by Willow Rose
Mary. Mary Mills.
Seeing her, Liz sped up with the intention of killing her right there on the spot, simply run her car into her floppy body. Oh how much she desired to do it, to finally finish her off, but in the last moment she had decided not to.
Not like this. Not yet. When she goes, it has to be spectacular. Your best work to date.
She isn’t surprised that Mary Mills is back. Of course she came. Liz was waiting for it. Of course she came down to help that stupid brother of hers. Of course she is here.
Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,
All dressed in black, black, black,
Liz laughs out loud while running and pretending to be punching someone.
I’ll grab you hard, hard, hard
And give you smack, smack, smack
Liz speeds up and storms towards the finish line, pressing herself to the utmost, her heart pounding in her chest, threatening to burst. She throws herself on the grass, panting for her breath, then looks at her watch. She has beaten her personal best. She is in even better shape than when she was in her twenties and travelled all over the world as a soldier. She feels invincible, unbeatable. She is a freaking goddess. The goddess of revenge.
And she is ready to settle the score.
Chapter Twenty-Six
September 2015
“Could you please keep the dog in your room?”
My dad is standing in the entrance to the kitchen. Salter and I are sitting at the kitchen table, eating the salad I have created from what little I could find in the kitchen. I am not much of a salad eater, so I have poured a lot of cheese on it and found some pieces of chicken that I prepared and put in. I am planning on going grocery shopping afterwards to get us some real food.
I look down at Snowflake, who is sleeping under my feet. Salter walked him for a long time, so he is exhausted.
“He’s not really bothering anyone, Dad.”
“Laura doesn’t like him being in here,” he says.
Of course. Laura. She came in here briefly and gave us one short look, then ran to tell. Tattletale.
“I know, but he needed to get some water and food as well, and I thought it was better to keep his bowls down here instead of on the white carpet upstairs, where he will only spill and stain.”
My dad sighs and rubs his forehead. “Alright. Just take him to your room when he has eaten and you’re done. I’ll take care of Laura. Could you please remove the surfboards from the yard as well?”
“Oh, those. Well, I kind of told Joey he could keep his board here, since he wants to go surfing with Salter tomorrow morning, and then Alex and Sandra asked if they could leave theirs as well. It’s just till tomorrow.”
“Well, we can’t have them all over the yard, Mary,” my dad says. Again, I can hear this isn’t coming from him. He never used to care when people left their boards in our yard, so they didn’t have to carry them so far. But, of course, Laura has changed that as well.
“It looks terrible. All the neighbors can see them.”
“Come on, Dad! One of our friends just lost his wife this morning in a terrible tragedy. We’re all pretty shaken up here. Can’t it wait till tomorrow? They plan on stopping by and surfing early anyway before work, and I’ll tell them to take their boards home afterwards, all right? I think we have more important things on our minds right now. Like your son. Remember Blake?”
My dad stares at me, then turns on his heel and leaves with an angry grunt. Salter looks at me.
“Eat your food,” I say. “After this, we’re going to Publix to buy some real food for this house. I can’t survive on salad alone. I am a woman in my growing age. I need calories and so do you.”
Salter laughs, then finishes his salad. I drink my carrot juice, holding my nose so I won’t taste it.
“Maybe I could spend the day with Dad instead?” Salter asks cautiously.
“You mean to tell me you’d rather be with your father, whom you never see, than spend the next couple of hours with your mother whom you always see, buying groceries?” I ask with a smile.
I mess up his hair. He hates when I do that. I think it’s a little early for him to be vain, so that’s why I keep doing it. He has just recently gotten a new haircut and a lock of hair keeps falling into his face, making him look cool. I like it, but I don’t like that he is getting so teenage-like. It is too early. I, for one, am not ready.
“All right, kid. I’ll call your father and drop you off on the way there. You’ll miss out on the samples, though. They have some good ones down here. And you won’t be able to pick what we eat for dinner either.”
“I think I’ll live,” he says.
I chuckle, yet feel a pinch of sadness. Grocery shopping is our thing to do usually on Saturdays. We love it. Eating all the samples that the nice ladies hand us, buying a delicious dinner and ice cream for dessert, then killing a bag of chips while chasing the aisles for the things that are actually on our list.
I enjoy having him as my life companion, and I’m not ready to let him go. At least, not yet. It is my greatest fear that he will ask me if he can move in with Joey. It would simply kill me.
“Mom, call him,” he says, and pushes my phone closer to me.
“All right, all right. Hold your horses, cowboy.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
May 1977
When Peter comes home, Penelope is holding the baby in her arms while she throws up violently. Peter is startled to learn that their baby is sick once again.
“What happened?” he asks.
Penelope looks at him. “I don’t know. She just started to throw up all of a sudden. And I think she has a fever.”
“We better take her to the emergency room again,” Peter says. “She looks all pale.”
Penelope nods and shows him she has packed a bag with diapers and extra clothes, in case they have to stay the night.
“We’re not going to need that, Penelope,” he says. “It’s probably nothing. I think it needs to be really bad for them to want to keep her overnight.”
But Penelope insists on bringing the bag, and soon they rush out to the car, and just as they get in, the baby vomits once again, all over the car seat.
Penelope immediately tries to wipe it off, but Peter stops her. “It doesn’t matter. We need to go. Nothing is more important than our baby right now.”
Penelope looks into the eyes of her beloved husband and nods. “Of course not.”
When they arrive at the hospital, a doctor and a nurse take care of the baby after only a short waiting period, during which the baby throws up once again. Penelope feels such a relief when they examine her. Peter puts his arm around her while the nurses take her temperature.
“She’ll be fine,” he whispers. “Don’t worry.”
“What about your case?” Penelope says.
“Well, the hearing is tomorrow,” he says. “I put Greg and Mark on it. They can gather the things we need.”
“Don’t you want to go and call the office and hear how they’re doing?” she asks, hoping he won’t. “There was a payphone down the hall. I can stay here and hear what they say.”
“No. They’ll be fine. This is more important.”
Penelope sighs deeply. Yes, the baby was the most important thing now. She is so relieved he also feels that way.
“I can’t seem to find anything wrong with your baby,” the doctor says, when he is done listening to her heart, checking her ears and throat. “She has a little fever and she is a little dehydrated. I would like to, however, keep her for the night. Just for observation and to make sure she keeps hydrated.”
Penelope looks at Peter, who seems baffled. “Keep her overnight?”
“I assure you, it’s nothing but a precaution,” the doctor says. “If she continues to throw up all night, she will need lots of hydration. She is, after all, still only a very young baby. We can’t be too careful.”
“Of course not, Doctor,” Penelope says. “See, I told you we were goin
g to need that bag. I even packed some clothes for you as well.”
Both parents sleep in chairs in the baby’s room at the hospital. The baby vomits another time violently before she finally finds rest. Penelope and Peter stay by her side and hardly sleep all night. Every time the baby makes the smallest sound, Penelope calls the nurses and asks for the doctor to come and see her. Peter tells her she is just too worried and the doctors assure her the baby is in good hands. Penelope listens to everything they tell her, and even writes little notes in her notebook afterwards. She is determined to know everything there is to know about this to make sure she is prepared.
The next morning, the baby wakes up feeling fine. She is cooing and smiling in her bed. Peter wants to pick her up and hold her in his arms, but Penelope stops him.
“No. Not until the doctor says it’s alright,” she says.
Peter looks at her like she has lost it. Still, he decides to wait.
A nurse enters the room and looks at the baby. “Aw, she is such a cutie. How is she doing this morning?”
“She still seems very pale,” Penelope says. “I hope she’s not going to vomit again.”
“The poor thing. Does your tummy hurt, little baby? I feel bad for her,” the nurse says, taking her temperature with a thermometer. “I hate it when they’re this young. Being in a hospital bed when you’re this young is no fun, is it? No, it isn’t. You should be at home in your own comfortable bed with your mommy and not all these tubes and machines everywhere that go beep-beep-beep.” The nurse tickled the baby on her tummy. The baby responds with a huge grin.
“I know,” Penelope says. “It’s tough. But it’s for the best. She was really sick yesterday. I’m not sure she’ll be better today. I fear the worst. She threw up a lot. It was bad, right Peter?”
Peter nods. “It was pretty bad.”
The nurse looks at Penelope. “How are you holding up?”
“Me? Ah. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Penelope let out a light laugh. “This is not about me.”
“I bet neither of you got much sleep last night, huh?”
Penelope shakes her head. “No, you’re right. It’s hard when your little one is sick.”
“It’s the worst. I tell you that,” the nurse says. “My oldest has leukemia. He is home now, but you never know when you’re going to spend a night like this holding his hand, you know? And all the medicine he has to take constantly. Argh. I tell you. It’s tough on a mother. I feel for you. I really do. Sometimes I think we mothers feel the pain as much as the child.”
The nurse put her hand on Penelope’s shoulder and she feels suddenly a lot more relaxed, like the anxiety that is constantly eating at her suddenly is drowned out for a little while. It feels good. Penelope feels calm. She can’t remember feeling like this ever since the baby came into her life.
“It hasn’t been easy,” she says.
“Oh. I know,” the nurse says.” No one ever notices the mother when the child is sick, but she is suffering as well, you know.”
“So true.”
“Anyway. I sure hope your baby will be better,” the nurse says and waves at the girl who gives her a big toothless grin. “She seems to be doing very well this morning.” The nurse looks at the thermometer in her hand. “There is no fever. That’s a good sign. The doctor will be with you shortly on his rounds. I’m sure she is ready to go home.”
Home? Now? But…but what if she gets sick again?
Penelope looks at the baby in the bed, feeling all of a sudden terrified once again. The thought of having all the responsibility on her shoulders, alone, is weighing her down. She doesn’t know how to do it. She really doesn’t.
Peter comes up behind her. “Did you hear that? She said the baby seems better. That’s great news, huh honey?”
Penelope swallows hard. “Yes, dear. That is wonderful news. Wonderful indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
September 2015
I drive up in front of the complex where Joey has rented a small townhouse. I kill the engine, then look at Salter. His cheeks and nose are red from the exposure to the sun this morning. Surfing does that to you. Even if we slap on a lot of sunscreen before we go out. Our skin hasn’t been in this much direct sunlight for a very long time. I wonder how I all of a sudden have become this indoor person when I have always been the opposite. But the past many months, after Joey left us, I didn’t want to go outside. I wanted to hide from the world. I wanted to stay in with Salter and Snowflake and eat chips on the couch and feel sorry for myself. I still want that. Being fired hasn’t helped.
“Aren’t you coming in to say hello?” Salter asks.
Joey has heard us drive up and is in the doorway waiting for us. He is wearing a T-shirt and he is still in his board shorts. That is Sundays for you in Florida. I remember wearing nothing but my swimsuit all weekend. You might as well. It is so extremely hot, and either you are in the ocean or you are in the pool. There isn’t much time you spend dry on land in this place.
Joey looks devilishly handsome.
I bite my lip while staring at him from inside the car. I really don’t want to come in. I have so much to do.
“I just saw him earlier,” I say. “I don’t think…”
I have barely finished the sentence before Joey opens the door to my rented car and peeks in. “Are you coming, or what?” he asks Salter.
Salter jumps out. Joey looks at me. “Do you want to come in for a beer or something?”
I shake my head. “No. I was just…”
And there it is. The look in Joey’s eyes that I simply can’t resist. I miss him. I miss talking to him.
You can’t have a beer with him! He was a bastard, remember? He cheated on you!
“I- I-I have to go buy some groceries…”
Joey looks disappointed. “Oh. Okay. See you later then.”
I stare at him. Stare at those deep-set blue eyes. He doesn’t leave. It’s like he knows I am fighting within.
“Ah, what the heck. Just one beer can’t hurt anything. Lord knows I could use something after the morning we had,” I finally say and get out.
You have the spine of a worm!
It is true. I have no backbone. Not when it comes to Joey.
“Let me give you a tour of the palace,” he says, when I walk inside. The townhouse is a lot bigger than it appears from the outside. It has two nice bedrooms upstairs and a living room downstairs with a nice new kitchen. It is astonishing to me how much you can get for your money down here, compared to The Big Apple.
When he opens the door to the bedroom, a big black lab comes jumping out. It jumps up at me and I squeal in surprise. Behind it tags a small brown pig. I stare at Joey.
“Really?”
“They kind of came together,” he says.
“Like a package deal?”
“Yeah. Kind of. They grew up together at a farm in Fellsmere. A friend of mine had them, actually he used to live right next door, but he had to move to California. He was a drummer in a band and they had a breakthrough so he had to leave. He couldn’t take Bonnie and Clyde, so I said I would take them till he came back. If he ever comes back. Who knows.”
“Bonnie and Clyde?”
“Yes. One can’t live without the other. They need to stay together. What can I say? They keep me company when I get lonely down here. Besides, Salter loves them.”
I look at my son, who pets the pig on her head and kisses her. Bonnie returns the gesture with a series of grunts. Salter laughs. I don’t know what to think of this entire set-up. It is very far from the life we lived in Manhattan. But I can tell Joey enjoys it. He likes being back. It is like he is suddenly that same old Joey that I have known most of my life, the same Joey I fell in love with in high school.
He smiles. His white teeth light up his tanned face. He is in a lot better shape than before he left me. Probably all that surfing.
“So, how about that beer?” he says. “We can bring Bonnie and Clyde out with us
in the backyard. They need some fresh air.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
September 2015
Salter plays with the animals, throwing a ball around in the grass, and for the most part it is Bonnie who picks it up. I wonder if it is like in the movie Ice Age where the mammoth thinks she’s a possum and acts like one. Maybe Bonnie thinks she is a dog like Clyde. She sure acts like one.
“So, some day, huh?” Joey asks. “I can’t believe what happened to Jean. I keep thinking about it.”
I sip my beer. I grabbed a light one since I am driving after this. It feels good to be with Joey again, back in our old hood. Even though I still hate this place, it is kind of beginning to grow on me a little. If only it wasn’t combined with so much pain for me.
“I know. It’s crazy.”
“It’s all over the local news. They say she was stabbed in the throat with a pair of scissors, then bled to death. Can you imagine coming home and finding your wife like that? I would be devastated. I don’t know how I would be able to keep on living.”
Being still his wife, even if we are separated, it makes me feel flattered.
“He seemed pretty shaken. Have you heard from any of the others?”
“Alex called just before you got here. Danny is still at the police station for questioning. I can’t believe they can’t let a man grieve in peace. I mean, he just lost his wife. Give him a break.”
“But, they know Danny, right? He is, after all, captain at the fire station next door to them.”
“I know. They work pretty close together. They won’t give him a hard time, but still it must be so hard for him to have to go through the interrogation right away.”
“I’m guessing they need to. Because of the investigation,” I say, drawing on my experience from writing crime stories as a reporter. “It all needs to be fresh in his memory. Any little detail might help in finding whoever did this.”
Joey shrugs. “I guess. I still think it’s inhuman.”
