Chelsea Avenue

by Armand Rosamilia

  “For what?”

  “Just in case anything happens to me. I have money in there as well as my life insurance policy and the deed to the Chelsea Avenue lot.”

  “Where do you think you're going?” Mark asked.

  “Just do me a favor and take it. That will be one less thing on my mind. I have a will written up, leaving everything to Gina. Make sure someone gets it.”

  “Nothing for me?” Mark asked with a laugh. “I'm kidding.”

  “I put you in my will, buddy.”

  “You can keep your empty beer bottle collection, and your money is Gina's since you screwed that up so bad. I don't want anything else.”

  “There's only one thing I have left of nominal value. The lot on Chelsea Avenue.”

  Mark flipped the key in his hand. “Fuck that cursed place. Now, you'd better come back alive.”

  Chapter 18

  July 2nd 2003

  “You had another nightmare,” Stephanie said to her mom over scrambled eggs and toast. “It sounded bad.”

  “Another?” Tammy asked, pausing to pour her first cup of coffee. Her head was pounding, and she'd need to remember to take the bottle of migraine pills with her to work. It was going to be one of those days.

  “Yeah, last night, you were screaming about drowning.”

  Tammy laughed. “Drowning?”

  Stephanie, looking irritated, waved at her mom with her egg-laden fork. “Regardless, you were scared and woke me up. When I went in, you were, like, soaking wet. Like you'd come out of the shower. Really freaky.”

  “You didn't try to wake me?”

  “I shook you, but you stopped screaming and started snoring.”

  Tammy shook her head, forcing away the chill that crept up her spine. “I don't snore. You must've been dreaming because you're like a freight train when you snore.”

  Stephanie laughed. “I don't think so.”

  Tammy checked her watch. She still had plenty of time to get herself and her daughter ready, get Stephanie to school, and then off to the clinic for a twelve-hour shift.

  “Did Daddy call you?”

  “No, baby.” She felt bad for a second. It might have been Randy calling last night, but he didn't leave a message, and she didn't bother with caller ID. Hey, it's his own fault for not taking twenty seconds out of his busy life to say something to his daughter, she thought.

  Tammy patted her daughter on the arm as she sat down next to her at the table. The table and chairs had been his mother's, given to them when she died. Randy had never bothered to take much of the furniture when they divorced. He said he didn't care about material things.

  Of course, within weeks of the final papers being signed, he moved into a high-rise condominium and filled it with expensive and decadent items, including a string of twenty-something strippers and gold-digging whores.

  “What if he calls while you're at work?”

  “Then we do like we do every other time.” Of course, he'd never call. Stephanie would come home from school with Miss Kurchin, “trick” the old woman into making her cookies and chocolate milk, and then sneak into her bedroom and call him. “Miss Kurchin will call me at work and give me the details, and then you'll call me right before you leave for his house. Relax. You still have a couple of days.”

  Over to his house filled with strippers, drug dealers, and Satanic rituals, she thought, knowing she was just being outrageously nasty. Randy was actually a good dad when he wanted to be, which wasn't as often as he should, and spent quality time with Stephanie. Most dads with a ton of disposable income would do the easy thing and shower her with gifts, set her in front of the fifty-inch TV, and do their own thing for the weekend.

  Randy took her places, nice places, and usually just one-on-one. Stephanie would tell her mom all about the waitress who kept filling her soda cup at the Cardinals football game and how she was watching it in the air conditioned box while all the fans below her were sweating and had to go and buy their own hot dogs.

  Stephanie's weekend was filled with expensive lunches and dinners at some of the five-star restaurants Arizona was known for. Yet for all the anger and hurt shared between Tammy and Randy, he never spoke ill about her to their daughter.

  “I'm going to get dressed,” Stephanie said and ran off before putting her dishes in the sink.

  Tammy looked at her watch again. She still had time, so she decided to do the dishes before getting ready for work. Miss Kurchin would do them this afternoon, but she hated putting anything else on the nice woman from next door. She loved Stephanie to death, helping with her homework, making cookies and pies for her, and teaching the finer points of playing and winning at bingo.

  If he actually did call, she'd have a Friday night to herself. Not like she'd be doing anything. Chinese takeout on the way home, a six-pack of Diet Coke, and a box of Oreo cookies would be the perfect start to the night, the highlight of which would be falling asleep on the couch, watching a romantic comedy on cable, and missing the fireworks.

  Tammy gasped at how cold the water had suddenly become even though she did the dishes with the hottest water she could stand.

  Maybe the hot water heater went out again, she thought, but when she looked down, she gasped. The sink was filled with dishes and seaweed.

  The water coming from the faucet was clean-looking but smelled of saltwater, and there were small creatures on her dishes.

  She went to pull her hands out of the sink, but they wouldn't move. Instead, she watched in horror as several small sea creatures—shrimp, crabs, and fish—moved in and out of the water, climbing over dishes and cups and onto her hands.

  The scream finally escaping her lips was frightening in its intensity even to her.

  “Mommy!” Stephanie screamed and came running.

  The water suddenly hit Tammy's hands, scalding hot, jarring her as she pulled her hands away.

  “What's wrong?” her daughter asked, scared.

  “Nothing.” Tammy looked into the sink, now simply filled with dirty dishes, silverware, and cups from breakfast. “Nothing.”

  Manny couldn't resist taking a slight detour on his way to the Newark Airport. Mark had, graciously, offered to drive him, but he'd declined. He wanted to do this alone in the event something went terribly wrong.

  He slowly got out of his car, coffee cup in hand, and stared across the street. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually stood on this road, near this lot, and he got a chill despite the morning heat.

  The waves crashed against the beach to his left, an evil sound, like the ocean was trying to gnaw at the sand, erode it, and fill the world with death.

  Manny took a step toward the lot.

  Stunted trees were wrapped in sickly brown vines and dark orange weeds like something out of a Lovecraftian landscape. It was a wall of foliage. Dark green grass rose three feet high, twisted and gnarled. The curb itself had cracked over time, sprouting molds that spilled into the street and tore up the asphalt.

  There was no discernible pathway anymore, but Manny knew the lot would like nothing more than to welcome him in. He imagined the trees and shrubbery would part, creating a safe haven as the branches and leaves grew teeth and snapped at him until he stood, once again, at the exact spot where he'd been shot in 1997. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

  So much changed on that fateful day. So many things in my life. So many wrong decisions, so many mistakes. Manny could go back to that one moment in his life as the turning point, the spot where something completely out of his control could spiral his life down the helix to ruin.

  “You won't break me,” he whispered and wasn't surprised when a phantom wind sprung up and called through the trees, singing a disparaging song. The waves seemed to crash, angrier, on the beach, crawling with watery hands to grip him.

  He dumped the cold coffee on the street and got back into his car, hoping he was right. Manny took a final look at the Chelsea Avenue lot before he drove away, knowing he'd be back to finish this in a f
ew days.

  Chapter 19

  July 3rd 2003

  Manny jumped in his seat, awake, startling the woman next to him.

  “Are you alright?” she asked and placed a hand on his arm. She recoiled in shock and stared at her fingers. “You're burning up!”

  The flight attendant came rushing over. “Is everything alright?” she asked through her plastic smile.

  “This man has a fever,” the woman said and squished as far away from him in her seat as possible.

  “I'm fine, I'm fine,” Manny said, annoyed from all the commotion.

  When the flight attendant reached her hand to touch his forehead, the woman next to him almost jumped out of her seat. “Don't touch him; he's infected with something.”

  Now, everyone was murmuring, and some passengers were getting out of their seats.

  “I'm sure he's just got a fever,” the flight attendant said loudly for everyone to hear. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

  Her eyes told Manny another story entirely. She placed her hand on his forehead and sighed. “He's fine.”

  “He's very hot,” the woman said. “Like he is on fire.”

  Manny had two choices: blast the woman and tell her to shut the fuck up and then have another three hours sitting next to her or take the high road. “Hot? Why, thank you, ma'am. You're not bad yourself, but I'm married.”

  Everyone started to laugh, and the woman rolled her eyes, turned away from him, and faced the window.

  Manny smiled at the flight attendant. “I'm fine. I just had a bad dream and woke with a start. Can I get a diet soda?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Manny closed his eyes, and everyone went back to their seats.

  He didn't blame the woman for her initial reaction. When he'd woken, it had felt like he was on fire, his flesh cooking.

  The dream had been quick, like watching the fire sequence from last night's dream on fast forward. Manny knew, if it were a movie, it would be shot-for-shot the same except for the ending.

  Instead of Manny listening to the flame speak and seeing Tammy Kelly, he was still on the stage, but now, he was sinking into a dark pool of cold water. He tried to grip the sides of the stage, but his fingers were wet. He slid in and went under into blackness, water rushing down his throat.

  Manny fought, and his head pushed up into air. He sucked big mouthfuls, expecting to get pulled back under. Instead, he was back standing on the stage, which was now engulfed in flames.

  As were his hands and feet, but he felt no pain. All around him, fire was licking at his body and consuming him. That's when he'd woken.

  “Your soda, sir.”

  Manny thanked her for the soda and drank it greedily. His throat was parched, like he'd been screaming. The woman next to him was feigning sleep, curled up and facing away from him. He didn't mind. They'd be landing at some point—he had to get his tickets out to see where the layover was before boarding the flight to Arizona—and he wanted to get away from the rest of the passengers, who kept glancing in his direction.

  I'm the crazy guy on the plane the parents are telling their kids to stop staring at, he thought and smiled. If he was in a better mood, he would've smiled at the girl diagonally in front of him or made a face. Instead, he closed his eyes again and hoped he'd get to Arizona without another incident.

  “Did Dad call you yet?” Stephanie asked from her spot on the couch, cartoons blaring.

  “Turn that down,” Tammy said and smiled at Miss Kurchin. “How was she?”

  “Evil as usual. She tied me up until I made brownies.” Miss Kurchin gathered her things and headed toward the door. “She called her dad, but he didn't answer.”

  “I would've bet on that one. I'm actually amazed she didn't call him yesterday.”

  Miss Kurchin lowered her voice. “She did, but he didn't answer. It was the first thing she did when she got home. Poor little dear.”

  “Big plans for the Fourth?” Tammy asked.

  Miss Kurchin smiled. “I'm actually going home right now to pack. My son is coming to get me for the weekend. I'll be spending it with him and his wife in Phoenix. I haven't seen him in six months.”

  “Enjoy yourself.”

  “Nothing to enjoy,” Miss Kurchin said with a laugh. “He refuses to give me the pleasure of grandkids, and his wife is a bit snobby. I'm bringing a couple of romance novels with me, and I'll end up in the guest room reading.”

  “That doesn't sound like fun.”

  “It's something different. At my age, that's all you live for. You have a great Fourth yourself, dear. Relax, and enjoy the quiet.”

  “Thank you. Oh, wait.” Tammy pulled out three boxes of cake mix from her grocery bag. “To replenish.”

  Miss Kurchin waved her hand. “You know I won't take that.”

  “And you know you're being ridiculous. What little you let me pay you goes right back into fattening my kid.”

  “I told you when we started this: I won't take money unless I absolutely need it, and I adore her. I should be paying you. I'm a lonely old lady who goes to bingo once a week and watches old movies I've seen a hundred times. Stephanie is the reason I get up most mornings.” Miss Kurchin waved at the door. “Besides, she's requesting chocolate only lately,” she said and pointed at the three boxes of cake mix. “Vanilla was so yesterday, as she says.”

  “I can't keep up with her,” Tammy said and waved her neighbor good night.

  Stephanie came into the kitchen and hugged her mother. When she spied the three boxes on the counter, she wrinkled her nose. “I only like chocolate.”

  “I know, that's so five minutes ago.”

  Stephanie laughed. “You never answered me. Did daddy call you at work?”

  “No.” It wasn't the first time he would be waiting until the very last minute to call and be the big hero. He'd talk about some huge surgery he had to perform or some teleconferencing call with Sweden or some other bullshit. Tammy could still tell when he was lying, and she was sure this wouldn't be any different. More than likely, he was out to dinner or in Vegas with Kitty.

  “Did you check before you left work? Sometimes, he'll call later, and you miss the call.”

  “He'll call you here, baby.” She changed the subject. "Want some chocolate milk before dinner?"

  “And during.”

  “Fat chance. You get the milk, and I'll get the syrup.” Tammy was glad to be home, safe. She had a long day at the clinic today and wanted to make a quick, easy dinner and take a nice bath before going to sleep.

  Tomorrow, she'd be able to work through a long Friday and then take a mini-vacation from her life. As long as that bastard called. She poured the chocolate syrup and smiled at her daughter. I wouldn't give this life up for all the money in the world because of this little angelic devil. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Hamburgers or pizza.” Stephanie stirred her drink. “No, no, how about hamburger pizza?”

  “There's no such thing,” Tammy said. They always did this little routine at least once a week. “If there was, I'd know about it.”

  Stephanie acted flustered, throwing her hands in the air. “Mommy, of course they make hamburger pizza. You take the hamburger and cook it on top of the pizza.”

  “Won't the bun get soggy? And the ketchup and pickles?”

  “Mom.” Stephanie put her glass on the kitchen table.

  “How about hot dog pizza tonight?” Tammy said, rummaging through the freezer for something to make. She hadn't planned dinner, which was odd for her.

  “How about just pizza?”

  Tammy closed the freezer door and nodded. “You twisted my arm. Extra cheese or sausage?”

  “Yes,” Stephanie said and giggled.

  Tammy lifted the phone off its wall cradle and nearly fell, startled, when it suddenly rang. She ignored her daughter's laughing, grinning herself at how stupid she must have looked, and answered the phone.

  “Tammy Kelly?”

  “This is she.”
>
  “You don't know me, but my name is Manny Santiago. I need to speak with you.”

  Great, someone trying to sell me something. She looked at the clock. “Isn't it a bit late to be calling a residence?”

  “Miss Kelly, I'm not trying to sell you anything. I need your help.”

  “This isn't a good time.” Tammy wanted to order a pizza, take her bath, and relax.

  “Will you be around tomorrow? I know it's late, but I'd really like to explain this to you in person.”

  “Who is this again?” Tammy asked, a growing dread overtaking her.

  “My name is Manny Santiago from Long Branch in Jersey. I was a former cop, and my parents owned the Murphy's Law Club.”

  Tammy sat down before she fell. She didn't know why, but just the name of the club, forgotten after so many years, made her heart race. “I work until three tomorrow. Is there a number I can reach you at?”

  “I'm staying at the Holiday Inn. Room 217. We need to sit down and talk as soon as possible because we don't have much time.”

  “I'll call you when I get home from work,” Tammy replied and said goodbye. A random phone call like that from a man she'd never met just mentioning the Murphy's Law Club…

  “Mommy, are you alright?”

  “Yes, baby.” She started dialing the phone.

  “Who was that? Who are you calling now?”

  “That was a man from, uh, New Jersey. I'm calling your father now.” The phone rang twice. “Pick up the damn phone.”

  “Language, Mommy,” Stephanie said.

  “Sorry.” His cell phone voicemail kicked on. Tammy was shaking, the phone knocking against her ear in rhythm to the rapid-fire beating of her heart. “Randy, you need to call me and your daughter, like, now. I really, really need you to pick her up from school tomorrow. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.”

  Randy knew they had to hurry if they were going to make it home tomorrow to pick up Stephanie. He'd promised her they'd go to the fireworks.