The Dark Scarlett

by Aven Jayce

  “Be careful,” she says. “You don’t even know if this is his home.”

  I nod as I exit the Escalade and cross the street. There’s a strong odor of dog shit coming from the empty lot next to the house and I see a few dog toys left in the weeds. The bottom floor windows of the house are either boarded up, or covered with black plastic, and the wood on the front steps is more like a sponge than solid material. I take out my phone to call Haverty and a second later a ring from his cell sounds from the inside. Dear God, this is his home. With my phone back in my pocket, I step around two dog bowls and tap lightly on a wooden door.

  Son of a bitch, what the hell does he do with all the money he makes?

  Alyssa opens the door without looking up. She waves me into a dark room where a handful of candles are lit and the smell of mold and wet dog hovers in the damp air. Prudence and Max lift their heads when I enter, and I’m surprised they don’t bark. The dogs are on a sofa that must be a giant chew toy for them. The arms and cushions are torn and some of the stuffing’s on the floor.

  Alyssa sits on the floor in front of them and rests her head on a cushion, letting Prudence lick her cheek.

  I regret at once that I never visited them in the past, and feel not only disappointment in myself as a person and a friend, but also extreme sorrow for the two of them and their dogs. The house is bare bones, and if I had known... goddammit if I had known.

  “Where’s Haverty?” I say softly. “He left the Scarlett and he’s not picking up his phone.”

  A tear falls and lands on her nose, rolls down, and drips to the sofa. She answers with her finger pointing toward the stairs. I look up into the darkness and listen, but hear and see nothing.

  “You don’t have electricity?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and clears her throat. “Not since April.” she says.

  “You’ve been in this house all summer when it’s been a hundred degrees, with the windows boarded up and no air circulating? What the fuck?”

  She points upstairs then covers her face as she begins to sob.

  The wood creaks on each stair as I walk into the darkness. When I reach the top landing I hear the pings of water dropping into buckets placed under the leaking ceiling. The walls are covered in dark grey and black patterned wallpaper that’s peeling, or missing in patches altogether. The upstairs is dim except for one light toward the front of the house. I follow it, walking cautiously into a room.

  “Haverty,” I say softly.

  My eyes trail the planks of the hardwood floor, up the side of a queen-size bed, across an older women’s figure and to her face. Her mouth and eyes are open.

  “No,” I whisper.

  Haverty’s lying alongside; holding her firmly in his arms with his face hidden away.

  “I’m sorry,” I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  I’m taken aback by the scene. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence and keeps his face concealed in his mother’s emaciated body. I knew she was in poor health, but had no idea... I’m dizzy... I need to sit down. I use the wall as a crutch, setting my back and head against it for support.

  The rain continues to fall and a steady drip lands on his mother’s bare leg. She’s in a frayed light blue nightgown and I can tell the dogs have been recent visitors in the room. At the foot of the bed is a circular indentation where they sleep, and the quilt is covered with fur.

  Empty water bottles and plates of food surround a pile of pill bottles on a table next to the bed.

  “Jimmy,” Alyssa says from the doorway. “Please love, it’s time to call someone.”

  His hand grips his mother’s arm even tighter, then he’s motionless again.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I whisper and walk into the darkness of the hall to call an ambulance, still lightheaded, but willing to do anything for the two of them. After making the call, I text my father to let them know what’s happening, and then insist they go home. It doesn’t seem appropriate to have a mass of people hovering around the house at a time like this.

  I walk back to the room and watch the lights of the Escalade disappear down the street while keeping an eye out for the ambulance. Alyssa wipes the drips of water off the body and moves the leg out of the trickling path that comes down from the ceiling.

  “That’s a new one,” she says with her eyes on the leak.

  I nod, inept as to what to say or do, so I just listen and offer sympathetic gestures, wishing I could’ve done something earlier. I should’ve done something.

  And then it hits me. That’s how Mark’s email ended two nights ago, with those same words. Wish I could’ve done something. I should’ve done something. Is that how he feels, or how he felt about me while I was under the hands of his father? Is everything too little, too late, for all of us?

  The dogs begin to howl as an ambulance parks in front of the house. Haverty stirs, pulling the body even closer to his.

  “Jimmy,” Alyssa whispers with a hand on his side. “They’re here. Let her go.”

  “No,” his voice shakes as he starts to cry. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and tilt my head against the wall. I can’t watch. There’s a knock and then the front door opens and the dogs bark.

  “Upstairs,” I call out.

  The stairs creak and Haverty moans. “No,” he whispers. “I never had a chance to tell her I was engaged. I didn’t...” he cries and clutches her arm. “I never told her how much...”

  “Tell her now.” Alyssa tries to stay strong for him only she can’t hold back her tears, and neither can I. Not after hearing the agony in his voice.

  I open my eyes and put a hand up for the ambulance team to wait, but they walk right past me.

  “Don’t,” Haverty sobs. “Don’t take her away.”

  The two EMT’s look at the medicine bottles, to me, and then to Alyssa for feedback on the situation. Alyssa keeps her hand on Haverty’s side, speaking to them in her softest voice.

  “She had breast cancer and a heart condition, was doing okay, but may have had a heart attack. I checked on her before leaving for work and saw that she had passed. I called Jimmy first and he said not to call anyone until he came home. He was afraid you’d take her away without getting a chance to say good-bye.”

  “How long ago was that?” one guy asks.

  “Around two hours,” she says.

  Haverty’s chest heaves as he tries to regain composure. This is the first time I’ve seen him cry. Most men are vulnerable when confronted with loss, especially when it’s their own mother, and he’s in better shape then I’d be at this moment. I can’t imagine losing either one of my parents.

  “I love you Mama,” he pauses with a deep inhale. “Please don’t leave me, not yet, you said you’d be around for a long time. Please come back,” he sobs. “Please.”

  Alyssa lies next to him and places her hand on the side of his face. “Turn toward me,” she whispers. “Let me hold you.” She takes his hand and guides him away from his mother. He moves slowly, keeps his eyes closed, turns, and seizes Alyssa in his arms.

  The ambulance crew checks the body then lifts it onto a stretcher. My insides twist when Haverty calls out for his mother as she’s taken away. It’s one of the saddest, most heart-wrenching moments I’ve ever experienced.

  “I’m sorry,” I wipe the tears off my face. “How can I help? What can I do?”

  There’s no answer, no words, only weeping that fills the candlelit room. I can’t believe I’ve been such a self-centered bastard, a fucking piece of shit to my friends. How could I get so wrapped up in my own fucked up life not to see how difficult things have been for everyone else? It’s all about me, right? Poor me. I need a swift kick in the ass. Literally, someone should smack me across the face and wake me up. But that’s the problem; they love me so much, are so accepting of all my faults and problems, yet I haven’t done the same for them. They deserve better. At the moment, I can’t even imagine how anyone in my life would want to talk to me or call me a friend. They have
no idea the love I feel for each and every one of them, and that’s my fault. I’m completely in the wrong.

  My eyes are glued on the shadow cast on the wall; a large shape that rises and falls with their erratic breathing. Their bodies stay in a restless state, never slowing, or coming to rest. I wait, wondering if I should reach out, touch him, and attempt to console his loss again.

  “Check on the dogs,” Alyssa mumbles into Haverty’s chest. “Please, Cove.”

  I leave the room the moment she makes the request, making sure they’re okay, and in need of some fresh air myself. I’m unsteady, still faint, and when I walk downstairs to see the EMT’s left the door open and the dogs are gone, my body becomes consumed by a full-blown panic attack. Dear Lord.

  I’m thankful to see Max right outside next to a tree stump, taking a piss. I pull him in by his collar and close the door behind me, heading back out to find Prudence. The rain’s heavier now, and I’m worried she’s gone. I can’t let that happen. Not now, not tonight.

  “Prudence!” I yell.

  It’s dark and most of the streetlights are broken so it’s hard to see at a distance. There’s no sign of her. I check the empty lot, and then start to walk, the rain soaking my clothes and matting my hair to my forehead. I can’t take much more of this miserable weather. Or tragic days, for that matter.

  “Prudence!”

  Nothing. No movement except for the drops of water falling before my eyes. “Please come home,” I whisper, knowing the words aren’t meant solely for the dog. “I should be out looking for you, bringing you and our child home. Protecting you from all the bad weather in this world.”

  I start to run, searching frantically for the dog. Bulldogs are big, she won’t be able to disappear on these open and abandoned streets, and as long as she hasn’t made it to the tracks or a lot behind a building, I’ll find her.

  For a while I start to feel lost myself, but when I stop to catch my breath, panting, swiping my hair from my face, a swift movement on the opposite side of the street catches my eye.

  The kids we passed earlier while driving in the Escalade are still out in the rain... and Prudence is with them. As I start to cross the street they take a step back, one on each side of the large dog, each holding her collar securely. I stop, unsure if they’re afraid of me, or if they don’t want me to take Prudence away.

  “It’s my friend’s dog,” I say. “Her name’s Prudence.”

  They have blank stares and I can see now that they’re twin boys who look eerily like myself when I was that age. Dark hair and eyes, thin-framed, and shy.

  “Where do you live?” I ask. There’re no houses on this block, nothing but boarded up buildings. “Where are your parents?”

  “Lost,” one says softly.

  “In their own heads,” the other says.

  Their words send shivers down my spine. I’m waiting for an elevator to open and a pool of blood to spill out resembling a scene from The Shining.

  Prudence is sopping wet and I’d like to get her home, and wish I could do the same for the boys. Their hands fall to their sides as they release the collar, but there’s no further movement from them, or the dog.

  “If she loves you, she’ll come to you,” one says.

  I put my hand out and Prudence turns her head to them, then back to me, and sprints to my side. “Good girl,” I whisper, with a pet to her head.

  The boys race away, slowing only to hop in puddles with a laugh. They kick the water at one another, and then sprint down the sidewalk.

  One stops and looks back with a smile. “See you around,” he waves, before disappearing with his brother.

  I stand in the street with Prudence by my side, both of us drenched, shaking, our bodies shadowed by the night.

  “Let’s get you home, girl.” She pins her ears back and listens. “Fuck, I have so much to do.” Her big eyes gaze up and she pants. “I’m thankful for you more now than I ever have been in the past, and we’re just getting started.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The police were at Haverty’s house when I made it back with the dog. They asked questions about the death and took statements from the three of us, normal procedures when a person dies unexpectedly. I can’t remember the number of times over the past week I’ve interacted with the police. They should just give me a uniform and a badge and I can fill out my own reports as events occur in my life.

  Haverty and I sat across from one another in his living room; discussing medication costs, hospital bills, and the numerous treatments his mother’s been through over the past two years. Even with a good insurance plan, they didn’t have enough to meet their monthly expenses. His entire check went to keeping her alive, providing her with the best care he could afford, and in the end, when a drug for her breast cancer was costing them close to three grand a month, he just couldn’t keep his head above water. He said he’s not surprised her heart gave out, considering all the drugs and procedures she’s been through. Sometimes the treatments do more harm than good.

  At one point during the conversation I reached out and held his hand. He provided a partial smile and I hope the act offered comfort during his time of loss. I pay close attention to his every word, never mentioning Sophia, or what’s happening in my life, or that I feel like shit about inviting them to an expensive restaurant, and that Alyssa had to go out and buy a dress to wear. I don’t bring up his home or how they’ve been living or change the conversation to be about my feelings instead of his. I just listen.

  His emotions flip during our conversation, from a smile when Alyssa puts her hand on his shoulder or walks by, to tears when he gazes at the stairs to the second floor. I know he can’t stay here tonight... that he shouldn’t stay in this house right now. The memories are too painful. I offer to set them up in a hotel with the dogs, and when they decline, I suggest it would be best to have friends and family around to help them through this, that both Sophia and I are here for them, and they should stay with us. It takes some convincing. Haverty’s not the type to ask for help, but in the end, I think he agrees more for Alyssa and the dogs’ sake, than for himself, which is fine by me. I don’t care why he finally said okay, as long as I get him somewhere else for the night, out of the mold, stench, and leaky ceilings, away from the room where his mother passed, and into a place with electricity and AC.

  While the two pack and get the dogs ready, I follow his directions to pick up the Escalade. He parks it just a couple of blocks North in a monitored lot of a canning factory. Being friends with the evening lot attendant has its privileges and Haverty calls the guy ahead of time, letting him know I’m on my way for the vehicle.

  The car reeks like vomit the moment I step inside. That’s my fault. I’m embarrassed that I puked in the backseat last week, told Hav I was going to clean it up, and then never did. It’s dried now, but the smell still lingers. It’s been hot and with the windows closed and the car parked in the sun, the smell may be engrained in the seats forever. And now, with my drenched clothing and wet hair mixed in with the scent of puke, the vehicle smells like a locker room at a gym. Fuck, I couldn’t even clean up my own vomit?

  What else have I done to, or not done for, this man?

  Mark Jameson was right. I knew very little about my best friend whose home I’ve never visited. I hate to admit it, but I should’ve listened to the prick when he said he was trying to teach me a few things about life, but all I did was fight him every step of the way. Sophia’s brother may be a lunatic, but he was more aware of the people in my life after a two-day visit than I’ve come to know about them over the past year. Fuck, he’s clever. A little too clever if you ask me, like his father. Sneaky, cunning, and if I’m correct, unapologetic and unashamed of his actions.

  I park as close as I can to the front door of the house, not wanting them to have to walk through the rain. Haverty sits with the dogs in the backseat while Alyssa joins me in the front, and as we start to drive away the sense of panic I’ve felt over the past hour beg
ins to subside. She plugs her phone into a car charger, and now I know how the two have kept their cells running. The more I see, the more I feel disappointment and regret.

  “I wish I had known,” I whisper, not meaning for them to hear.

  “I wasn’t looking for a handout,” Haverty responds. “There’s nothing that you could’ve done.”

  “You think helping you would’ve been a handout?” I frown into the rearview mirror. “You looked out for my family, drove our asses around, dealt with my constant drinking and abuse toward everyone. You’ve sacrificed your time with your family for mine and have never asked for anything in return. You’re a saint, Haverty, and my friend. And you deserve better and so did your mother.”

  He’s quiet again, staring out the window, a tear streaming down the side of his face.

  “You know, my entire life I’ve felt sorry for myself. Poor me. Poor Cove Everton, right?”

  “With good reason,” he says.

  “You haven’t acted that way, and you’ve dealt with as much pain and sorrow as me, especially over the past two years,” I respond. Alyssa puts her hand on my leg, either to offer support, or to get me to shut up. I’m unsure which. I’m silent as we drive into the basement parking garage of our building, keeping my remaining thoughts about what a pussy I am to myself, that is, until Haverty speaks up as if he can read my mind.

  “It’s alright, asshat. We all know you’re a pussy.”

  I park and glance back at him in the mirror and he winks while Alyssa lets out a soft laugh. I smile and nod, locking the Escalade and leading them to our place.

  “I take it Sophia’s alright, considering you showed up at my house and aren’t out scouring the city for her?” he says.

  “I believe so.”

  “You don’t know for sure?” he asks while holding Alyssa’s hand. She leans against him as we ride in the elevator; the bulldogs’ on their best behavior.

  “I have a feeling she can handle the situation on her own.”

  “Are you saying you chose me over your wife?”