by Brian Hodge
“Don’t think I’m too bright, do you boy?” He swept all my rare coins off the counter and back in the jar. Dumb bastard said my coins were worthless. Foreign pennies and subway tokens. I yelled at him that my Uncle Stan collected them from all over the world when he was in the service. He looked at me kinda sad and offered me ten dollars for the whole jar. I couldn’t wipe my ass for ten lousy bucks. But what else was I gonna do? I never told Uncle Stan about it. It’s okay; he liked secrets.
Chapter Thirty-One
(Dami)
Evidence of Nothing
“It’s alright to follow someone at a safe distance, provided you aren’t doing it to terrorize them,” Elise told us, while Sondra looked on wistfully. She got more out of these meetings than I did. Sondra left them feeling empowered, while I usually felt crippled by my own inaction. Clearly I needed to be more proactive. The police had not helped when I phoned them; their warnings and notices had done nothing to protect my children. Why would I trust them to help me now?
“It’s called shadowing, and is a valuable tool in catching criminals.” Apparently private citizens are responsible for collecting a high percentage of evidence used to convict murderers and rapists. I could do so much good by just looking into my former husband’s life a little deeper. He was dangerous, and he threatened my children. How could I not act?
I do not usually dress in overtly American garb. The fashions worn by American women offend me; I must admit it if I am to be truthful. Many women do not dress properly for their ages or their body types. It’s as if they don’t have reflective surfaces in their homes, honestly. I couldn’t imagine leaving the house in ill-fitting pants or form-fitting sweaters that exposed every curve. Today, though, my task required that I blend in with my surroundings. I felt completely disingenuous donning a pair of Chandra’s cotton blue jeans, even though they felt soft and wonderful to wear. I topped it off with a plain, button-down shirt and a blue cardigan. I pulled my hair into a simple ponytail. I did not look at all like myself. I didn’t feel at all like myself, either. I felt more capable than I could ever remember feeling in my life
My attorney had told me Michael was working in a café. When I went there, his car was parked behind the quaint little building, near the delivery door. The café opened at seven in the morning, which meant that his shift probably began around then. I could only assume, then, that he’d be there until at least three. That would give me time to look around the house in his absence. I was not entirely sure what I was seeking, but I was sure I’d know it when I saw it. There had to be something.
As soon as I entered, a horrible smell emerged. Sour, like something had died in the walls. I gagged and steeled myself.
My former home was filthy. Pizza boxes, and cereal bowls with tiny pools of pink or chocolate milk, were strewn liberally around the room. Clothes were draped over every chair and sofa; beer cans and bottles littered the tables and floor. Perhaps the horrible smell was coming from all this garbage. I had an unhealthy urge to clean up the mess.
The kitchen was a nightmare—what must have been every dish in the house was used and dirty, in the sink and on the adjacent counters. It looked as if he’d even resorted to drinking out of measuring cups.
I was more nervous about entering the bedroom. No good memories there. I searched through drawers, the closet, even under the bed, but found nothing out of the ordinary, except the extreme disorganization that had spread throughout the entire house. With no one here to clean up after him, he had deteriorated quickly.
I would use the restroom and then be on my way. That would give me enough time to be home long before Michael arrived. The shower curtain was open. I gasped audibly at what lay inside.
Laid out on the bottom of the bathtub was a kind of women’s costume that looked like a genie or a harem girl. It was blue and sheer, with something spilled on it that looked like someone had tried to dye it red or purple, but it had partially rinsed away. My God! Something acrid welled in the back of my throat. Don’t touch it! I thought suddenly. Too late. I dropped the costume back in the tub and pulled the shower curtain closed. I wished I’d thought to bring a camera. Chandra had a camera in her cellular phone. When she got it, I laughed and thought it was silly to want a wee little phone-sized camera. Now, I needed one.
The front door slammed shut. Dammit. How long had I been here? I cursed myself for being in such a dangerous position in the first place. Why hadn’t I just called the police? I was right all along. Chandra’s friend—or whoever it was had worn this costume—something bad had happened. I knew it. I just wanted to prove it. I wanted him put away, away from us. Out of our lives forever. Was that so much to ask? I beseeched Shiva for protection as the lumbering footsteps climbed the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Two
(Mikey)
At last, to the zoo
I left work early and stopped by the house for a minute to freshen myself up. I like to wear a little cologne when I go to the zoo during the week. It never hurts to look your best, no matter where you go. You never know when a new young friend will present herself.
I guess it doesn’t sound right when I say it like that. It’s not as if I have anything against ladies my own age. I love women, always have. But nothing really captivates me like a sweet young girl. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.
I went on my special route around the zoo. Uncle Stan said this was the best route, since we could see my favorite animals more than once. Lions, for example, are one of my faves. I used to think lions were incredibly cool, especially male lions because they had all those wives. If you look at a pride of lions, you’ll see one, or sometimes two, males and a whole herd of females. The females do all the hunting and raising the kids. The males mostly sit around all day eating what the women bring in. Not having to work and having multiple wives? Amazing, no? No.
I saw a TV show about polygamists, which is what they call Mormons with a lot of wives. It turns out that the wives run everything and the men just do what they’re told. They have their whole lives worked out by their wives, and the men lose every single vote because they’re outnumbered by the women. I didn’t think that was so cool. Lions are the Mormons of the animal kingdom, and it looks like a pretty bad rap for them.
I liked to see all the felines, still, and today there were three young girls in the big cat house. They made me think of my Angel and her friends, how they spent time giggling and doing girl things. These girls were pointing and awwwing at a handsome black leopard that I’d call a panther. I don’t know if those are really the same animal or not, but I like them. I used to want to have a panther, when I was small. Mama thought about it, but decided it would be too expensive to feed. She didn’t even care that keeping one was illegal. Sometimes Mama was rebellious like that. I love Mama.
The girls were all pretty this time: no fat ones, no ugly ones. Obviously these girls had better taste in friends than my Angel. I felt bad besmirching her choices, but it’s true.
I was especially taken with the brunette on the left of the group. The blonde one was too tall, and the dirty blonde one was a bit too stocky. She might have even been a lesbian.
They walked from the big cats to my most favorite of all animals, the Komodo dragons. Those are so awesome. They’re the biggest lizards in the world, if you can imagine such a thing. They grow to be about ten feet long with the tail. If you’ve ever seen one, they look like dinosaurs … more like dinosaurs than any other animal alive today, except maybe uromastyx. But those are tiny and Komodo dragons are huge.
They have smelling organs just like a snake, and where they live, they’re what they call apex predators. That means they have no natural enemies; they’re the kings of the land. They eat like kings too, ripping their food apart and almost warring with each other over who gets the best bits. You could throw a whole cow in there and they’d eat it down to nothing, in no time flat. I’m not sure why it gives me a creepy feeling to say how much I like watching the big lizar
ds rip apart carcasses. I hope I never hate anybody enough to want to see them ripped apart by lizards.
To my delight, the girls stayed at the Komodo enclosure for a very long time. I was able to walk around it three times in the amount of time they stood there pointing and grimacing. I guess everyone likes to see torsos being gnawed and ripped. As I walked around the enclosure, I watched the men who went in and out feeding the lizards. It would be very easy to get in there myself, if I ever wanted to be around the dragons. I don’t know why I would, exactly. Their bites are very dangerous since their mouths are loaded with bad bacteria. All the food they eat in the wild is rotten, so it messes up their natural bacteria and makes anyone they bite susceptible to infection. To get in there, all I’d need is a lock pick, and I already had one of those.
When it was almost time for the zoo to close, the girls walked out the wrong way, so I didn’t get to see the grizzly bears or the polar bear exhibit. I love both of those, and I almost considered ditching the girls to go see the grizzlies, but at the last minute I decided to follow my dick. I know that’s a gross way of putting it, but that’s just how it felt at the time. This wasn’t a love thing. I just wanted to be with a pretty girl for a while, then I could take her home. Just like a real date.
The one with the long, dark hair stood at the bus stop, while the blonde and the dirty blonde sat on the bench. I wished they’d have all squeezed together on the bench—that would’ve been sexy—but they didn’t. I had to decide whether I was going to try to follow the bus in my car, or if I wanted to leave my car and get on the bus with the girls. I realized that if I left my car, I wouldn’t have any way to get the girl to the vacation house. So I raced over to my ride, even though it made me out of breath. I started up the engine and proceeded to wait for the bus. I intended to follow it until that beautiful brunette got off. Surely she’d need a ride home. None of them ever want to walk.
My plan worked out perfectly, and the raven-haired beauty trotted off the bus happily, only a mile or so from the zoo. It’s a wonder I’d never seen her there before, being so close. As luck would have it, it was just starting to rain. The girl put her purse over her head as her pace quickened.
“Need a ride, miss?” I ask her through the space in the partially rolled-down window. Her look of intense relief makes me smile as I open the door for her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
(Dami)
A Lunch with Destiny
I stood trembling in the tub next to the pile of bloody costume, hoping beyond all hope that my former husband would not enter the room. He walked into our former bedroom and I heard him moving around. His cell phone rang to the tune of “Kung Fu Fighting.” It was “Mama.”
“No, Mama, I’m at work right now. I’ll be here until at least seven. I can’t, Mama!” He could never openly defy “Mama,” which to him justified lying to her. “I’ll come over later and change the cat box. Okay. Me, too. Bye!” Something glass flew against the wall and shattered. Michael practically ran down the stairs. The front door slammed. I waited. In a few moments the car started up, and he drove away. I exhaled, not even realizing that I’d been holding my breath for what felt like an hour.
I ran from that house. Ran down the street to where I’d parked my new car. No one stopped me; no one spoke to me. I was halfway home before realizing that I hadn’t put the costume back as I’d found it. Michael would know someone had been in his house, in his bathroom. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I turned into our drive.
I took one of the new tablets I’d gotten from the doctor. They were supposed to calm my nerves. He said to be very careful when taking them, that some people became addicted. I did not understand why he would prescribe anything so dangerous, but he said it would be fine so long as I was careful. I suddenly wanted a nap.
I hadn’t taken to sleeping in the afternoon since my girls were born. A mother just doesn’t have the luxury of sleeping whenever she wants to. I never did, at least, and I’m sure my own mother did not nap. I’m not sure I ever saw her sleeping. She was up before me each morning and had not yet retired to bed when I did every night. I’d guess that prayer and meditation took up more of Mother’s time than sleep.
These tablets were nice. I was able to fall asleep almost at once. I vaguely heard the front door open and the girls coming home. But it was as if the door were down the street, and the girls were people I may have met before but didn’t really know. Everything had a distant quality to it. It was slightly unnerving, except for the extreme softness and comfort of everything that touched me. Everything was wonderful just at that moment. I began to understand why people did drugs. I don’t condone that sort of thing—but if this is what drugs do, it’s no wonder people prefer them to real life.
There were dancing girls on the ground; we could see them. Luring us in seductively in their Arabian costumes of blue and purple. Suddenly Michael was there, draped in a blood-spattered apron like a madman in a horror movie. He wielded a ridiculously sized chainsaw, holding it high above his head and screaming. I scooped up my girls in my arms and ran with them. They were heavy, so heavy, getting larger by the minute. All the while Michael was just behind us, his mad, cackling scream echoing over the blare of the chainsaw.
I jerked awake with a small scream. I raised a hand to my heart, sure it would be pounding after the horrible nightmare I’d just endured. It was beating softly, normally, as if nothing unusual had happened. Bizarre.
Lunch the following day with Elise and Sondra helped me clarify what I should do next. I knew they would lend sympathetic ears.
“I have to tell you that I was relieved to see him living there like a slob. Part of me was glad to see that he couldn’t function without us. I’m not even sure why.”
“That sounds pretty normal to me.” Elise sipped on her iced tea, a large lemon wedge partially obscuring her mouth as she spoke. “Both your wanting him to be worse off and his living like a slob. A lot of men don’t even try after a divorce. They want to punish you for leaving them by punishing themselves. Don’t you feel punished?” I was relieved to see that Sondra and Elise were both laughing. I didn’t tell them I hadn’t actually filed for the divorce yet. Everything we needed was just so expensive. Buying the car seemed more important than mere paperwork.
“So … I shadowed Michael like we discussed. It went—”
“I didn’t tell you to shadow your ex-husband.” Elise’s tone changed immediately. “Is that what you took away from our conversation?”
“You said women had been shadowing to good effect for years. You said it was a legal godsend to women who couldn’t get the police to help them.” I was sure I sounded desperate, accusatory.
“That’s not exactly what I meant.” She took a deep breath, followed by a bite of sandwich. Sondra looked from Elise to me nervously. So spineless. Why didn’t she say something? She was always full of unsolicited advice, until someone needed input.
“How’d it go?” Elise asked it through a mouthful of tuna, sounding a bit more relaxed.
I told her about the costume, how it had blood on it. She flinched when I told her I’d moved it. I started to relay how I’d hidden in the bathtub with it when Michael came home unexpectedly.
“My God, what were you thinking? You could have been attacked, raped; anything could have happened! I’m telling you, men go crazy when their wives leave them!” She clearly felt she had a monopoly on truth. While I appreciated their help, I resented the supposed certainty of both Sondra and Elise. It was so easy for them.
“And your man doesn’t sound like he’s playing with a full deck, anyway.” Sondra piped up.
“Dami, what do you want to do?” I realized I had no idea. What if he ended up on the news, everyone learning about his unsavory … leanings. How might that affect the girls?
Sondra stopped me on the way to my car after lunch. She leaned in conspiratorially and handed me a bottle of pills.
“You know I don’t do drugs,” I told her, disapp
roval thick in my voice. Americans offend me with their overdependence on pills.
“I know. These are for anxiety. They’ll also help you sleep. You need it.” What was probably meant to be caring sounded like a rude insult. “Just be careful with them.” Americans really do have a fascination with pharmacological living aids. I don’t want to say they’re all on drugs, but it does seem to be a popular trend.
Chapter Thirty-Four
(Mikey)
Beginnings Are Beautiful
My new girl’s name was Yvonne. I didn’t ask her, I just told her. For my purposes, her name was Yvonne. She sat in the passenger’s seat, watching the rain and thinking about whatever it is little girls think about. Yvonne wasn’t even frightened when I drove past her street and onto the expressway, toward our vacation house.
“Hey, that was my street.” She said it calmly, as though I’d simply made a mistake.
“I know, dear, I just have to do an errand first. It won’t take very long,” I tell her sweetly, trying not to sound too cuckoo. I’ve been told I sound crazy when I’m trying to be extra nice. I can’t stand it.
“Okay, but my mom’s expecting me for dinner.” She stared at the rain and traffic out her window. Dinner. That was just adorable.
“You can have dinner with me, if you like.” Stopping to get cheeseburgers with a cute young girl like this one would have been great. But it never works out that way in the end.
“Sorry, I can’t. My mom’ll be really mad if I’m not home for dinner. I missed dinner last week and got grounded for three days. It sucked.” I laughed at her without meaning to.
