie had told her, as sweet as peach cobbler.
The frame was bordered with a white satin fabric and made the old woman’s face seem to glow. And now Suzey had broken it. She hoped it wasn’t sentimental to Eddie in any way.
Get it together, Suzey.
As she swept up the mess, she couldn’t keep from glancing at the photo of the old woman again and again, expecting her grandma’s feral scowl to return. Since telling Eddie about her past, memories of her grandma swirled around in her head, some things she had forgotten, things she subconsciously forced herself to bury away.
The beatings…the words…the stories.
She had the glass shards in a dust pan, but as she tried to stand, a needle of pain pierced her left temple, drove all the way through to the right. Her teeth gnashed together as the agony increased, and she grabbed handfuls of her hair and bellowed at the ceiling. The glass rained from the dustpan to the floor and she collapsed backward, slammed the back of her head against the hardwood.
And the images flowed freely in her mind, as if whatever trunk the suppressed memories were stored had been blown away. She writhed as they came, like ghosts with porcupine quills rolling around in her head, stabbing the memories back into her consciousness.
She saw her mother’s murder, saw her brains splash against the wall and roll down. Saw the man unzip his pants and enter the exit wound.
Bile stung her mouth and nose, and she sat up, winced as the pain in her head seized her again.
She saw the repeated beatings, her grandmother whipping the electrical cord over her tiny, quivering body, screaming about evil and storks. Saw all the men she’d been with, saw them grunting and sweating above her, kissing and licking and sniffing and biting her. Saw the doctors killing the life inside of her.
Some of these things she knew she had done, knew she had lived through, but the details of them…the details were blurry at best…but not now. Now they played in her mind like a high definition television.
All she could do was run from the room and dive into her bed where she could sob into her pillow. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket, and saw that Eddie still hadn’t called. Her fingers punched in his number again and she pressed the phone to her head until the side of her head ached.
No answer.
He’s left me. The weight of what I told him finally set in, and he realized he couldn’t stay married to a whore.
She dialed again, and again no answer. The sound of his voicemail sent tremors of rage through her and she flung the phone at the wall, shattering it.
“Fuck!”
Her grandma’s face once again swam into view in her mind, and she punched the wall, then with the other fist, and again and again. Bloody streaks painted the caved in sheetrock.
“You stupid old cunt! I hope you’re alive…I hope you’re alive so I can cut out your fucking heart and shove it down your throat!”
Evil little bitch. Soulless. Satan’s spawn.
“No…no, no, no!”
A twitch in her stomach. It stopped her dead in her tracks and she sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed her midsection lovingly.
“I’m sorry, baby. So…so sorry. Mommy’s calm, mommy’s fine, mommy’s…”
Another stab of pain, another memory. Something that couldn’t be, something she knew was a lie. Her mind was fucking with her, playing tricks on her now, just like with the photograph. This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be true.
Evil. An abomination.
Her hand went down to her groin, then to her stomach. Tears flowed from her eyes like they were open wounds.
My babies…my babies. I am evil…I am soulless.
***
“That’s great news, Paula. I owe you big.” He paced the hotel room in his underwear and socks. “Why don’t you take your husband out to a nice restaurant, huh? Any place you like.”
“Thank you, Mr. Buddinger. It was no problem, really. She was the only Bastion in Travis. Easy to find in such a small town.”
“And which cemetery did you say it was?”
“Saint Ignatius Memorial. I have the address written down…”
Eddie sat on his bed and wrote the address on the back of a receipt. He stared at it for a moment, wondered if this was the right thing to do, if he should even be sticking his nose in all this shit.
“Mr. Buddinger?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. That’ll do, Paula. Thank you again. And remember, any place you like, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
He hung up and immediately dialed Suzey’s number. After coming up with his plan last night, he had forgotten to call her. Now he could only hope she wasn’t upset, wasn’t letting her mind run away with her and creating worry or jealousy in her head.
> No answer.
It went straight to voicemail, which wasn’t like her. He dialed again just to make sure, but got the same outcome.
The cab would be by the hotel to pick him up in half an hour and take him to the airport, then it was straight home with no layovers. He figured he could be at the house in a total of four hours, which seemed like an eternity right then.
After telling me all about her past, I’m sure she’s on edge.
He knew she was. How could she not be? She would be seething with worry, probably thinking Eddie was having second thoughts or ran away or something like that. Suzey was always thinking the worst, always blowing things out of proportion. He could only hope she didn’t do anything drastic, that maybe her mind was so clouded with anxiety she just forgot to charge her phone.
Just get your ass home…as fast as you can.
He could already see her face when he told her the news. That after everything that had happened to her, all the shit she had to wade through, she would have the last laugh.
And together they could spit on the hag’s grave.
***
“It’s your fault…all your fault…” Suzey’s hand shook as she held the photo inches from her face, the old woman staring right back, a smug grin stretching her cheeks. “I’ll k-kill you…fucking kill you.”
The small rectangular box lay open beside her, the box she had forgotten about. She didn’t remember filling it, didn’t remember packing it up and bringing it to their new home. The contents of that box confirmed what she’d known all along, confirmed what Grandma had drilled into her brain for so many years.
I’m evil. The stork never brought me a soul.
But Suzey still blamed Grandma, still resented her for showing her the truth. Or maybe I could have been saved, she thought. If you would have loved me and nurtured me, maybe things wouldn’t have to be this way.
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