Head in the Box

by C.P. Kemabia

  There was a brief pause after that; then Charlie looked around at those who hadn’t spoken yet and asked, “Anything else?”

  Jen said, with consideration, “I’ve been recalling everything that I know about last night and I’m afraid nothing particularly stands out. What I’m saying is everything was normal, you know.”

  Charlie saw a few heads nodding slightly in agreement. It was painful to admit but, as far as they knew, the night before had gone by pretty much uneventfully by all accounts. And it was only this morning, in light of their gory discovery, that they had been privy to the tragedy that had possibly played out while they were rollicking together.

  Even to Charlie, no matter how intensely she called to her memory, no matter which way she looked at the recollections, there was no new evidence to go on.

  “Come on guys,” she said, despairing, “there must be something.”

  She spotted signs of hesitation upon Dom’s face and quickly turned to face him. Now under her full scrutiny, Dom hesitated some more, maybe for show, then spoke at last.

  “Alright, I’m just gonna spit this out there… Simon, during the party, I sort of overheard you talking on your cell phone. You seemed very upset about that call. And in the middle of it, you clearly said, ‘I’m gonna kill him’ and you said it many times.”

  “Now wait a second,” Simon said, taken aback. All pairs of eyes were now set on him.

  “I’m just curious, is all,” Dom added. “I’m sure it was nothing.”

  Jen said, “That’s kind of weird, though.”

  “Weird?” Simon crossly snapped. “Hey, I didn’t kill anyone. I was just talking.”

  Alvin agreed. “Yeah, people talk like that all the time…”

  Tara said, “Right, but let’s hear it from him.”

  “This is unrelated to the matter at hand,” Simon said.

  “Well, since we’re all here,” Carol said, “I think we can all be the judge of that, can’t we?” She said it with an air of irony that amused her and, by the same token, unnerved Simon.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, with a definite gesture suggesting her to move on to something else.

  But Carol followed up with him. She said, nearly thumbing her nose, “I mean, I thought the point of these proceedings of yours was to hear all the facts.”

  Simon didn’t answer. He was displeased at Carol at the moment and he was doing a poor job to hide it. But more to the point, he was displeased at the idea of disclosing whatever it was he had to disclose now, because, after all, Carol was right, the goal of their little assembly was to go over all the individual pieces they knew. But damn, Simon thought to himself, this had nothing to do with the mad stuff that preoccupied them all and it was no matter for a public hearing either.

  IV

  Charlie saw Simon outwardly grow upset, and with soothing eye contact, encouraged him to loosen his tongue.

  He complied and, in a soft tone, said to her at last, “The night you and I broke up, I wound up in this bistro at the Landing, and Dave Fiedler was there too.” Charlie listened closely with a dull twinge filling her heart. “We struck up a casual conversation and, you know, after a few mixes of shot and brew, I got a little chatty, told him about the breakup and said a few other things I now deeply regret… I was so mad at you, Charlie, but come to think of it, I was more mad at myself. At any rate, one talk leading to another, I mentioned that offer you got from the Research Training Program of the National Museum of Natural History and, believe me, I’d take back every word if I could…”

  Charlie was not quite following. Those were tidings of the past. Yes, her taking up the National Museum on their work placement offer was the thing that had split them, interning abroad for six months with a possibility of integrating a behind-the-scenes position for another year afterward, upon completion of her degree. This was a real honor; only twenty outstanding undergraduate students—selected from around the world—were given this chance. And sometimes, two or three students from the same school could be shortlisted for this opportunity. But she was the first choice of the program and it was a good situation to be in.

  However, by her reckoning, long-distance relationships always ended in time. And whether she even had a future with Simon to begin with, back then, she could not honestly tell. For she didn’t know exactly how much he loved her or if he loved her at all the way she was hoping. He was not the kind of man who said what he felt.

  Therefore, without consulting him, Charlie had bitten on the offer. And when she told him that night, the ensuing argument did not go well. Simon was angry at her for throwing away what they had without a moment’s hesitation. And she was angry back at him for not being more supportive of her choice. In their angry passions, one of them suggested that they should then break it off. And they did by the end of the quarrel.

  Two months later, her minor car crash brought them back together. The fear of eternal loss touched Simon and he finally opened up to Charlie, saying he didn’t want her to go because he loved her, and he hadn’t said it before because he thought she already knew how he felt even without him ever saying it. He also added that he was okay with her relocating abroad and that she should always pursue whatever made her happy.

  Obviously, she hadn’t gone. Besides a few grazes and a slight concussion, the ills of her accident extended to her failing to be at her confirmation interview as it was coincidentally held on the same day. She wasn’t sorry though, for it was likely that this was a sign she should not go. Charlie opted to forfeit her place and it defaulted to the second on the list: Dave Fiedler, she had found out later.

  “Anyway, that phone call I got last night was from this auto insurance guy I know,” Simon went on. “You don’t need the details, but he told me the car that hit yours is registered to a PR business which is co-owned by Dave’s older cousin.”

  Charlie was still not following. “What does that mean?”

  “It means Dave probably had some crooked driver sideline you that day to knock down the competition. I mean, what were the odds? He knew you were favorite to land that internship and he knew it only because I told him in my drunken stupor. I wasn’t even aware he was running for it. Look, I know how hard you worked for it… I’m sorry.”

  Charlie looked at Simon and said nothing. His claim was a little farfetched for her taste. She’d been in a car accident and Dave had had no complicity in it. She knew he was rotten in character, but she doubted even he was this rotten. And if he did really have something to do with her car swerving and hitting the ditch, she would confront him about it someday. Right now, she had bigger fish to fry. And so she momentarily exchanged looks with Simon and saw the strange weary look that came into his face. He turned away from her. His mouth suddenly felt dry, thirsty for wine, and he glanced for it across the living room. He spotted the wine bottle sitting somewhere by the door to the laundry room, where Charlie had set it down while tending to Max. Simon moved over to it. Taking no heed to the wine cork, Simon picked up the bottle and went to stand by a window. He took a good swallow from the bottle and somehow felt more at ease under his skin.

  Tara asked Charlie, “So what do we do now?”

  “Give me a second.” Charlie moved toward Simon and put her hand on the small of his back. “Hey… You were mad, but I was mad too, you know. So it’s a draw. Actually, I was enraged, so that makes me the one who clearly needs an intervention.”

  “Definitely not our proudest moments, huh?”

  “No… Definitely not.” She patted him on the back. “Come on now, I need you back.”

  Simon hesitated. He said, “I’ve been thinking. I know you don’t want to hear this but … hmm … look, if Max did it in a state of manic, then with a good defense counsel he can…”

  Charlie quickly shook her head. “No, I know he didn’t do it.”

  “But what if you’re wrong, Charlie? Please, I just don’t want to see you hurt. Just think a
bout it.”

  And as they moved back, Simon’s cautious words began to plant the seeds of doubt in her mind. But the unshakable soil of her convictions would not let them grow. She was certain of that by the time they joined the others.

  VI

  As Charlie and Simon took their seats back in their small council, Dom approached Simon and gestured at him amiably.

  He said, “Eh man, sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It was none of my business; I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

  “That’s all right,” Simon said and gave him a nod.

  Tara, who was kicking back in her couch, sat right up, out of the blue. A flash of remembrance was illuminating her face.

  “Oh! It just occurred to me that something strange did happen after the party.” All eyes fastened on her. She said, “I was tossing and turning in my bed last night; I couldn’t sleep, needed some fresh air, so I went out onto the terrace right down the hall. After a while out there, I saw someone strolling in the hall, you know.”

  Carol asked, “What’s strange about it? Never seen a midnight stroller?”

  “Just hear me out… I mean the lighting isn’t great in the hall at night, you know, it’s quite dim and all. But I think it was a man with short hair and he had a pair of glasses on. Anyway, I thought he was really acting weird, you know, like he kept looking around him and over his shoulder all the time as if someone was after him. Gee, I got a little scared, more so when he looked in my direction and practically just stared.”

  “Could he have been the guy in the box?” Charlie asked.

  “No, no, no,” Tara said. “He had short hair like, I said, and looked thinner.”

  “What happened next?” Dom asked

  “Nothing… He turned back and walked away in the direction he’d come from.”

  Simon said, “You think he was a robber or something?”

  “That’s unlikely.” It was Jen who’d replied. “Without the code to the hall door, you can’t get onto this floor past a certain hour late at night. Same applies to every floor of this building. And only the tenants are given the code.”

  Alvin scratched his head, saying, “I don’t see how strolling at night in a hall is considered strange behavior.”

  “Right,” Carol agreed. “Maybe the man just wanted to be by himself and your presence bothered him.”

  Charlie said, “Did he actually do something else other than walking?”

  Tara slowly shook her head: “No.”

  “Yes he did,” Peter suddenly said, turning to Tara. “Remember?”

  Dom reacted to Peter’s intervention with surprise and gradually felt a pinch on his face, like the feeling you get when you take a sudden disliking to someone you thought was all right.

  He said, with a gnarl, “So what––You were out there too?”

  “Yes … hmm … he had that thing…” Peter mimed wielding some contraption in his hand. “What do you call that thing that’s used to squash bugs?”

  “A flyswatter?” Charlie answered.

  “Yeah … that. He whipped it around once or twice. Maybe he was being mobbed by flies, I don’t know. But it was funny; I mean who carries that stuff around, right?”

  Dom tried to keep himself calm, but something was just boiling too damn hot in his belly for him to pretend otherwise.

  He said to Peter, his icy tone betokening some good deal of grudge, “What were you guys doing out there by the way?”

  Peter said, “What do you mean?”

  “Dom…” Tara called.

  “What do I mean?” Dom repeated, his teeth showing in what was a snarl. He turned to Tara. “I thought you said you were alone on that terrace.”

  “I never said I was alone.”

  “So you just omitted to mention that… In the middle of the night.”

  “Geez, don’t make a scene out of nothing now.” Tara turned her eye from him at once and pursed her lips. This was a definite sign that she was cross.

  “Have I said something wrong?” Peter asked, sounding confused.

  “No you haven’t,” she managed to say.

  Charlie was about to break off their side argument when someone rapped on the front door.

  “Last thing we need is some unexpected company in here,” Alvin remarked.

  As she went to get the door, Charlie thought how curious it was that Alvin had taken the exact same words right out of her mouth.

  II

  Tara stood up from the couch and swept up her kitten in her arms, which was dawdling about. She distanced herself from Dom. Now she knew that, because she had been the one to invite Peter to the party when they had met him, Dom was going to start imagining things. As if a girl was not allowed to have a friendly interest in a guy. That was so freaking childish of Dom.

  Presently, Dom followed her, all grumpy.

  “Now wait a second,” he said. “You’re out late at night with a guy and I’m just supposed to—what––let it slip? Because you’d do the same if the roles were reversed.”

  Tara halted. “You see, this attitude of yours is just indecorous.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “You definitely need to grow up.”

  She left him dumbstruck and made her way to her bedroom with the cat. Alvin pried at Dom, rather amused by this brief display of a lovers’ spat. He himself moved off to the kitchen, a smile still glued to his lips.

  At the front door, a surprised Charlie was speaking again with Mrs. Brummer, who had turned up at the worst possible time to give her notice.

  “I figured you’d like to know that the repairmen are on their way as we speak,” she told Charlie. “It won’t be too long before our little incident with the door is dealt with.”

  “Thanks for the update, Mrs. Brummer.”

  “Sorry for any inconvenience that might … oh dear…”

  Mrs. Brummer suddenly looked overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness. She rubbed her temple gently.

  “Mrs. Brummer?”

  “Oh… I’ve been feeling a little giddy today, nothing alarming though,” the old lady said, regaining some countenance. “As I was saying, sorry for any…”

  The dizziness returned with a vengeance and Mrs. Brummer nearly staggered and slightly leaned onto the apartment outer wall. She now appeared very lightheaded.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Charlie asked again. And even though she knew it was a risky move, she ushered the old lady into the apartment, because, at this point, Mrs. Brummer could hardly stand without help.

  When the others saw them come in, they simply stared in utter bemusement. Jen asked Charlie asked what the matter was and Charlie shrugged off the question, too busy trying to keep this new situation under control. But her heart clenched when Mrs. Brummer, in her faint condition, grabbed the first chair that was in her way. And that chair was propped at the table upon which sat the cardboard box.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Brummer?” Jen asked, acting normal on the surface but sick with worry within.

  “Quite all right,” the old lady said. “I just need to sit for a minute till the giddiness passes off. Nothing alarming…”

  Charlie asked her, “You want a drink of water, lemonade?”

  “Lemonade, thank you…” She added, “And sorry for the intrusion, people. I … I guess I’m getting old for this shift.”

  Charlie hastily strode to the kitchen area and found Alvin there taking a long swig of a lemonade drink. The pitcher of lemonade sat near him on the countertop.

  “What’s up with the old lady?” he asked Charlie.

  “She suddenly got dizzy and almost fainted.”

  “Some bad luck, huh?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Charlie got a cup from a rack of glassware and reached for the pitcher at the same time as Alvin was also going for it for a refill. Their fingers brushed.

  “Oh, sorry,” Alvin sai
d.

  He then looked intently at Charlie and she returned his gaze, and they stood looking at each other, for too long maybe because it gradually felt awkward. And Charlie broke the spell and turned to leave it at that.

  “Eh, Charlie…” Alvin called.

  “Yeah?”

  He hesitated. An afterthought later, he tried to smile and then said, “Never mind.” She already had a lot to deal with and then some to think about as it were. And he figured it was best not to add any unnecessary baggage to it. But she had read his mind; he knew…

  III

  Charlie walked out of the kitchen area and her eyes anxiously fell on the cardboard box which was no different than the Pandora Box and was just one foot away from Mrs. Brummer. The old lady could just reach over and almost touch it and—maybe to simply pass the time while waiting for her refreshment—push back the folds that covered the box opening. And then it would be the end… The end for Max.

  Luckily, Mrs. Brummer was hardly looking at the cardboard box, her eyes squarely taking notice of the remnants of the birthday party all around the place. She was not happy about it; she said, “Should I expect more of those night parties anytime soon?”

  Charlie handed her the cup and poured lemonade into it.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “They can leave you with a bad aftertaste in the morning.”

  The old lady took a swallow and then said, smiling a little, “You speak like my daughter. Once she got so hung over from drinking too much at a frat party that she felt sick in her stomach for a week. Gosh, it’s just beyond me how you kids behave like wild little things at those types of soiree and how you like to celebrate debauchery as if it was a virtue. Well, she didn’t listen, had a go at it and found out she couldn’t hold her liquor. And it served her right too. Now I’m just happy she works really hard to get ahead, you know. And her busy schedule no longer allows for such frivolities anyway, so that’s good.”