The Darkest Lullaby

by Jonathan Janz

  He swiveled around, his face blocking her view of the typewriter.

  “Need something?” he asked.

  “Is it going better?” she said, nodding toward the typewriter.

  He shrugged noncommittally and continued staring her in that same annoyed way.

  She hugged herself, rubbed her arms to warm them. “I was surprised you left me,” she said. “Did you plan on coming back?”

  A sarcastic grunt. “Don’t thank me or anything.”

  He returned to his typing.

  “Chris?”

  The keys went on clacking. “Yes?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Make a list of stuff you need.”

  “I don’t need to make a list,” she said. “I need to see Dr. Stone.”

  “For what?” Still typing.

  “To see if the baby’s all right. Going through what I did last night, being outside in the rain…”

  “All the more reason for you to be in bed right now.”

  “Will you take me to town?”

  No answer. His fingers flew over the keys.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll drive myself.”

  “Ellie,” he said, swiveling to face her. “You need to rest, not hike all the way back to the car.” He smiled without humor. “Not to mention the creek being up. With all that rain last night, it’s probably ten feet deep.”

  She desperately wanted to be furious, but an irrational fear was growing in her that the Chris she knew had somehow been replaced by a new creature, one who gazed at her with dead, unfeeling eyes.

  She said, “You act like you had nothing to do with what happened.”

  “I see,” he said. He tented his fingers with professorial smugness. “So I’m the one who dragged you outside during a raging thunderstorm. I’m the one who made you go to sleep in the lane.”

  “Chris, I—”

  “No?” he interrupted. “But I was the one who carried your ass back to the house.”

  “You left me last night.”

  “You deserved to be left.”

  Ellie recoiled. “What’s happened to you?” she asked and hated herself for the break in her voice. “It’s like you don’t care about me anymore.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he said, rolling his eyes. As his chin rose, she noticed something she hadn’t previously. There was another set of claw marks, this one beginning just at the collar line, a few inches below his Adam’s apple.

  “Who did that to you?” she asked in a tight voice.

  He made a contemptuous sound, regarded the ceiling as though he couldn’t believe he was being asked the question.

  “Well?” she prompted.

  “Well, what?”

  “Your neck. It looks like someone scratched the hell out of you.”

  He grew very still, something happening in his eyes she didn’t like or understand. Leave it, the eyes told her. Don’t you dare go there, Ellie.

  The hell she wouldn’t. “Take off your shirt.”

  A lascivious grin darkened his face. “You in the mood?”

  “I want to see your skin.”

  “Why don’t you just say it, El?”

  Ellie swallowed. “I think you were with someone last night.”

  His grin grew. “Someone?”

  “A woman,” she said. “Take off your shirt, Chris.”

  His grin became sharklike. “Sure, honey. It’s good to know you trust me.”

  He got up, shadowing the room around her, and for one horrible moment she was reminded of the man in the basement.

  “Feast your eyes,” Chris said as he reached back, grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, and with one smooth motion pulled it over his head. Though the light in the study was dim, Ellie could see there were no more marks on her husband’s chest, that the ones she’d seen around his collar were very faint.

  So why didn’t she feel relieved?

  “Petey had trouble crossing the creek last night,” Chris said. “I helped him, and he clawed me a couple times.”

  Ellie stared at the scratch marks on his throat, realized that they very well could have been caused by the dog’s frantic struggles.

  He took a step closer. “Anything else you’d like to accuse me of?”

  She couldn’t think with Chris towering over her like this. Part of her felt guilty for thinking him untrue, but an equally large part of her couldn’t ignore the way he was menacing her, that he was scaring her as if to divert her attention from some essential truth.

  “After you told me Aunt Lillith had a thing for me,” he said, “I went for a walk in the forest. I was mad at you, El, and if you’ll stop playing the martyr for a second, I think you’ll understand why.”

  Ellie took a steadying breath. “You need to see something. There’s a tape—”

  “What happened was this,” Chris interrupted. “Petey and I went to the forest. When we got back, I slept on the couch. Figured you’d locked the bedroom door. When I woke up, it was daytime. I searched everywhere and couldn’t find you, so I went out looking.”

  “I still need to show you something.”

  His hands went to his temples, his biceps flexing. “Can’t you give it a rest? You just talk and—”

  “You have to—”

  “—talk and the only things you say are my aunt was some monster and I’m an adulterer—”

  “—see this tape, the man on it—”

  “—when you’re the one who’s been around.”

  Ellie froze. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Chris, I—”

  “‘It was largely physical,’” he said, quoting something she’d let slip while they dated.

  She stared at him, incredulous. “Chris, that was years ago.”

  “‘Jason was fun,’” he went on in a bitter singsong, “‘but the sex wasn’t enough to keep our marriage going.’”

  “I can’t believe you’re bringing this up.”

  “You can’t believe it?” he said, bringing his face close to hers. He punched his chest. “I’m the one who just got accused of fucking someone else.”

  Ellie retreated a step. “What does one have to do with the other?”

  “Everything, Ellie,” he said, teeth bared.

  She took another step back, but he followed. “I was twenty-three when I married Jason.”

  “And you’re still married to him.”

  Ellie shook her head in puzzlement. “Chris—”

  “In your mind, goddamn you, your mind.” He tapped his temple, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “You never stopped thinking about him, and I’ve had to live with that.”

  Her breath came in harsh, wet heaves. She realized he’d backed her through the doorway. “Honey, I need you to calm down.”

  “I can’t believe you have the guts,” he said, a tear tumbling down his cheek, “to accuse me of cheating.” He gripped the open door. “When every time we have sex, I see you going somewhere else…thinking about him.”

  She shook her head. “Chris, no—”

  “Him, goddammit!”

  She reached for his face, but he slammed the door, the concussion loud enough to shake the house.

  Ellie stood in the dark hall staring at the door. She heard Chris sobbing within, and all her love for him rose in a flood of self-recrimination.

  Nice going, El. The man does everything he can for you, and you accuse him of infidelity.

  Her fingertips went out, brushed the cold wooden door.

  Why don’t you do him a favor and stay away from him awhile?

  She leaned against the door, its surface frigid against her forehead. She closed her eyes, heard him weeping.

  Listen to him in there, the voice accused. Haven’t you done enough for one day?

  She thought, But the tape…

  Forget the damn tape! What about your marriage? Accusing a man of adultery is serious business, Ellie.

  That’s right, she thought. And so is what
’s happening in this house, on this land.

  She made a fist and was preparing to knock when the clacking of typewriter keys started again.

  Leave him, she told herself. For now, Ellie. Just leave him.

  Reluctantly, she let the hand drop to her side.

  Okay. She’d get something to eat. She’d wait a few hours. When he got done, she’d apologize for accusing him.

  And then they’d talk. They had to talk. She had to get back to town.

  And more importantly, they had to get away from this house.

  Chapter Six

  An hour after Ellie finally ceased her character assassination, Chris unrolled the last sheaf of paper and studied it.

  With a satisfied sigh, he placed the sheet facedown on the others and stretched in his chair. Outside, the clouds portended another thunderstorm.

  He reached up, massaged his scalp, and wondered what to do about Ellie.

  He went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, toweled the oil off his nose. He rubbed his cheeks, the hard stubble scraping his fingertips, but decided against shaving. Back when he taught, he came to loathe shaving every morning, and now that he was done with that career he could forego a shave any time he damn well pleased.

  Yes, he thought as he went downstairs to find Ellie, he really did feel finished as a teacher. Circumstances might dictate a reentry into education later on, but only if the writing gig didn’t pan out.

  He suspected it would. He wouldn’t share this suspicion with Ellie, not yet, because her reaction would be what it was to every decision he made.

  The decision to move to Indiana: hysteria.

  The decision to not interview for a job right away: hysteria.

  The decision to move Lillith’s stuff in here so they weren’t living in an empty house.

  Hysteria didn’t even begin to describe her reaction to that one. You’d have thought she’d be happy to have furniture, appreciative of him busting his ass all day to get the stuff moved.

  But not Ellie.

  He came into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the little round table. She looked up at him, but he stared at the table a moment longer. It would need to go. It reminded him too much of California. Too much of her past.

  “You okay?” he heard her asking.

  “Fine,” he said absently. He went over to the coffeemaker, lifted out the plastic filter and tapped the grounds into the wastebasket.

  “You don’t seem fine.”

  He could feel her eyes crawling over him, probing for a weakness she could exploit. Marriage was always a battlefield with Ellie.

  He chuckled to himself. Who’d said that? Pat Benatar? Sheena Easton?

  “Wanna share?” she asked in her wheedling voice.

  Washing out the filter, he said, “Not particularly.”

  He removed the pot from the coffeemaker and held it under the tap. He waited, knowing she was working up to it.

  “Honey,” she began. “We need to talk.”

  When he didn’t answer, she added, “We need to talk about yesterday.”

  He positioned the coffee pot and thumbed on the machine. “Great,” he said and leaned against the cabinet. “Let’s talk some more.”

  Ellie frowned at him, but he folded his arms and kept his expression neutral.

  “Can’t you sit next to me?” she asked. “You look like a bouncer.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  She seemed to deflate. She scooted her chair around to face him and said, “Why do you suddenly hate me?”

  “Why do you feel the need to vent your spleen against the woman who gave us all this?”

  “All this? You mean this place that’s isolated from the rest of the planet?”

  “You’re such a drama queen.”

  “The bridge is out,” she said, hooking a thumb toward the lane. “We might as well live on an island.”

  “Would that bother you?” he asked and could not suppress a grin. “Would that cut down on your prospects?”

  She drew back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s just a question.”

  “You can’t be that insecure.”

  He felt his grin waver. “I’m not the one freaking out.”

  “You’d freak out too if you witnessed what I did last night.”

  “For heaven’s sake, they’re just pictures.” He turned to get a mug from the cabinet.

  “I’m not talking about the pictures,” she said, her voice rising. “There’re videos of us, Chris. Videos of us in the bedroom.”

  “That’s absurd,” he said, but he suddenly needed to be out of the kitchen, away from Ellie and her mosquito-like persistence. The woman didn’t know when to quit.

  Pouring his coffee, he heard her say, “She watched us make love, Chris.”

  When he didn’t answer, she said, “Come watch the tape.”

  He crossed to the fridge, plucked out a couple ice cubes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Just come to the living room, dammit, it’s in the VCR now.”

  “We don’t own a VCR.” He plopped the cubes into his mug and hissed as steaming coffee spattered his fingers.

  “It’s your aunt’s,” Ellie said. “I figured you’d be excited to have more of her things in the house.”

  “Why don’t you shut your mouth?”

  Her lips parted in shock. She uttered a breathy little laugh that made him long to hurl the hot coffee in her face.

  “What’s happening to you?” she asked in a small voice.

  The look in her eyes did it, broke through the black veil of his anger. He knelt before her and put his hands over hers. Her body remained stiff, but she didn’t pull away.

  “I’m sorry, El. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Which part?”

  “I don’t know…all of it, I guess. It’s just that…” He trailed off, unable to maintain eye contact. “I’m tired of fighting, Ellie. I don’t know why we’re going on and on about this.”

  She said, “Look at me.”

  Though a ripple of foreboding coursed through him, he did.

  She said, “This is important.”

  “She’s dead, Ellie. Dead. She can’t hurt you.”

  “Will you watch the tape?”

  “I don’t need to,” he said and picked up his mug. He took it out of the kitchen, meaning to go upstairs again, but Ellie followed him, grabbed him by the elbow. Coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug, scalded his wrist.

  “Dammit, Ellie.”

  “Why can’t you do this for me?”

  “Because it’s unnecessary.”

  “So that’s it?” She threw up her arms. “You don’t acknowledge it, so it all goes away?”

  He shook his head disgustedly, continued toward the foyer. “That’s right, El. It all goes away.

  “You really are Lillith’s boy, aren’t you?”

  His body tightened. He placed the mug on the dining room table.

  “Oh, what,” she said. “You’re gonna hit me?”

  That’s what she deserves, a voice whispered.

  “That’d be the perfect ending to the day,” she said. “Punching out your pregnant wife.”

  He bit his lip a moment, fought to control his hands, which were balling into fists.

  That’s right, the voice whispered. She’s going to keep this up until you do something about it. It’s time to stand up for yourself, take back some of the power in the relationship.

  “Your problem,” he said, “is a lack of self-discipline.”

  “I’m not the one—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Ellie!”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “Now,” he went on in a quieter voice. “If you’d have brought all this up last night in a reasonable way, I might have indulged you. I would have seen through your theatrics, but to make you happy I would have indulged you.”

  “May I talk now?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I�
��m going to the hospital,” she said, “to make sure the baby’s all right. And unless you apologize for the way you just spoke to me, I’m moving back to California.”

  He smirked at her. “Where will you live?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m not staying with a man who threatens me.”

  “More hyperbole.”

  “You bastard,” she said, pushing past him.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I’m leav—” she began, then froze, her shoulders bunching together as she bent at the waist.

  “Ellie?”

  “I…I…oooh—”

  He jogged to where she stood swaying in the foyer, one arm held out for balance, the other clutched to her belly.

  “Ellie? What’s wrong?”

  But her moaning grew louder, higher, and her body continued to fold in on itself. His arms around her, he helped her lay on her side. She held her belly with both hands, her face a rictus of pain.

  “Ellie,” he said.

  “Can’t…” she whispered through tight lips. “I can’t breathe…”

  He moved behind her, slid his arms under her quivering body.

  “Hospital,” he heard her say.

  He scooped her up, moved through the foyer. “Not carrying you a mile just to get caught in another storm,” he said and started up the stairs.

  He hurried to their room, deposited her as gently as he could on the bed. He’d fucked up once; he realized that now. There was no excuse for treating her the way he had. But one bad night didn’t erase three great years of marriage. Besides, he thought as he hustled to the bathroom, he could make it up to her by taking care of her now.

  After filling a glass of water and getting some things from the medicine cabinet, he returned to find her lying on her side holding her abdomen. She wore gray shorts, and he took a moment to see if she’d soaked through them.

  No blood yet.

  “Honey,” he said, coming around the bed to face her. “Here’s something for the pain.”

  “Is it safe for the baby?”

  “Of course it is,” he lied. He had no idea if it was safe, but if she didn’t calm down soon, something terrible really would happen.

  She raised her head slightly and opened her mouth. He placed the pill on her tongue and brought the glass to her lips. She swallowed, winced and laid her head on the bed again.