by Sandy DeLuca
Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.
It was love at first sight when they met and Parker aligned herself with Barrow because she loved him, remaining loyal until their violent deaths.
I imagined dying by the side of the man I loved, tragic and beautiful, and I dreamed of legends of love and destruction.
Images of Parker and Barrow robbing and traveling together filled my head. I wondered if they made love after each robbery, if desire intensified because of their daring and vile deeds. I wanted to walk, feel winter wind on my face. I wanted to dream of a man who could bring me to the brink of death, and love me with such passion that I would die for him.
I moved past Mary Beth’s slumber room, and to the front door, donning my winter coat, boots and hat. I went onto the porch, taking in the winter night with its full moon and star speckled sky. The air was crisp, but no wind blew and the stillness of night cloaked me like a supernatural lover, reminding me that light and dark must exist in one realm, in one soul, in order to be complete.
I should have been terrified by the inky calm, but what lived inside my mother’s heart was more terrifying than the stygian night. I felt despair because I had no money, no hope of leaving her. Sometimes I feared she’d come to my room as I slept, press her hand to my throat, and then chop me to pieces, tossing my body parts into the wooden box she clung to.
At one time I wanted to save Eddie, tell him what Mary Beth was capable of, but I learned he’d served time in prison for armed robbery, and he was suspected in several disappearances, but evidence was scant. I know he shared the truth with my mother—that they whispered vile confessions in their bedroom. I let it alone and wondered which of them would destroy the other in time.
I thought about them alone together as I walked past deserted shops, windows covered with board and houses where no lights burned in curtained windows. I wondered who’d once shopped in those vacant boutiques and who’d lived in the old colonials and bungalows.
Before long, the subtle thumping of wings sounded on a rooftop and the wind picked up, scattering leaves and tousling the edges of my hair. I saw someone standing in a storefront doorway, the tip of a cigarette glowing orange in shadow. My heart beat and something colder than the season, eerier than the stillness of that witching night, seeped inside me.
Before long I heard Bobby’s voice, low and steady and I saw his face illuminated by the moon. He crossed the road, hair combed back in that Jimmy Dean way, swaggering like he owned the moment and the entire world. He tossed his cigarette, sending it spiraling onto icy pavement, smoke curling like ghostly fingers as it spun. He moved to my side, sure of himself, smiling, looking to the moon, and then waving his hand across the vast sky, as though it possessed something arcane and magical.
He spoke to me, keeping pace with my stride, cold air mist billowing from his full lips. “Hey there, you shouldn’t be alone—not at this time.”
“I do it all the time.”
“Most don’t in this town.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“I figured that out,” he told me as he offered me his arm.
I slipped my arm beneath his as though I’d done it a thousand times before, as though we’d been lovers in another life and were reunited by the dark.
“What’s the story with the kids on your bus? They’re messed up.” I leaned closer to him, smelling smoke and winter.
He shook his head. “They’ll never get out of this town.”
“Why not?”
“Bad times. No breaks. This place dooms everybody. My family owns a pizza parlor—Tandaro’s—business is slower than ever. Who knows? Maybe the merchants and mills will come back.” He bites his bottom lip, and then thought for a moment before speaking again. “I’ve turned those kids in to the principal so many times, and they never change. They seem to get worse. A few years from now they’ll be breaking the law, hurting people.” He turned to me, his lips inches from my face. “What’s your story?”
“I want to get through school and get a job in the city. I can’t wait to go out on my own.”
“Things aren’t always as easy as they seem.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean sometimes your roots tie you down. You try to leave, but always come back.”
“Nobody binds me. I got no strong ties.”
At that moment Jane appeared, waving from across the street, holding a rag doll she loved. Blood spattered its face and one of its button eyes was missing.
“Nobody?” He asked as his gaze shifted to Jane.
“You see her?”
“I see a lot.”
Jane stepped into the dark and that’s when he left me, alone in the cold, on a haunted street in a haunted town. I wanted to follow Bobby, to know all his secrets, even though something told me those secrets were filled with vile and terrible deeds, but I lived with terror every day and night. It’s all I’d ever known.
I knew I’d follow him to Hell if that’s what it took to be with him.
* * *
We drank two bottles of Jack Daniels and smoked too much dope. Bobby and Sasha sit on the bed, speaking softly. She shakes her head, and he laughs slightly when he runs his fingers through her hair—like he’s done to me so many times.
Tim clenches his fists when Bobby leans over and strokes Sasha’s leg. “Do you have to, man?” Tim moves to Sasha’s side, never taking his eyes off Bobby.
“Told you before, you’re both part of me now. Flesh and blood,” Bobby kisses Sasha’s cheek. “Leave us.”
“Tim,” Sasha calls out. “Don’t leave—” Her lips quiver and tears stream down her face.
Tim’s voice is weak, low. “Got to do what he wants. He’s shown us a lot. If it wasn’t for him we’d still be stuck in that town, you know? It’s ok. It’ll be alright.”
Bobby looks my way, “Come here, Darcy. Stay with us for a while.” Jealousy surges through me, but I try to control it as best I can. I go to Bobby as Tim shuts the door behind him, and I wrap my arms around Sasha, feeling her shiver when Bobby raises his knife blade, cutting away fabric, his gaze taking in her slender body as denim and cotton fall away from white flesh.
Bobby reaches over and shuts off the lamp by the bed, leaving the room pitch-black. I hear Sasha struggle, scream slightly, and then Bobby’s breath, hard and fast.
“Make him stop,” Sasha cries after a while, and I tell her, “Nobody can stop him.” I leave them, knowing he’s lost in the act. He’ll come to me later, and I’ll smell Sasha’s scent on his hands and body.
Wearing only a short-sleeved shirt and thin jeans, I move into the cold, slip my hands in my pockets, taking in the dark, the stars and inky sky. Tim is pacing back and forth outside, teeth clenched, and eyes shifting to the curtained window.
“How can you let him do that—to her—to you? It’s not easy for me. I—”
“Like he said, you’re part of him now. You admitted you learned a lot from him—got a lot from being with us.”
Tim merely nods, eyes darting to the motel room door.
“It’s different between him and me. He loves me,” I tell him.
Tim nods, and then speaks softly. “I’m the only one she’s been with—until now.” His eyes are moist with tears. “I never wanted—”
He waves his hand, and then leaves me there, in darkness, in pain because it tears me up every time Bobby lies with somebody else, but I can’t leave him, and I accept my fate—Bobby’s partner in death and blood.
6
The next morning I arrived at the bus stop expecting Mary and Pamela to assault me with a barrage of insults, but both sized me up quickly, and then began to speak in hushed tones. Big Jimmy Russo traded baseball cards with Carmine DelFino. Both nodded when I took a spot on the walk, and then they discussed baseball stats and games with excited voices.
Everything was normal and I wondered if I’d dreamed the incident on the bus, or if it had simply been someone’s idea of a joke.
The bus came on time. Jimmy and Carmine allowed the girls on board first. I followed Mary and Pamela, and then took a seat in front of them.
Bobby smiled at me, lit a cigarette and he said, “Morning,” through clenched teeth. I wondered if anyone complained about his smoking, if anyone cared. He shut the door, and then it began. Something hard and metallic pressed against the back of my neck and I heard Mary’s laughter.
I turned. Mary glared at me, a flash of silver in her palm, and then she took Pamela’s hand, sliced into her flesh, watching as blood dribbled onto their schoolbooks. Pamela’s face was vacant, white, and I wondered what twisted acts they shared. I wondered if they wanted me to be a part of those acts, and if it would only be a matter of time.
“Not long now,” said Bobby. “Everybody pays for what they’ve done.”
* * *
Sasha emerges from the room, her long fake fur coat wrapped around her, her hair tangled and soaked with sweat. Her left check is black and blue, and she’s sobbing.
“Are you alright?” I ask, knowing she’s not.
“Bobby’s an animal and Tim…Before tonight he’d pick a fight with anybody who even looked at me. This—how could he let it happen?”
“It’s what Bobby does—to all of us.”
Her gaze flickers to the bruise on my arm. She studies it a moment, and then speaks softly. “The things we’ve done for him—” She stops when Tim calls her name. He’s standing in the distance, by a row of cars, arms open. “I’ve got to go to him. I know Bobby messed with his head—with all of us. He’s got this power…I realize it sometimes—like now—standing here in the cold, looking at the sky and knowing there’s more to life than this.” Sasha rushes into Tim’s arms, allowing him to stroke her hair, to kiss her cheek.
Love is a powerful thing—sometimes good—sometimes destructive and hard. I wonder where Tim’s love will take Sasha next, and if he’d save her from dying if he had the choice.
7
It became routine, nightly walks with Bobby through Barlow Falls, down deserted streets, into his night world. I told him my secrets and revealed all my fears.
He’d slip his arm around my back, cigarette dangling from his lips, the tobacco scent hanging in the chilly air, filling my lungs, burning me inside the way my flesh burned when he touched me.
“Saw some guys checking out your house, looked like undercover cops. If it’s true what you’ve told me about your mother—”
“I can’t leave, not until I finish school. Find a job.”
“I can take you away from her—from here. Trust me.” He smiled slowly. “Want to see what I know?”
I nodded; knowing nothing he showed me could hurt me any more than Mary Beth.
He pointed ahead. “See that building there? Guys used to shoot pool there—every night. Too bad it ended.”
“What happened?”
“Guy named Joe Kiley went crazy one night, pulled a gun, shot everybody there, even the owner. Cops padlocked the place after that. Vagrants broke the locks, squatted there for a while, but one night somebody went inside, cut their throats while they slept.” He held out his hand. “Come see.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“Nothing can happen to you—not with me here.”
I took his hand, feeling his strength—his power—as he pushed open the door with his shoulder. Shadows greeted us. Remnants of a bar were there and one lone pool table. Rusty stains littered the floors and windows. Bobby gestured to the table. “That’s where it happened.”
A scene manifested within smoke and dark. Bobby stood there with rage on his face, gun in his hand. He cocked his head to the side, and then an explosion sounded. A body slumped on the table. Bobby turned, red dappled his face, his clothes, and he began to shoot wildly. People fell—young—old—blood rained down and cries echoed in the dark, souls streamed from ruined flesh, moving towards me, reaching for me, cold breathe on my skin. I screamed, felt someone grab my shoulders. “Darcy,” Bobby said, his voice filled with fire. The scene dissipated and we stood in gloom once more.
“What is this place—what is Barlow Falls?”
“It belongs to the dead,” he said as he lit another cigarette.
We left there, moved onto the street, and the mournful ghosts faded away with approaching dawn. I awoke to snow falling lightly outside my window, Mary Beth speaking softly in the kitchen.
Sometimes dreams and reality blended with the living and the dead. It was the curse of Barlow Falls, a place where evil lived.
* * *
Bobby sucks on a cigarette, head resting on his pillow, and he speaks in a whisper, “Time to sleep, my girl.” He grabs my arm and rubs a finger over the bruise, soothing the pain, telling me to relax.
I nestle against his chest, smelling copper, tasting blood when I kiss him, and feeling stronger—more alive—more deadly than I ever have.
8
Sasha paces the floor, speaking more to herself than anyone else, “I didn’t know what we were getting into. I mean, I left a good job without giving notice, left my family without saying goodbye.” She’s so young, with straight brown hair framing a thin freckled face, eyes wide and filled with fear. The contusion on her cheek is darker now.
“What about Tim?” I ask her.
“He lost his job at the construction company and was being evicted from his place. I figured things would straighten out after a while, but everything got off track.” She smiles sadly. “I tried to make it work, but I stopped loving him after what happened with Bobby. Like I told you, there’s more to life than this.”
“Not for me.”
She shrugs. There’s coldness in her eyes and her innocence is lost forever. “Maybe it’s too late for me, too, but I got to find that out. Anyway, Tim told Bobby we were leaving. He couldn’t deal with what happened—with what Bobby did to me. They went off together, Bobby wrapped his arm around Tim’s shoulder, like he did to that guy he knifed up in Niagara Falls, talking all sweet and calm. I know Tim’s dead now.”
“Worry about yourself then. You could split. I won’t say anything. Just leave while you can.” I want to save her, and I wish I could go back through the years and save them all.
She looks to the door, and then back at the girl we picked up in Boston, “What about her?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her, “Just go. There’s a diner a few miles down the road. There’s lots of truckers hanging out, looking for company on long hauls. Somebody can give you a ride out of here.”
Her voice is hard, tough. “Goodbye, Darcy. I hope you find your way.” She slips her bag over her shoulder, moves to the door, and then leaves without another word. I hope she doesn’t change her mind once she starts thinking about what she’s done.
I move to the other girl. She’s crying—always crying and I speak softly. “What’s your name?”
She struggles with the ropes around her wrists for a moment, frustration on her face. “What do you care? You’re going to kill me.”
“Look, if you behave—don’t get an attitude—he’ll let you go when we leave Barlow Falls.”
She looks to the cuts on her arms and ankle. “What do you do with the blood?”
“We have to take it. We need it. Always have.”
She bites her lip, looks at me with tear-glossed eyes, “I know you’re not like him. I see the look on your face sometimes when he’s hurting me. Let me go—come with me if you want.”
“It’s not as easy as you think.”
Everything is darker now and I feel something sharp prick the inside of my arm. The room is spinning and Bobby smiles at me, telling me once more it’s time to sleep.
* * *
I rode up front, to and from school, after a while, with Bobby always saving me a seat. Nobody threw spitballs or insulted me again, but they glared at me with their dead eyes, and they came to me when I dreamed at night.
They rose from coffins inside the Barlow Falls Funeral Home, and walked the dark streets, k
nocking on windows where others slept beyond the wind and snow. They crept inside slumber rooms and screams rang out, blood spattering glass.
Such familiar faces, so much like the photographs in old newspaper clippings—so much like kids who’d been hurt—dying too soon—in darkened places—by the hands of a madman.
* * *
Now the nightmares don’t end when I’m awake. All the killing—all the dead—stay with me through the day. Sometimes I think I want to run away from Bobby, but where would I go, or do?
It’s been two hours since Sasha split. Jane came to me and showed me what happened when Bobby saw Sasha heading toward the diner. He lured her into his car with lies, and drove to the hills above the city, laughing as she screamed, using the nails and hammer he carries in his knapsack. He hammered nails into her eyes after he impaled her hands and feet to an old oak. There was nothing left to her head when he finished with that hammer, and then he watched as the blood poured onto the ground.
Nothing gets past Bobby, and I should have known better.
He brought back Sasha’s body, wrapped in a burlap tarp he kept in the back of the van. She didn’t go quickly and I’m so sorry I told her to leave.
I’m not sure what happened to Tim. All I know is I haven’t seen him for a while, like so many others who cross our path.
