by Joel Arnold
"You don't have to believe it. Just let it rest. Just think of Edna as you know her. As your mom. Not as Big Ed. And you are her flesh and blood, Andy. Remember that. Nothing can change that part of you, so you might as well accept it."
Flesh and blood.
He couldn't forget it. Not now. Not ever. Not with Natalie as a constant reminder.
"What about Natalie?" he asked. "What should we do about her?"
"It's about time I confronted her," Mae said. "Tell her to stop playing these games. She's trying to break me, and I won't let her. If she thinks she can make me lose it all over again - "
"Let me talk to her," Andy said. "Give me a chance to set her straight."
(flesh and blood, Andy)
Flesh and blood.
Bury the past once and for all, he thought.
Bury it for good.
Mae leaned over and gave him a good solid hug. "Be careful, Andy. Just be careful."
THIRTY-THREE
The chill of autumn was growing, the smell of the coming winter crisp, its touch prickling Andy's skin. He stood shivering in the moon's crescent glow. The trees were bare. The grass reflected the silvery sheen of frost into the air. Mae's house in the distance emanated a warmth, a security, that Andy longed for, longed to be wrapped inside of. He knew Mae was inside waiting, anticipating his return. He turned towards Natalie's house. There was a lone light on in the living room.
A gust of cold wind sent more shivers down Andy's body. He cupped his hands and blew into them, hoping the warmth would trickle past his fingertips and palms and through his entire body. The warmth spread to the tops of his wrists, and then disappeared. It was so quiet, so still out.
He took a step towards Natalie's house, quickly realizing that the shivers running through his body were more from nervousness than the chill. He had to talk to her. Confront her.
He quickly stepped onto the concrete of Natalie's front step. The stillness was broken by a thunderous squawking, and he jumped back, holding his breath. It was a flock of migrating geese, their silhouettes speckling the surface of the moon. The thunder and beat of their wings quickly died as they passed south.
Andy started to reach out to knock on Natalie's front door, but stopped when he heard voices seep through the wood and brick of the house, through the small cracks and fissures between glass and windowsill. At first he thought it was the television.
"Oh god, Emma - you're so beautiful." The voice seemed familiar. "Let me hold you."
The voice was raspy, full of phlegm. It was Hector. Talking in his delirium. Andy walked around to the side of the house, trying to catch a peek through the living room window.
"Emma - your hair, your hair," Hector said, as if on the verge of tears.
Andy twisted his head around to get a good look inside the house. Thin, white curtains were drawn over the window, but there was still an opening wide enough for Andy to see inside.
"Your hair - it's so beautiful, Emma. It feels so good to touch again."
Andy expected to see Hector in his wheelchair, a line of drool spilling from his mouth. As he looked, there was Hector in his wheelchair, yes, and sitting on his lap, with watery eyes…
Natalie.
Her hands were on his shoulders.
Hector stroked her long, red hair.
"So beautiful, Emma. So beautiful."
Natalie looked confused, ill, as if she didn't know what to do. She lifted a hand and stroked Hector's face. "I'm here, Hec," she said. Her voice trembled, the effort to hold back tears nearly choking her. She pressed her face against his shoulder, against his fading blue t-shirt.
"Let me look into your eyes," Hector said, crying the dry tears of old age. His eyelids were a deep blue-black, yellowing retinas criss-crossed with thin red lines.
Natalie slowly lifted her head.
"Oh god, Em. I've missed you so much." Hector wiped a swath of red hair that had fallen in front of Natalie's eyes. Natalie avoided his gaze. "Look at me," he said. "Look at me."
Natalie slowly rolled her eyes around, rolled her whole head around in slow motion until they met Hector's. A shiver ran through her, and then she was still.
Like that bird, that bird I saw, Andy thought. That woodpecker, its head rolling around, eyes twitching, its whole body convulsing. Natalie was still, calm, on the outside, but Andy saw inside of her through her eyes. Inside she was a sponge of convulsions. Inside, she twitched, scared, nervous. Inside she was that bird.
Andy watched, his hand covering his mouth as if to keep from screaming. His hand was a barrier to keep him separated from the scene unfolding before him. The window, the glare of the moon on it, a white crescent, made it seem as if he was watching this on a television screen. This isn't real. It can't be real. He kept watching, trying not to breath, trying not to let the steam from his breath fog up the window.
He watched as Hector cupped Natalie's face with trembling hands, caressing her cheeks with his arthritic thumbs. His lips were a dull, shriveled pink. They glistened with moisture as he ran his tongue across them. "Emma, I missed you so much."
Natalie's neck muscles fought the pull of Hector's arms. The rest of her body was still, but Andy saw the veins bulge around her neck. She resisted Hector's pull, but couldn't say anything, her urge to scream out somehow stifled by the pitiful look in Hector's eyes. Finally, she gave in. As Hector's arms began to rattle, their flab jostling against his chest, he pulled Natalie's face to his. Her mouth parted slightly, as his lips reached out to meet hers. Just before their mouths connected, Hector's tongue darted out, a small pink worm wetting his cracked lips to receive Natalie.
Andy looked away from the window, his breathing quick and shallow. He began to hear what at first he thought was the distant howling of some poor, chained dog, but then realized the noise came from inside the house. The noise came from Hector. Andy watched, sickened, as Hector held Natalie's face to his, his lips groping to rediscover that long lost feeling, that long lost taste of so many years ago. As he worked his lips over Natalie's - her eyes shut tight, the pupils moving frantically beneath the lids - that noise resonated from somewhere in the back of his throat. It was hollow. Dreadful. A rasping moan that reverberated through his lips down through Natalie.
She became wooden and stiff. She opened her eyes wide as Hector took one hand from her cheek and slid it down the front of her shirt, unsnapping the buttons of her blouse.
Get off of him, Andy wanted to yell. Get out of there. But he couldn't. His voice was frozen in his throat, the words silently escaping in the chilled mist of his breath.
Hector unhooked the front of Natalie's bra. Her breasts fell from her shirt. The noise coming from Hector's throat was loud now, loud from his excitement, from the releasing of pent-up feelings. As he took his lips off of Natalie's, the growl from his throat took on the form of a loud moan as it passed through his open lips. He stroked Natalie's breasts, his body shaking, perspiring. Natalie's eyes were pointed at the ceiling, although they were looking far beyond that, looking into a vast distance, anywhere but at what was happening before her.
Hector lowered his head level to her breasts. "Emmmaaaaa," he said, the word barely distinguishable from the rest of his moans. He flashed out a tongue at one of Natalie's red, freckled nipples, as if confirming its existence. He brought his tongue back into his mouth, then darted it out to quickly moisten his lips once again. Hector wrapped his lips back around the nipple he'd just tasted. Natalie's eyes were rolled back far in their sockets.
Andy's stomach churned. His heart beat as if in an empty oil drum. He couldn't take this, he had to back away from the window.
Natalie began flexing her lower body on Hector's lap.
- get away, get away from this -
Hector's face was now a deep crimson, the veins in his forehead, in his neck bulged to the breaking point. Sweat poured off his face, perspired through his shirt, dripped from his arms.
- leave, goddammit, leave -
The moan comin
g through Hector's throat rose in pitch. Andy couldn't take his eyes from the window.
Leave, goddammit.
Hector's legs began to convulse. The muscles in his face twitched. Natalie's eyes rolled in pain, as Hector's teeth ground into her nipple. Hector was having an orgasm. His penis was lodged inside his boxer shorts, Natalie wore slacks - there had been no penetration - but Hector was having an orgasm, brought on by his excitement, and the slight bouncing motions of Natalie.
My god, she's trying to give the bastard a heart attack, Andy thought.
Hector slumped back into his wheelchair. Natalie slowly got up, hooking her bra back together and snapping up her blouse.
Andy's feet moved slowly. He forced them forward, propelling himself around toward the front of Natalie's house. His breath formed a thin curtain in front of him.
THIRTY-FOUR
She came at him in a blur of motion, tucking her shirt in, her face twisted in a look of confusion and surprise. "I didn't hear you knock."
"I didn't."
"Let's go outside," she said.
"What's wrong with it in here?" Andy asked.
She looked at him, trying to read him, the look in his eyes, trying to figure out if he knew something was going on.
"It's nice outside. Nice and cool," she said.
You're sweating up a storm. What's wrong?" Andy's voice was calm.
Natalie gave him that look again, that searching look.
"It's hot in here. I've been baking. Apple pie. Did you see the apple tree out back? It's brimming over this year. I kept picking them up off the ground all summer, but I could hardly keep up." She talked very fast and forced Andy back towards the door.
"Apple pie sounds good," Andy said.
"It didn't turn out," Natalie said. "It burned. Can't you smell it?"
A bird. That bird. That woodpecker.
"I can't smell a thing."
Natalie reached for the door handle.
At that moment, Andy decided to pretend nothing happened. He had trouble believing what he'd witnessed. Was he going at this the right way? He decided to drop it.
He backed out the screen door, averting his eyes, almost tripping off the front steps.
"Careful," she said.
"Emma!" Hector's raw voice came from inside the house.
Natalie stopped halfway out the door. She glanced over her shoulder, then at Andy. "Let's go," she said.
"Emma!"
Natalie closed the door, and ushered Andy down the steps.
"Who's Emma?" he asked as she took hold of his arm, pulling him along with her.
"She's my mom. Didn't I tell you that?" Her pace quickened.
"I thought she died."
"She did." Natalie looked over her shoulder at the door. It remained shut - no Hector peering out. "He sometimes thinks she's still around. He calls out for her, like she's gonna stick her head around the corner and suddenly say, 'Hey, I'm back!'"
They walked into the field between the two houses, headed towards the woods. She held his hand tightly, hers slippery with sweat.
Andy looked up into the sky. "It's getting cold out."
"I heard it might snow tomorrow," Natalie said. They watched their breath climb into the air. Natalie looked over her shoulder once more, watching her house as they slipped into the darkness of the woods.
Andy shivered. "Aren't you cold? I'm freezing."
Natalie slowed her pace. "No. At least not until you mentioned it."
Andy felt numb. Natalie was only a feeling in his hand, a shimmer, a tremor of pulse, sweat. The words coming out of Andy's mouth were meaningless to him, as if he wasn't aware of what he was saying. His mouth just moved, formed words, because that was all he could do at the moment. Form words and breathe. And be pulled along by Natalie's moist palm.
"I wanted to say good-bye to you," she said. "I thought you were going to leave without saying good-bye."
The moon was covered by clouds. The wind picked up. They headed in the direction of the cemetery. Of the headstones.
The stone building.
The flies.
Andy thought he could hear them. But they weren't close enough, were they? His temples throbbed. That pulse. That beat. He let go of Natalie's hand and put his fingers up to his forehead. He stopped walking.
"What's wrong?" Natalie asked.
He stood still. The pulse, the beat. Throbbing, pounding. The rhythm, familiar, too familiar. And for some reason, he knew it wouldn't go away. It was embedded in his skull.
It had always been there, this pulse, this rhythm. Only now with Natalie, it was magnified a hundred times, a thousand times.
"What's wrong?" she asked again.
He was losing himself, losing the world around him. It was all disappearing in that beat, that tempo.
Natalie reached out and shook. "Andy, c'mon. Are you okay?"
Slowly, he took his hands from his head, rubbing his fingertips together in circular motions. "Let's go back to Mae's," he said, trying to find Natalie's face in the darkness.
"What?" she asked. "Why? I don't think she likes me very much."
"She doesn't. But I want to get to my car. We can take a drive. It'll be warmer in my car."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm freezing." His voice was monotone, void of emotion. Void of anything but the breath that came out in a white mist. Even the mist was barely visible in the darkness.
Andy tugged on Natalie's hand, leading her away from the graveyard, toward Mae's house.
His skull was empty. A shell. A bleached out bone full of air and that constant pounding; that constant pounding that was grew and grew, bouncing around and building inside of him, each rebound feeding on the one before.
They stepped into Mae's backyard and found his car.
THIRTY-FIVE
They drove only a short time, looking straight ahead, their eyes fixed on the beams of the headlights.
Andy turned onto the gravel road that led into the cemetery, and drove through the wrought iron gate. He coasted to a stop, the beams of his headlights illuminating a conical swath of gravestones. He turned off the engine.
Natalie leaned towards Andy and put her arms around his shoulders. "Wait," he said. "Let's get in back."
They stepped outside, and then slid into the back seat.
"Aren't you going to turn off the headlights?" Natalie asked.
He looked at the beam lighting up the headstones and the fallen leaves. "No, not yet. I like the light."
"Just so your battery doesn't run out," she said.
Andy stared at the light. It soothed the throbbing in his head. It didn't quiet it completely, but the light seemed somehow in sync with the throb, making it bearable.
"Hold me," Natalie said.
He turned to her and felt his arms rise up and over her. They draped over her shoulders, around her neck. Natalie leaned forward, putting her arms around Andy, and squeezed. Can she feel my pulse? He was afraid to touch his head to her, afraid that the pounding would rock against her skull, and she'd be able to see into him.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
His answer was wooden, though he struggled to put some feeling into it. "No. It's just that I'm leaving tomorrow, you know?"
Her breath caressed his neck, its warmth lost to the beat in Andy's brain.
BAM, BAM, BAM, was all he could feel, all he could hear.
Natalie leaned forward, forcing him backward. Her lips pressed against his. Her tongue darted through his lips and flicked against his teeth. His hands were on her back, but he couldn't feel her. His hands tingled.
"Andy," she whispered. The roof of the car seemed to vibrate above Natalie's head. Her hair rippled and wavered as if made from rising heat.
Andy closed his eyes.
"Andy," she whispered again. "Make love to me."
She vibrated in tempo with the throb in Andy's skull. She vibrated, making the pounding worse. It made the pounding in Andy's head reverbera
te and echo, bashing against the rock walls of the cave inside his head. She vibrated and shook, as if someone held her head in a paint mixer and turned it to full power. Andy shut his eyes. Moved his hands to her hair, her wavering, shimmering hair, and grabbed hold of it, tried to force it to stop vibrating, to stop fucking moving.
Natalie's lips were pursed, but quivering - still shaking. Still vibrating. He felt them against his lips. Was it Natalie vibrating, or him? It didn't matter. He had to stop it. Had to stop that pulse, that beat, that tempo.
He let go of her hair, barely aware of the sounds coming from her lips. Words poured out of her, spilling into Andy's deaf ears. He reached beside himself, grasping for something solid. The car. The car couldn't be moving, could it? It had to be still, had to be solid. It was connected to the earth. The earth was still, wasn't it?
It felt like an earthquake. An earthquake shaking the ground, shaking the car, shaking Andy's head. An earthquake? Couldn't be. Not in Minnesota.
He grabbed hold of something, a strap beside him. The seat belt.
The seat belt couldn't be shaking, could it?
Everything moved. Cannons blasted in Andy's head. Dynamite exploded inside his brain.
He clutched the seat belt, squeezed it in a vain attempt to lose all the feeling in his hand, so that maybe - maybe - that numbness would spread through his entire body. A comfortable numbness sucking him up, enveloping him, protecting him from the vibration.
He squeezed, squeezed the seat belt, his head seeming to bounce between walls of granite at rapid-fire speed.
He knew that the words spilling from Natalie's mouth were her confession. He knew she was trying to get him to understand what she had done.
" - she killed my sister! My twin sister! Don't you understand? Mae's sister killed her, killed my mother with grief, killed any hope my father had for living - I was his only hope after that - my sister, Andy - I had to do something, had to make my father feel again, show him I was there, show him I loved him, someone loved him still - don't you understand? My sister, my sister, my sister - "