Cleansed by Death

by Catherine Finger

  “You could certainly say so now, though you might not have said that had you been in the room with us while we made the sausage, so to speak. Elementary art is not for the faint of heart.” Her smile never faltered.

  I laughed and waved at Samantha when her little head popped up and her gaze connected with mine with a gigantic smile. It took all I had not to run to her and scoop her up, but it was important to let her approach me first. She needed to make all the choices. It was one more step toward helping her heal from all of the other choices that had been torn away from her. I snuck a peak at my phone, then jammed the phone back into my pocket. Slow your roll, Oliver. I took an unhurried breath, and watched her go about her clean-up chores. She packed her empty after-school snack items back onto her tray, only to unpack them, making sure everything was put in the right spot on the right conveyer belt at the tray return—an agonizingly slow routine.

  She finished her duties and then walked in measured steps through the cafeteria. For one bright moment she clearly wanted to run to me, but Sister Angela raised an eyebrow in Sam’s direction, and she pulled herself back into a fast walk. She arrived with twinkling eyes. Then she held her right hand out, and I stepped in and took it gently. I waited for Sister Angela’s nod before walking her out into the hallway.

  Several steps beyond the door, Samantha’s little body quivered, and she squealed happily, stepping in front of me to grab my other hand. “Miss Jo! I love you so much! I’m so glad you came to see me today!”

  I knelt down and scooped her up into the gentlest of hugs. My injured shoulder didn’t even hurt that much. “Oh, my darling Sam. I love you too, sweetie. Now tell me about your day at school.”

  I sat back on my heels and smiled as her happy little voice sang out a hundred tiny details of her day. Waves of brilliant blue water flooded my heart with impossibly beautiful feelings. All was right, and all was lovely to me, from the tiniest cell of her perfect body to the mismatched tile floor. Being with her seemed the most natural, the best, and the most important part of my life.

  “I made a cow today in art class. You wanna see her?” Sam’s voice was thick with admiration. She loved her cows and, by extension, so did I.

  “Of course I do, baby doll. Take me to your moo-dur!” I waited for her laughter to chime in, but she looked at me, puzzled. “Get it, moo-dur? Like a cow? And a mother? Only moo-dur?”

  The light clicked on, illuminating only a roll of her eyes before she grabbed me by the hand and turned to lead me down the hall to her cow. I guess it wasn’t that funny.

  At the end of the hall, late-afternoon winter light streamed in through the stairwell windows. She proudly pointed me to a cacophony of color on a generous piece of salmon-colored paper on the wall. It was hard to tell where the grass ended and the cow began. Or where the sky began and the cow ended. It was colorful. It was beautiful. It was Sam.

  “I love this, sweetie! You’re such a good artist. I have the perfect place for this in my office.”

  I stroked Samantha’s baby-fine hair as we admired her work together. She beamed and pressed her body against my left side, leaning into me. I kept my hand on her head and breathed in deeply. If God existed, like Samantha believed, maybe He could keep her safe and give her this sense of safety and peace as long and as often as possible.

  Purposeful heels clacked their way toward us. I straightened up, dropping my hand to Sam’s back, and turned us both around. She held my hand again, and we walked back down the hallway to the line of her classmates. We let go of each other’s hands, and I bent down to kiss her. She hugged me quickly and then turned and skipped before remembering to walk the last few feet to be the last in line. She nodded up at Sister Angela and then turned to smile and wave at me. I watched until she rounded the corner of the staircase, heading toward the after-school activities room on the second floor.

  The waning light outside reminded me I was done for the day. But there was one more person my heart yearned to see.

  Thirty minutes later, I stood in a crowded Mexican restaurant teeming with life on the city’s north side, scanning the room for my swarthy friend, Gino Rivera. There: a colorful interruption in the dark sea of dress uniforms and business suits. Gino had taken up residence in a back corner booth.

  When he stood to wave me over, his holstered gun was apparent on his right hip, nicely balanced by the large trucker’s wallet in his back left pocket, silver chain linking it neatly to a belt loop in the front. He stood there, waiting for me, his broad grin displaying perfect, white teeth, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud as I made my way over to him.

  “Mama mia! You look good enough to eat, m’hija. I should look half so good as you do.” Gino wrapped me up in his huge, bare arms, his tasteful, citrus scent enveloping me.

  “It’s so good to see you. I needed a Gino hug.” I pulled back from him, straightening my uniform jacket and repositioning my purse.

  Gino was a man of many talents. People often underestimated him because they couldn’t look past his do-rag and trucker’s wallet. Inside his shaggy, affable, Cuban head was a mastermind at work. He was always inventing new criminal restraints, honing his private, patented collection of “catch-and-release accessories,” as he referred to them. He split his genius into equal parts by devoting a ton of time and energy to making big money by marketing his wares. He was adept at both ends of the business. He was also very good at reading my mind and calming my emotions.

  “Now, sit. Tell me everything. Especially all that I can do for the woman with the biggest heart in the universe.”

  His warm voice and caring heart were just what the doctor ordered, and I relaxed with each word we exchanged. He drank cola, but I opted for a frosty draw of dark beer. After giving him the thumbnail version of my misery over the first two beers, we ordered dinner, and I slugged down two more beers. I grew maudlin and moved into murkier territory, eventually working in tomorrow’s looming visit with Kira.

  “M’hija, don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?”

  “Not yet.” I took another sip and wiped the foam from my mouth before asking, “What keeps a life from unraveling, Gino?”

  Silent, he considered my question for what seemed like an eternity. I drained the last drop of my stout Mexican beer while I waited.

  “M’hija, this life is a gift, even on the most cursed of days. Even today, when you find yourself alone, you may meet the One who is most powerful in your weakness. You will know one day that what I say is true. Today is a gift, and every minute of this day has a purpose hidden in it for you. You can live each day, embracing your life.”

  Well, that had been worth the wait. Although, halfway into his second sentence, my head had started swimming. I vowed to switch to root beer next. “But there’s nothing left for me. Everywhere I turn, I’m lost. I thought I knew how to live at work until everyone started taking sides, but I don’t know how to live with a literally empty house. I’ve got nothing left. How do I live from the moment I get home to the moment I crawl back to work? It’s like my life has turned into one long stint of solitary confinement. I can’t stand the thought of living the rest of my life like this.”

  “But how can you think you are alone when Gino is right here, next to you, plying you with free nachos? When all around you are people who love you? What about Nick? He’s also your good friend, no? What is it that compels you to spend your time in darkness rather than walking with me, with God, in the light? I can see you are in a lot of pain, but I’m here to tell you there is more for you, Josephine. God has a life of power and glory and unending love waiting for you to accept from His outstretched hand.”

  He stopped abruptly as I rolled my eyes at him.

  The beer was losing its effect on me. “Please, not tonight. I don’t want to hear the God-thing tonight.”

  Gino had lived a lot of life, and I felt bad whining to him and then shutting him down like that, but the last thing I wanted to hear right now was a bunch of religious mumbo-jumbo.


  “Come to church with me tonight, m’hija. He will prove himself to you.”

  “I don’t think so, Gino, but thanks for asking.”

  His eyes saddened. I looked down at the table and scooted toward the open end of the booth’s bench.

  He stood up and hugged me as I prepared to leave. “Come and see me when you need a friend. I’m always here for you.” Then he pulled out his cell and called me a cab. “I am such a good friend that I won’t let you drive home in your condition. No arguments, please.”

  “Thanks, Gino. I’ll call you soon.” I couldn’t meet his eyes before I turned and walked out into the cold to wait for my ride.

  I heaved myself out of the taxi and stumbled to the house. When was the last time I’d taken a cab home from dinner in the city? How much had I drunk? Who was I becoming? More importantly, where were my house keys? My head spun like a tilt-a-whirl, making it hard to rifle through my pockets and purse in the dark.

  Fiddling with the key, I swore like a longshoreman and fumbled with the doorknob as I unlocked the door. It was stuck. Finally, I twisted it in anger. The weight of my shoulder pushing against the solid wood forced the issue. The door swung inward. A thick cloud of fury swirled about me, settling on my shoulders, weighing me down. Pinpricks of goosebumps skittered over my arms as I peered into the darkness. I grabbed the holstered pistol resting at the bottom of my bag and wrenched it free. The home-sweet-home feel of my most trusted partner comforted my strained muscles. I released the magazine to verify it was full, then partially racked the slide to view the round in the chamber.

  I nearly had to pull my unresponsive feet up with my hands to get them to move me from the foyer into the empty kitchen and great room area. I reached the two-story room, breathing hard, looking over my shoulder. I took a deep breath and snapped on the light.

  The room was alien to me.

  Faint kick-mark dents lingered under a new coat of white paint on the walls. Donna’s restoration project included a green sofa from her basement, staged in the middle of the room.

  I sagged down into the folds of the old sofa, but the presence I’d sensed in the foyer had followed me. I stood up and took several testing steps in and out of the room. A palpable evil shadow stuck close to me, tracking me like some cosmic bloodhound. Or was it the alcohol? I took several deep breaths to clear my head.

  I pulled out my phone. There was a text message from Mitch, stating that Del had shown up to the holiday party solo after all. So the “plus one” was still a mystery. Instead of calling Nick, Donna, or Mitch, I thumbed through my favorite pictures featuring me and the man I thought I knew. Melancholy memories flooded in, chased by longing and regret. Why did everything change after Del and I got married? Why had I put up with his abuse for so many years? I wanted someone to love and cherish me. But it wasn’t Del. It had never been Del. That was clear now.

  The raging presence beside me seemed to soften as my sorrow grew, inviting me to lean into it, to find my comfort in its muddy shadow. I returned to the sofa, and the darkness wrapped around me like a shroud.

  I wept.

  Del had chosen someone else. I clenched my jaw. Animal sounds growled in my throat. Would he be happier without me? Worse yet, happier with someone else? How long had he been cheating on me? My eyes latched onto the honeymoon picture in my phone’s gallery—the handsome, dimpled face of the man I thought I’d loved. He’d left haunting memories and a thousand broken promises in his wake. The crushing existence of his mistress mocked me.

  The dark presence pulled at me. I still held the pistol in my right hand, and I pointed it up, admiring its sleek lines. The gun was one of the few standbys I could still call my own, and I respected the solid bond between us. At least the cold steel had not abandoned me.

  The shadow offered me glimpses of my lonely, new world—disturbing images of myself embittered, friendless, and alone. It offered me two choices: succumb to the darkness and live in subjection to an obscenely evil presence, or continue to resist it. The notion of resistance felt like being battered by gale-force winds while carrying an impossibly heavy load down a rickety dock toward an ocean-liner-shaped mirage. Heading out to unknown seas.

  A craving bubbled up from deep within me—steely and insistent. If this was my new life, I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t choose it. Not for another fifty years. Not for another fifty minutes. Death beckoned like a soft bed, and I sat there, silent and still. What would I do next?

  A blissful release and quiet pleasure would be mine if only I allowed my gun’s barrel to nestle against the roof of my mouth. The dark being wrapped itself around me. I welcomed its burn.

  I slipped the safety off and peered into the chamber of the pistol, relishing the sound and smell of it. The silvery-copper bullet lay there, eager and open-hearted, waiting for my command. I raised the stout barrel and rested it on my chin, squeezing my eyes shut. Was there a glimmer of hope anywhere within? One good reason to live, just one, and I’d be okay for another day. The dark presence growled around me, urging me to pull the trigger.

  Samantha’s sunlit figure appeared. She was holding Nick’s hand and Gino’s hand. All of them glowed with a nuclear joy as warmth flooded my heart. Stone shields slammed down like a theatre curtain. Samantha was replaced with tawdry visions of Del and his new woman, drowning out hope, extinguishing any remaining sparks of joy. Demonic shadows clung to both figures. My gut sloshed. Goosebumps ran up and down my arms. The rank odor of rotten eggs assaulted my nose, mouth, and lungs.

  You’re not wanted here. You’d be better off dead. You hate it here. You’re miserable. Come to me, and I will give you rest. Just one little sting is all you’ll feel. Come on, let’s get this over with.

  My breathing stopped as I obediently opened my mouth just wide enough to welcome the pistol home. The metallic promise of the barrel rose to my lips, but I paused just before going all the way. The grotesqueries swirled on. I put my left hand over my eyes and shut them tight, gun poised and ready in my right.

  A shimmering image broke through the black haze. A majestic, white horse thundered toward me—galloping, throwing its handsome head up into the clear-blue sky behind him. He whinnied at me.

  Hope emerged, eclipsing my pain.

  I leaned into the vision as the powerful animal pounded closer. He extended his long, beautiful neck to me in greeting, nostrils flaring. I could almost feel his warm, sweet breath caressing my face.

  What am I doing? I withdrew the barrel and released the magazine into my hand in one proficient motion. I pushed myself away from the dark presence and rose to my feet. The brilliance of the moonlight through the kitchen window melted away my anxiety.

  I secured my weapon in the gun safe embedded in the wall near the chimney. With an urge to go riding, I marched to the hall closet for my hunt boots and riding pants, then folded them by the front door. Maybe I’d have time to hit the barn tomorrow after my stint with Kira the shrink.

  I should’ve gone to church with Gino tonight. Two powerful forces warred within me, shoving aside anything I knew about grace and victory. Yes, I should’ve gone to church tonight.

  “You have such beautiful skin.” Heat rolled up my sternum to my throat. A taxi ride and five long minutes of small talk with Kira the Shrink had brought me to that pathetic statement. Did it sound as weird to her as it did in my head?

  The two large mugs of coffee I’d poured down my gullet earlier this morning to compensate for my beer fest last night weren’t helping. Tension snaked its way up my neck and dug into my forehead. Both temples pounded, and nausea churned in the pit of my stomach. My forehead felt like a lighthouse, blaring through the night, drumming out my secret over and over: Del left me! Del left me! Del left me for another woman!

  I sat stone-still on Kira’s sleek, leather couch. Could she see the truth shining through the surface of my anger? I hated small talk.

  “Thank you. If only it were half as beautiful as yours, I wouldn’t think of bothering with
these silly creams and such.” Her faux, warm laughter was followed by the slightest shrug of her shoulders and a perfectly timed, breathless sigh. “Alas, I treat myself to only the finest moisturizers, and that, twice a day. Who’re we kidding? Just between us girls—three times a day, most days. But don’t tell my therapist.”

  She leaned forward and issued a conspiratorial wink. Her vibe seemed off today. Most days I didn’t like it, and I didn’t like her. But hey, I had issues, so I let it slide. It was probably yet another manifestation of my well-developed denial system working overtime. She seemed odder than usual today, though, even for her. I probably couldn’t blame it on my hangover. She kept turning a small, round jar in her right hand, as if the green glass housed a mysterious power.

  She lightly tossed it from hand to hand and turned her attention from the jar to me. Was she angry? Glad to see me? I couldn’t tell. “I’d offer you some, but it would be completely wasted on you and an insult to boot. Your beauty is equaled only by your valor. Now, which is it that brings you here today?”

  She switched back and forth from super-annoying-borderline-psycho in my book, to best friend, to grandmotherly therapist at lightning speed. Trying to catch me off guard? Trigger some response? Who knew?

  I wasn’t even sure why I was there myself. Maybe that was the point. “Yeah, well, you got a call, didn’t you?”

  She smiled, crossed her legs, reached for her computer tablet, and sat back in her chair, all in one smooth motion. Her skirt rode up well past her knees, and I compared my own shaky demeanor to her polished confidence. I was definitely going to reward myself with some very fine chocolate once this visit was over. Maybe some red wine to go with it.

  “Jo, Jo, Jo, what are we going to do with you? Your humility amuses and impresses. But come now, we must have some feelings to discuss together today, do we not?”