Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One)

by Wingate, Susan

  I sniffled. "A special night?"

  Then, she began to cry at the thought of their last night together. Then she nodded her head fast. "Yeah." She recovered and smiled at me. "Greg. Your dad." She looked up and smiled and I wanted to roll my eyes but figured, now, with this outing of new info, I'd best not. "He wanted to fix me dinner." She laughed once. "He wasn't a very good cook." She stood and walked to the door and leaning against it, she put her fingers to her lips and patted them softly. "But, he was a very good husband." She looked at me and smiled again. "He loved me so much."

  I looked down at my lap.

  "He loved you too. He adored you, little miss." Her arms dropped to her sides. "He probably didn't mention your talk because he wasn't upset about it." And, I almost got a word in but she did the Supremes thing again and stopped me. Again. "You might have been upset but he was too excited about getting on with our date night." Then, she came back and sat with me on the bed. "Remember, you had eaten a bowl of mac & cheese. He'd put it in the dining room with Moose and you took your bowl, instead, and went to your room to eat and study." She looked up and smiled at the ceiling. "That's when he followed you."

  "He came in and I told him how awful it was to kill animals. I screamed at him, mom."

  She raised her eyebrows and looked sad for me.

  "I didn't know."

  "I screamed at him and made him promise not to kill animals anymore. I screamed and screamed. Didn't you hear me?"

  "I did but your dad said that everything was under control." She laughed. "He said," and she mimicked the way dad talked, "Guess, I'll be hanging up my gun, Willa."

  "He did?"

  "Uh huh. I had no idea honey. None." Then, the happiness of remembering the moment went solemn and her face seemed void of all emotion. "Then, he said he wanted to go out for a bottle of wine, you know, for dinner."

  "What."

  "Yes. He said he wanted dinner to be special and that he was going to get us a bottle of wine... no questions asked. But, I did. I told him we didn't need a bottle of wine. That the weather was too bad. That we could have wine another night." Her head fell to her chest and for the first time in months mom cried like she did the day dad died. Openly. Bravely. Like an animal calling for its young.

  I got up and stood next to her by the bed.

  Mom's shoulders shook under my arms. And, even though I held her tight, I couldn't squeeze the pain out.

  As I held onto her, she choked out more, "He said, that a little snow couldn't keep us from having a night of romance, Willa!" The tears boiled out of her. "Oh my God. Why. Why. Why did you have to leave that night? Oh, Greg!"

  "Mom. Oh. Mom. I'm so sorry."

  She tried to gather herself, her streaked face red and lined with wet mascara she tried to wipe away but it just smeared. "How could you know about that? You were in your room."

  "I always thought it was my fault he left."

  "Oh Susie." She blocked back more tears. And, only said, "No."

  She turned out of my grip and grabbed both of my upper arms. "Sit."

  I collapsed onto the bed, slump-shouldered still in mom's grasp.

  She wiped the hair out of my face then hugged me, tight. "See. And, this might be the saddest thing I can ever tell you but, Susie, sweetheart. But." She breathed in. "It's just nobody's fault."

  "It's the snow's fault."

  "It's nobody's fault, baby. Nobody's." She sniffled.

  "I miss him so much."

  Her face crumpled but she pulled herself together. "Me. Too." She sniffled again.

  "Mom?"

  "Yeah. Honey."

  "Is it okay if I blame it on the snow for awhile?"

  She breathed out and grinned. "Sure." Then, she got up. "But, don't hold a grudge for too long, Susie. Grudges only fester."

  "K. Mom."

  She leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I love you, Susie Speider."

  "I love you."

  Then, she turned to the door and slipped through it.

  "Mom!" She walked back into view as if she'd walked backwards into the opening.

  "Yes, honey."

  " I hate the snow."

  She only shook her head and made a little tsk noise between her teeth and tongue. Then, mom puckered and blew me a kiss.

  FIFTY THREE - Another Resurrection

  I was feeding my Spider, who I'd decided to name, Orville--the orb spider! Snicker. Who, btw, was getting big and fat and round like she had been before the incident.

  Sitting on my bed there, watching her made me feel happy. For many reasons but mostly because she was no longer dead--another mystery King James might want to record, another miraculous resurrection. In a flash, I was thinking about my dad again.

  "Susie!" My mind snapped away from dad when mom yelled out to me.

  It was Saturday, my second favorite day of the week, after breakfast but before lunch.

  "What!" I screamed to her from my room.

  "Come here and don't scream anymore!" She screamed which is, like, well, if you can scream then why can't I? But, I didn't want to start anything up. You know how parents can get.

  The day was sunny, snowy with a good chance of precipitation later in the afternoon that would melt the snow then turn into sleet by evening and snow during the night and following morning per the weatherman's forecast. But, I loved to see the sun hit the snow outside. Everything beamed in a flood of brightness.

  Passing each door down the hall and each window in through each door, the sun smiled at me, making me smile and then making the sun smile even brighter.

  "Susie?" Mom had a blue plate that boasted about four Costco peanut butter cookies on the kitchen table and a glass of goat's milk next to it. I pulled out the chair in front of the plate and the glass and proceeded to sit. I was totally absorbed by my snack that I didn't respond to mom.

  "Susie?"

  "Huh?" She frowned and when she did a tiny vertical crease appeared between her eyebrows, but closer to the right one. "What?" I repeated, fully connecting with her by then.

  "Honey. I just got off the phone. Well, I just got off the phone with two different people?"

  "A conference call? On Saturday?" I bit into my crumbling peanut-y cookie. The cookie had the perfect amount of butter and sugar. So good.

  "Um. No. Uh, no. Honey. Two separate calls."

  "Ahh." I took a sip of milk. "Okay? Like. What's the big drama, mom?"

  She pulled out the chair at the corner next to me. Sitting down she rubbed her finger just below her nose, that way she did.

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Well, yes. Honey. Yes. I sort of think something is wrong."

  "What?" I shoved my cookie into my mouth and bit down again. I loved peanut butter cookies. I'd always hoped that Costco would create a PB&J cookie. Life would be worth living then.

  "Look." She sort of arched her back, straightening it out and then shook her head a little. The frown line between her eyes was still there. "I just spoke with Mr. Haggert." She paused. And, when she did a flash of heat enveloped me. "And, then I spoke with your doctor."

  My hand, the one holding my cookie, fell to my lap. "What."

  "Well, honey." She looked like her next few words needed a mediator, or someone else to say them for her. She even glanced out the window as if hoping to see someone to save her. "Honey. Mr. Haggert told me what's been happening at school."

  "Like, what?"

  "Well. He said that... well. First of all, young lady. You did a very brave thing stopping those bullies from hurting Matthew." Why did everyone call him Matthew? "You're a very kind-hearted sweet young lady, Miss Susie."

  "Okay. Mom. Cut the Miss Susie stuff, all ready. Jeez. What's up. Why the cookies and worried face?"

  "You want directness? Is that it?" Her head made these tiny little bops up and down, as if to stall.

  "Mother. Please. Get on with it."

  She stood abruptly. "He told me about Mrs. Morlson. That she seemed to have it out for you. The
n. What Matthew did? You know?" Which I did not know and if I kept my mouth shut was sure to find out. I didn't move. I just stared into her eyes hoping she'd spill it. "Well, anyway. He's such a wonderful friend. But, what really got to me was that, that woman, would go to such lengths to target someone, well, you." Oh. Man. She glossed over whatever it was Matthew had done. "Why do you think she would target you, Susie?"

  By that time, she was looking down on me.

  I just shrugged my shoulders.

  She sat fast, into her chair again. "Not good."

  I shrugged again. Then, made a face like What gives, ma?

  "Don't lie to me, young lady."

  "Look. First of all, mother. How should I know what evil lurks in the heart of Morlson?"

  How could I actually say,

  Well, mother, I've been heading over to her house on Delilah's head, as a spider, of course, and biting Morlson's big fat hunk-o-beef of a leg every other night or so.

  I mean. Really. How could I say that? So I just said. "Mother. Please. How can I possibly know." I then took a very nonchalant bite of my cookie, sipped at my milk, daintily, and set it down, praying for her to buy it.

  "Okay. Well. Good. If you're not instigating it then maybe she's just a horrid person."

  OMG. She bought it. I just lied to my own mother!

  "I spoke to your doctor too. Like I said."

  "Mm hmm." I looked up innocently. The frown line seemed to have grown deeper. Her eyes were tight like her mouth.

  "I told him about the spider."

  "That Morlson tried to kill her?"

  "No. Um. No. Sorry honey. No, about the spider. In your diary."

  The magnetic poles shifted. I felt my chair quake under my rear-end. My head spun. My eyes felt like someone had placed branding irons into them.

  "You talked about my diary entries!"

  "Do NOT raise your voice to me, young lady."

  "I CANNOT believe you spoke about my diary to the doctor." I stood up from the chair. It slid away from my legs as if insulted by my leaving. "How dare you, mother! How dare you!"

  FIFTY FOUR - Child Abuse! Child Abuse! HELP!

  Mom nearly tackled me at my bedroom door. "Listen. I need to know what's going on inside that head of yours." Then, she actually poked me in the temple with her finger... TWICE!

  "Ouch!" I rubbed the spot. "That hurt!"

  "Oh. Quit being so dramatic." She was on my heels and into my bedroom with me like a big cartoon snowball gathering girth and steam as it went careening downhill.

  "Leave me alone!"

  "I will NOT leave you alone!"

  I jumped, butt first into a sitting position on my bed and folded my arms across my chest. The silent treatment. My last resort in order to deter mother was by using the silent treatment.

  "I had to tell him."

  I just pouted and tightened my grip around my chest.

  "I HAD to, Susie."

  I turned my head away from her and let my view absorb the spider scene. I could ignore mom by looking at my spider moving in space along a single invisible stretch of silk toward a corner of her wastebasket. She had just killed a moth, one that had fluttered in somehow from outside the bedroom window. Orville was sucking the living daylights out of it. I could relate. Mother was having the same effect on me, right now.

  Her words went tinny, vacant, like someone speaking through a make-shift soup can phone and then I pressed my fingers into my ears and did what every smart teenaged girl would do at this critical juncture.

  I blurted out, "La la la! I can't HEAR you!"

  However, I did hear when she slammed my door, making the whole entire house tremble when she finally left my bedroom.

  FIFTY FIVE - Sunny, With a Chance of Cold Shoulders

  Sunday, my most favorite day of the week, came not a moment too quick.

  The sun was still smiling at me. The weatherman, although educated in the "science" of meteorology, had, sadly, yet again, missed the mark. Not only did we not get any sleet, we didn't even see a sign of another rain or snow cloud, anywhere. With binoculars.

  Back to school with you Mr. Weatherman!

  Bundling up in my black powder pants, my lace-up rough-out snow boots and my ski mittens, the ones with the blue snowflake motif was definitely in order for the job at hand.

  I avoided mom.

  She was in the kitchen making snapping, maple-y bacon but I fought the urge to hug her around the waist. I'd already been up, early. Brushed my teeth, washed my face and dragged a brush through my hair, pulled it back and snapped a clip at the base of my neck, to keep it out of my eyes. Then, just for added measure, I pulled on my matching blue snowflake-motif snow bunny hat with earflaps. I needed to feed Orville, the girl spider. Snort.

  I walked into the kitchen, past mom and out the front door onto the porch. I sensed her head twitch toward me, but come to a screeching halt, in my direction.

  We were giving each other the silent treatment.

  I walked past her and out the door--quiet as a titmouse.

  Rustling through the boxwood proved desolate, barren, nada, zilch. I'd have to dig in the dirt today. These cold winter days, finding spider food proved exceedingly difficult. The fruit flies even had hit the hay. I dropped to my knees and immediately felt the subtle cold of the snow melting into my waterproof pants through my jeans.

  I'd have to be quick about it. I carved out a pile of snow two-feet deep and two-feet wide. Then, dug the tips of my mittened fingers into the earth. It felt like solid ice.

  No way José.

  I stood and went to the porch where mom kept a pot full of her garden equipment--a hand trowel, a pair of green rubber gloves, and a nipper. I pulled off my mittens, dropped them on the porch, slipped on mom's rubber gloves, picked up the trowel and headed back to my digging area.

  Stabbing at the ground like an ice pick quickly made bits of earth chip away revealing softer earth underneath. In fact, underneath was a muddy layer. After shoveling that from the hole, I lucked out. I hit PAY DIRT! Te he. No lie. There were like one google and a half, grubs and centipedes. I shuddered when I saw all those centipedes. Talk about a nasty lot of insects.

  Heeby Jeeby Time. For sure.

  I scooped up a trowel-full of them and, balancing it ever so carefully, walked back to the porch where mom's pot was. But, it had a hole in it.

  "Mom!"

  "What!" She yelled through the kitchen window. Her face still dented with doubt.

  "I need a bowl or something."

  She disappeared for a Nano-moment and then the screen door opened and mom materialized with a bowl. "Here."

  "Thanks."

  She didn't even say, the ever-so-polite, "You're welcome." I noticed.

  We were communicating ala single words.

  Fine.

  After dumping my quarry into my bowl I went back to my hole in the snow. My knees felt the cold right away that time. No subtle melting then.

  The bugs had dug themselves deeper too. They were all gone by the time I got back.

  But, my search for bugs was cut short.

  "Hey."

  I looked over my shoulder. It was Matt. "Hey." I said turning back to my hole. Rethinking my plans, I stood up, bowl, bugs and all and turned to him.

  "Watcha doin'?"

  "Digging for bugs."

  "Cool."

  "Yeah." I agreed.

  "Wanna go to the cemetery?" I dropped my bowl. "I'm going. I thought you might too."

  He looked down, dropped to his knees and began scraping the bugs back into it. "I got it." He said. "Sorry." He rose up, bugs in tow, and handed the bowl to me. "I didn't mean to upset you."

  "You didn't."

  "You dropped your bowl."

  "I know I dropped my bowl, ace." I jerked it out of his hands. They were bare. No gloves for Matthew. "Where are your gloves?"

  "Don't have any."

  I rolled my eyes and moved back to the porch up the steps and to the door. "Well? Come on." I t
ipped my head to the door for him to follow.

  Matt took two giant steps and was onto the porch.

  "How did you do that? I can't do that."

  "I'm like a foot taller than you. You're a shorty."

  "I'm not a shorty."

  "Yes. You are."

  "Am not."

  "Are too."

  "Shut..." I turned hard around to him as I opened the screen. "Just get in here."

  FIFTY SIX - Hand-Me-Downs

  With dad's gloves on, Matt clutched a bunch of pretty flowers.

  Mom drove us to her work and let us go in and pick out two dozen Costco roses. His, a dozen perfect peach ones, his mom's favorites, wrapped in crinkly seamed cellophane stapled with a flower preserver in a small, two-inch sized packet attached at the rim of the clear thin plastic. Stems, thorns and serrated leaves all bulging and packed in, tight.

  My roses? All white, like the snow.

  He bent over, brushed the snow from the steel plaque that identified which person's body laid under the earth, and he wedged his mom's roses into a prefab flower slot close to her marker on her grave. Then he knelt down in a squat and just stared. His eyes scanned the area that I figured was the top of her casket, to the middle where her waist might still be, then to her feet.

  "That last day," It had to happen, this purging of pain. Matt bravely went first, "she looked sooooo pretty." He turned and smiled at me. "Ya know? I mean, the doctors had carved her up so bad but they hadn't touched her face. Nothing could. She looked," He paused as if seeing her again for the first time in five months, "angelic."

  The cemetery hadn't yet gotten up her headstone. Matt's mom's name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Ann. She was only thirty-three. She must've been eighteen when they had Matt. She was four years younger than mom. Panic gripped me when I thought how close their ages were.

  "What's taking so long?" I asked about the headstone.

  "Don't know." He stood up and turned to me.

  I could see he was fighting back a wave of tears when he pressed both fists into his eyes, covering them. But, his chin did this give-away and quivered in-between where his hands didn't hide. When he released them, his arms fell stiff as if swinging them down to his sides, enraged. He made an audible groan, trying to shake the onset of crying, of crying in front of me.