Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One)

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Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One) Page 14

by Wingate, Susan


  I asked first. "Yeah. What's up?"

  "Uhhh." Then, like, he re-thought saying anything, he closed his mouth and shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Didn't look like nothing."

  "It's nothing."

  "Whatever."

  Matt stood up then and blazing fast, he bent over and, oh my god, like, I hate even admitting this, but, like, he bent over and, lord. He kissed me on the top of my head. Definitely, NOT a pope kiss

  Unbelievable.

  The shock I felt paralyzed me, sort of how a spider paralyzes her prey, or like Raid paralyzed my spider.

  "Bye." He said and walked out.

  I couldn't move, couldn't speak. I just sat there. Stunned.

  FORTY SEVEN - I'm Not in the Mood!

  "Get off of me!" I screamed at Rider who had thrown all of his eight languid legs over me.

  "Sh-sh-shhh!" He continued mounting me. "Don't scream."

  "Agggggg!" I couldn't NOT scream! "What do you think you're doing, mister!?" I couldn't believe Rider was feeling amorous, and at zero hour, no less. I tried squeezing out of his grip much like Pepé Le Pew's skunk girlfriend in those old, old, OLD cartoons mom insisted on watching on Nick at Nite.

  "Q-q-quiet." His whisper was so loud it might be defined better as a croak. Anyway, he continued wrapping his legs around my body, squeezing me and whispering, "Quiet. Quiet." Holy Moses. What's a girl to think?

  Then everything whirled into a vortex of more hideousness, if that's even possible.

  Morlson leapt to action. She moved with the deftness of an elephant ice skating. Off the bed, but paused, turned and spoke. "Now, you monster, now, I've found you."

  "Agg!" I screamed in Rider's ear.

  She held the bottle like a gun and walked over to our the corner, looking up at us the whole time.

  "Get off me!" I pounded his chest but he moved like a spider on a mission and regained control, nearly smashing me into a tiny ball under his body.

  That's when the unmistakable, phfft phfft phfft, made him tighten. His body froze, wrapped around me like that.

  Morlson had sprayed Rider. He was paralyzed with me clutched in his grip.

  FORTY EIGHT - He Was a Good Spider

  After that, forces of nature played a key role.

  First, Morlson got it.

  She hadn't thought enough ahead of her attack on us to get out from under the inevitable rain shower from the poison she'd sprayed up at us.

  Drops fell like acid into the Queen's face, into her eyes.

  "RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" She bellowed out dropping the sprayer. It fell to the floor bouncing once and then tumbling askance on the carpeting.

  Next, Rider's grip began to slip. His first set of claws unlatched from the webbing. Then, his second set gave way. Then, the third and fourth set followed.

  Now! Remember. He had me in this strangle hold of sorts, his legs paralytic around my body. So, when he finally lost hold of his cobweb, we both tumbled down, falling leaf like, spiraling, in tandem, parachuting to the ground.

  Morlson still had both hands into her face and she was moaning in pain. She stumbled blindly toward her bathroom door and disappeared.

  Rider landed on his back with me on top of him. He let out an oof! at the point of impact. His legs splayed open, unlocking me from his grip. Rider's head arched backwards in a horrid angle.

  "Rider!" I screamed. "Rider!" He couldn't respond. The spray had him frozen solid. Plus, him landing so hard and with me on top of him like that, well, he looked as though the fall had killed him. A needle tip sized tear bled from my four eyes.

  Just then, a cranking sound from a tap opening let me know Morlson was splashing water into her eyes. The sound also jarred me from the moment. I couldn't help Rider. Not now. Not any longer.

  I could only save myself.

  I traversed underneath the bed again, back the other way toward the window where Delilah sat still washing her face. She looked enrapt. Even as I screamed her name. What, with the noise from the water and the whooshing wind outside, pussy couldn't have heard the ever-identifiable peep peep peep of even a mouse!

  Clambering toward the window felt like crossing the Sahara desert in anti-gravity boots.

  Another crank of the faucet and the water stopped.

  "I'm gonna crush you!" Morlson bounded out of the bathroom wearing the biggest set of hot-pink bunny slippers I'd ever seen. She intended the worst kind of death for me.

  Death by bunny slipper.

  The intake of my breath was overlapping the exhaling of it, which made my head spin a little and I had to slow down or my lungs felt like they would explode.

  Morlson ran to the corner where we'd fallen.

  "What!?" She belched in anger. She turned in a circle one way, then in a circle the other way. Where she stood, I was 100% certain she had stepped on poor, poor Rider. It was over for him.

  Oh the wickedness! Oh the pain!

  Oh these tangled webs we weave...

  My delay fed my sapped state with enough renewed energy I was now able to reach the wall, to the window's opening, enough of an opening for a human's pinky finger to poke through. I took off!

  Now. Morlson must have some pretty fantastic vision because as soon as I ran, her head wrenched in my direction.

  "You!" She belched out another single-syllable vexation making me freeze in my spot.

  From my carpet-level vantage point, all I could see were two pink fuzzy bunny faces pointing their puffy little white button noses in my direction. Their eyes were made of clear plastic holding inside a set of black discs inside that moved when Morlson moved and came to an eerie stop when Morlson stopped.

  And, now, the bunnies were staring right at me!

  "Argh!"

  At the same second, we both moved. Me for the window. The bunnies toward the foot of the bed.

  When I reached the wall, the bunnies turned the corner of the bed.

  When I climbed to the casement, the bunnies made it to the other corner of the bed.

  And, when I reached the crack in-between the window and the sill, Morlson's hands grabbed the top of the window and pulled it down with such force the pulley strapping inside the casement snapped and ricocheted out with an incredibly loud SPROING! The detached end went flinging like the tail of a loose electrical wire!

  FORTY NINE - Can I Take That Back?

  "No, Gramma. Mom's not home from work yet." I hated lying to my Gramma Jean.

  Mom's eyes plated open like the tender box dogs from Aesop's Fables and she shook her head violently, waving her hands in front of her face, like a pedestrian trying to get the attention of a car heading directly at her.

  It had been ten months since we'd seen Gramma Jean. She stayed for nearly a month with us after dad's funeral--the anniversary of which was approaching like a Formula One racer, head on, toward me.

  "I will, Gramma." pause, pause, "I promise." pause "No. Gramma. Jeez." pause, pause, roll eyes, "I won't forget to tell her. Yep. Bye." Click.

  "That was a close one." Mom let out air like a fizzling balloon.

  "She just misses dad."

  "I know."

  "Like me."

  "Oh, honey. I know." She pulled me into her chest and squeezed my head so tight it nearly broke my ear off.

  "Gah. Mom. My head!" When I pulled away I looked up to her face. "Pretend it's a chicken egg, un-boiled, it can crack if you squeeze it too hard."

  "Yes. Dear."

  "You need to call her someday. Or. Like. What? Are you afraid you'll slip about your new boyfriend."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Excuse you." I said which I wish I hadn't because, and mom's not the abusive sort but she cracked me in the back of my head. "Ow." I put my hand on my head like she hurt me or something. "That's called child abuse."

  "You know." Her face got this extreme shade of crimson and she sort of stammered before continuing, "You know, you have no idea what you're saying. If you're referring to Paul,"

  I rolled my eyes.


  "And, you can just erase that thought right out of your head because, and I'm going to say this for the last time, Paul and I are just friends."

  Her footsteps to the sink landed hard and angrily on the floor. She banged around with some stray dishes, flipped on the water, got something out of the cupboard, slammed the cupboard door and breathed out hard. But, she wasn't through with me.

  "I don't know how you get these things in your head."

  "Oh. Well." I turned toward her in my chair. "Maybe it's because you're fawning all over him... Paul this and Paul that...Paul, want some dinner? Paul, want some pie."

  "Stop it." She turned off the water by flipping the handle down.

  "Paul, want some of my juicy red lips!"

  That did it.

  "Now. Susie. I mean, now. Stop it." Any movement she'd shown to now, halted. Her head dropped to her chest and she started to cry but not like she used to, not in big sucking wallowing whelping cries. This time it was quiet, motionless and, still somehow all-consuming. When she spoke it was with a weakness I hadn't seen in her since we got the news dad had been killed, the phone call from the police telling us there had been an accident and we would be visited by the police who had been the first responders at the scene. She went weak then too.

  "Susie." She didn't move her head off her chest. "You have no idea how much I miss your father. None." A sad soapy hand lifted out of the dishwater and brushed across the bottom of her nose leaving a few bubbles behind--it felt all comedy-tragedy. My stomach did a somersault. "He was my life long before you ever came along." Then, she looked over as if she were testing her words out and repeated the insult. "Long before." Like he was and he ever shall be her first love. My stomach somersaulted the other way.

  My eyes squinted and I started to speak but she cut me off.

  "No. You just wait one minute."

  But, I refused to just sit there and let her have a go at me. "You have no idea! You have no idea! He loved me too, you know. And, I wish it had been you out there not him! Do you hear me!? You!"

  I ran to my room, to my solace.

  FIFTY - I'll Move Out When I'm Eighteen!

  Dear Diary,

  Mom will never ever realize how bad I miss dad. She's become such a socialite and with that "would-be a cool guy," Paul. It's really quite disgusting. I can't imagine that dad's not looking down from the cosmos somewhere and freaking out.

  He wouldn't be dead if we hadn't had that fight. It's all my fault.

  He left because of me. Because of Moose. That poor deer. Still, if I hadn't confronted him about hunting, told him all of the bad things that come from it, that the karma he creates by killing will turn out to be his own undoing. And, whammo! Just moments after telling him, moments after ranting and raving about his fate, ShaBam! The snow plow creams him.

  It's my fault he's dead.

  He wouldn't have left.

  He'd still be here today and mom and Paul wouldn't be finding new love with each other if not for me. I have no one to blame but myself.

  I'm so miserable--so completely sad.

  I'd put the final period onto the page when mom burst into my room unannounced and uninvited.

  "Mother!" I rolled over onto a hip, pulled my diary into my stomach, hiding the fresh ink, and wiped my arm across my face.

  "Look, Susie." She pushed the door open fast making it tap the wall behind it. "I'm sick and tired of our closed door policy of late. From now on, unless you're sleeping, this door will remain open. Understood?"

  "Is that all? 'Cause if you're quite finished, I'd like to get back to, to, to sleeping!"

  Mom glared at me and, with the svelteness of a hawk, she descended onto my diary where we ended up doing this sort of 'push-me-pull-you' thing with our arms until she arose victoriously with my diary in her hands holding it high above her head.

  "Mother!" I flew off my bed and to my feet, jumping up and down trying to reach my diary that she now had clutched between her evil talons. "That is my diary! My private thoughts!"

  Then, she turned all superior on me and, it's at that point I can honestly say, she quit being my friend and turned into a full-blown mother. "Young lady," she growled out, "your thoughts will not be private if you're still living under my roof."

  I was awestruck. The audacity of her saying something basically sentencing me to life in prison here, was like the worst thing she could've ever done, aside from her cracking me in the back of the head, that is. I mean, God. Corporal punishment, 24/7 watch, and now absolutely, completely zero privacy and in my own room! I just couldn't wait to turn eighteen.

  "Sit down this instant!" Mom's body did a little twist and turn and she got the book away from my grappling hands. "You sit in here and you wait for me. Do NOT shut this door, or else!"

  Gah. Or else... or ELSE! I hated that phrase.

  FIFTY ONE - The Truth Revealed

  On the outside and safe from Morlson's attack was no picnic either. The sharp wind had a deafening quality to it. Plus, each time I tried to jettison over to pussy, my silk got slapped away by the force of yet, another gust.

  "Pa-Lease!" I squealed out and kitty seemed to understand because she rubbed her arched back against the wall making it possible for me to merely step onto her. Easy Breezy!

  I was safely sitting on Delilah, as she climbed down off the landing's ladder, when my mind whirled back to Rider.

  He'd been trying to save me, not mate with me.

  Oh, the horror. The horror!

  Now, he was gone. It was my fault.

  He died so that I might live.

  FIFTY TWO - Can We Skip a Memory?

  "I honestly have no idea what you're thinking." Mom's voice sounded weedy. Not like before, when she wrestled me for my diary.

  My eyes left hers. Hers burned red and looked watery. I gazed out at the ending day, the sun dipped slow into the evening meaning only one thing-- it was another day closer to the anniversary. Something mom seemed to totally forget about.

  The Neapolitan ice cream sky made me feel sadder.

  Snow had been falling nonstop. It almost looked fake, the contrasting brilliant white against a glowing crimson backdrop broken up only by a few oak trees, telephone wires and a single jet heading somewhere, anywhere, out of New York.

  Matt and I had walked to and from school, again, of course. Mom couldn't take me or pick me up. That was dad's job.

  For the life of me, and thankfully, Paul had gone AWOL. At least, that's how it seemed to me. Anyway, he couldn't taxi us to and from school either. Both of them were useless.

  "Do you even know that in a week it will be the anniversary of dad's death. Do you?"

  She rolled her eyes at me!

  "Gah!"

  "What do you want from me, Susie? What am I supposed to do to make it so you think that I'm not ignorant?"

  "There's nothing you can do." I meant it as a barb.

  "Don't get snotty with me you little..." Her mouth pursed in a B consonant but she didn't say it. That would've been, like, the worst thing. "You need to think about what you're saying to me. To me!"

  "It's like you don't even care."

  And, that did it. Her eyes filled up fast, like right around his death, like days after it, like two months, three months...

  "I care." Her warbled words caught in her throat, like someone had taken a knife to them. But, she recovered. "You don't understand..." I tried to interrupt but her hand flew up like one of the Supremes. And, she started to speak again, this time without allowing me to butt in, "You don't understand. I know you don't. I read your diary. Well, from around this time last year to now, anyway." She wiped her nose with a tissue. She dragged it out from a goiter sized lump inside the sleeve of her sweater.

  "You had no right to."

  "I have every right to." Then, she dared grab my hand. I pulled it into my stomach away from her but she grabbed it back, as if it were hers, and held it like a vice.

  "You're my daughter. I'm worried about you.
"

  Like, right. When does she worry? Between being busy at work or on her dates with Paul. I rolled my eyes again and turned away, my hand still being clung to by mom. "It wasn't your fault, Susie."

  "What are you talking about." My words sounded vicious and I jerked my hand, hard, getting it free.

  She looked defeated but wouldn't stop. "Okay." She paused and nodded her head as if she intended to take this to the very end. "Okay. Sure. We can do this. I can't imagine how it hasn't happened yet. So. Yes. Let's do this. Now."

  Mom was getting all drama queen on me. I just blew out a fast stream of air, "Chsheee" and shook my head.

  "What do you think happened that night?"

  And, it was like all of everything, all of my pain and sadness, all of my guilt came flooding out. I mean. I just lost it.

  "'Cause, Susie, I don't really think you know."

  Through a wall of blubbering I got out, "I don't know? I don't know dad died? I don't know that if we hadn't fought..." and my words trailed off behind a line of tears.

  "You fought with dad?" Mom was crying but not making any sound. It was like someone turned on little tiny eye faucets and had walked away from the sink.

  "I told him that the deers would get him one day. All the deers from deers past would come back somehow and get him!" I blubbered out.

  "Oh Susie. I didn't know."

  "How could you not know? I yelled at him."

  "He never said..."

  My crying sputtered and stopped. Dad never said anything? "What?"

  "He never mentioned you two had a fight. I mean, if he'd thought it was bad enough I would suspect he would've told me, don't you?" Then, her head tipped slightly to the left, my right. "We always talked about things involving you but not that night. Not that night."

  "How could he have not mentioned it?" I wiped my nose on my sleeve.

  Mom got up, reached into my underwear drawer and pulled out a handkerchief. "Here." Then, she sat back onto the bed with me. "Maybe he was preoccupied." I frowned making her continue. "Well, we had planned a special night." She blushed.

 

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