I lifted my head and swiped under my nose with my sweater sleeve. I’d been bawling like an infant, inconsolable and out of control, and noticing them in the room pulled me back to reality. “Yeah?”
Her voice was quiet and kind, compassionate. “Larry was going to try calling for an ambulance to pick up your aunt, or…” She sighed, allowing her voice to drift off before trying again. “Anyway, the phone lines are still busy. He tried calling from your aunt’s home phone and his cell—and Kevin tried his cell too. Nothing. So…we were wondering if maybe we should go ahead and borrow your aunt’s car so we can get gas and then maybe we could send someone to pick up her body.”
I took several slow, deep breaths into my lungs, allowing my brain to process what she said. Then I nodded. “Um, yeah, sure. Yeah, we can do that.”
“Do you know where your aunt keeps her car keys?”
I forced myself to do something I’d become quite expert at—focusing on the necessary and blocking out my emotions. I’d learned over the years that the way I felt could affect my thinking skills and stop me from doing, so I’d become adept at shutting off the damned emotions when I’d needed to. The problem, though, was that over the past year, I’d let it all go. I’d allowed myself a mourning period which I hadn’t properly used, because I’d simply shut it all down. I’d turned off the boiler in my heart and let everything freeze over. It was that numb feeling that had carried me through the past several months but, for some reason, it was all boiling over now and needed out. Crying over my aunt’s passing was forcing me to try to relearn what I’d been trying to forget.
So I swallowed and concentrated. “Well, I think I’d check her purse first. That’s where I keep my car keys.” The question was where was my aunt’s purse? I stood and looked one last time at the shell of my Aunt Lou, sending my love in my thoughts as though telling her I was sorry that I couldn’t cry over her body for several more hours because there was work to do, and looked at Vera. “I’ll find them.”
As I passed Larry, I looked at him as well. I had no doubt that my face was blotchy and puffy from crying, but I didn’t care. I realized then that the room had grown darker as the storm had moved in and, when I reached the stairs in the hallway, I saw that a light was on downstairs.
My foot touched the ground floor and I noticed Kevin standing in front of one of the huge picture windows in the living room. Behind him, outside, the storm was picking up. The snow was falling steadily. The flakes were smaller now but there were more of them, and the ground was already blanketed in white. The wind continued to blow as well, causing the occasional flurry in the meadow in front of my aunt’s house and making the tree branches sway. Kevin was looking at the storm and didn’t seem to notice the three of us as we entered the room.
I decided to check in her bedroom first. I, from a later generation labeled slackers by her generation and the one before, tended to walk in the door at night and throw my purse on the floor beside the couch or on a chair at the kitchen table. Had I been a woman of leisure, I suppose, I would have had a place for it, a permanent home, like a closet or somewhere in my room, or maybe I would have invested in a coatrack and kept it near there. But I’d instead been a woman constantly on the go, continually thinking of her next move, and anything I could do that would save a step or two later was part of the plan. So, instead of placing my purse in the closet at night after my second job and then having to fetch it later, I’d set it on a chair in the kitchen and grab it the next morning, along with a sack lunch, before heading out the door with the kids. Saving time and steps had become a habit. Appearances didn’t matter much to me, and that would have been all placing my purse out of sight would have been—I would have been making it appear as though I had all the time in the world.
I did not.
My aunt, however, came from a generation where everything had its place and, by God, the dishes had better be done before bed and that bed better be made every day. She’d become even more rigid in that thinking as she’d grown older, and so I knew there would be a place she’d put it every time she got home. The question was simply where.
I searched through her room, feeling sad as I moved through it, because I could feel her presence everywhere. Another tear escaped as I felt guilt creep in. I blamed myself, wondering if I could have gotten here sooner or if I’d called her last night or…
But I knew that was stupid and futile. I’d done the same self-blaming with my husband and kids and I knew it was pointless. All it did was make me dwell on things I had no control over, and it was unhealthy. So I took a deep breath, gritting my teeth, and again sent a silent message to my aunt. Did she hear it? Well…if I’d been religious as I had in my youth, I would have believed that she’d gotten it, that it would have been delivered to her through divine forces, and she would know that I loved her and would miss her but that I was glad she was in a better place and reunited with her husband, the love of her life. Religion no longer held its charms over me, but I still wondered if we could communicate with souls who’d left us anyway. I wanted to believe that we were all interconnected somehow and that, once we left the shackles of our earthly bodies, we ascended to something greater with more meaning.
The past year I’d allowed myself to sink into a morass of depression, though, and believed that once we were gone, that was it. Worse, though, was that the journey seemed futile. I’d asked myself hundreds of times over the past year: What was the fucking point?
Now, though, I was finding my old self somehow, and that old self was the one determined to fight, no matter the cost, no matter the outcome. I had these three people depending on me, and I needed to help. Once again, I was the one who was being relied on, and I felt myself don my old armor. Gone were the tears, the sadness, the self-pity. It was time to get down to business.
I slid the closet door open and felt another wave of sadness as I saw my Uncle Felix’s clothing in front of me. I’d had no idea Aunt Lou had never gotten rid of it. In fact, I thought I’d remembered her having her kids go through them to pick out anything they wanted. But here it was, half a closet full of his clothing, untouched for years. I looked on the floor near his shoes and on the shelf above and saw no purse, though, so I slid it and the other door over so I could look on Lou’s side of the closet. Still no purse. Although I didn’t expect to find it anywhere else in her room, I looked on the dresser and in other spots just to be sure before moving on.
When I was satisfied I wasn’t going to find it there, I left the room, deciding to check in the closet in the living room. It was close to where Kevin stood but I avoided looking at him. I didn’t know him anymore and didn’t want to develop a false sense of friendliness with him when there was none, and the best way to do that was to avoid any interaction at all if I could help it.
I opened the closet door, remembering all the times I’d seen Aunt Lou get in there before we’d go outside to work in her garden. She kept a large straw hat in there that she’d put on so she could protect her skin, but I suspected that all the tiny skin cancers her doctor had removed over the past decade had been sown years earlier and they had only recently blossomed to fruition. I could also see in my memory the times she’d take a jacket or sweater off the rod in there before I’d take her for a ride “to town” as she called it, no matter what the errand. I’d had no idea that Uncle Felix’s coat and sweater were still in there as well, though, until now. I hadn’t paid close enough attention.
There were two shelves below the coats that held mostly boots but on the top shelf sat Aunt Lou’s bag. It was a rich, deep brown, not old-fashioned, but it certainly didn’t look like a purse I would use. I picked it up off the shelf and sucked in another deep breath. Getting into another woman’s bag without her permission always felt like a violation, but I had to remind myself once more that Aunt Lou was gone…and she would understand.
I had to sit down. This was turning out to be more difficult than I’d expected.
I walked over to the couch and
sat, resting the handbag on my lap for a few moments before pulling on the zipper that held it closed. It brought back another memory. I’d remembered taking Lou to the pharmacy one time and her complaining that the zipper was a pain and she’d need to get a new purse sometime. I knew her penny pinching ways had stopped her from doing it. If it wasn’t broke, she would have said, don’t fix it or replace it. More sadness rushed over me as I realized she’d never had the chance to enjoy a new one. I should have bought her one for Christmas the year before. If I’d given her one as a gift, she would have used it and kept the old one on a shelf. She would have had a chance to enjoy it before—
I cut my thoughts off again. What the hell was wrong with me? I was having a hard time switching off my emotions. I was obviously out of practice. I readied myself to look through the contents, forcing myself to ditch the mournful feelings, because I was likely to be hit with all manner of memories as I delved into the bag’s contents. I needed to do this. As I pulled the sides apart, Larry asked, “Do you think your aunt would have a gas can somewhere?”
That was good. It was a problem I had to focus on solving. It pulled me out of myself and made me concentrate. “She would almost have to. She and my uncle lived here forever. If there’s not one in the garage, maybe in one of the outbuildings?”
He nodded. “I’ll go look.”
Kevin pulled himself away from the winter movie that was unfolding out the window. “Want some help?”
“It’s up to you.”
In reply, Kevin took a step away from the window, ready to work.
Vera interrupted their conversation. She looked at her husband and said, “We’ll be going to a gas station. Doesn’t it make sense that they’d have a gas can?”
Larry looked at her for a moment. “Guess there’s a reason why I married you. Yeah, they’d have one—even if they’d only let us borrow it. Okay. Problem solved.”
Well, that problem might have been solved, but it was pointless if I couldn’t find a key. Larry walked over to where Kevin stood and looked out the window, making a comment I couldn’t hear. I took another breath and focused on the bag once more. Vera sat next to me and asked, “Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head and smiled at her. “No. Thank you, though.” Her offer of assistance was all it took to prod me to action. Knowing I had her support somehow made the task infinitely easier. I looked inside the purse, hoping Lou’s keys would be on top of everything else there, but they weren’t, so I started moving things around—a wallet, a pocket calendar, a pack of chewing gum. There were lots of items in the bag, but they were organized and contained for the most part…and I wasn’t finding any keys. Growing frustrated, I began removing things, placing them on the coffee table. I completely emptied the purse.
No keys.
I frowned. I could sense that Vera had unspoken questions, but I was glad she wasn’t asking them. I didn’t much feel like talking. I began prodding my brain again. To not have keys in her purse was very unlike my organized Aunt Lou.
Maybe they were in a jacket or coat pocket, though. I got up and moved to the closet and began fishing in the pockets of every article of clothing hanging in the closet—even my uncle’s old things. Vera asked, “Do you want me to put this stuff back in her purse?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I took several minutes thoroughly searching every single pocket in that closet. I managed to find a used tissue and an old Wint O Green Lifesaver candy, but no keys.
Where the hell could they be?
What did you do with them, Aunt Lou?
I closed the closet door, deciding to look more in her room. “No luck?” Vera asked. I shook my head and made my way to Lou’s bedroom, this time looking in drawers and in her closet once more.
I knew the answer, though—I knew I did, but it wasn’t leaping to the front of my mind. Between the stress of the day, the worry about the rest of the family, and the grief I felt, the answer wasn’t manifesting itself in my head.
Vera appeared in the doorway just as I was giving up. “Where else should we look?” she asked. I shrugged, hoping the answer would finally come to me. “I know it’s gruesome, but do you want me to check the pockets on the sweater she’s wearing?”
Oh, God. It wasn’t necessarily gruesome, but I didn’t want to. Still, I felt as though it was my duty, that I shouldn’t ask Vera to do it and also that I shouldn’t allow someone else to uncaringly paw my aunt. I could and would do it with respect. Vera had a point, though. Those keys very likely could be with Lou or even in that room, because she might have been considering going when she’d left that message for me earlier in the day.
“No, but I’d love your company.”
“You got it.”
In silence, we trekked back up the stairs, only this time, I turned on the light when we got to the top. It was much darker in there than it had been earlier, and I could barely see a thing. I then walked into the sewing room, doing the same thing.
Somehow, Lou looked different under the light—more ashen, more…dead. The reality hit me again and I had to choke back all the raw emotion threatening to overtake me. I’m sorry, I thought as I approached her body and I tried to touch her with reverence and respect.
Her body felt cold against my skin, though, truth be told, it wasn’t much cooler than the temperature in the room. I’d been able to feel the rising heat from the living room in the hallway upstairs, but that temperature hadn’t moved much into this room. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t toasty, either. Vera took it upon herself to look around on the tables for keys while I took my time searching her pockets.
Neither of us found a thing, though.
It was then that I heard Larry’s voice rising up the stairs. “Vera?”
She called back. “Yeah?”
“Any luck?”
Vera looked at me and I shook my head. I could hear the disappointment in her voice. “No.” Her voice was lower when she asked me, “Want to head back down?”
I nodded and we left the room, shutting the light off once more. Soon, we were in the living room. Larry asked, “No keys?”
I shook my head. Talk to me, Aunt Lou. I felt helpless. But, as I stood there, I glanced over at Kevin. His eyes were still cool but they had a message in them. I didn’t know why, but I sensed that he believed in me…and then I had the courage to go on, because his faith was enough.
Chapter Twenty
“Trenches” – Pop Evil
THE FOUR OF us had congregated in the living room, sitting in various pieces of furniture, trying to solve our problem. The men reported that, while Vera and I had been upstairs, they’d ventured outside for a bit to get a sense of the storm, and they reported that it would be best to wait till morning to leave, unless we found the keys in the next couple of minutes. The snow was coming down hard and fast and the wind was even worse, creating blizzard conditions, and Larry didn’t feel like he knew the roads well enough to take them in the dark in the middle of a storm.
Nor did I…nor did Kevin. Vera just shrugged when we looked at her as though even considering her was a stupid idea.
Larry said, “Nina, I hate to even mention this, but what if your aunt was infected?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “How does the infection spread?” I hadn’t paid enough attention to the news to know. If it was airborne, I supposed there was always the chance…
“Through bodily fluids is what they’re saying.”
“She didn’t get out much. I wouldn’t think so.”
Larry wasn’t stopping, though. “They think it started in rats. Any rats up here?”
“What? No. There are mice but no rats. I mean…I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure.” I let a large breath of air out of my lungs. “If we get her to a hospital or—whatever—they’d be able to tell for sure, right?”
Vera patted my hand. “I’m sure they could.”
I let the air out of my lungs. This was just too much. Kevin, seemingly out of th
e blue, asked, “Did you check her car for the keys?” Oh, shit, no. I hadn’t thought of checking there. Kevin could see it on my face and he added, “People sometimes leave them in there so they don’t lose them or—”
“Yeah, no. That’s a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” Once more, we were considering leaving that night, no matter how heavily the snow was piling up. I stood, not even announcing my intentions, and headed toward the garage.
I had to find the light switch before making my way over to the car. The doors were unlocked, so I got in and checked first the ignition and then, when I found the keys weren’t there, I pulled the visor down. The keys weren’t in there, either. I checked under the mats too. Nothing. The glove box, the organizer in between the seats in front…not even a piece of gum or a penny, let alone a set of keys.
Once again, I wondered where she’d put them, and I had no idea. I had to give up because there was no other logical place I could think of.
When I got out of the car, my three companions were near the door. They were as hopeful as I had been. Much as I loved my Aunt Lou, the idea of spending the night in her home—with her corpse—while a storm raged outside was the last thing I wanted to do.
That was until I remembered what I had to go home to.
No, not the empty house full of memories, but what we’d left earlier that day. The city had been horrifying, and it had felt like something straight out of movie. There had been something surreal about the whole thing, and I didn’t feel ready to conquer it once more.
So, as I closed the car door and said, “No keys,” I began walking back over to the doorway. I could sense their resignation as well, and I knew they felt the same way I did—that driving now, the way the snow was piling up, would be a bad idea.
We moved back to the living room and sat down again. Larry broke the silence. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Nina, but I asked if your aunt might be infected because…well, if we…” He paused, trying to assess my mental state, but I was slowly remembering how to mask my inner turmoil with calm on the outside. “We’re gonna be sleeping here, and I sure as shit don’t want to wake up to having my face cannibalized.”
Savage Page 8
