Curtains

by Scott Nicholson

  But the smell of metal and tension is too real, and the door is hanging like a wino from a boxcar.

  — and he's sittin' at his little writing desk with his wimpy finger over the "delete" button, all he's got to do is press it and the man will go away. But he can't bring himself to do it. His work is too precious, too IMPORTANT to wipe out.

  I take two hot slugs to the head, feel my brains begin their awkward eternal journey to the study wall. In its last moment of awareness, the ruined cerebellum searches frantically for a tidy ending, some way to bring the plot to completion, only it's much too far gone, much too hopeless, and the curtain of darkness…no, the veil of shadows…no, the wall of nothingness descends…

  When Sil came home from work, he found Karen sitting in the study, staring at the word processor. The screen was full, and her face was orange in its glow. "What are you doing in here?" he asked.

  "Oh, just messing around."

  "Working on something?"

  "I figured since everybody else was playing 'writer,' I might as well try my hand at it. Put myself in your shoes, to coin another cliche. Walk a mile in your gloves. But it's a lot harder than I thought. I believe I'd better take Faulkner's advice and kill my darlings."

  She was reaching out to press the "delete" button when Sil caught her wrist. "Don't I get to read it first?"

  "Well, if you really want to. But promise not to make fun of me."

  "After some of the garbage I've written?"

  Karen got up and let Sil take the chair. She said, "At least one good thing came out of this. Now I understand how you get so caught up in this stuff. You writers are nuts."

  "That's we writers, dear." Sil laughed. He loved her. He began reading.

  I was wiping down the bar with an old shirt rag when he came in. The man in the yellow slicker. I saw him without looking up…

  MAKING ENDS MEET

  “Have them live here? No way,” Richard said shaking his head.

  The request wasn’t exactly a revelation. The writing had been on the wall for at least a year. The intervals between tear-sodden appeals for cash had become shorter and shorter, and the sums had gotten larger and larger. At first, it was the odd fifty or sixty bucks now and then. But recently, it was a regular three hundred every month. Michelle’s parents promised to pay it back and Michelle covered for them. But he wasn’t a fool. Ted and Eleanor weren’t generating the kind of income to pay back their loans. They lived in a financial minefield of their own creation and this time they’d stepped on all the mines at once-taking out more than just themselves.

  It was so unfair. After five years of marriage, he and Michelle had just gotten themselves straight. The mortgage payments were manageable at last. The credit cards and student loans were paid off. The new Honda had been bought with cash. They’d limped along for years with the old Corolla while they’d saved because they didn’t want another loan on their credit report. All this had been achieved through careful money management and sacrifice. He was so proud. They’d come so far. They were just starting to live the life they’d promised themselves when they got engaged.

  That was what made his in-laws’ screw-ups so much more galling. Twice Richard’s age, Ted and Eleanor treated money with the mentality of teenagers. Only a couple of years from retirement, they had nothing to show for their lives. Their crummy, two-bedroom hovel was rented. The car was leased. Pensions and life insurance had been cashed in years ago. Retirement wasn’t an option for either of them. They would have to work until they died.

  Damn the American dream, Richard thought. That was the cause of Ted and Eleanor’s monetary nightmares. They had to show everyone they were keeping up with the Joneses. They’d spent a lifetime trying to project the superficial image that they were at top of their game, except their lifestyle was built on credit.

  He was thankful Ted and Eleanor hadn’t passed on their trait to Michelle, although there had been problems when they’d gotten married. She’d run up a string of college loans because her parents were unable to support her. Only that January had he and Michelle cleared the last of her college debts. But the nail in her credit report’s coffin was the credit card she’d underwritten for her parents when no self-respecting bank would issue them one. They’d maxed it out in months, with the promise they would pay it off. They never had.

  “They are going to be evicted in two weeks. Do you want them to live on the streets?” Michelle demanded, close to tears.

  “They’re adults. It’s not my problem, is it?”

  “Richard!”

  He snorted, getting up from the kitchen table. It wasn’t like she disagreed with him. She hated what her parents had put her through. But none of that counted when parental guilt was in full effect. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  “You really want them to live here?”

  “We don’t have a choice. Why don’t you want them here?”

  “Because this is our home-yours and mine-and no one else’s. They may be your parents but they’re still strangers to me. I would never feel comfortable with them here. I would feel like I would have to be on my best behavior. I would never be myself.” He sighed. “You realize that our sex life would be over.”

  Michelle frowned. “Oh, Richard.”

  “It would be, you know. I couldn’t make love with them in the next room.”

  “Is that all you’re worried about?”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s just one thing. I don’t want to be paying for a home that your parents will be getting more out of than I will.”

  “Don’t you mean we? The house we’re paying for… My parents getting more out of it than we will…”

  Richard snorted again. “See? They’re not even here and they’re making our life a misery.”

  “So, what do you suggest?”

  “Tell your dad to get off his butt and get a job.” Richard couldn’t believe how old that comment made him sound.

  “He’s got a job.”

  “Oh yeah, it’s a doozie.”

  Michelle’s dad hadn’t worked for years since he was “laid off.” He’d actually been canned for some stunt that never made the light of day. Ever since, he’d sunk thousands into late night TV get-rich schemes that had only gone to make someone else rich. Richard shuddered to think what the latest flash in the pan was.

  “I bet you’d be singing a different tune if this was your parents. They don’t have jobs."

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed. “It’s not an issue, is it? My parents are retired now. They have good pensions. Money isn’t a problem for them.”

  “What if their pensions dried up?”

  “They wouldn’t.” Richard paused. “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  “Okay, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t want them living with us.” Razor-edge bitterness barbed Michelle’s words. “We have other options.”

  “Like what?”

  “We can pay their rent?”

  “What?” Richard was incredulous. “And pay their back rent, I suppose?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Well, you can think again.”

  “Okay, we buy a second home.”

  Richard was laughing. “No way.”

  “It’ll be an investment.”

  Some investment, he thought. His in-laws wouldn’t treat their investment with any respect. Besides being a liability with money, they lived like slobs. Every house they’d rented ended up looking like a war zone. They never once had a security deposit returned by a landlord.

  “And how do you suggest we finance this twilight home for your parents?” he asked.

  “We can use the equity we’ve built in this home and take out a second mortgage.”

  “A second mortgage! Are you crazy? We’ve slogged our guts to get rid of that second mortgage and you want to put us back into that hole? I’m sorry, no.”

  “Richard, my parents will be on streets unless we come
through for them.” Michelle started sobbing.

  Richard plopped down in the chair next to Michelle and slipped an arm around her shoulders. He squeezed her to him. “Let me take a look at the situation and work through the figures.”

  Michelle threw her arms around him. “Thank you, Richard. I love you so much. I knew you’d make it work.”

  Richard spent the rest of the evening with a legal pad and calculator working through the various Ted and Eleanor rescue packages. Letting them move in was the cheapest option. He could see it was going to cost them a few hundred a month. Underwriting their rent was pricey. He was looking at dropping at least a grand a month to keep them housed. Buying a second home was the option he liked most, because there was some return on their sacrifice. But it would stretch their finances to the limit. They could say goodbye to the Hawaiian vacation they’d promised each other. In fact, they could kiss goodbye any luxuries for the next decade. Michelle wandered into the kitchen.

  “Are you coming to bed, babe? It’s after one.”

  Richard checked his watch. He hadn’t realized. He was tired, but not from the lack of sleep. Michelle sat at the table next to him and picked up his notes.

  “How’s it look?”

  “Expensive.”

  Michelle sighed and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

  “Sorry.” Richard tried to smile. Michelle did likewise. “I think we could cobble something together,” he said.

  “That’s great!”

  “It’ll be tight, though. We’ll no longer be in the position to reward ourselves-the chance to see the world, early retirement-kids.” He let that one linger. “It’s all gone now, if we go through with this.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Okay.” She nodded. “What do we have to do?”

  “Well, you know how I feel about them living here.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “We could pay their rent for them, but we’d just be pouring money down the drain. However, we can just about afford to buy a small house.”

  Michelle beamed.

  “It wouldn’t be anything fancy and probably wouldn’t be in the best neighborhood, but I think we could do it.”

  “I knew you’d work something out.”

  “I wouldn’t be too happy. Maui is out of the question.”

  She flung her arms around him and crushed him in her excitement. “I don’t care.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t care too much about cable TV, dinners out, going to the movies, name brand foods or any new clothes.”

  “I don’t.”

  “For all the fuss your parents have caused, it would be cheaper to have them killed.”

  And there it was. He’d said it-admittedly as a joke. It was an option, though-an option he hadn’t consciously considered. It was a solution, an answer to his problematical in-laws. Michelle was too wrapped up in the moment and hadn’t heard his joke. She cooed sweet nothings into his ear.

  By just thinking of having Ted and Eleanor killed, he was crossing a line, but as much as he hated to admit it, it was a line he crossed knowingly. His murderous thought seemed extreme. He couldn’t share it with Michelle-that was for sure. But it would solve things. If he bankrolled Ted and Eleanor, he incurred their current debt and at least ten to twenty years of their yet to be squandered debt. Even long after his in-laws were dead, they would still be gnawing at his finances. With compound interest, he wouldn’t be free of their touch for at least forty years. It was inconceivable. Murderers didn’t serve that kind of time. He struggled to see the downside, pushing morality aside. He leaned back in his chair, letting the concept soak in.

  “Come on, let’s go to bed.” Michelle grabbed his hand and tugged at him. “I want to celebrate.”

  “In awhile,” he said with a thin smile. “I want to double-check a couple of things.”

  Michelle stood. “Okay, but don’t take too long about it.”

  “Okay.”

  He watched her dance back to bed, while he contemplated killing her parents.

  A restless night’s sleep hadn’t tempered his solution-it had reinforced it. He was going to kill his in-laws. It had been three a.m. before he’d gone to bed. He’d sat in the kitchen daydreaming, plotting their demise. While in bed, he’d tossed and turned-excited by the prospect. Stronger than caffeine, his ingenious idea kept him awake. Even in his unsettled sleep, he dreamed of murdering his burdensome in-laws. Surprisingly, he’d risen the following morning in fine fettle. He felt like a million bucks.

  Leaning against the sink, munching on a bowl of cereal, Richard asked as casually as he could, “When’s your mom and dad’s eviction date?”

  “Don’t say eviction.”

  Hell, what was he meant to call it? Their involuntary departure due to irreconcilable payment terms? Eviction wasn’t a pretty word and it wasn’t meant to be. That was the name of the game. He tried again.

  “Okay, when do they have to move out?”

  “By the 20 ^ th, I think. Can I tell them the wonderful news?”

  “Hold off for now. I need to get the mortgage broker to double-check my figures.”

  “Okay.” Michelle smiled. She was so happy. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. “Maybe tonight?”

  “Maybe.” He smiled back.

  I’ve got until the 20th, he thought on the commute to work. I’ve got two weeks to kill them.

  Deciding to kill Ted and Eleanor was one thing. Doing it was another. He had to decide how, when and where. Inspiration wasn’t on the right wavelength. Nothing coming through sounded workable. He wandered through his working day as a passenger, cruising past his responsibilities. At lunch, he made the obligatory phone call to the mortgage broker and realtor, and they set them in motion. He went home that evening with his cover story, but no plan for murder. Inspiration was waiting for him in the living room.

  “Richard, you don’t know how much we appreciate what you’re doing,” Ted said.

  “Very generous,” Eleanor echoed.

  “I couldn’t wait, honey. I had to tell them. Please don’t be angry.”

  “I’m not angry,” Richard said, his blood boiling. “There’s nothing to be angry about.”

  “Richard, you’re my son now. What you’ve done for us elevates you way above in-law status.”

  God forbid me ever being of your blood, you useless SOB. Richard shook Ted’s proffered hand, smiling as broadly as his anger and irritation allowed. “Thanks, Ted. That means so much coming from you.”

  “We can go house hunting together,” Eleanor suggested. “Make it a real family affair.”

  Over my dead body, Richard thought. “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”

  “We should celebrate,” Ted announced. “Go out to dinner. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds great, dad,” Michelle said.

  “Great,” Richard agreed.

  They went for a steak dinner. Ted suggested Outback. Richard said Sizzler, because it was nearer-and cheaper. He knew he would be picking up the tab — and he did. Their last meal together might be on him, but it didn’t have to be an expensive one.

  He was glad to get home after seeing off his in-laws. The meal together had been good, though. It made his decision so much easier. Seated face to face with them, he felt no compunction to hand them a stay of execution, but they’d been a distraction. He couldn’t think seriously about killing them when they were jabbering away in front of him. Their inane chatter prevented him from concentrating. Michelle slipped her arms around his waist.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “You know.” Her face filled with sadness. “I’m sorry we argued last night.”

  He pulled her to him and hugged her tight. “It’s all right. We’ve got a solution now. Last night is forgotten.”

  “C’mon, soldier. We’ve got some unfinished business in the bedroom. Let’s go.”

  For Michelle’s benefit, Richard pretended to go to work. He went through t
he usual morning routine of his shower, shave and light breakfast. The moment he hit the road he called the office requesting a floating holiday. He had to think and he couldn’t do that with Michelle around or the interruptions at work. He stopped in at the first Denny’s he came across. Much to the hostess’ annoyance, he insisted on a booth rather than eating at the counter. He didn’t want the conversation. He ordered and gazed out the window at the freeway traffic whipping by below him.

  Two restless nights and he still wanted to kill Ted and Eleanor. He was sold on the concept, but not on his morality. He told himself that he wasn’t evil. It was self-defense. Justifiable homicide. His livelihood was under threat and he couldn’t let that happen. He had to do something about it. Any notion that he was just another criminal dissolved with his first cup of Denny’s coffee.

  He needed a killer, a hit man, but where was he going to find one? He didn’t have a clue. Even if he did find one, how the hell would he know if he’d found a good one? It wasn’t like he could pick up a copy of this month’s issue of Best Buy-the Hired Killer addition. No, he couldn’t count on an assassin. It was a stupid idea. He wasn’t a mobster, for God’s sake.

  He examined his hands, turning them over and inspecting the calluses on his palms. He was good with his hands. He always had been. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t turn his talents to for professional results. He would treat Ted and Eleanor’s death like any other DIY project. He would kill them himself.

  He warmed to the idea instantly. What would be a suitable death for Ted and Eleanor? He had to come up with something that would be befitting of their lifestyle. Lifestyle, what a joke. Style was one thing absent from their lives. His waitress brought his breakfast.

  He trawled through his cheesy and greasy choice. Ted amp; Eleanor’s neighborhood wasn’t the best. It was way better than it had been the year before they moved in, but it was still tarnished by its reputation. Drug dealers and felons were still a common sight. A home invasion wasn’t out of character. He considered the scenario for a moment and dismissed it just as quickly. Home invasions were noisy and messy and required planning and more than one person. It wasn’t going to work.