by Joe Zito
And to make things even worse, a week later Detective Monroe had told Mark and Susan that Amy’s finger prints were found all over the knives used to kill Angel with. They didn’t speak to one another for two weeks after that.
10:15 turned into 10:30 and in the midst of her daydreams of sadness, Susan’s mind drifted back to her first visit with Angel.
1976
Susan watched her husband drive down their long gravel drive way in his pickup truck the morning of March 27th, 1976. The past two years since her daughter died had been the most treacherous and painful years (so far) of her life. At least every other day Susan would sit quietly in her room and cry to herself as she flipped through photo album after photo album of her daughter when she was a baby and then a toddler and then a sassy pre-teen. In most of these pictures was Heather’s best friend Angel Larson, who lived in a similar white farmhouse just up the road from the Smith’s.
Four year old Amy Smith was sitting on the floor; playing with some Legos Susan had set out to keep her occupied while she was on the phone. Amy had started pre-school and went at eleven a.m. until three in the afternoon.
Susan couldn’t lie to herself any longer. As sick as it made her, she missed Angel, even though she was convicted and sentenced to life at the Indiana State Mental Hospital for murdering her best friend and Susan’s daughter Heather Smith two years ago. Angel was twenty four now. Heather would have been the same age. The idea of going to see Angel had been on Susan’s mind for about a year now. She couldn’t help it. She had gotten word that Angel’s parents had stopped visiting her and ultimately ended up disowning her. They just couldn’t handle the fact that their daughter was a monster that slaughtered three people. But Susan also knew how it felt to be abandoned too. When she was sixteen she found out she was pregnant with Heather. Her mother gave her a hellish tongue lashing and a few good smacks across the face for good measure, all because she had decided, in their eyes, to ruin her life. Against her parent’s wishes, Susan moved in with her then boyfriend and father of their unborn child, Mark. It was a dingy apartment in downtown Bludenhale that was above the local drug store. Eventually Mark earned a hefty wage increase at the factory he was working and they were able to move out. They settled into a cozy, white farmhouse on about fourteen acres of farmland. He began farming and Susan decided she loved being a mother and raised Heather in their little white house out in the country. Susan has lived there ever since.
Susan eyed her granddaughter playing on the floor, and nervously bit at her bottom lip as she waited to talk to a staff member at the I.S.M.H. about visiting hours. She thought of the first time she met Angel. Heather was five years old and after watching her daddy drive off to work for the day, she and her young mother went outside to enjoy the mild spring morning. Susan was sitting on the porch, flipping through some women’s magazine and Heather was riding her bike all by herself in the driveway when another little girl came riding along down their road on her bike. The first thing Susan noticed was Angel’s black hair flowing behind her as she was riding her bike and her mother trying to keep up with her yelling, “Slow down Angelica!”
Even though Susan was a good distance away she could sense the meanness in the woman’s voice when she yelled. She thought it was funny how she never noticed her neighbor just until this moment. Susan had no idea there was another little girl about the same age as her daughter, who lived so close. She stood up and started walking down the driveway and waved her hand at Heather to follow her. Heather was reluctant and shook her head ‘no’ because she was so bashful.
“Baby, look, there’s a girl about your age. Come with me and say hi.”
Reluctantly, Heather rode her bike slowly next to her mother as they walked to the end of the driveway to introduce themselves. They made it to their mailbox just as Angel and her mom came along. To Susan, it seemed as though Angel’s mom was just going to keep walking and not be friendly and say hello. Susan took the initiative and spoke first. She waved and smiled and said, “Hi there, beautiful day isn’t it.”
Angel’s mom forced a smile just to be decent but didn’t say anything. Susan felt her face turning warm because she suddenly felt awkward. She was just a kid herself at twenty one and in her mind thought that this is what parents do. They introduce themselves to their neighbors and kids. She cleared her throat nervously and said, “I’m Susan Smith.” She almost extended her hand to Angel’s mom but thought better of it. She wished her husband was here with her. Angel’s mom forced another smile. “I’m Kathy, nice to meet you. This is my daughter Angelica. Say hi Angelica. Go on now. Don’t be bashful.” Susan could hear that meanness again in her voice. Little Angel held her head down with her black hair covering her face.
“Well hi Angelica,” Susan said. Angel didn’t respond. She was too shy to even look at Susan.
“You don’t talk too much do sweetie.” Susan put her arm around Heather and said, “This is my daughter Heather.”
Angel lazily threw her hand up at Heather and quietly as a mouse said, “Hi.”
“Susan, are your parents’ home?” Kathy suddenly said.
With a confused look on her face, Susan almost answered her by telling her no and that her parent’s were either at work or out running errands, but then she realized what Kathy meant and that was, there is no way that little girl can be yours, you’re too young to have a five year old. Susan guessed that Angel’s mom was maybe thirty or thirty one. The wildfire inside Susan’s mind was burning hot and heavy. She could feel herself trembling with anger at this woman’s assumption of her. Of course you would think I still live at home because I look so damn young and so hot. So I have a kid. She’s five and I’m twenty one. Do the damn math lady. So I got fucked when I was sixteen, but I sure had a lot of fun in the backseat of my boyfriend’s car, bouncing my little ass up and down on him like some wild whore in heat. You look like you haven’t fucked in five years! Stop it Susan, be nice.
The silence was unbearable. It was a great feat for Susan to hold her tongue and she was about to speak her mind but then Heather unknowingly came to her rescue when she said to Angel, “Do you wanna play?”
The sound of a woman’s voice on the other line broke Susan’s memory of the past. With a crack in her voice, she nervously asked when visiting hours were. The woman kindly told her and then Susan said thank you and hung up the phone. She set the phone down and had a sick feeling in her stomach about what she was going to do. She stood and looked at Amy singing to herself and playing with the Legos on the living room floor. All those Sunday dinners and weekend bbqs and sleep overs and Angel coming in through the backdoor to the kitchen without ever knocking every day after school with that cute, bright smile of hers, and me feeling as if I had two daughters…..it just can’t be. I knew that little girl as well as my own daughter…..it just can’t be……...it wasn’t me, sshh Angel.
Susan’s concentration broke when Amy let out a giggle when her tower of Legos fell over. Susan did the obligatory look of surprise with her hands on her hips and said, “Did you knock those blocks down?”
Amy giggled even more when she heard her grandmother’s voice and when she saw the smile on her face.
“We better get movin’ baby girl, c’mon.”
Amy jumped up and began singing and dancing. Susan froze where she was standing when she heard the familiar tune her granddaughter was singing. Willie, willie, won’t go home. “Willwee song grandma. Angel sing the willee song.”
A lump formed in Susan’s throat and she almost broke down right there in her kitchen hearing Amy say those words. Quietly, with a strained voice she said, “Ok Heath….let’s get you to school.”
Susan grabbed her long, brown trench coat and scarf and took Amy by the hand and left the house.
It was a cool March morning, but the weather forecast called for a high of seventy one degrees. She drove down 600 w. going a steady forty miles per hour. Amy didn�
��t have to be at school for at least an half an hour. Susan was such a nervous wreck about what she was getting ready to do, that she didn’t want to rush things. What in god’s name are thinking Susan? Her heart was racing like a locomotive in her chest. She puffed at her cigarette and blew white smoke out her partially cracked window all while nervously glancing in the rear view mirror at Amy in the back seat, talking to herself about rainbows and how much she loved them. A pang of guilt formed in Susan’s stomach at the thought of her accidentally calling Amy by her daughter’s name. Why did I do that? Amy hadn’t really noticed anyway but did give her grandma a confused look for a moment. She looks so much like Heather. A cold chill that felt haunted crept up Susan’s spine at this thought. She turned on the radio to try and distract her thoughts of the days coming events. It didn’t help.
Amy was greeted by a daycare helper when they entered the room at her daycare which was decked out in cut out flowers and smiley faced suns. “Bye, grandma,” Amy squealed out and gave Susan a hard almost neck breaking hug. Susan loved those the best. “See you after a while, ok, baby.” Susan walked out of the colorful and noisy room, feeling a hint of sadness at leaving Amy there and very unsure about the drive to the Indiana State Mental Hospital, three counties over.
Just turn around Susan. You don’t have to do this. I just can’t stop thinking about Angel. I know you shouldn’t even give two shits about whether she’s dead or alive but I miss her and it makes me sick. You don’t miss her Susan, you miss your daughter and Angel was her best friend. Mark can never know about this. Great, I’m a liar now. That ain’t gonna look good when I’m floatin’ up to them white clouds. Who are you kidding? I’m not going to heaven. I got pregnant when I was sixteen and been fucking almost every day since then, but not lately though. Ok, so Mark and I fucked last night. Jesus just turn around Susan. Goddamn small town, if I would have never found out about Angel’s parent’s disowning her, I wouldn’t be wasting my gas right now. Admit it Susan, you miss her. Dammit! It just can’t be. It just can’t. She was so nice and always good mannered and quiet. Girl couldn’t hurt a fly. God, I have to pee now, shouldn’t have drank all that coffee this morning. Shit! Here’s my turn. Just turn around. It’s too late.
Susan was unsuccessful in convincing herself that going to see Angel was a bad idea. She turned into the parking lot of the I.S.M.H. She let the car sit there idling for a moment as Elvis Presley played on the radio. With a slow movement of her hand, she turned off the car. The parking lot wasn’t that full which made her feel a little at ease knowing there was possibly less of a chance of someone seeing her. She knew she was risking everything by undergoing this almost self-destructive act of visiting the girl who murdered her daughter. Susan loved her country home and the smallness of Bludenhale, but on the inside she had a rebellious spirit and couldn’t stand the small town wives of Bludenhale. She was a small town gal with a big city heart and never ran along with that small town crowd of closed minded thinkers. She even gave this new form of music called punk a listen because she overheard two middle aged hags standing in line at the grocery store talking about how this music was corrupting their sons. Susan thought most it was crap, but she did like the Ramones. “Fuck them anyway if they see me. They didn’t lose a daughter. Still, she put on her silk scarf and sunglasses and then broke out into a laughing fit when she saw how ridiculous she looked in the rear view mirror. It felt good to laugh though. She hasn’t laughed this way since her husband brought home that stupid Polaroid camera, convincing her to take some dirty pictures with it and of course she did.
When she was done laughing, she pulled herself together, knowing that the situation was serious. What will I say to her? What will she say or do? She put those two questions aside, opened the door and got out, but not without forgetting the package sitting next to her on the passenger side seat, wrapped up in a brown grocery bag.
The walk from her car to the main entrance of the I.S.M.H. seemed like a long walk in hell. She was still pondering the thought of forgetting the whole thing, turning around and getting back in her car and driving away, back to Bludenhale as fast as she could. But there was no turning back now. She was standing in the middle of the lobby before she knew it. Her heart was racing. She could feel her palms getting moist with sweat. Just calm down ‘ol gal. Main desk, where is the damn main desk? Her eyes widened under her large, dark brown sunglasses when she spotted the main desk, where a middle aged woman was sitting, popping popcorn in her mouth and playing a crossword puzzle out of the newspaper. Bravely, Susan walked over to the desk. She glanced at both sides of her as she made her nervous stride to the woman. Susan was positive someone was going to see her and then she would never be able to show her face in town again. A quick flash of a daydream came alive in her mind when she saw a giant newspaper coming at her with a large headline that read, local woman of slain daughter, befriends daughter’s killer, shows sympathy.
“Can I help you ma’am?” The woman’s voice startled Susan out of her daydream of guilt. She was speechless for a few moments, almost as if she forgot how to speak.
“Ma’am,” the woman said again.
You better say something Susy or they’ll lock you up with the rest of the crazies.
“Uh…um,” Jesus Susan, are you fourteen or forty?
The woman behind the desk had a genuine look of concern on her face as if the person standing in front of her might very well be a mental case.
I can’t say her name. Panic settled over Susan.
“Ma’am, are you all right?”
Susan shook her head quickly to let the woman know she was all right, she just couldn’t seem to talk at the moment. What’s wrong Susan? Cat got your tongue. Can’t say the name of the girl that sucked all the blood out of your daughter?
“Uh….Lar,”
Almost sweetcakes, but no cigar; c’mon Susan, this lady wants to get back to her fucking crossword puzzle and popcorn party in her mouth.
The woman’s mouth was agape in awe and her eyes were focusing on the phone next to her hand, which meant she was about to call her supervisor to let him know that one the crazies got loose.
But then Susan said, “Larson.”
As she walked down the hall of the second floor, she couldn’t believe that the woman bought the story she told her about being Angel’s neighbor lady and that she use to babysit her. It was a lie but not entirely a lie, since Susan actually was neighbors with the Larsons and she did in fact watch and take care of Angel on many occasions when she was younger. But of course she wasn’t going to say that she knew Angel better than her own mother did and that she was really like a second daughter. Susan was amazed how she had made it this far. They never asked her any personal questions or even patted her down or checked inside the brown grocery bag she was carrying. Earlier when she was on the phone, they didn’t even tell her that she needed to schedule a visit.
It was the seventies.
Despite all this, she had to admit that she was very nervous and then she felt the pressure down below. She found the nearest ladies room and quickly went inside where she let out what felt like a gallon of pee, that to her smelled of coffee and cigarettes and maybe even a little bit of her husband from last night. She flushed the toilet, washed her hands and peeked out the door before exiting. She continued her journey down the beige carpeted hallway, walking past a few doctors in white coats; some smiling at her but never asking who she was or what she was doing. Then she came to the door with gold, rectangular plate attached to it with the number 615 engraved on it. Susan felt almost weightless as she stood in front of the door; her mind running rampant with thought of abandoning this stupid idea and just going home. But there were other thoughts too, like how she couldn’t get over how nice the facility was or at least seemed to be. She had pictured a dark and dreary grey building with no pictures and jail type cells holding schizophrenic patients urinating all over themselves and babbling incoherent mush from their mouths. She thought maybe
there was a section of the hospital that was like that perhaps, but this neck of the woods wasn’t it.
She took a deep breath and let it out. Just remember why you’re here, she thought and then she heard a woman’s voice from behind her.
“That’s Ms. Larson’s room. Are you visiting her today?” A black nurse wearing an all-white uniform and white shoes startled Susan. She felt a cold chill go up her spine because she knew she had been caught. She turned around quickly at the sound of the nurse’s voice like she was caught red handed, doing something illegal. No law against visiting the girl who murdered your daughter, Susan. The nurse’s face was pleasant and posed no threat to Susan.
“Yes, I….I’m her neighbor.” She stammered for the right thing to say. She cringed internally at what she said.
“Oh, how wonderful. Ms. Larson doesn’t really get too many visitors,” the nurse said in a joyful tone but then suddenly cleared her throat and looked away as if she had said something wrong. Susan notice the sudden change in the nurse, as if she knew something she wasn’t supposed to talk about. You know Angel’s dirty little secret don’t you Ms. Anita; the one that involves that long line of men outside her door every Saturday night. That’s a long gone month old memory now though. Bloody pete was the mastermind behind that game but they fired his ass and Angel’s all alone now with nothing but her hands to keep her company.
Susan realized that the nurse wasn’t much older than she was.
“Are you ready to go in?’ The nurse asked.
“Sure,” Susan said, sounding unsure.
“Let me just check in with Ms. Larson.”
