Growl

by Ashley Fontainne

  “We got that part, Tana,” Heather shot back, motioning with her hands for Tana to hurry up and unleash some more juicy bits of horror as she stuffed a huge wad of pound cake in her face. I doubted she even tasted the lemon zest before she gulped it down. “And, by the way, I was helpin’. I was out at the Kilgore place, keepin’ an eye on lil’ Drexel. Poor Ms. Greta was so wound up, she weren’t good for nothin’ but wearin’ holes in her shoes with all her pacin’.”

  “Okay, so let’s just say we all were doin’ our parts to help out? Agreed?” Tana said, watching her fellow hags nod in agreement. “Good…good. Okay, so there was a lot of yellin’ and screamin’, dogs barkin’, and people runnin’ ’round like chickens with no heads. It was crazy! Raymond was the first one back to his unit, outta breath and pale as Aunt Betty’s backside in the middle of winter. I was servin’ coffee off the trunk of his car. Don’t think he noticed me though. He snatched up his radio and started yappin’. Told the State boys to bring in more help and started tellin’ what they’d found. Asked for more dogs and such, ’cause whatever got those two girls was big. Said Barbara’s body had claw marks on it that almost looked like they spelled sin.”

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Period. So what now, Tana? The bear, or wolf, or whatever critter killed them poor girls, evolved enough to write? Sheer nonsense.”

  “Like I said, ol’ Raymond said that, not me. I’m just…”

  Mom stormed out from the kitchen and exploded. “You’re just sittin’ here, talkin’ about the dead, God rest their souls. Y’all sound like a bunch of crowin’ ravens in an ol’ maple tree at the graveyard. And y’all call yourselves women of faith and friends of poor Nanette. It’s shameful, and there ain’t no room for it in my diner. Our town is in mournin’ for the loss of three invaluable residents, and y’all act like it’s just another day to flap your gums and spread your venom! Cake’s all gone and coffee’s cold, so I think it’s time for y’all to go grouse somewhere else. Ladies, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  I wanted to shout, way to go, Mom! from my spot behind the counter. Instead, I kept quiet. In one quick swoop, as three sets of bugged-out eyes and gaping mouths looked on, Mom cleared the table of coffee cups and plates. She never said another word, but her eyes looked as though a fire burned behind them. All three women remained silent, unaccustomed to being addressed in such a manner by anyone, let alone my sweeter-than-apple-pie mother, and practically fell over each other as they scrambled up from the booth. They waddled as fast as their chunky legs would let them out the front door, the bell clanging inside the quiet diner.

  “For the love of all that’s holy, those women’s parents should be ashamed for not takin’ a switch to their backsides enough when they were young. Mercy! No couth, no grace, and certainly no hearts.”

  I set the last glass down and walked around the counter to help Mom clean up the rest of the table. Other than the soft whir from the three ceiling fans and the hum of the large refrigerator, the diner was deathly silent. The crowing harpies had been our only customers all day. The rest of our town’s inhabitants seemed to understand even though the sign on the diner said Open, the loss of Papa Joe would be a heavy burden for my family. Each of us hoped as we unlocked the back door and entered the stuffy kitchen at the crack of dawn earlier, no one would show up to eat. The thought of cooking or waiting tables seemed rather empty and hollow.

  “Mom, here, let me,” I said, taking the tray full of dirty dishes from her. She smiled softly, but it didn’t make it past her lips. Her blue eyes overflowed with a myriad of emotions. The skin around them was still puffy and swollen from heavy bouts of crying. The lines on her face seemed thicker, deeper. Her skin looked as fragile as origami paper and wisps of her blonde curls had escaped her braid and stuck up every which way. She looked as though a wave of electricity had shocked her. Without uttering a word, she let me take the heavy tray from her trembling hands. She stood there, staring out the picture window and into the empty street. She looked so frail my heart ached.

  Meemaw walked out from the kitchen and made a beeline for her daughter’s side. “Darlin’, don’t you let them get to you. We’ve got enough on our plates. Don’t need to add their heapin’ pile of ugliness to them. That’s just the way some folks are. Hateful and mean.”

  “Meemaw’s right. Ignore them. Come on,” I murmured, motioning with my head toward the kitchen. “Let me go fix you a stout cup of coffee.”

  Mom and Meemaw’s gentle footsteps followed in sync behind my own. Soon, the three Kovlin women were huddled in the kitchen and sipping hot coffee in the odd silence. It was strange to be in the diner during the breakfast rush and not hear all the normal sounds. No calling out of orders. No cha-ching from the cash register. No plates and cups clacking together. No good mornings or hellos shouted across the room as patrons greeted their neighbors. No fry top sizzling while bacon and sausage popped and sputtered. No Papa Joe humming in the background, his aged body moving faster than it should have been capable of as he prepared mountain-high stacks of food with uncanny ease.

  It hurt my heart more than I could ever express, and I couldn’t imagine what it had done to Mom and Meemaw. Papa Joe had been a part of their lives way longer than he had been mine. His sudden departure, along with everything else, left each of us sort of empty. Like old corn husks left in the fields after the summer harvest, we were dry, alone, and shells of our former selves. Everything seemed skewed, like we all had been magically transported into an alternate universe or something.

  Well, one of us had been, and the trip affected everyone.

  “I hate to see my girls with such long faces,” Dad said from the back door. He had been as quiet as a mouse and Mom and Meemaw jumped at the sound of his voice. Mom busied herself by wiping her coffee from her shirt. I just smiled since I heard him before he even put the car in park. It was very strange having such sensitive hearing.

  Yeah, like that is the only strange thing…

  “You missed it, Dad. Mom told the Gossip Queens to take a hike. Shoulda’ seen their faces. Priceless.”

  Dad set his coffee mug and keys on the edge of the back sink. We all watched him walk over and peek through the opening above the grill. He winced when he noticed we had no customers. “No women deserve to be put in their place more, that’s for sure. Have they been our only payin’ customers today?”

  “Yes. But don’t you worry none. Now that all the funerals are over, people will come back,” Meemaw offered, hoping to ease Dad’s financial worries.

  In a huff, Mom slammed her coffee mug on the counter, and I heard the faint sound of a crack as the ceramic met the metal. “How can you worry about money at a time like this, Jared?”

  “Jolene, do you really think cash flow is what’s botherin’ me? Seriously? After all that’s happened?” A small tear slid out of the corner of Mom’s eye, which she quickly brushed away.

  “Stop it, you two. Squabblin’ amongst each other ain’t gonna help our situation none.”

  “We shouldn’t have opened today. We just said goodbye to Papa Joe yesterday. It ain’t right. We loved him! We needed more time to mourn and to soak all this other mess up,” Mom said, waving her hand in my direction. Her words hit me as hard as if she’d slapped me in the face.

  “Jolene…”

  “Jared, if you want to stay here and sling hash for the ghosts out there, be my guest. Me? I’m goin’ home. Don’t have it in me today to keep my manners straight. Next customer who comes in here and says one negative word about anythin’, is gonna get a plate thrown at them. And that just ain’t right.”

  Before any of us said a word, Mom turned and stomped out the back door. The three of us watched as her feet ate up the pavement, her back ramrod straight and head held high. Bearings finally back after listening to her unusual outburst, I started to go after her. Dad caught me by my arm. “Sheryl, let her go.”

  “But Dad…”

  “Come now, darlin’.
She’s had a lot thrust on her in a very short time. We all have. Plus, she’s a mother, and I’m sure it’s eatin’ her up on the inside about Barbara. Not only was she like another daughter to us…” Dad said, the last words heavy with emotion. He cleared his throat to rid himself of the pain before he continued, “…she could have been you. And that, as a parent, is the greatest fear of all. When you add all the other shockin’ events, it’s no wonder she’s havin’ a tough go of it.”

  I bristled and tried to control my anger. I yanked my arm free and walked to the front and locked the door. Over my shoulder, I yelled, “Oh, yes, this is the direction I wanted my life to take. I had plans! Now they’re nothin’ more than a blip in my memory. Because I’m stuck with this duty…no, this curse! Trapped in this sweaty, armpit of the South, doomed to roam and keep watch over sacred freakin’ magical trees and water. Yeah, Mom ain’t the only one with a lot to deal with!” I shouted as I turned the lock on the door. In my anger, I ripped the metal knob off. In a funk, I just stared at it in my shaking hands.

  Dandy. Catwoman breaks everything she touches.

  “Sheryl, honey…” Meemaw started.

  I cut her off. I swung around and exploded. “Papa Joe is dead because of me! He died so he could transfer this flippin’ infection. Yeah, I said ‘infection’ because that’s what it is to me—an unwanted disease. Don’t you get it, Meemaw? Your father is gone because of me! Dane is home recuperatin’ from a concussion because of me, and Papa Joe said I have to stay away from him because he’s a danger to me. How can that be? I’m the one who’s a danger to others! And let’s not forget poor Tami and Barb. Ripped to pieces and gnawed on like a stack of ribs to get to me! They all died because inside me lives a monster. Now, some unholy creature, some ancient evil thing, is callin’ me out to a duel by goin’ after the people I care about. And I’ve got no clue as to how to defeat him since I can’t ask Papa Joe for advice anymore. Can’t even pray to the Lord because He won’t listen. I’m tainted with evil now. I truly am sin, so God isn’t goin’ to help me. I’m on my own in this battle. How am I supposed to deal with all that? How am I supposed to act normal when things are so unbelievably abnormal?”

  Dad stared with his mouth agape from the doorway of the kitchen. Meemaw ignored my tirade and started to walk my way, her arms outstretched, ready to embrace me. I wanted nothing more than to run to her and melt inside her warm hugs. I yearned to be able to close my eyes and drift off to sleep as she whispered a sweet lullaby in my ears like she used to when I was a child.

  Instead, I backed away and held my hand up to stop her. White-hot energy flowed through my limbs, the faint buzzing inside my mind a warning. My entire body began to quake and, God help me, I welcomed the sensation of the intense, raw power. I yearned to stand on four legs and let the mighty muscles contract, moving me away from the pain. To succumb to the temptation of the beast inside, urging me to disappear and let it take over. The change was coming, and I was powerless to control it. “Don’t…come any closer,” I whispered. My words were low, deep. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold it in.”

  Meemaw never batted an eyelash, never hesitated or faltered. Her luminous eyes shimmered with love and kindness, not one blip of fear behind them. She reached me and wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into her chest. “Shh, girl. Breathe. Deep and easy. I’m here. We’re all here, and we always will be. You aren’t in this battle alone, Sheryl. And the Lord above has not forsaken you! He has endowed you with a great gift, and He will always listen to you, just like we will. Now, concentrate on love, not hate. That’s it, listen to the sound of my voice and relax.”

  “I’m losin’ my mind, Meemaw,” I whimpered into her chest. “I can’t believe they’re gone. One minute I want to curl into a ball and cry until I dry up and blow away. The next, I’m ready to change and stalk the furry bastard to the ends of the earth and slaughter him for all the evil things he’s done. No one deserves to die like Barb and Tami did, or all the people throughout the centuries the bastard is responsible for killing. No one. Except him.”

  “Everyone feels those things when someone they love dies, my dear. Especially when their death ain’t a natural, normal way of passin’. When death comes from evil hands, it makes the wound in our heart even greater. Been happenin’ since Cain slew Abel, my precious one. Man’s flesh is sinful, but the soul can be reborn and made pure.”

  “Mine can’t. I’m doomed.”

  Meemaw hugged me tighter. “Never you mind talkin’ like that, child. Don’t let the evil win you over. Submit yourself to the love…the light. Come on; let’s go talk. It’s high time we sit down and talk this out, like families are supposed to. Shoulda’ done this sooner. We’ve all been selfishly wrapped inside our own minds, dealin’ with a bushel full of strange happenin’s. Once all the cards are on the table, so to speak, we can help you figure out what needs to happen next. Jared? It’s time to close up shop and go home. We all need to be a part of this.”

  Exhausted mentally and physically, I let Meemaw lead me to the kitchen. The electrical hum inside me waned as I clung on to her words. I prayed she was right. Dad pulled himself out of his stupor and bustled about the kitchen and turned off all the equipment. Once finished, he smiled at me, his eyes full of love, compassion, and confusion. Without saying a word, he reached over and hugged us both, pulling us into a tight ball. Though I tried to fight them, the tears arrived, so I let them roll.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Five hours later, vocal chords dry and worn out from talking, I watched the three most important people in my life from my spot on the couch. The air and the room had started out tinged with apprehension and dread but had turned stagnant and quiet. Dad stared out the picture window, his tired eyes focused on the vibrant blue sky. I wondered if he was wishing he could just sprout wings and soar away. Mom, who hadn’t said much during my long, drawn out story, was busy studying the inside of her coffee cup. It looked like she was trying to figure out how to maneuver her body around and crawl inside so she could drift away in the caffeinated liquid. Meemaw was chewing on the edge of her thumbnail, a habit she did when nervous. At the rate she was going, her thumb would be nothing but bloody nubs in seconds.

  “You know, I keep thinkin’ I’m dreamin’, and any moment the alarm clock will buzz and wake me up.”

  “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know.”

  Dad turned away from the window with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed to dismiss his misgivings and accept his new reality with the movement. He put both hands on his knees with the palms down and fingers splayed wide and sighed. “But it ain’t. So we can’t keep treatin’ it like it is. Though tough to swalla’, we are all part of somethin’ magical. Truly mystic. And I won’t tolerate any more negative comments from you, Sheryl, or anyone else in this house. You aren’t cursed. Or infected. You’re blessed, which means we all are.”

  “He’s right, child. Blessed and given a gift from above. You were chosen by the Lord Himself to keep order in the world as guardian of sacred things. Ain’t very many people who get to say that and it be true!”

  The weight of my new life seemed to lighten at the words of Dad and Meemaw. I didn’t say a peep in response, and neither did the two of them. All of our attention focused on Mom, waiting to hear her thoughts. The seconds passed like slow moving thunderclouds in the distance. The wait seemed like years.

  The struggle to control her emotions was intense. Her jaw was clenched tight; the muscles in her face twitched with each breath. She blinked several times and swallowed hard, forcing the tears back down inside of her. I don’t think she was aware of it when her left hand wandered up to her neck. She clutched the tiny silver cross in her fingers, and as she did, I saw the change in her. Her body went from slumped dejection to stiffened resolve. She took a slow, deep breath, and it seemed to fill her deflated heart with strength. Finally, she looked up from her mug and straight at me.

  “Yes, my daughter has found favor with the Lord. And
I’m sorry, Sheryl. I didn’t grasp the enormity of what this means for you. I…was sort of lost in my own painful dilemmas, which ain’t right. A mother’s biggest fear is losin’ a child and feelin’ like she failed them some way. Shame and humiliation consumes mothers when they realize they wasn’t there to protect their children when needed. But I don’t fear that anymore. I know He watches over you in a way I’ve never experienced before. I knew it in my mind, but now, I feel it here.” Mom let go of the cross and moved her hand over her heart. “And your meemaw is right—by extension, we are all blessed. In some small way, I understand how Mary must have felt when she realized what her son’s role in this world would be. Lettin’ go and lettin’ God is easy to say, but difficult to put into actions sometimes.”

  The last heavy brick fell away from my chest. “I don’t know how I would get through this without all of you.”

  Mom rose from her spot and motioned for the rest of us to do the same. We met in the middle for a big group hug. I drew strength from the love of my family and their willingness to accept the unacceptable. The stagnant air from before vanished, replaced with the warmth of our love for each other.

  Dad pulled away first. “I’m famished. Let’s head to the kitchen and sort the rest of the things out while we fix lunch. Ain’t none of us able to think straight with empty gas tanks.”

  Mom laughed for the first time in days. “Jared, you are the livin’ epitome of the expression, ‘the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’”

  “I am too. I could eat a horse.” All three of them stared at me for a moment, the looks on their faces hysterical. “Don’t worry. I’m not the ‘livin’ epitome’ of that expression. Geez, I was kiddin’.”

  “Well, excuse us, little missy. You forget we don’t really understand too much about your, um, predilections, when you…oh, gosh, what do I call it? Morph?”