Forever 51

by Pamela Skjolsvik

  According to the chart on the clipboard, Millie’s bed was at the end of the row.

  Veronica knew the minute she saw the pale face and dark curly hair that she was gazing at kin. Staring down at the sleeping woman was like looking at a reflection of her younger self. She gingerly positioned herself at the end of the bed, careful not to disturb her.

  Millie opened her eyes and growled. “Be gone, thou rank, heavy headed malkin!”

  “Easy now. I’m not going to hurt you.” Veronica patted her on the leg.

  Millie bolted upright, clutching the worn blanket to her chin. “Are you the nurse?”

  “Yes. My uniform became a bit messy, so I’m wearing this for tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Infection ridden hugger-mugger! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!” Millie’s pale skinny arms flew out from beneath the thin blanket and shot towards the ceiling. Her head flopped from side to side as if a spastic puppeteer was controlling her movements. “Why won’t you people just let me die?” she moaned.

  Veronica winced from the emotional pain of witnessing misery. “Are you sick?”

  “No, but I grow oh, so weary of living like this. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Be gone, cantankerous cunt!”

  Veronica had never heard a woman speak such dangerous words before.

  “Just kill me,” Millie pleaded.

  Veronica could do that. Maybe she should do that. She was alone. Millie was alone.

  Maybe an all blood diet would offer a cure that no lobotomy could. There was only one way to find out.

  Veronica’s incisors reacted before her brain could intercept. “Shhhhh,” she whispered near Millie’s neck. “This will be quick.”

  24

  The Present

  Veronica scanned the darkened suburban street where her granddaughter once resided in hopes that Millie would miraculously appear. They hadn’t spoken in years, although Veronica had faithfully supplied her with a monthly stipend to sustain the mess she’d created. If all went according to this last-minute magical plan, there would be a quick apology, an even quicker hug, and before the clock struck midnight, she could drive back to Pembina before Jenny did something illegal. It was a million to one chance, but on occasion, God did work in mysterious ways. She pulled over beneath a street lamp, lowered her window and opened a dog-eared copy of the Big Book that she had swiped from the Twelve Steppers. Scrolled on the front page, a long-ago member had written, “Don’t just do something, sit there.” She took it as a sign.

  Veronica was barely into Bill’s Story when she spotted a motley pack of canines pulling a long, slender woman down the street. Like an oddly dressed water skier on an asphalt lake, the woman’s upper body leaned back against the forward momentum of multiple, multi-colored leashes that fanned out from her clutched hands. Sporting a trucker hat, aviator sunglasses and faded overalls, she looked as if she were trying, but ultimately failing at remaining incognito.

  Inevitably, the pack of recalcitrant canines led her towards the most well-manicured and meticulously maintained lawn to do their business. A limping Husky fussily circled in place, then squatted in the plush St. Augustine grass. While reaching for a bag from her back pocket, Millie’s arms flailed upwards as she eeeeeped into the quiet street. In unison, the leashed dogs barked, bellowed and howled to match their master’s rising wail. Lights flickered on in the neighboring houses. A man in a blue terry robe stepped out onto his porch and exhaled a heavy sigh.

  “You gonna clean up your dog’s doody there, Miss Millie?” he asked politely.

  “Yes, sir, I’m on it, you cock-sucking, crotch muncher eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!” The dogs tilted their heads as Millie’s screeching howl approached the upper octaves.

  Veronica flinched at the sound of Millie’s unmistakable voice. She set the worn, blue book down on the passenger seat and grabbed her purse from the floorboard.

  “Ya know, it’s real great what you’re doing for those there dogs, but we’re all getting pretty darn tired of this eleven-o-clock ritual you got going on. I don’t know about you, Missy, but there’s people on this here block that are trying to get some sleep. Don’t you think you could take em out a little earlier?” He kicked at some leaves on his porch. “Sometime before supper might be good.”

  “No, sir, I can’t.” She placed a black bag on her open hand and stooped to retrieve the Husky’s poop. “Who gave you ice cream, Clyde? Your poop looks like pudding and smells even worse than usual. It was Judy, wasn’t it?” The Husky licked her face and barked at the middle-aged man. “Can I put this in your trash can, Mr. Anderson? As you can see—dog shit, dick face eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep—my hands are full.”

  The dogs barked, straining at their leashes towards the robed man. He refastened the belt around his waist and chuckled despite the stern expression he was trying to maintain.

  Veronica exited the car with urgency as if she might have to rescue her odd great-granddaughter from an altercation. She slammed the car’s door. All eyes—human, animal and vampire—turned to look at her. “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.” She stepped onto the lawn. “Millie? Is that you?” Veronica knelt to scratch a wiggly Boston Terrier’s chin.

  Millie removed her glasses, dropped the leashes from her hands and bolted towards Veronica. “Gigi!” She yelped and wrapped her skinny body around Veronica. The dogs joined in on the excitement, toppling both women in a tangled mess onto the damp grass.

  “Okay, ladies. That’s enough. I’m pulling a double tomorrow and if I don’t get some shut eye, I’m gonna be in a world of hurt.” He coughed. “I might not be so kind tomorrow night. Go on now.” He waved at the air.

  Several dogs rolled onto their backs as Veronica struggled to rise up among the tangle of limbs and leashes. A black Lab sniffed at her ankle and lifted its arthritic leg, relieving himself on her sensible shoes.

  “Bart!” Millie exclaimed, “We don’t pee on Gigi. She’s family.”

  “It’s alright, Bart. I’m a very bad Gigi. I’d pee on me too.” Veronica managed to stand. To appease the man who stared at their every move, she gathered several leashes. “I imagine you live somewhere around here?”

  “Next block down.”

  Millie’s house looked as if Boo Radley might make an appearance at any moment. The gray paint was faded, the front windows were boarded up, and what should have been a lawn was simply a mound of dirt sprinkled with the detritus of dog shit and dandelions. All the yard needed was a rusted-out jalopy on cinderblocks to complete the picture of abject poverty. If the noisy late-night walks didn’t inflame her neighbors, then the condition of her house probably did.

  As Veronica attempted to balance herself on the weathered boards of the front porch, Millie fumbled for a ring of keys in the equally weathered pocket of her overalls. Locking the front door of this fixer upper seemed like overkill to Veronica, but she tried not to judge the contents based on the dilapidated exterior.

  Millie pushed the door open. The dogs scampered inside, leashes dangling behind them. “Sorry about the mess. I just….”

  “Didn’t clean your house for the last fifty years?” Veronica interjected from the doorway. It was a tornado of crates, carriers, fur, chewed toys and one very brave calico perched atop an ancient entertainment center. More than anything, it was an olfactory assault of ammonia-smelling awfulness.

  “So how have you, you know, been able to survive all these years?” Veronica leaned against a wall, trying not to touch anything. “Is it them?”

  Millie sat down on the floor. She methodically removed each dog’s harness and kissed them on the forehead. “Yeah, it’s them. I know it’s not very sexy or dangerous, but it’s easy. Nobody wants them. Either they’ve lost their new-puppy sheen or they’re old and sick. If I didn’t take them, they’d be euthanized anyway. I give them a good month or two of steak dinners, unconditional love and t-r-e-a-t-s and I just end their lives a little differently. They love me.”

  “That’s obvious.”
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  “I take the sick ones first.” She exclaimed proudly, as if she had to justify her actions. She cradled a three-legged chihuahua to her chest and murmured into its ear.

  “Me too. I’m now working as a hospice nurse.”

  “I just work at the inhumane society. My shift starts in an hour—dumb ass, dingleberry, douchebagger eeeeeeeeeeeep—would you like to come with me?”

  “I love that your swearing has advanced with the times.” She laughed and brushed tufts of fur off her shirt. “I’ll definitely come with you, but there’s something I need to talk to you about first.” Veronica tiptoed through the living room to what was left of the couch and sat down.

  “Uh, oh. Gigi’s gonna get serious.” Millie brought her knees to her chest and removed her sunglasses.

  “I want you to be honest with me, Millie. Do you enjoy the way you’re living?”

  “It’s better than Dan…” Millie’s face contorted. She hugged her skinny arms firmly to her chest. “…vers. I don’t enjoy these tics.”

  The Husky climbed onto the couch and placed its head on Veronica’s lap. “There’s medication that can help, you know.”

  “Yeah, for normal people that can go out into the light of day. I tried going to the ER to get a prescription. As you can probably guess, swearing and spazzing out wasn’t exactly considered an emergency. They just thought I was drunk—drunk spunk, twat face, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!” Millie laid back on the floor, exasperated. The Husky whimpered, jumped off the couch and scooted towards her. “They called the cops.”

  “I’m sorry. ERs are the worst. I’ve worked in a few, and you get some real whackos who just want pain meds.”

  Millie sat back up and pulled a plastic baggie out of her pocket. “Who wants a treat?” At the word treat, the dogs went spastic. “What I like about dogs is they don’t mind that I’m a nut job. They probably think I just bark a lot.” She handed each dog a strip of bacon from the bag.

  “You’re not a nut job. I think what you have is Tourette’s.” Veronica leaned back on the couch. “Okay, here goes. I don’t know how to say this other than that the sun thing is a myth.”

  “It’s not a myth. I remember seeing it.” She threw the empty bag on the littered floor. “All gone.” She showed her empty hands like a blackjack dealer leaving the table. They sniffed at her pockets and licked her fingers.

  Veronica continued. “Yes, I’m perfectly aware that it exists. But it’s a myth that it will kill you. If you want, you can walk those dogs tomorrow morning and you’ll be fine. You could even go to a doctor’s office tomorrow at noon and you’d be fine.”

  Millie’s head jerked from shoulder to shoulder. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Bart picked up his leash and set it on Veronica’s lap. She pet his graying head and turned back to Millie. “I’m afraid I’m not. Have you ever turned another person into a vampire?”

  Millie rocked back and forth as tears filled her eyes. Her voice became a whisper. “You said w-a-l-k. He thinks you’re going to take him, you know, on a w-a-l-k.”

  “I’m sorry, Bart. I didn’t mean to mislead you.” Veronica got down on the floor and placed her arm around Millie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “No. I’m pretty fucking far from okay. Okay?” She brushed Veronica’s arm away. “And no, I’ve never turned another person. Besides Doctor Bridwell and a couple of other rapist psychos at Danvers, I’ve never even killed anyone. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s really fucking hard to sneak up on somebody when you can’t stop shouting obscenities at them. I’ve tried.”

  “You know what? Human blood is not all it’s cracked up to be. Believe me.”

  “Whatever. You’ve had plenty and you’re probably on husband number nine or something. I’ve never even been on a date.” Millie buried her head in her hands and sobbed like a hungry baby whose mother had just left the room. “I’m a total loser.”

  “No, you’re not. Listen, if you had the choice, would you like to be mortal again?” Veronica rubbed Millie’s back.

  “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.” She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt. “I think I’d rather win the lotto, so I could get a housekeeper. I really don’t like cleaning.” She forced a smile.

  “I’ve noticed.” Veronica gazed around the room and sighed. After she’d made the terrible decision to turn Millie, the girl almost seemed happy with the novelty of life outside of Danvers, but it didn’t take long for her to discover the unfortunate truth that wherever she went, there she was. “Okay, Millie, I realize this sounds crazy, but I know how to make you mortal again.”

  Millie raised an incredulous eyebrow as her arms shot out in front of her. “What difference would it make if I was mortal?”

  “Well, for one, you’d be able to ingest medicine that might help with your condition. Wouldn’t that be worth it?” Veronica knew by her own pleading tone that her own desperation was settling in. Millie had to consent.

  “Will it hurt?”

  “No.” That was a lie. “Not really.” Closer to the truth. “Actually, it feels more surprising than painful.” Veronica gazed into Millie’s eyes hoping to work her vampire magic. “But as a mortal, your life will eventually end. Would you be okay with that?” Please God, let her be okay with that.

  Millie nodded. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I guess so.”

  “Okay.” Veronica stood, sat back on the couch, and impatiently patted the seat next to her. “Come here.”

  Millie rolled her eyes and quickly complied.

  Veronica cleared her throat. “Millicent, what I did to you that night at Danvers and the weeks that followed was a mistake. I thought I could save you, but in the long run, I just prolonged your isolation and misery. I robbed you of a normal life and for that, I am eternally sorry.” Veronica braced herself for Millie’s bodily response, which she secretly hoped might be spectacular.

  “I was in a mental hospital, Gigi. It was never going to get normal. Ever. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck duck goose, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! What the hell was that??” She grasped at her stomach and curled into a fetal position on the floor. The dogs rushed towards her and worriedly sniffed her body.

  “It’s okay,” Veronica reassured them. “She’s fine. Your mama is now going to have to take you to the vet like a normal person. And when she gets herself up off this dirty ass floor, she is going to research the best doctor to deal with her condition and then she’s going to make an appointment. At her appointment, she’s going to ask that doctor to help her find a support group so that she feels less alone in the world. And then, she’s going to clean this shit hole up.”

  Veronica stood and stretched. “Who wants a bacon cheeseburger? I’m buying.”

  25

  To kill the hours till sunrise so she could prove the existence of a benevolent sun, Veronica dragged Millie to the local Walmart to purchase an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner. On the way back home from this terrifying midnight jaunt, they hit up the only open fast food restaurant in town to purchase ten cheeseburgers with a side of fries. While Millie fretted over her French fries and the catastrophic possibilities of a morning walk, Veronica spent the remaining nighttime hours attempting to rid the house of as much dog fur as possible. It was the worst kind of service work, but as the weeping wall back home promised, “When you get busy, you get better.” It helped that she felt lighter on her feet without Millie’s soul eeeping and swearing in the caverns of her core. With the flick of an on switch, Veronica approached the task of hair removal with the fervor of an Olympic athlete. It wasn’t always easy to measure serenity, but today, it was a reassuringly symmetrical pattern of vacuum tracks in the carpet.

  “I think that thing is scaring them.” Millie shouted over the vacuum’s whir.

  Veronica looked at the dogs. Most of them peered at her from the stairs, grateful for the greasy fast food and probably wondering when it might happen again. She pushed the vacuum harder in a d
ifferent direction and marveled at the strip of Persian rug that revealed itself.

  “They’re fine. They’ll get used to it, as will you. Why don’t you tackle the bathroom?”

  “I feel really tired. Is this normal?” She stretched her long body and yawned.

  “From here on out it will be. But you’re young and good looking.” Veronica patted her playfully on the butt. “Oh shit, I forgot about the mirror.” Veronica turned off the vacuum. “Where’s the little girl’s room?”

  “Huh?”

  “The bathroom? You know that room that contains a toilet, a shower and hopefully a litter box.”

  “It’s down the hall and on the right. Do you need to use the restroom?” Millie’s face contorted in confusion.

  “No, but you need to come with me. This is what women do. They go to the bathroom together in packs. I want to show you something.” Veronica grabbed Millie’s hand.

  “The last time someone said that to me, I got locked in a supply closet with a paranoid schizophrenic. He was convinced that I was his mother—fucker, cock sucker, wooooop!”

  “Hey, your vocal tics are progressing from an eeep to a woop. You’re already changing. Come on,” Veronica tugged. “I want to show you something.”

  In the bathroom, they found Bart clawing at the cat box to unearth a treat. With lips sprinkled in litter, he bowed his head in shame and scampered from the room. Veronica placed her hands on Millie’s shoulders and led her towards the mirror.

  “Look.” She removed Millie’s trucker hat. Long black curls cascaded down her shoulders. “Look at yourself. You’re gorgeous.”

  Millie gasped at the sight of her reflection yet edged closer to the poorly lit mirror. In stunned silence, she touched her face and hair with the transfixed intensity of someone flying high on LSD. This tender, yet somewhat awkward moment, ended with a stream of obscenities and spittle spewing from her mouth and sprinkling the mirror. When Millie’s vocal gymnastics ended, she took a deep breath and stepped back to take in more of her reflected image. Turning around, she looked over her shoulder to gaze at her backside.