Tom´s Story

by Claudio Hernández

  "We'll be back," mom said, touching her shoulder with her outstretched hand and adding. "Take care," but mom would not come back, at least after what was to come. Only dad would be there very soon.

  Samantha nodded. It seemed like a farewell forever. It felt as if they were leaving never to return. A wave of melancholy overwhelmed her.

  "We'll only take a couple of days," Louis persisted. “You know it's nothing serious." He pointed at his daughter's chest.

  "I know," Samantha said hopefully.

  Eillen was in the back of the car adjusting Tony's seat belt, who kept moving and waving a hand through the closed window. Her sister waved back at him and gave him a smile.

  Louis opened the driver's side door and looked at his daughter for the umpteenth time, looking hopeful and calm.

  "I'll take good care of myself and Chumy," Samantha said, smiling again under the strong sunlight.

  Eillen closed the back door of the vehicle and started to enter the copilot side. Then she closed the door with a thud. It was a blue Ford, as bright as the sky that morning. Louis inserted the key with his left hand. The car was adapted to his disability. The engine roared slightly at first and then louder, firing a cloud of purple smoke through the exhaust pipe .He reversed it and placed it parallel to the driveway of the urban road. He shifted to first gear and the wheels squeaked briefly on the asphalt as the car pulled away. In the distance, you could still see the smoke spit into the blue sky.

  Samantha, in the middle of the road, still moved her hand even as the car turned into a blue dot.

  Things were about to get worse. Chumy came up to her with her tail up and rubbed itself on one of her legs with a faint mewing.

  64

  Tom pressed the green icon that read "Cousin" on the mobile phone and took it to his ear. The ringtone began to ring in separate bursts. Four attempts later, a shrill voice answered the call.

  "Cuh... cousin” Tom said, sitting on the edge of the bed in his underpants. The mattress sagged once under his weight.

  "Tom?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm glad you called me. Are you okay?"

  "Good"

  "What do you mean, good?"

  "Suh... some... something happened"

  "Something bad? Is it your mother again?"

  "No."

  "Tell me Tom. I'm listening."

  Tom took a deep breath. The great puff of air sounded like a whistle in his chest.

  "I remem... remember something wuh... weeeeird" Tom fought to speak.

  "Like what?"

  "Pah.. panties" Tom said at last. He was weighing the idea of lying in bed and continue telling the vague memory to his cousin. Maybe she would explain something. At least something better than his drunk mother could explain.

  "A pair of panties?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you find your mother's dirty panties and vomited?"

  "No."

  There was another endless silence in communication until Tom broke the ice.

  "I see... I'm wuh... wearing pah... panties" he forced himself to explain, finally lying on the bed. His bulging belly and chest moved like a pudding after the thud.

  "Did you put on your mother's panties?"

  "I believe suh... so"

  "Are you sure, Tom?"

  "Not so... so... shh... sure."

  "Gross!" Amelia's voice was like a whistle, and she hurriedly added. “I’m not saying it for you, Tom. I don't mean to scold you or anything like that. I'm only saying that it probably disgusted you..."

  "I duh... don't think sss... so" Tom said alarmed with droplets of sweat already appearing on his forehead, because of the heat and the embarrassment he felt.

  "Oh!" Amelia's voice sounded cracked this time.

  There was another long, ominous silence from Tom.

  "Tell me, Tom" Amelia's voice became serious, in a low tone. "Are you sure you've put on your mother's panties?"

  "I already tuh... told you." Tom was starting to get nervous. "I don't re... remember wuh... well..."

  "A dream!" Amelia interrupted.

  "No."

  "Oh"

  In the distance, he heard Chumy's meow, the neighbor's cat. He was hanging around the garden in search of some damn rat.

  "It's... it's like... how... how you say?" Now Tom was really nervous and started to sweat more, trying to articulate every word that came out of his mouth, but he began to stutter more. "I... I... see it. It's like a... like a..."

  "You see it as a vision, right?"

  "Yes" Tom answered as quickly as he could, and his eyes widened a little. They gleamed and at the same time they gradually faded. A shiver ran through his body like an electric shock.

  "That's a feeling called Deja Vú. You remember something that you think happened, but it's not real. It isn't. It's not real." Amelia explained, but she was wrong.

  65

  She had two days ahead of her. Two eternal days or short days, depending on her view. The intense heat made her take a cold shower. Her body thanked her, and her immune system regulated her body's temperature. She caressed her breasts with scented soap and then her most intimate parts. Tom would have given everything for being there, watching her with a brutal erection in his hands. However, fortunately he was not there. Only Chumy was there, which had returned from its short getaway and was now nosing Samantha's towel.

  She dried gently and finally wrapped the towel around her body. She had to get dressed and remembered that the curtain on the window was closed. She remembered the huge figure of the neighbor leaning out the window. The silhouette of her perverse neighbor.

  She walked into the room with her bare and wet feet, while Chumy followed her with the infinite tail pointed toward the sky, or the ceiling in this case.

  In her room, she took some white panties from the dresser drawer. Then she took a T-shirt. The bra would be ruled out that summer. She still had firm and tight breasts, and there was not the slightest trace that they were going to fall, at least not for the moment.

  She looked instinctively at the window and saw nothing, except for the sunlight penetrating through the millions of holes in the fabric of the curtain with millions of knots in its millions of entangled threads.

  Then, she started to put on her panties...

  66

  His fingers tightened tightly on the trachea and vertebrae of his neck. His face was turning purple and his tongue swelled at times, showing a whitish color like the belly of a dead fish. Then he shook his head hard, hitting it against the ground. Quickly, the blood splashed on the floor and a considerable red stain formed that grew at times.

  Jack's evil eyes shone; his gaze was deep. It gleamed with hatred and horror at the same time. His white teeth, perfectly aligned, were tightened. He was sweating. His pulse did not tremble.

  "You son of a bitch! Die!" He shouted as he tightened his fingers around his neck...Her neck!

  Tom woke up startled from the nightmare, his body soaked in sweat. He had chills, and his eyes were very open for a long time, during which his heart struggled to ooze out of his mouth like vomit. Outside, the night showed a part of the mean moon, and there were stars blinking in the great distance of the galaxy.

  "Mom" Tom finally whispered.

  He had seen his mother's face.

  67

  The kitten walked stealthily until he leaped briskly, producing a faint thud as it put its four legs on the garden of Tom's house. It kept walking among the shadows that wound around the house to a window that was open at that moment. The kitten jumped again and found himself balancing on the window frame. Then it dropped to the ground with it four legs spread like a parachute. There was another slight thud, almost inaudible.

  It was late afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky, much larger, more orange, but just as implacable as it was the rest of the day. The kitten walked slowly over a dirty, tangled carpet made up of thousands of strands woven in many ways. The cat scratched it for a few seconds. Then he lick
ed one of its legs.

  At the back of the dining room, beyond the main hall, there was a tinkling clatter. It was the bottle of Bourbon falling from Stella's hand, who was sitting on the floor, her head to one side and her eyes closed. The old alcoholic had made her afternoon. It’s just a drink, she said to herself as she gulped the complete bottle. Then she fell to the ground; her trembling legs were not able to bear it any longer.

  The kitten lifted its head, and its pointy ears moved toward the spot from where the noise had come, and ceased. With its paw still up now, near its little snout with dark lips, it seemed to open its eyes wider. It was just listening, and the clinking stopped. It lowered its paw and began to march inside the house.

  Upstairs in the room, Tom was playing a video game on the computer that consisted of killing zombies. It was as simple as that. However, it was cumbersome to use the keyboard to move his character, although he managed well. The volume of the speakers connected to the computer was low. Tom was aware that his mother would be lying on the floor somewhere in the house. It was a family tradition. Home sweet home. At least, at that moment she would not be yelling and calling him a freak, let alone scratching him with her broken and blackened nails. Those scenes would have disappeared momentarily. Tom was fine now.

  The kitten headed upstairs with perfect synchronized jumps. One by one, he climbed all the steps without making the slightest noise. Apparently, it liked to hear the shots of an imaginary weapon, only existing in the computer, and the muffled screams of zombies dying or the explosion of their brains after the shots.

  Tom was engrossed, while the kitten managed to enter his room. Then he turned and saw him.

  68

  "Chumy!" The cat did not answer. It was usual for him to respond with a meow. But this time, he did not answer.

  Samantha searched the house for Chumy and did not find him. Of course she did not.

  69

  "Oh! A kitty" said the identity adopted by Tom involuntarily. It was Danny talking now. "Kitty, kitty..."

  Chumy straightened his long blue tail toward the ceiling and looked at him with curious green eyes. Danny got up from the chair leaving behind a new zombie that took the whole screen of the computer, while it opened a rotten mouth.

  "Little kitty" Danny-Tom's eyes gleamed with special appeal. Innocent. Simple.

  Chumy approached him not lowering his guard, not lowering his head, not hesitating at the same time.

  Danny stretched out his huge arms, and his fingers touched the animal's fur. Danny felt a special feeling of gratitude, softness, and uncertainty simultaneously.

  Chumy opened his small mouth, showing a rosy tongue, as he meowed neatly but calmly. He let Danny's plump fingers pet him.

  "Good kitty. It's good that you're here. How did you get in, my kitty?"

  Danny lifted him into his lap and went to bed with him in his arms, ready to spend a super fun afternoon with the cat.

  For at least an hour, the two played as children. Tom was oblivious to the identity he had unconsciously adopted. Several identities had already manifested in him in the last days, and then they left a vague trail of memories. They were stealth images that only caused confusion and headache.

  70

  Samantha was at the crossroads of deciding whether to go to her neighbor's house or not. Often she saw Tom's face full of snot or the old woman with a wan face and bad fleas in her feverish imagination, and that simply caused her nausea rather than fear. Chumy had to be there, Samantha thought, since he was not at home. She had searched in all corners, and the animal did not appear. No doubt he had escaped through the garden, she told herself again and again. She doubted if the cat had gone to Tom's house or to the house on the left. She did not know who lived there and suddenly remembered that it was closed. A poster of "For rent" stood on the entrance. She had seen it the day they moved.

  Sting's music played softly on the stereo. The sun had already disappeared behind the mountains in the distance. However, the heat persisted in spite of everything. Obviously, she was not in panties around the house. She had already put on shorts in the middle of the afternoon, even if it was not too comfortable for her. She had also put on the bra, just in case.

  She went on pondering the idea of going to ask her neighbor while she was lying on the sofa listening to the soft melody that emanated from the speakers. She stayed like that for a few more minutes, and she considered the idea that the fucking cat would come back at midnight. But what if he did not come back? What if the retard had grabbed him and...? Suddenly, her heart began to beat faster. No, it cannot be, she told herself and comforted herself by sinking deeper into the sofa. But she was restless again a minute later. What if the cat disappeared forever? What would she tell Tony?

  Then she remembered that she had to make a phone call.

  71

  Stella rose groaning from the ground and dragged herself to the small room where the Christ awaited her, faithful to all her prattle and confessions. A few minutes later, on her trembling feet, her body hunched over by a severe stomach ache, the door slammed shut behind her. The room was dark, but a moment later a gloomy light appeared on the ceiling. It was a dusty bulb with a spider dangling from its own web.

  Stella dropped to her knees and lowered her head as she crossed both hands in perfect harmony.

  "Lord, forgive me because I have drunk."

  However, temptation would return that night.

  72

  The rough voice sounded on the other side of the communication. Samantha used her own cell phone, as the phone company had not yet installed the line at home, which at first was strange even for Louis. It is one thing to contract a line and another is to have it installed. Oh, Louis! How clever you are! There’s always a reason, right?

  "Tell me honey" the voice said through the tiny speaker on Samantha's cell phone.

  "Hi dad, how's it going? How’s Tony?"

  "He's sitting on the chair waiting for supper" Louis tried to joke, but his voice came out weak.

  "What's wrong?"

  There was silence.

  The soft music gave way to another new song. Samantha did not recognize which singer was humming through the speakers. She was getting nervous, and at last a much rougher voice spoke.

  "Tony's been through a little routine checkup this afternoon, but something..."

  "What?" Her sharp voice cut him off.

  "Something was not going as well as we expected."

  Samantha felt a crossfire in her stomach struggling to get out of her mouth. Her pulse quickened in her temples. Her ear, stuck to the cell phone, began to warm.

  "What's wrong with Tony?" Now Samantha was sweating out of nowhere. It was as sudden as the acceleration of her pulse.

  "Apparently they will have to do more tests to rule out certain things..."

  "You frighten me, dad!" Samantha dropped to the couch with a thud.

  "They want to be sure of everything. We may have to stay a couple more days, honey."

  "Ohhh!"

  The whole world fell on her like a gigantic lead ball. Now she did not give a damn about the cat and where the heck he was. She did not give a shit about who was howling now in the loudspeakers, and she cared less about the heat.

  "Daughter, we'll call you tomorrow. Take care." Louis hung on the other end. In Portland, Samantha closed her eyes.

  73

  The night was endless for Tom, Stella, and Samantha. Each of them had their own concerns. Tom, who now was Danny, was still playing with Chumy until he fell asleep with the cat purring on his chest. That was later, because his mother had gone upstairs to his room before and met another Tom.

  The psychiatrist's tirade had invaded her aching head. Remember, Stella, Donald wrote "DID" in large letters. She remembered that her son Tom had sashayed half-naked in front of her, wearing her panties. She also remembered that another day he had called her an alcoholic and a bitch without stuttering. She had noticed several changes in her son, who stopped being
Tom for moments. She had seen several identities in him and did not understand how sin persisted in him and in her house. But she still drank Bourbon and sometimes took some Whiskey from her son Tom, who was already a big drinker too, and an obese bastard who changed a lot lately.

  For Samantha, the night became eternal because she knew that her dad was hiding something from her regarding little Tony. Instead of the cat, she feared not seeing Tony and remembered how he asked her to look after Chumy until he returned. What if he did not come home? As the heat tightened on that partially moonlit night, she kept counting the shadows that danced on the ceiling in strange, amorphous, and horrible shapes, but that did not matter at all.

  74

  A strange noise alerted her that something up there was happening. Although she was drunk again and holding the bottle, she managed to climb the stairs eagerly, forgetting the confession she made barely an hour before. Her feet, thin as chopsticks and shaking as a poodle, stepped on each step of the stairs and, with the help of the handrail, reached the floor above. The light in Tom's room was on, and the screen, which always was on, flashed whatever the computer was showing. Stella had been late in paying at least two electricity bills, she remembered, but that did not matter now. A whirl of small meows alerted her again.

  "What's that cat doing here?" Stella asked, clutching the door jamb, her expression bitchy and filthy. She was disheveled and yellowish. Her teeth were dirty, like the mold of the sea.

  Tom or Danny picked up the cat.

  "He's a very cute kitten and he can play very well" it was the voice of an eight year old child, no older, and this alarmed her a little more. Remember Stella, "DID". She moved her right foot and stepped into the room, seeming even more perverse.

  "I want that cat out of here!" And after the scream, a belch escaped.

  Danny put his hand to his mouth.

  "That's rude, ma'am."

  "Ma'am?" Stella's eyes widened furtively, mixing horror and confusion.

  "Ladies like you shouldn't do those things with your throat, nor quarrel with a poor kitten." Tom's expression now, under Danny's identity, was compassionate.

  "Oh! I have to hear this!" she brought the bottle to her mouth.