by Jim McKenna
Cari touched the knife with trembling fingers. She ran her fingers from tip to hilt slowly. Sliding down she took the sticky pommel into her hand and and curled her fingers, pressing it into her palm. She lifted and the blade came up smooth and balanced and she resumed slicing the meat into cubes. Again she felt a warmth within her but she heaved a great sigh and kept going.
And when the meat was all in bright red cubes and the smell of beef and blood mingled in front of her with the music of the knife, she bent over the cutting board and through growls and gasps like an animal ate the meat - red and raw.
III. Boning.
Cari’s Lexus slowed to a crawl with the rest of the traffic on the freeway. Tom Petty played loud on the Sirius radio. Off the freeway she could see the hospital where Ken worked, and for a moment she thought of exiting and paying him a surprise visit, but just as quickly she dropped the idea. Between the freeway and the hospital was a very long block of tenements. They were four stories of dull red brick and square white windows. Square porticos were set at regular intervals along the street that led into some courtyards or something beyond that Cari had never seen. People milled around on the street in front of the buildings. Cars drove on the dirty streets. There were a few women on the corners looking dolled up in trashy ways, some of them peered into cars as they cruised slowly past.
A horn honked near Cari. People were getting impatient with the snarled up traffic but she didn’t mind, not today anyway. She was in a good mood. The trip into town had worked out well. She found two butcher shops that had what she wanted. One was a hispanic carcineria that had goat, and the Chinese shop had whole raw ducks hanging in the window, and even better a suckling pig for sale. She bought one of each. The pig had been cleaned and gutted but was still whole. All her finds would be good practice with her boning knife. The knife that even now sat on the passenger seat like an eager little kid on a field trip.
It’s funny how a place will draw the eye for some reason. Through the years Cari looked out at the red brick building every time she passed by. She’d never had much of a chance to get down there and see it close up, but she always wanted to. And lately she had the idea of a visit there even more.
Finally the traffic started going again and Cari put her mind solidly back on the road. She had work to do when she got home. She had a dinner to cook.
Cari lay back on the bed, waiting for Ken. Water ran in the bathroom. Soft music played. Cari’s right arm was up under the pillow, and with her left she lazily tickled her breasts and belly.
The dinner was a success. Melanie, Ken’s adult daughter from his first marriage and her fiancé Peter both loved the pork dish Cari served, although Melanie did comment in a friendly way of how there were not as many vegetables as she was used to seeing.
Melanie and Peter both helped them clean up. Cari was glad she had a good relationship with Melanie. It had taken time for any sort of acceptance. After all, Cari was younger than Melanie by a few months. It was a rough start to be younger than your husband’s daughter. It helped in a morbid way that Ken had not divorced his wife for Cari. She succumbed to cancer years before, and Cari honored the deep love and loss Melanie and Ken shared.
And yet Melanie had worried Cari tonight. And as she lie on the bed it seemed to worry her more, like smoke rising from an unseen source. Melanie seemed to be asking a lot of questions. Melanie seemed to think something was different in Cari; that something was wrong . Oh no, it was not one of those frowny-faced concerns. It was not like she took her aside, put an arm around her and asked what was wrong. It was something Cari felt rather than heard. Melanie said she looked different. What was the word she used? Oh yes:
Intense .
Melanie thought Cari looked intense. She asked her if she was doing some kind of extreme fitness.
“I saw that new kind of fitness stuff they do,” she’d said, “like flipping over truck tires and other extreme strength stuff.” Did she think she was doing that?
What did she know?
Cari rolled over on her tummy and frowned. What was Melanie up to? What was she thinking about? Cari had always been more fit and trim than Melanie, who was naturally soft and getting a nice womanly plumpness as she got older. So was she upset now that her stepmom was even more fit?
And the knives. Why had she asked about the knives? That’s what bothered Cari, and what made it worse is Melanie caught her getting bothered.
Sure it seemed innocent enough. You can’t even see it if you don’t look for it. Melanie was there in the kitchen helping and she saw the knives in their home so clean and neat, and right away she started asking Cari all about them. Did she like them? Was that why she was cooking new dishes? Was she surprised at the present?
“I helped Dad find them, you know,” she’d said. “Dad wanted something super special for you.”
Super Special . What the fuck? Was she taking credit for Cari’s knives?
The more Cari thought about it the more it bothered her. Abruptly she jumped up from the bed and paced the room, trying to calm her mind and get away from these thoughts. Melanie was a good person. A decent person. There was no reason to think she’d take up baiting Cari or resenting her after so many years.
Cari heard the shower stop, and made herself calm down. She reviewed the night. The pleasant talk. The funny stories. Melanie helping her in the kitchen. The oohs and ahhs as dinner was served. How proud Ken was of her. Cari smiled. No, there was nothing to worry about with Melanie.
There was nothing to fear.
Cari was back on the bed when the Ken emerged from the bathroom. He got in bed and he held and kissed her. His skin tasted of soap and smelled fresh. Soon he was on top of her, pumping in and out and Cari did her best to let the worries of the day slip away and give herself to him. She whispered words of encouragement in his ear. She wrapped her legs around him and rocked in and out with his rhythm. “Fuck me, baby,” she growled. “Yeah baby. Oh yes!”
Cari flung her arms back behind her head and moaned aloud, urging him on with dirty talk as his thrusts intensified.
Cari saw bright red. She smelled the raw reek of animals. Her white teeth gnashed and when he came deep inside her she came, too, the boning knife clutched in her fist under the pillow.
The next day it rained hard all day. Cari sat cross-legged on the living room floor. Naked, she had the knives in front of her on the carpet. She arranged them in different patterns. She picked each one up and listened to it in her hand.
She gave her calf to the chef knife. Just a little wet nick. Carving knife nuzzled the crook of her elbow for a sip. Boning knife, the smoothest and straightest of them all, loves the underside of her tits, and delights in teasing her nipples. And Cleaver, like a broad, doting mommy, watches and approves of her lethal little brood.
And so did Cari pass all that rainy morning. After lunch she dressed and went out to find the place Melanie had so innocently told her about. It was out farther in the country, beyond the suburbs and gated communities in the opposite direction of the city and the brick housing project. Just through a little dying town she found the farm, and saw the hand-painted sign in the yard.
She bought three rabbits, brown and wriggling. The lady who sold them to her was so nice, and said herself she sold them as pets or meat. Made no difference to her. She helped Cari put them in the carrier Cari brought, and sweet as can be gave her a sheet of paper with a recipe for hasenpfeffer; a fine rabbit stew Cari was sure to love.
Cari turned to wave goodbye, and a little boy stood in the doorway out of the rain and watched her leave. He waved at her and smiled. Cari waved and smiled back at the little boy, and stared at his suckling pig face a little too long.
IV. Carving.
It was another rainy day, but colder. Cari had an early dinner and washed the dishes, then cleaned everything she could see in a flurry of busy work. Ken was away at a medical conference and she was alone in the house, alone in the kitchen, and the knives whispered in their block.
She was not afraid of their little steely voices. There was nothing in their whispering that told of bad things. There were no secrets and no revelations of evil or evil intent. Not to her, anyway. They were chittering to each other, chatting and giggling like school friends at a movie; Chef, Cleaver, Boning and little Carving. The cool crowd. The alpha girls. And she heard them even if she only partly knew what they had to say.
When night fell and it was dark she showered and dressed in old clothes. She wore light makeup and a soft knit cap. The coat was old, made of canvas and fell below her knees. The boot heels were worn down, the thin leather uppers cracked and wrinkled. She left her purse at home, and stuffed cash in her pockets. She drove out past the gates to the avenue and then to the interstate, and exited the freeway at the long red brick building with the many porticos. She drove to the hospital and into the three level car park, stopping on the second. She exited the car and hid her keys on the tire and then she walked.
And now she was here.
She guessed at who might be a hooker and who was not. There were some women in tight clothes and thick makeup on one corner talking to each other and eyeing the cars as they passed. Clearly professional working girls. They did not speak to her but they did not ignore her either. She walked to the long red brick building. It was shabby close up, as she knew it would be. She entered the first portico and emerged on the other side into a sad, barren courtyard, with junked furniture and broken playground equipment scattered around. She walked with head down and eyes darting and went in to and then out of each portico.
She saw the woman exit a car and light a cigarette. She did not look back to see the car pull away. She just made for the sidewalk and walked with no purpose, like nothing mattered. Cari tried to see the man in the car as it pulled off into traffic. He was soft looking, middle-aged. Not a match for this woman and that felt right to Cari. She was a prostitute, but from her look not one of the raw pros Cari had seen on the corner. This woman worked the street only from need.
Cari tried to keep an eye on her without letting her know she was being tracked. From a stoop she watched the woman move in and out of the sodium lights. She walked about two blocks but stopped before she came to the corner where the pros perched and squawked, and those women eyed the newcomer with contempt. She moved closer to the street when cars passed but quickly walked back in the direction she’d come from before there was trouble from the others. A car slowed and she eased herself towards it before the car pulled away, and the woman stepped back. Cari saw there was a kind of interpretive dance going on. If you looked - if you came here looking for something - then there it was to be seen. There was an offer. A temptation. Cari rose from her seat and walked towards her.
“Hey,” Cari said.
“Hi.” The woman looked at her and did not look at her at the same time. She was maybe thirty but getting old fast. Her eyes were thick with kohl, and her lips painted bright red. Her clothes were rock and roll tattered and dirty. A former crust punk maybe. Or a stripper. On her neck and cheeks were little strawberry marks that suggested meth use. Her hands were rough and raw, her short nails lacquered green and chipped.
“You know a place? Somewhere private?” Cari said.
The woman frowned. “For you?”
“Yes,” Cari said and cleared her throat. Up close Cari saw she was missing a top front tooth.
“You want what?” the woman asked, and Cari stared down at her shoes.
“Some, umm, some company,” Cari muttered, “a date.”
“Why?”
“Umm…”
“I don’t eat pussy,” the woman said.
Cari blushed hard and looked away at the building. She wasn’t sure what so say. Finally she stammered out “Can you get close with me? Feel me up? Then I do you?”
The woman considered, then smiled. “Yeah c’mon,” she said, and Cari followed. “I’m Linda. Walk beside me,” she said, and Cari drew up alongside.
They walked past the long red brick building with the many porticos to a small brownstone apartment block. There was a rusted security gate and Linda opened it and walked in. Cari followed her into a vestibule with mail boxes and a tricycle, through to the back and into a little alcove room. It was dim and close and smelled of chemicals. There was a formica table and faucet hookups for a laundry room but no washing machines. A shopping cart lay on its side sans wheels. A long board lay on the ground next to a slop sink with rusty nails pointing up and out.
Cari handed her the money and it was gone into a pocket. She could see her face clearly now and it was a hard face that knew anger. Cari backed towards the far wall and Linda came close to her. She put her arms around Cari’s waist and lightly pressed her body to Cari’s, and rested her head on her shoulder. She smelled warm and earthy. She smelled like semen and sweat. Cari reached around and took her in her arms. She was thin and hot. She pulled her close and rubbed her hands over ripples of ribs and down her spine. Her hair smelled raw and feminine. Cari nuzzled into her neck and her lips brushed the skin and then kissed, and kissed again. Cari tasted her with her tongue and Linda rolled her head back to give her access to her throat. Cari kissed and licked her neck, then opened her mouth and pressed the wetness of her lips and tongue onto the artery and felt its pulse. Cari’s hands explored and she was being explored under her canvas coat. Little hands like bird claws pinched her flanks and groped her ass.
“You’re hot, honey,” Linda said. “How do you want this?”
Cari’s voice was thick in her throat and she cleared it. “Stay close to me like we’re dancing,” she said. She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper down. The hooker pressed to her again and kissed her temple, then licked her ear, getting into the game now. Their breath mixed and puddled hot between them.
She slipped her hand into Cari’s jeans and pressed her palm and fingers over Cari’s crotch. “You shave your pussy,” she whispered. “Are you a little slut?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, bitch.”
“I’m a little slut.”
“Yeah you are, baby.” She rolled and kneaded her fingers into the wet folds of her flesh, poking and probing. Her fingers were slick and she slid them in and out of Cari’s pussy and sought her clitoris with her thumb. Finding the little button she scraped it with a blunt nail and then pinched and pulled the wee nub and Cari groaned.
Linda drew back her head and then came in close to Cari. They were nose to nose and staring into each other’s eyes. They held each other’s eyes while Cari’s pussy was worked harder and harder. Neither looked away. It was an erotic staring contest. When Cari would gasp or flinch the hooker leaned in and licked her face, her nose, her lips.
Cari arched her back and wrapped her arms around the Linda’s neck, and leaning her head back she came, her body shuddering, her breath halting. “Bring me down slowly,” she whimpered, and Linda understood. Her touches eased to tickles and she rocked back and forth, moving Cari along with her.
“Linda,” Cari said with a smile, and they kissed. It was a long kiss and firm, but neither woman opened her mouth.
Linda lowered her head and nuzzled her breasts. Cari crossed her arms over her head, and with a smooth motion the carving knife was in her hand. But it was in her left hand, so she deftly pirouetted it into her right and the blade caught the dimmest light and winked.
“Wanna do me now?” Linda said as she pulled her wet hand from the denim and sniffed the fingers.
“Oh, yes baby. Yes I do,” she purred.
And the knife swept down.
The knife went in smooth and clean, right between the ribs, sweeping like a ghost through skin, muscle, lung and heart. Linda jerked and gasped but didn’t scream, and she dropped in a heap at Cari’s feet. Cari stood over her and smiled. The blood smoked on the carving knife.
Cari laid the body out flat on the concrete. She cut open the clothes, exposing Linda’s corpse from head to knees. Then she pulled off her canvas jacket and shirt, straddled the thigh
s and went to work with the carving knife.
So many terrible things happened in the next few minutes, and when Cari was done there was nothing left that anyone would recognize as Linda.
Cari was slowly coming back down, admiring the cutting she’d done. She turned one of the taps and bathed her face and hands in the chilly water, drying herself with Linda’s shirt. Carefully she wiped the carving knife clean and tucked it away. She was just picking up her jacket when she heard it.
“Mommy?”
Cari whirled towards the voice. At the doorway to the room a little girl stood looking in with frightened eyes. Cari smiled a sweet smile and held her hands out to her.
But that’s not what the girl saw. The girl saw her mommy on the floor, opened and red. And a monster stood over her, a beast with yellow eyes. The eyes found her, and then the beast was upon her. And she never saw anything else again.
V. Cleaver.
Ken was worried about Cari.
His wife, usually so upbeat and active was acting very strange. He caught himself asking her if anything was wrong, and he was convinced she was keeping something from him. That was not like Cari. She never had trouble expressing her feelings, even at the top of her lungs from time to time. But now she was furtive. She never seemed to be present in the same room with him. It was as if she was lost in a deep memory, or listening for some distant noise only she could hear.
He tried to come up with some reasons for the change. It seemed to start a few months ago, just after their anniversary. Was she afraid of getting old? Maybe that was it. Sometimes when a woman marries a much older man she becomes afraid that what he wants is her youth and not her for who she is. Maybe seeing their marriage eleven years on had spooked her. If it’s that he could set her mind at ease. When they met he was not looking for a young prize to replace his late Loretta. He had not been looking for anyone and she had appeared, and from the moment they met he knew he wanted to be with her.
