by Tim Forder
Friday night was Banquet Night and while it was fun, it just was not the same as the one in Florida with my Di. That night, Diana and I had stepped onto the dance floor together for the first time. We had figured, with most of the dancers being blind, who would notice a couple of novices faking it on the dance floor.
Saturday morning was scheduled for packing luggage for those who had flights that same day. My flight back, with the Russells was scheduled for late afternoon. While the same treatment of airport assistance was given, no wheelchairs were offered to us.
At BWI (Baltimore Washington International) they also did not arrive to assist us with wheelchairs, instead they had a multi-seat golf cart customized for airport use to put us all in. We were all so tired from a busy week, which finished off with partying until morning, that the customized golf cart treatment seemed a real delight.
After riding over to pick up our luggage, we were driven out into the pickup area. Nothing else sounds like the pickup area of an airport. There was the traffic noise and the sounds of hassled people getting picked up or dropped off while trying to keep track of their luggage. There were also the public announcements. They were not as humorous as portrayed in the comedy Airplane!, Jer’ did get a grin out of remembering how, in the movie, there were two public announcers, a man and a woman. The public announcements decayed into a continuation of an argument the two must have had while on a date. He continued his happy thoughts of the movie, remembering a another line, “And don’t call me Shirley.”
Diana must have waved down our airport version of a golf cart’s driver, as he drove us right up to her car. While Diana helped us into the car, the airport assistant loaded up the trunk of the car with our luggage.
The first stop was to the Russells’ home to drop them and their luggage off. We were a more subdued group in the car, leaving BWI, than we were driving to BWI a week earlier. Us party animals were just too partied out – well, until I got my wife home that is. After all it had been a whole week.
Chapter Six
Meeting Isabella Bathory, Boarder
You can believe we made up for the week of abstinence before the luggage was even unpacked.
While helping me unpack, Diana found the western style top I bought her. It was similar to the blouse the sales lady was wearing. She suggested I have a closer look to see for myself just how sexy a top it was, even to taking my hand and showing the low cleavage of the neckline. Later, when Diana put her gift on, she proved the sales lady was right, as attested by the sudden tightness in my pants. For baby Elaine, there was a cowboy bunny rabbit wearing a complete western outfit, including a wide brim hat with big bunny ears coming through the hat’s brim.
After we finished unpacking, Diana put on her new western top and nothing else and the horizontal bed boogie began all over again. Man, that saleswoman was right. That was one sexy top. Hey, can you blame us for acting like two teens in the back of father’s car. After all it had been a whole week.
Afterward, while lying in bed feeling as contented as a cowboy in a whore house, I asked, “So when do I meet our new boarder?”
Diana, also sounding as contented as a well paid whore in a Texas whore house, took a minute to answer. She looked at the bedside clock and answered, “I guess tomorrow morning, if you’re up early enough. She’s already gone to work by now.”
The next morning I awoke to, “Hey, sleepy head, time to get up.” When I reached out to grab her, she jumped back, laughing. “Now none of that. I let you sleep in as long as feasible. But now you have to get up and get dressed so we can get to church on time.” The last part sounded like a song, especially coming from the sweet voice of my lovely wife.
“So do I get to meet Miss Isabella Báthory, Boarder?”
“Sorry, no.” She sounded disturbed.
“Something wrong?” I asked, concerned about the tone in her voice.
“Not really. She has already come in from work, showered and got to bed for the day. She wanted to stay up and meet you, but she had a rough night of it and needed to get to bed.”
“So why do you sound worried?”
“Not worried per se. I just get a little disturbed when she comes home with blood on her clothes.”
“Blood! What the hell are you talking about?” I replied, almost raising my voice.
“Oh, it’s happened before. Some movie goer gets carried away with the martial arts movie, sees himself as the unbeatable and starts a fight right there in the theatre. Then Isabella and her ushers have to play bouncer to the over-enthusiastic patron. In this case the guy pulled a knife and attacked Isabella. She had no choice but to take him down.”
“And the blood?”
“His. It seems he fell on his blade during the fight. She told me the police had to be called, as well as an ambulance. It was one of those rough nights she sometimes has. It’s not the first time she has come home with blood on her clothes. Oh, EMS told her the knife wielder will be alright after some rest, a transfusion, and then it’s off to jail for that creep.”
I don’t think I have ever heard my sweet Di call anyone a “creep” before. Just didn’t seem right somehow.
At church, many said how they missed me last Sunday, as I was in Texas at the convention. The convention did provide a unification service last Sunday morning, or you could just sleep in before the first meeting that Sunday afternoon. A unification service just seemed too strange to me so I decided to sleep in. For now, Reverend Bob gave a sermon on the Prodigal Son that got me wondering if he was preaching to me for not being present at church the week before. Had anyone mentioned to him about the convention I was attending? Now I’m just being silly.
I was reminded of something that happened during my high school years. During a youth Saturday morning outing, I broke my arm, but good. The doctor made the mistake of using the “S” (surgery) word. After it took three nurses and two doctors to hold me and calm me down, the doctor decided he would only set and cast my arm, not surgically pin it. “Now, you go home and stay in bed for three days. You don’t get out of bed for any reason, and move that arm as little as possible,” the doctor ordered very seriously. Doing as he said, Sunday morning I was in bed listening to the Sunday service on the radio, when the preacher got up to give the sermon and announced, “I don’t think I can do the sermon this morning. Young Jack Poisner, who is always sitting in the second row every Sunday, is not here with his ever-present smiling face, as he is home with a broken arm.” Of course, he did give his sermon. When I got back to school, I was really surprised how many and, in some cases, who had heard my name on the radio. My mind almost screamed, Jack, the sermon. Right, enough, no more with the mind wandering as Reverend Bob went on with his sermonizing on the Prodigal Son.
That evening I got to finally meet our boarder for the first time. As Di and I were sitting in the living room playing with baby Elaine, I heard the creak of Isabella Báthory opening the front door. One of these days we really have got to do something about that door.
I listened to her coming into the room. Did the room just get colder? I heard Di announce, “Isabella, you’re looking better than you did this morning.”
“Yes, a good day’s sleep does wonders for me,” Isabella answered.
My mind screamed, My god! Was that from the beautiful Isabella Báthory, with the voice of an angel, that I had been hearing about? That voice. That incredible voice. That gravel-filled voice sounded as if it came right out of hell itself.
Chapter Seven
Best Bud, Eric
It was all I could do to keep from cringing at the sound of that voice from hell. I must have heard wrong. I must have. All the raving from Di wishing to get Isabella into the church choir because of her angelic voice and she sounds like that. Something is not right.
Getting up from my seat to properly meet the new element within the family, I said, “Hi, I’m Jack.” Since I was about to meet a woman for the first time, I was not sure whether I should put my hand out or not, so
I just casually put it between us, giving her the option of taking my hand or not taking my hand to be shaken in greeting.
The room did get colder as the voice from hell said, “Hi Jack, I’m Isabella Báthory.” There was an uneasy silence. She broke it with a screech that almost destroyed my hearing with its pure ugliness, “YOU’RE BLIND.”
I wanted to respond very violently with an ax to her head. It wasn’t because of her “blind” comment, for it was a comment not a question, and I have heard it many times before. I suddenly had this feeling of sudden rage. It was like something I felt once when I was in college. It was the first day of classes, and I was taking public transportation to my college in D.C. Halfway there, the bus stopped to pick up this guy that was your stereotypical hippie from the headband, to the psychedelic vest over an undershirt, right down to his sandals. Seeing him, I had a sudden urge to get out of my seat and pummel this guy into a large, bloody pile. Like to freak me out. I have nothing against hippies or this stranger, so the whole thing took me by surprise. The next day we picked up this hippie, and again, I wanted to tear him to shreds. At least, this time I knew why. He was wearing the same outfit as the day before, except he was also wearing a black upside-down cross necklace—he was a Satan worshipper. My soul sensed it, but it was my body that reacted. The feeling I felt with this boarder was déjà vu to my senses.
I heard her rush out of the room. There was a definitive chill in the air as she rushed past me, leaving the screen door to slam shut behind her. The graveyard chill of many deaths in the air left with her. I stood there with my skin trying to crawl for cover, totally confused and bewildered.
I looked in the direction of Di and in my confusion asked, “What happened?”
She just answered, dreamily, “She must have had to rush off to work. What a shame. Is not her voice just so angelic? It’s a shame I can’t talk her into becoming a part of the church choir.”
My incredulousness over what she had said and what had just happened must have shown on my face and was misconstrued by Diana as she added, “Yes, I know, she works Saturday nights and is not able to attend church. What a shame.”
I remembered from my Bible studies that Satan was, and most likely is still, a very beautiful angel in appearance, presumably with a very angelic voice. I tended to agree that the voice I heard was from an angel alright—an angel kicked out of heaven—an angel from hell.
I heard Di go back to playing with Elaine, and I got to wondering how that horrid voice could sound so extremely beautiful to Di and sound so horribly painful to me. Could Di be so blind to what is living in our home? ... Or is she living? ... Blind. “Di, did you not mention to our boarder that I am blind?”
“Now that you mention it, I guess it just never came up,” Diana answered. She continued, “I think of you as my loving husband, not as my blind husband. I guess it just never occurred to me to mention it to her.”
She continued, “She must have been running late for the bus, to have rushed out the way she did. Usually we have a little time to talk before she runs off to work”
It also just occurred to me that the room got back to being warm again. Could the room temperature really have changed while this boarder was in the room or was that just my imagination? RIGHT. Like I imagined that painful voice, that voice that Di keeps harping about being so lovely.
Just then I heard the screen door open again. Is she returning for some reason? It will be interesting to see if the room temperature changes again. I made a point of feeling for a change in the room temperature as the approaching footsteps entered into the living room from outside. The room temperature is not changing.
“Hey, Jack, it’s Eric, man. So how was your trip?
Getting up to put out a hand, I returned the greeting, “Eric, my man, how’s it hanging?”
“Jack, watch what you say in front of the baby,” Diana corrected.
“I can’t. I’m blind.” Old joke, but I couldn’t pass it up.
Looking back in Eric’s direction, I continued, “The trip was great, but tiring ...”
“You did not seem so tired in the bedroom after you got back,” Diana quipped.
Faking shock, I answered jokingly, “Honey, watch what you are saying in from of the baby.”
After we all laughed that one off, the conversation got back to my trip. When I mentioned the incident with the wheelchairs, Eric said, “Some things never change. When I got back from ‘Nam with my shattered arm in a cast, I was greeted at the airport with a wheelchair. With all of my luggage and only the use of one arm, I took them up on it.”
Changing the subject, I asked Eric, “So what do you think of our new boarder?”
“Man, you are one lucky stiff. No way would my wife trust me with a babe like that in the same house. No way man. Have you seen the knockers on her?”
“Eric!” Diana demanded,
“Yeah, I know, not in front of the baby,” Eric answered.
“No, not in front of me.” We laughed all over again.
“Di, you have nothing to be concerned about in that area,” I put in while still laughing.
“So you have met her, our new boarder?” I asked Eric.
“Yep, you might have noticed, I was not allowed to come over to see my bud until after my wife saw her leave for work. Hey, did she seem to leave here in a hurry?”
“Jack thinks she might have been disturbed at finding out that he’s blind,” Diana put in.
“Well, maybe she had not had much experience around blind folk where she comes from. Maybe it took her totally by surprise. I take it, Diana, that you didn’t think to mention it to her?”
“No, I did not,” Dianna answered pointedly.
Getting back to my original question, I asked again, “So Eric, what do you think of her, besides her knockers, I mean?”
Diana interrupted, “Guys, if you keep up the talk about the knockers, I’M LEAVING.”
“I think she’s impressive. To have come all the way over here from Central Europe to make a life for herself, basically alone. That takes spunk. Strange though, you know my fascination with vampires and vampire lore, hell, all things vampire. Well, with her being from Romania, known as the old Transylvania territory of Dracula, I tried several times to talk to her about her home grounds and vampires, but she changed the subject on me ... every time. She’s made it very clear that this is not something she wants to talk about. I do think it even stranger, that when she mentioned her job at the theatre, I asked if she would get me in for free if I came down. She literally begged me not to come down to the theatre. She said it would be too dangerous. When I mentioned my two tours of duty in ‘Nam she still insisted I never come down to her place of business. She again said the area is too dangerous.”
“She made it a part of our agreement that we would never go down to her place of employment, because it could be too dangerous to do so. You do know she’s a Master of Kung Fu and has even won tournaments with her fighting ability,” Diana reminded us.
“You know what? In the news there has been a rash of murders down in her area lately. But when isn’t someone getting iced down in D.C.?” I added.
Eventually Eric headed back to his wife and baby boy. He made an interesting comment once about my baby girl and his baby boy, “You know, when my little boy grows up, all I have to worry about is my one boy, but when your little girl grows up you will have to worry about all the boys.”
We put baby Elaine to bed and soon went to bed ourselves. I had trouble getting to sleep that night, and it was not because of my sleep apnea.
The next morning, by the time I had gotten up, our live-in Auntie, Chris, informed me that Isabella Báthory had already gotten home and was in bed for the day. It was just another day in the life of the Poisners. That evening when Diana came home, I asked her to call me upstairs from the family room when her dear Isabella woke so Isabella and I could get to know each other better.
Eventually Di called me up for dinner and as I sat down
, I asked, “So when does Isabella get up? Isn’t it about that time?”
“Oh, she’s gone already,” Diana calmly, matter-of-factually answered. “She’s already off to work.”
Trying to keep my cool, I asked, “So why didn’t you call me so I could talk with Isabella?”
“She said she did not have the time and would have to rush to work.” Then dinner was served, and nothing more was said about our boarder. Nothing more was said out loud. Inwardly I fumed over Diana’s failure to do as I asked. I fumed over Isabella succeeding in avoiding me. All this fuming only added gas to a burning house.
Chapter Eight
The Fire
Whoop, whoop, whoop.
What the hell, ... the smoke detector.
Whoop, whoop, whoop.
Diana must be burning dinner again. Wait a minute. I hit the button on my watch. “The time is three-o-nine p.m.,” the female voice of my watch announced. It’s too early for Di to be fixing dinner. Shit, could the house be on fire?
Whoop, whoop, whoop.
Jumping out of my lounge chair and ignoring the news, I rushed carefully around the family room couch and made my way as fast, but as carefully as possible. Finding the stairway, I rushed up the stairs to find Diana coming out of the kitchen. Seeing me, she yelled, “There’s a fire in the kitchen.”
Whoop, whoop, whoop. The smoke detector was sounding in the hallway leading to the stairway down to the family room. I was standing practically right under the smoke detector, and it was even louder now.
Looking into the service square, a square cut in the kitchen wall to allow passing of food from the kitchen to dining area, I could see both flames and smoke very alive in the kitchen. Time to bail.
Knowing the baby was taking a nap in her room, “Di, where is Chris?”
