“Martha… Allembert?”
“Martha was here.” He concluded with a long sigh. “Did she see you or did she just dropped it at the front door as she normally does?”
“She saw me. We had tea and chatted a little.”
Jason’s eyes doubled their sizes, but he came to his right mind when he noticed Clarice didn’t seem to care that much. Which was fathomable; Martha was merely a lonely neighbor, not the county sheriff.
“She must have bent your ears for what… two hours?”
“It was fast, as incredible as it might sound to you.” Clarice giggled again and Jason felt another throb to his chest, seeing her happier and less obscure did him calm. “She’s a funny little lady.”
“Tell me about it. She’s known me for years…”
That’s when it occurred to him. He, who had kept himself staring the piece of pie, wondering if the neighbor had made it with those special ingredients he deeply loved, moved his eyes to Clarice and his smile faded slowly.
“What did she tell you?”
Clarice, as though trying to portray a lighthearted figure, hesitated for a while. Jason could feel she was holding something back, although trying to sound honest.
“Nothing that important, Jason.” She nodded to his plate. “Eat it, it’s divine. And she told me she put your favorite secret ingredient in it.”
“Did she…” He coughed to clear his throat. “Did she talk about Michelle?”
He noticed the quivering in Clarice’s eyes. She was in fact hiding something. Perhaps she was trying to protect him? Martha didn’t have a depth of knowledge on anything, most of what she knew and talked about were rumors and he thought Clarice to be bright enough not to fall into one of those stupid blabbers. Nonetheless, there was still that itch underneath his skin, pinching and suggesting that there was something else, that maybe Clarice already knew a good part of his past before he could even soften it up. Being honest to himself, he knew that after what she had witnessed earlier between him and his son there was not much else that could ever make it worse. There was, but she had no ways of knowing about it anyway.
“A little. She said Michelle was a great doctor and loved by many… to sum up.”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Clarice seemed to have gotten lost on the sudden change of subject that he intentionally caused. Even if Martha had said nothing too serious, it could give Clarice the opportunity to raise questions and he feared not being able to lie to her.
“I did. Thanks for the pills, I finally could get a full night’s sleep.”
He nodded in response. For days, Clarice had complained about not being able to sleep or that whenever she could manage to do it, she would always wake up scared, lost and lonely. She had been sleeping at the guest’s room, which was the only bedroom at the ground floor of the house, therefore neither Jason nor Marco were at her reach. That, though, hadn’t been the reason he decided to bring the subject to the breakfast table.
“I didn’t sleep well,” He kept on, “I heard noises. I thought it could have been you, even.”
“Sleepwalking is not one of my troubles, amnesia is enough.” She said, chuckling.
The pie was truly divine. Not so fresh anymore, maybe, after the time it spend on the counter, but still tasteful. The small berries looked almost intact and, at the same time, satisfactorily sweet and soft as a filling.
“I don’t know, I thought I heard noises at night, but by the way I’m feeling lately, that could be just my mind playing games.”
“Do not beat yourself up,” Her voice came out soft as silk, as was the hand that touched him. “Maybe we should go hunting so you can unwind.”
“Jason.”
Michelle’s voice, again. He took a deep breath and firmly stared Clarice, returning his attention to his pie. He would ignore it. Michelle was not real and, even if she showed up again, he would ignore it. He considered he could even have not heard it at all, it could be just one of those unexplained phenomena in which you believe to have heard someone calling name.
“I think I need to leave this house for a while. Promise me you’ll go?”
Clarice lifted her shoulders and smiled, her green eyes shimmering under those morning lights.
“I promise I’ll consider it. I don’t know if I’m ready to venture myself into those woods again.”
She had already finished her tiny piece of pie, so she laid the plate on the sink, along the spoons and some other utensils. Jason still had half of his slice on his dish and it would still take him some time to finish it, reasons aside it was still by its half. She passed by him and tapped him slightly on the shoulder as she left.
“I’ll see if I can bring Marco to breakfast.”
And she was gone. Jason lifted his mug for another sip when a loud thud echoed, as in an shattering glass explosion, the loud encounter of two vehicles in high speed or something similar to that.
He moved the mug down again and turned around, looking for the source of the sound. Clarice was calmly moving upstairs at the living room and nothing seemed out of place. That noise was quite like the one he had heard on the other night and he was no longer sure of his sanity. Jason shook his head and glanced at his tea, confused. Without giving any more ideas to his concerns, he finished the tea in deep gulps, with two or three bites his slice of pie disappeared and he let the utensils right there, already removing the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Coffee would feel good to accompany it, but nothing would taste better than nicotine at that time and place.
He crossed the kitchen and opened the long sliding glass doors, trying to ignore the rapid freezing gust of air that came with it. The skies were strangely grey, though heavier than the previous days, nothing that scared him really. Maybe a storm would hit before the snowstorm which, honestly enough, he didn’t even expect anymore. If at least the forecasts were more precise…
“Jason.”
It didn’t just freeze his spine, this time, it clenched his stomach and stung his chest here and there, turning exciting butterflies in the stomach into angry insects trying to escape from his guts. She was not real and neither was her voice.
He took the cigarette to his trembling lips and tried to hit the edge of it with the flickering lighter flame for the wind was not helping that much. At last the first drag came, the sweetest, softest, deepest and most powerful one. Acting like an antidote to his bitter feelings, the smoke entered Jason’s body and dissipated all those hidden shadows, relaxing his muscles and calming his brains.
Michelle’s voice was gone. Nicotine always made him more alert and that could be the secret to it. Perhaps some people were adept to chain smoking so that they could keep their sanity and the imminent cancer with them.
While allowing the bitter smoke to leave his chest, he watched the strength of the wind moving everything around him, from leaves and unknown particles to the treetops in the horizon line. And he jumped when he saw the tarp covering the pool dance with the wind. Marco had taken the responsibility of emptying and cleaning the pool once they wouldn’t use it so soon, and was also in charge of protecting it from the weather, but he had failed in some parts of his task, apparently.
Jason crossed the deck and walked down to the yard, feeling his bare feet sink into the icy, humid ground. He kept on walking until he approached the pool, that whisper on his shoulder calling for him another time.
Jason…
The voice was gone, now it sounded more like a distant sound in his mind, a tone mixed to the moaning of the wind and the one coming from the leaves and the pine needles rustling in the air.
The tarp raised like a snake, and fell again, waiting for the next breath of air, the next puff. The strings that held it down to the little hooks nailed on the ground were loose, also swirling in the air and he had to struggle with nature before he could get a grasp to it.
By doing it, he saw something inside the pool. And the same thing he believed to have seen in it seemed to have spre
ad across areas of the tarp and some parts on the side of the pool as well.
It was blood.
Jason stood back for a bit, holding the cigarette between his lips and narrowing his eyes to avoid the smoke and dirt brought by the wind to his face. He released the strings and rubbed his eyes, he wanted to make sure it was not another one of his delusions. He took a few more steps ahead and gripped one of the tips of the dark tarp, breathless. He deeply wanted to believe it was not just another delusion.
He lifted the tarp and tossed it aside and, when he did it, he wished it to have been just a mind trick.
In the bottom of the emptied pool, amongst puddles of water and diluted mud, laid an animal so smashed into pieces it took Jason a while to understand what it was.
And it was a dog.
Not any dog. The grey fur, although sprinkled with blood and stained with mud, was unmistakable. Rob, Martha’s dog, who lived not so far from there. Rob knew how to piss him off at times, barking for hours through the nights, but he had become Martha’s companionship ever since her husband died, years ago. Jason had always disagreed on keeping the animal so free in their land, but Martha didn’t worry, she knew he’d always come back to her.
And now Rob was over there, dead and slaughtered.
Its stomach had been rustically opened, exposing its guts, spread all around its body. The whole thing was so gore and macabre that Jason could barely understand. He felt his breakfast attempting to return, but the reflex took his hand to his mouth and prevented him from making the thing he was seeing even more unpleasant.
Then he saw, over the animal’s chest, something sparkly. It could be a stone or maybe just water.
Jason flicked the cigarette butt away and jumped into the pool, that being a shallow side didn’t offer him much resistance. He took a few steps, keeping his hand against his mouth and nostrils, the smell was not at all pleasant. The animal hadn’t been there for a long time, but death… it had a unique smell, regardless of how long it would take to hijack a corpse.
The wide open vitreous eyes, the tongue hanging from its teeth… the scene was so gruesome and cruel he refused to believe a person could have done that to an animal. Wondering about delivering the news to Martha haunted him even more.
Jason…
That animal was real, wasn’t it? Or was it just another conjecture of his mind? At least there were no snakes or spiders, least of all Michelle to frame the demonic artistic arrangement.
As he got closer, he noticed the spark wasn’t coming from water or the collar. It was a ring. A wedding ring, to be precise. A small golden hoop, wide, slightly adorned, but sober. Covering the face with his arm, Jason crotched down and grabbed the object between his fingers, moving away with long strides, feeling as his stomach started to react to the scenery again. And again. He inhaled deeply and looked at the ring at his hand.
The object was too wide to belong to Martha, so he could only hope she was fine. There was something written on the inside of it, though.
Clarice & Nathan.
Jason knew what that meant and coming to that conclusion frightened him to the point of dropping the ring again. He bent down and grabbed it again.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
He jumped, he wasn’t expecting nobody else, let alone her.
“Clarice…”
Marco was by the side of the pool too looking at the animal, mortified. Clarice looked calm until he realized her shoulders started to irregularly move, followed by the rest of her body. Her face mimicked the pace, switching from calm to disturbed in such contorted expressions that, when he came again to himself, he was already by her side.
Desperation had taken control of Clarice once more and she was facing another amnesia-propelled fit. Her cries echoed through the backyard and beyond, entangled to her screams of anger and pain. She was in anger and pain.
And whom did he want to deceive? He was angry himself. Jason knew how to be prudent and to comprehend the moments he needed to ask for help, but he was so filled with hate he could even take justice with his own hand. Not due to the fact he had a dead animal in his backyard as a warning sign, but for knowing that monster of a husband of hers was prowling around, trying to drive that frail woman mad and threatening the lives of everyone around her. No, he wouldn’t let that go any further.
He kept on holding her tight, preventing Clarice from running away or falling or fainting. And, even though he could fail his mission, at least she would pass out in his arms, safe, and not on top of a dead animal.
“You are safe, Clarice.” Jason repeated a few times, trying to bring her back.
The wind blew stronger and Jason couldn’t tell how long they spent out there, but it was enough for Marco to go away and return with gardening gloves and some trash bags.
“Maybe it’s not safe for her to sleep alone.” Marco said in a way Jason understood he would not repeat the sentence before jumping inside the pool.
Jason wanted to stop him, but what would he say? They should leave the carcass there so that the police would remove it? They wouldn’t, that would imply having to give Clarice away to them and it would put her in more dangerous position. He probably wouldn’t sleep that night, nor the following one, but he would protect her until she was safe enough to follow her own way. What he needed in the moment was to help his son on that task, something a sixteen-year-old boy shouldn’t be doing to start with. The forced growing up of Marco was something that also haunted Jason, who knew that getting rid of a dead dog in a pool was way easier than the scars that existed on the boy’s past.
With extra care, he turned to the house, making Clarice follow his movement.
“Tonight, you sleep with me.”
It was the best he could do. The wind hurled and howled and he wished that gust could take away with it all the despair and fear Clarice had with her.
VII
The first thing he sensed was the pungent aseptic hospital smell. His head felt like filled with stones and there was a throbbing, unbearable pain behind his eyes preventing him from focusing on anything else. He tried to open his eyes, but the task, once simple to manage, seemed to take all his energies.
I don’t want to think having you around. Monica’s voice echoed in his mind, waking him up all of a sudden.
And there he was in a hospital room; the sight made his heart speed up and his mouth dry, a bitter taste running through his tongue, as his mind swirled on the unawareness of knowing the reason to be there.
Slowly, as his stamina returned to his body, his memory appeared to also do the same, bringing along the pain and confusion of not remembering the reason of his admission. The last thing he recalled…
“You’re awake.”
He recognized the sweet and smooth voice, he only didn’t expect listening to it there. He tried to move his head, but everything looked so bright his retina burned, preventing him from opening his eyes all the way. He, however, could see Georgia, on a corner, covered by the shadows in the room and by a black wide brimmed floppy hat she wore, a widow’s hat. He didn’t know if that was the name to it, but so he called it after seeing those wide dancing brims in funerals and burials.
Her deep black hair fell to her shoulders, or so he though, it could merely be the shadow of the daylight… if it was still day. He had no idea what time it was or how long he had been out of his conscience.
“What happened?” He asked her, trying to get up just to prove to himself his body was even heavier than his head.
“You had some sort of seizure while drinking.”
“You… you shouldn’t be here.”
The voice came out weak, but in a comprehensible intonation. The bitter taste of alcohol still rested in the back of his throat with that stale, pasty one, from someone who had spent hours with a shut mouth and an empty stomach.
“No,” Georgia replied, approaching the bed. “Your friend Mike called the last number you called and I came.”
Mike.
Mik
e would never call Monica, not when he knew they were in the middle of a crisis and that the biggest past of his drinking was related to another woman. No… he would call the one whose name he already knew, the lady Mike was sure would come and help him at the hospital, since that old bud would never ever leave his bar, not for a convulsive drunk.
He tried to remember, but the last thing in his mind was bring sat at the bar counter, chatting to Mike about the deep shit his life was drowning into.
“Some of the doctors must be here soon to let you know better.”
“I… th… thank you.”
Georgia rushed to his aid when she noticed he was trying to put himself up. Holding him by his arm, she supported him so that he could move upwards until reaching a sitting position at that bed.
“Evening, Mr. Gilles.” A nice-looking doctor said as she walked in the room with a soft smile and his chart on hand. “I’m Marcia Black, the doctor who assisted you.”
Yes, he could read the tag on her chest, hanging from that limpid white coat. During the minutes that followed, she covered some simple exams that seemed random, but Anthon knew it to be routine procedures, a way to confirm whether his fall had been serious, if he had gotten a mild concussion or if that seizure had caused him any damages to the brain or to his body reflexes.
Apparently, he was fine.
“Responsive pupils, you seem to be okay. Your mother’s maiden name?”
“Green.”
“Your first pet?”
“Pff…” He scoffed as he tried to recall that piece of information. He knew it to have been a huge Labrador which gave his parents the creeps, but he couldn’t… “Vic.”
“Birthday?”
“March 12th.”
“Hm, Pisces.” The doctor replied, smiling back at him. “Kidding. It’s all in order. I’ll prescribe you a mild painkiller and I’d recommend you see a neurologist as soon as you can. Dehydration, intoxication or hypoglycemia are common causes to seizures, but it could also have some deeper origins, I could even risk saying epilepsy. Is there family history?”
The Woman Hidden Page 13
