“You don’t want to talk about Lola?” A question, to which, of course, Natalie knew the answer, but wanted to hear the truth out loud.
“We want to talk about Lola too,” Regina answered.
“We need to talk about Lola,” Nikki joined the conversation.
“Of course. What is there to talk about?” Natalie threw her palms face up into the air and spoke as if she were exasperated by a conversation that had barely begun. For a moment, her eyes were drawn back to the duffle bag that guarded her one last connection to Lola, the only way that she could be with her.
“What do you think happened to her?” Regina asked.
“Do you think that DeFrank had anything to do with it?” Nikki asked.
“Anything is possible,” Natalie answered.
“Well why did he bury her so close to the highway? Wouldn’t he have buried her closer to the house? From what I understand, he became a recluse. Hardly anyone ever visited him. It would have been a much better idea to bury her closer to the house or not on his property at all,” Regina theorized.
“Maybe he didn’t want to have a corpse too close to his house so he buried her as far away as possible, but still on his land so that he did not have to feel like he was giving her up. Psychopaths are funny that way.” Natalie guessed with a dull tone that inferred an irrefragable indifference. She tolerated the conversation only to pacify the two women’s needs to reason something that was utterly unreasonable.
Both Regina and Nikki glanced at one another, the heinous paintings on the wall and nervously down to the floor, anywhere but at Natalie, who had become beautiful, but frightening.
Regina’s forehead creased with frown lines.
“I don’t know, I guess I just think that is too easy, it’s too obvious. I feel like we’re missing something.”
“Why do you care so much?” Natalie’s anger was now apparent. “Why is this so important now?”
After a long period of silence where Regina took several moments to contemplate the very question that Natalie asked.
Why do I need this so much?
“I don’t know,” she finally admitted to herself as much as to the girls she sat with now.
“… But the question should not be why I care so much; the question is why don’t you care at all?” Regina snapped back, surprised by the spitefulness that had risen in her so quickly.
Natalie’s eyes narrowed in sheer rage.
“I don’t care?” She spoke in a controlled manner, with a climbing rhythmic melody that foreshadowed the coming climax.
“I don’t care?” She repeated lifting her index finger like a gun and pointing it directly at Regina. “You are the ones who don’t care, neither of you.” Her voice dripped with bitter resentment.
“What are you talking about?” Nikki asked.
“I cared about her as much as you did, if not more. I cared about all of you and you abandoned me at the time when we needed each other most. You two left me! We were supposed to do everything together. We were all supposed to go college together. You, you, me, and Lola.” She pointed her finger at Nikki, then Regina, and to herself to drive her point.
“… But then Lola left us, she abandoned us. After that, you two just threw me away.” She looked at Nikki. “You decided to go off to state.” Next she pointed to Regina. “And you ran off to Texas and it was just little Natalie left, like some charity case.” Tears were pouring over the brims of her eyes.
“We never thought of you as a charity case,” Nikki assured her with an expression wrung with confusion.
“Natalie, it was never like that. We were all, always friends. After everything, it was just too painful to be around you guys,” Regina explained.
“Well, who in the hell told me?” Natalie was out of her seat screaming now. “I went away to college alone and I cried myself to sleep almost every night for the first year. I waited for the phone to ring, hoping it was one of my friends calling to say that they were coming to see me, that they were alive, that they gave a shit about me at all, calling to say ANYTHING…and guess what?” she asked sarcastically. “… Anybody?” she asked. “… No answers, OK then, let me tell you. The phone never rang.” The hysterical girl finished. “IT NEVER RANG!” She spit demonically.
Regina flew into a rage that pulled her off the couch. “I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU!” Regina was disappointed to hear herself yelling.
“Please stop …” Nikki jumped up from the couch and inserted herself between the two women.
“GET OUT!” Natalie fumed in a wicked shout.
“Natalie …” Regina immediately calmed herself and tried to reason with the life battered woman that used to be her friend.
“I said get out! I don’t ever want to see either of you again,” she warned in a low moan.
With no other choice, Regina and Nikki were forced from the house.
Natalie crossed to the couch, grabbed the black bustier top that lay over the top of the duffle bag, shoved it deep inside, zipped the bag, and threw it behind the couch. Staunchly, she stood, arms folded in the middle of the room studying her paintings through the curtain of tears that blurred her vision.
Regina hated leaving the house that way, but she could not deny the relief she felt being outside, breathing fresh air again. The wind rustled the naked trees and blew the leaves to new and different places.
“What was that?” Nikki asked as if she had been there, but not understood anything that had taken place.
“I don’t know, Nikki. I guess she is right, in a way. We did abandon her…we abandoned each other,” Regina told her friend.
“Yeah, but…it was like we all needed to be apart from each other, I think. It was just too much to handle,” Nikki confirmed.
“Natalie was always the weaker one. She needed us and we just walked away,” Regina said, feeling disappointed as she looked up and focused on the sun that was taking on a burnt orange shade as it began its creeping decent from the highest point in the sky.
“I’m going home. My mother is probably worried,” Regina said, not taking her eyes off the mesmerizing image of the sun.
“Me too. My dad and I have a standing dinner date on Thursday nights. You wanna grab dinner with us?” Nikki invited.
“Nah, I’m sure my mom is cooking, she’ll be devastated if I eat anywhere else and besides, this day has been exhausting. I just want to lie down.”
“All right, see ya later.”
“Yeah, later.” The young women said their farewells before taking off in opposite directions.
Regina’s brain was much too small for all of the thoughts that were now fighting for space inside her head. After an entire day of riding the bike, her legs were dead weight and she felt every cycle in each muscle of her legs and thighs. The air was fragrant with the spices of Midwestern home cooking that were wafting through open windows and screen doors and settling perfectly into the fall evening. She wondered what her mother was cooking; focusing her mind on any trivial detail was better than thinking more about Natalie.
Barron’s face came to mind once again. She smiled at the thought of the thin mustache and beard that he had grown on his face that did not make him look older, but only made him look like a young man who wanted to look older. His horsey white smile made her heart beat faster and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him after all of this time.
Main Street buzzed with the excited energy that was typical of a small town Thursday evening. It was not quite the weekend, but close enough, still, to celebrate with the rewarding movie rental or ice cream outing. Just up ahead a girl standing under the awning of the video store caught Regina’s eye. Regina made a concentrated effort to watch the path of her bike while still keeping an eye on the mysterious stranger. The sun was beginning a gradual dip at the back of the shadowed girl and her silhouette was the only thing visible. She was about five five, with long, straight, dark hair. Regina’s gaze was more drawn to the girl when she saw that it appeared the girl was wa
tching her too. Still she was unable to make out the subtle details of the girl’s face, but she could see that it followed her as she approached. Closer now, Regina strained, desperate to see the girl’s face but it was obscured by the shadows and was just another mask, in and out of visibility in the moving parade of faces that dotted the bustling sidewalk. Regina tried to keep her eyes on the road ahead of her, but at a certain angle, a shimmering sparkle of the romantic sunlight fell upon the curious girl and she caught the quickest sight of the dazzling, dancing eyes as they burned into her soul in all of their enigmatic glory.
It was Lola.
10
“Lola” she burst, no longer able to dam the damned name in her throat. Regina’s feet drug along the asphalt and she let the bike clamor to the ground. She looked down, clumsily tripping over the inconvenient bar that stretched across the middle of the bike. As soon as she was sure of her balance, she looked up to find that the girl had vanished again. She stepped over the bike taking several eager steps toward the place where she had spotted her friend.
“Lola,” she called her name again in a queasy low whisper, not wanting anyone in the vicinity to know that she was seeing a person that everyone knew was dead. Lola was gone. Regina grabbed her chest while searching all of the faces that buzzed up and down the street, in and out of the shops, but she was gone. She backed away, leaving her eyes on the place where she had last seen Lola, when suddenly she felt burly arms close in on her tightly. Regina spun around with a startled squeal.
“Mr. Flowers.” She recognized the huge hairy man on sight. Mr. Flowers was the town butcher and owned the butcher shop on Main Street where her mother still got fresh meat every Sunday for dinner.
“You OK?” bellowed the man who spoke with the rasp of a person that had trouble catching his breath for all of the extra body weight he was carrying. “I saw you fall off of your bike. You OK? You look familiar, do I know you?” he asked with a grimace as if he wanted to smile but was unable.
“Regina…Regina Dean,” she stammered, picking up the bicycle.
“Regina,” he said, looking at her intently, studying the features that had been passed on to her by her mother, her oval-shaped brown eyes and full lips.
“Yeah, that’s right. How are you?” he said as he looked her over again, up and down as if to make sure she was OK. Regina’s gaze wandered to the hands that gripped her arms and she scowled at the fingernails caked with dark purple dirt. She felt her stomach flip when she realized that the butcher’s fingernails were not caked with dirt, but dry blood. She tried hard not to allow the disgust that was forming in the hallows of her abdomen reveal themselves in her rich features, but they had already begun to show before Regina could reel them back in and cover them with artificial delight. He recognized the reaction.
“Still working at the shop, but a man has got to eat!” He laughed heartily, pointing back at the OC Diner where he had been having a quick bite before returning to his shop. Regina breathed a deep sigh of relief.
“Yes, of course.” She laughed awkwardly as she mounted the bike unsteadily.
“How is your family?” she managed to get out.
“They’re surviving.” He laughed again.
“Bye, Mr. Flowers.”
“Bye.” She heard him say as she began pedaling fast down the street ignoring the burning sensation that pumped through her thighs.
Mr. and Mrs. Dean were sitting in the living room in front of the TV when Regina returned home. The TV trays were decked out in front of the them with a glass of soda, the can right next to it, white napkins and two plates of food. Regina rolled her eyes at the sight of the space heater that her father always used to save money on heating bills.
“I made chicken!” Her mother raised an enthusiastic eyebrow along with a chicken leg when she saw her daughter standing aimlessly inside the front door. Regina loved her mother’s chicken, but after the events of her day, she wished that she could just crawl into bed, curl into the fetal position, and pull the thick quilt over her head, but it was much too early for that. Regina could not help but smile, acknowledging that she had not seen her parents in years and she knew that they wanted only to spend time with her.
“OK, just let me wash my hands,” she told her mother as she ran up the stairs and into the bathroom. Regina washed her hands thoroughly in the way that all nurses did even when they were not working. She grabbed a rag from the towel closet and soaked it in cool water. After placing the chilled rag on her face, she sat down on the toilet lid.
“You have got to calm down, Regina. It is just your imagination,” she spoke to herself. “It is just your imagination,” she repeated while she studied her beguiling reflection in the mirror.
But what if it isn’t? What is happening? What does she want from me? Maybe she’s angry because I left her, just like I left Natalie…just like I left everyone or maybe coming back here is just making me lose my mind, just I like I feared.
The barrage of thoughts was driving her mad and she could feel her heart beginning to pound through her shirt. Again, she wet the rag, rung out all of the water, placed it on her face and tried not to think of anything that she had heard or seen that day.
“Regina,” she heard her mother call. Startled, Regina accidentally let the rag fall to the floor. “Your food will get cold.”
“OK, Mom,” she called back. Regina hung the towel up, walked down the hall to her room where she took off her shoes before bouncing down the stairs, grabbing her plate out of the oven, and sitting down in front of the TV with her parents to watch, if her adolescent memories served her correctly, reruns of her father’s favorite mystery show.
That night sleeping was easy, especially after the long day and the heavy dinner that pressed her lower into the mattress. Regina slipped into unconsciousness almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Shrill lifeless cries drove into Regina’s ears as her dead body rose to life in one hard jerk. She reached out aimlessly pressing her hand wildly in the air. Someone had set the alarm clock and she woke to the radio playing classical piano music at the height of a particularly dramatic piece. Finally, she felt the small clock under her hand and pounded it angrily against the nightstand so that the music would stop. The house was silent again except for the symphonic chirping of the crickets that buzzed through the walls of the house as if they were in superior quality surround sound. She laid her head back on the pillow and up through the incessant chirping she heard the sounds of the music emerging once again and filling her ears. Blinded by darkness, Regina felt around the nightstand, but soon realized that it was no longer coming from the radio. She sat up in bed listening intently for several moments to make sure that the sound was not coming from inside her own head. When she was sure the music was produced by a source outside the confused brain that had been causing her so much trouble lately, she followed the alluring melody out of her room and into the drafty hall. The light in her parents’ room was off. She stepped lightly so as not to activate any of the creaks, which she knew by heart from the old wooden staircase. At the bottom of the stairs she flipped on the light in the kitchen, looked around, and then went back out and into the living room where she stared at a piano. No one was seated there and the keys did not move, but the soft melodious keystrokes compelled her further still. Regina allowed herself to be summoned out the front door. Her jersey nightgown fluttered in the night wind. Down the forsaken street, she followed the song that called to her. Regina was not sure what led her, but with every step, she knew that she was closer to the origin. The young woman made her way down the middle of the wide street, looking at every house on the right and left as if she had never seen any of them before. Tonight they were all foreign to her. In every window an invisible entity watched her; she could feel the eyes slithering all over her body like poisonous snakes, waiting for the perfect moment to sink their venom into her flesh. Everything on the street was bathed in gray, with just enough light from the white moon to allow the tric
ky shadows to stalk her stealthily up the block as she allowed her crooked heart to lead the way. At the end of the block, there was a house with a light burning in every window and the music was louder with every step she took toward the house of light. Regina stood cemented into the sidewalk for what seemed like hours on the misty street and she listened to the music that came from inside Lola’s house before she unlatched the rickety gate. In a flicker of movement, Regina looked up to see the drapes in one of the front windows swinging. Someone was watching her.
“Lola,” she said as she felt an arcane grin creep across her face. The door of the lit house swung open slowly, the music beckoned to her and Regina climbed the porch and stepped inside. She proceeded through the front hall that opened up into the living room and there behind the grand piano, she saw a shadow that appeared to be hard at work with fingers fluttering wildly across the keys. Regina tilted her head to one side to get a better view of the piano player but was still able to see nothing but an unidentifiable figure. She crossed the living room to a place where she could have full view of the person and she stumbled-back grasping, spread fingers over her mouth as if that would keep in the terrible gasp that escaped her. Tiny, black patent leather Mary Jane shoes, covered in filth, swung below the piano bench not quite touching the ground. It was the corpse child from Natalie’s painting in the early stages of decay, her little body bent awkwardly over the piano, her wrinkled fingers mapping a song on the white piano keys. The purple velvet dress had become tattered and her white stockings were browned with the dirt that covered her in death. Her head, empty of eyes used to see the world. The little girl’s song ended and her fingers came to a rest. The dead skin on her neck wrinkled as she turned her head in a slow, deliberate manner until the eyeless sockets in her head were trained on Regina who was beginning to gag. With no eyes, she stared, the two black gaping abysses threatening to pull Regina across their event horizon, sucking her into an unknown blackness from which there was no escape. Slowly the decrepit child slipped one leg after the other onto the ground and stood in a bent fashion as if her bones were no longer in their proper places, some slumping into unnaturally limp positions while others were fixed awkwardly at amazing jutting angles. Everything was wrong. With calm calculating steps, Regina backed away, toward the door and with every step she took back the corpse girl took one step forward. Within seconds, Regina conceded to a neck-breaking bolt toward the door with the dead thing sprinting behind her in giddy laughter. Regina flew through the front door, uncontrollably sliding across the leaf-covered porch, grabbing the banister to steady herself. Dashing through the gate and out onto the street, she could still hear the fast tap of little black patent leather shoes close behind her at an unnatural speed. The frightened girl was running down the gloomy street, screaming for someone to help her, but the night did not stir, no light illuminated inside a window, the tranquil trees watched without a word, and the moon was silent and no help at all.
Black Water Tales: The Secret Keepers Page 11
