Death Rhythm

by Joel Arnold

  Daddy always tells me I'm his favorite girl, but he never lets me come along with him when he goes away. He leaves me here with Edna and Mae. He says I get underfoot too much now, that I should go out and play. There is no one to play with except Mae and Ed. Most of the times I would rather be alone.

  September 30, 1947

  Things aren't much fun anymore. No one to play with except Mae and Ed. Dad plays with me sometime, but that's not so much fun as it used to be. Can't help but be scared of Big Ed. She's getting too big. Too big to do the things she does. And the things she does are too big. She scares me. Mae sometimes scares me, too. When Edna and Mae are together, that scares me the most.

  Sometimes they are fun to be with. Sometimes we play Indians in the woods. That's fun. We sometimes pretend we are bank robbers, like Jesse James and Billy the Kid, and pretend we're hiding out from a posse. Yesterday, I tripped on a branch and scraped up my knee pretty bad. I got in a lot of trouble because I have mud on the new dress Daddy bought me. But at least when I fell I noticed that the ground was still warm. The games we play are fun when the ground is warm.

  November 2, 1947

  Yesterday, Mr. Transworth died. He was very old. He had to use a cane to get around. I heard my dad say that he died from bleeding in his head. That's gross, but it's sad, too. I didn't know Mr. Transworth very well, but I did see him walking in town sometimes with his cane. They are having his funeral right now. I hope the ground is still warm and soft enough to bury him in.

  December 8, 1947

  The ground is cold again, too cold to bury in. I tested it myself and our shovel just banged on the ground like it was a rock. I hope no one dies this winter. But someone always does. Winters are hard on some people. Like old people. It's too hard on them and they get sick and die. I hope this winter isn't too hard on people this year. I hope no one gets sick and dies.

  January 16, 1948

  Edna is too big. She's a young woman now, Dad said, so I think she's too big to still be playing the way she does. I thought last year would be the end of it, but she still does it when mom and dad go away. I told her I'm going to tell on her, but then she says she's going to tell mom about what she saw me doing in the bath tub.

  I hate her.

  March 24, 1948

  It's getting warmer now. The ground is getting softer. Big Ed scares me so much. I hope the ground gets soft enough soon. It rained last night, and Mae and Ed were playing in the rain. Dad was gone and Ed and Mae were playing with their dolls again. I hate it. I hate their dolls. I think Big Ed hates me now. She wanted me to play last night but I didn't want to. I hate the games they play.

  Big Ed scares me, so I left and played on my drum. I beat on it so I couldn't hear Mae and Edna playing anymore. But the rain means the ground is getting soft. The rain means we'll get to play Indians again. I hate the cold. Big Ed scares me so much.

  April 14, 1948

  I made a big mistake. Mrs. Plant had babies. Two babies, one right after the other. And I watched. I saw through the window. But then Ed and Mae saw me spying. They made me tell them, and they watched, too. It was gross. Mr. Plant looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. And when the babies came out of Mrs. Plant, they were so gross. But now Edna and Mae know. They saw. And now Edna wants to do something bad. I hope she doesn't. But she's stubborn. And she's too excited about this.

  I'm scared.

  Mae placed her hand on Andy's shoulder. Andy handed her the diary. She took it and opened it again, looking at the handwriting, running her fingers over it.

  "It's weird. Touching this. Knowing this came from Evvy's hand. Sometimes I follow the lines with my own eyes, pretending she's writing is as I read, pretending she's still here. I never really knew her when we were kids. She was just there. But this helps. This diary of hers helps. When I first found it, it was tucked away, back behind the same books I just pulled it from. And when I first opened it and began to read, the tears just started pouring. I was finally meeting my own sister. Evvy. It was like she was talking to me. Telling me about her childhood. From a point of view I never shared with her - we were never friends as children. I used to think of her as spoiled. As a bother, really. But I'm so glad to have this now. To have her voice, her spirit right here in my hands. Whenever I feel at a loss for never really knowing her, never having had a chance to get to know her, at least I can come up here and pull this out. Take a look at it and feel her here beside me. I just wish I could tell her how sorry I am, sorry how I treated her, how Edna treated her. Of course, it's too late for all of that, but at least it comforts me to pretend. Pretend she can hear my apologies."

  Mae got up slowly, her knees cracking, and carefully placed the diary back behind the old dictionaries. She came back and held out a hand for Andy. He grabbed it and was hoisted gently to his feet.

  "Come on downstairs. Let's have something to drink. I've got a lot to talk about."

  Andy followed Mae downstairs, down to the living room. He sat on the sofa while Mae fixed up a couple of daiquiris. "Something cool to sip on," she said.

  Andy put the straw to his lips, not tasting. He put his head back, took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He waited for Mae to talk, and when she did, she took him back to her childhood, back to when Evelyn was alive. Back to when his mother was Big Ed.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  When Natalie comprehended what her father said, she shook her head. "No, dad. No. C'mon - let's get some supper in you."

  Fifteen years after he first mentioned it, and four years before ever meeting Andy, Hector tried to explain to Natalie the death of his wife. Natalie was visiting, back from Faribault for the week. She'd come home to find Hector drunk. Slouched on the sofa, legs spread out, fingers splayed on his rolling belly, head tilted back, eyes on the ceiling. "She killed her."

  "Dad," Natalie said, shaking him. "Dad, I'm home. Natalie. Let's eat. Supper's on the table."

  Hector's head rolled around on its neck until it came to a stop, upright, eyes straight ahead bearing down on Natalie. He didn't blink, his stare solid, icy. Natalie had to look away.

  "Listen to me, Nat. I want you to listen. I know I've had a few beers tonight. I know that. But I also know what I'm talking about."

  Natalie started to say something, then thought better of it. Hector continued.

  "You know you had a sister."

  Natalie nodded. "Yes, Dad. I know."

  "She didn't die from natural causes."

  Natalie reached out and touched Hector on the shoulder. "Supper's ready," she said, her voice slow and sullen.

  "She was killed. She was killed and your mother died from grief. She couldn't handle it."

  "Dad, c'mon - "

  "Can't you hear what I'm saying? She was killed. Murdered. By that bitch next door. That bitch and her two sisters."

  "Goddammit, why can't we just have supper together? Why can't I just come home to see my father and visit? Have a good time? Why did you have to get drunk? You knew I was coming home today. You knew it."

  "I tried to keep it from you, Nat. I didn't want to tell you. I didn't tell you for years. That one time when you were leaving for school. For college. I told you so you'd stay home. I know that wasn't right. It was bad timing. But now I'm telling you because you have to know. That woman is still alive, still living, right next to us, for Christ's sake! You have to know. This can't go unacknowledged by you."

  "Why? Why bring this up now? She's not hurting anything. Mrs. Stone hasn't done anything to us. She's just a lonely lady over there, like you're a lonely man over here. If anything, I think you should get together - "

  "Shut up! How dare you suggest something like that!" Hector sat up straight, knocking over his can of beer. He stood, his fist, his entire arm pointing at Natalie. She stepped back. "You don't know what you're saying, Nat. You don't know what you're saying."

  "I know that you've been drinking, and I know that what you're saying sounds like the most fucked up thing I've ever heard, so
how dare you yell at me like that. How dare you raise your voice to me. I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm not your little Natalie anymore. So sit down! Sit down and don't dare raise your voice to me ever again!" Natalie turned around and walked out of the room. Halfway to her old bedroom, she stopped. What am I doing? she thought. What am I doing? Going to my bedroom to shut out my problems? I'm not a little girl anymore, so why is it that whenever I come back here, come back to my old house, I act just like that? Just like a little girl?

  Natalie turned and walked back toward the living room, where her father sat quietly, his eyes not looking up when she came in the room.

  "Dad," she said. "I'm sorry I left the room like that."

  Hector ignored her.

  "Dammit, look at me! Don't you start acting like a child, now. Don't you start to pout."

  Hector slowly looked up.

  "If there's something you want to tell me, something you want my undivided attention for, then I'll give it to you, okay? You have my full attention. Talk to me, okay? I'll listen." Natalie lifted Hector's arm from the back of the couch and slid herself underneath it, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

  Hector looked over at her, tears in his eyes, and squeezed her shoulder. "God, Natalie," he said. "You mean so much to me. You know that. And I didn't want to tell you any of this, but she's living right next door. Right next door. And I can't live with that. I can't live knowing she's there."

  "Talk to me, Dad," Natalie said. She looked down at her lap, then up at her father. "I'm listening."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  1947

  "C'mon, Ev, c'mon."

  Evelyn shakes her head.

  "Don't be afraid."

  Something in her voice, in Edna's voice, something big and scary and hollow, like a cavern, a cave that goes back to infinity, to forever. A cave that sucks you up and in, its hot breath surrounding Evelyn.

  "No!"

  "C'mon, Evvy!" Something urgent in her voice. "Come on! They won't hurt you. They can't They're just dolls. They're my dolls, and I won't let them hurt you." Something urgent in her voice. Something strange.

  Too old. Too old to be playing with dolls, Evelyn thinks. Too old. Edna's breasts are too big, her hips too curvy to be playing with dolls. She could have her own babies. Sixteen years old, too old for dolls.

  Dolls? They're dolls. Edna's dolls.

  Dolls? What's Mae doing?

  She's standing there, just standing, one hand in her pocket, the other rubbing her chin.

  Mae's got a vacant look in her eyes.

  "Mae, I don't like this," Evelyn whines.

  "Shut up!" Edna says. Mae just stands there.

  "Mae," Evelyn says. "Stop it, Mae."

  "Shut up!" Edna says.

  No use trying to talk to Edna. No use. She can't hear. She can't hear my voice, Evelyn thinks. My voice disappears in the cave inside her head.

  "Help me with this one," Edna says.

  Evelyn is frightened. She's always been frightened of Edna. Edna is like a dream, a big scary dream turned up loud like the static on the radio.

  "Mae!" Evelyn says one more time, trying to move Mae with her voice, shake her up to just at least blink her eyes. Just once. Please blink your eyes, Mae.

  Mae just stands there. Evelyn runs away crying. Mae stands as if she's dreaming, in another world.

  "Help me, goddammit!" Edna shouts. Edna hardly ever swears, so the curse has impact on Mae. She seems to snap out of it. Edna is one to listen to, one you better listen to.

  "Huh?" Mae says.

  "Huh?" Edna says. "Huh?" she says again, mocking. "I said help me with this one."

  Mae walks over to Edna in a daze. She starts to notice it's raining. It's raining hard. She's soaked, and now she realizes it's been raining for some time now.

  "Evvy just better be careful," Edna says, her breasts full grown. Too old to be playing with dolls, Evelyn thinks. And I should know - I'm too old to be playing with dolls!

  Mae grabs onto the feet of Edna's doll.

  "Pull," Edna says.

  Mae pulls and slips in the mud.

  "You're getting my doll all icky," Edna says.

  Mae down on her rear end, noticing the rain for the second time, pouring down, soaking her, matting her hair, running off her face in a waterfall, carrying the mud away.

  Mae gets up. Edna's laughing at her. "Clumsy!" she says. Mae doesn't laugh.

  "Help me," Edna says again. Mae picks up the feet of Edna's doll again. They're so cold.

  Colder than the rain.

  "Pull, will ya?"

  But Edna's too old, too big to be playing with dolls, Evelyn thinks. Mae stares blankly into Edna's face, seeing emptiness. She quickly looks away. The dark, moonless sky, the mud, is better to look at then the emptiness in Edna's eyes.

  Mae pulls on Edna's doll. Edna leaves to get another doll. Mae pulls Edna's doll through the mud, over the grass and brush, weaving through the trees, onto the trail. It's hard work. Edna's dolls are big and heavy.

  Too big, Evelyn thinks.

  Big and heavy, but Mae can't stop, she'd better not stop. Drag the doll, no matter how tired you are, no matter how much your arms, your back, your legs hurt. No matter how much sweat you sweat and how much mud there is. Just pull. Pull, even if you have to detach yourself, go to sleep, lock yourself away so it doesn't hurt so much.

  Then Mae hears Edna coming, hears Edna dragging another doll over the trail.

  Mae keeps pulling, is just about into the yard.

  Mae hears Edna yell, "We're FREE!" The children's father is gone on a trip somewhere. He takes a lot of trips.

  Too many trips, Evelyn thinks. Too many trips.

  And why can't I tell him? Why can't he know about the dolls? No, no, no. He'll lock-me-up and throw-away-the-key, just like Edna sings.

  Lock you up - throw away the key!

  Lock you up - throw away the key!

  "We're free!" Edna laughs. "We're free!"

  Mae drags Edna's doll up onto the back step. She lets go of the doll's feet and doesn't seem to hear the dull thud as they hit the cement step. Mae opens the back door and sees Edna emerging from the woods, dragging her doll. Mae holds the door open with her hip and grabs the feet again. Those cold feet.

  "Free!" Edna screams.

  Mae drops the doll through the doorway, having to stop every once in a while to re-push the door open.

  "Hold the door for me, will ya, Mae?" Mae holds the door open while Edna drags in her doll.

  So easy for her. Edna doesn't sweat at all. She's not even breathing heavy, but I think I'll just lock it away, Mae thinks. Lock it all away and say this is a dream, this is my dream, and keep it where all my other dreams are.

  "Should it be house or school?" Edna asks.

  Edna's so big. So old.

  "House or School?" Edna asks, impatient.

  "House?" Mae replies.

  "Okay - school it is," Edna says, her eyes gleaming, but still somehow empty, like shining a searchlight through the empty night sky. "Let's go."

  Mae pulls her doll through the hall, to the top of the basement stairs. She flicks on the basement light. Her eyes are clouded. She notices the rain a third time, hearing it ping on the shingles of the roof.

  Lock it all away. She doesn't have to think anymore. Become a puppet, become one of Edna's dolls. Just let the strings be pulled for a while. Let Edna have her way. It's safer that way.

  Mae drags her doll slowly down the stairs, hearing its head thunk on each step. She hears Edna making pretend noises for the doll. "Ouch, ooch, eech, ow," Edna says each time the doll's head hits a step.

  Edna waits at the top of the stairs with her doll until Mae reaches the bottom, muscles throbbing and aching in the back of her tired mind.

  "Watch this," Edna says. She runs down the stairs as fast as she can without tripping, laughing as her doll's head thwacks on each step, banging in a dull, rapid rhythm. "Ouch ooch eech ow," Edna says faster.

  Edna and M
ae prop their dolls up in chairs. There are two other dolls already down here, each sitting in a chair, each with a blank expression. Blank, hollow stares. Edna and Mae pull the chairs into a row.

  "Okay, class," Edna says. She's always the teacher. "Did you do your homework?"

  Mae's lips seem to move.

  "Well?" Edna says. "Speak up!"

  Mae says, "Yes," her string being pulled by Edna's voice.

  "Good," Edna says to the dolls. "Now first we're going to say the Pledge of Allegiance."

  A loud crack of thunder rattles the bare light bulb in the basement, causing all the shadows to shake on the wall. The dolls all drip mud, but are slowly starting to dry.

  Too old, Evelyn had thought.

  Edna notices the worktable, her father's worktable, the one on wheels where he does his work, his undertaker's work, the one with the white sheet on it. It's empty now, and Edna goes over and rolls it in front of her class, her class of dolls. She hops on top of it, steadying herself so the wheels won't slip, and stands up, ducking her head next to the bare light bulb. Half her face glows like a crescent moon. The other half is hollow, sunken cheek and shadows. She grins and puts her right hand over her left breast.

  Mae notices the rain again, hears it getting louder. The rain is odd at this time of year. It's early March. The first rain of the year. The ground is thawing already. Probably the last time they can play with Edna's dolls.

  "I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America," Edna says. "Hey - c'mon class!" she says, scowling at Mae, the scowl blown into a cave by the light bulb, her teeth becoming wicked stalactites and stalagmites. "Say the Pledge of Allegiance with me."

  Edna starts the Pledge over, emphasizing certain words, mocking a teacher she once had. Mae joins Edna in a monotone drone.

  "I pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America." Edna starts to speed up. " - and to the Republic forwhichitstands," she slurs the words together as if they were one. " - onenationundergoddddddd - " she pauses, letting Mae catch up to her. "WITHLIBERTYANDJUSTICEFORALL!" Edna laughs hysterically.