by Kipjo Ewers
“You know only one person ever asked me?” Fred smirked. “This sweet old lady, well she wasn’t nice when she walked over to me. She thought I was doing something perverted and decided to give me a lecture about God and decency. So, then I calmly told her what happened. And when I was done she started to cry and talk about her husband of forty years who passed away last year. I listened and then got up and gave her a hug. She then held both our hands and ended up praying for us before leaving. Mrs. Ester was her name.”
“You’re good,” Veronica scoffed. “Because I would have told Mrs. Ester to …”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“No I wouldn’t,” his protective sister nodded in agreement.
Finally reaching his apartment door, Fred opened it allowing her to walk in first.
“Whoa …you’ve been busy these past few days,” she looked around.
“What are you talking …?”
Fred walked into his home blindside and stunned. In the foyer area were several boxes packed and sealed next to one another with names written on them. He walked past Veronica still staring at the boxes into the living room to find Mary sitting on the couch in a simple blue and white tie-dye maxi dress waiting for him.
At that moment as he stared at her, Fred’s heart began to beat a million miles per minute, while his eye began to twitch along with his flaring nostrils telegraphing to her that he was livid.
An oblivious Veronica finally walked into the living room not realizing that she stumbled into a marital spat about to take place.
“Well that’s a perfect start,” she nodded. “I can’t believe there’s a box for me! Oh! She looks so beautiful in that dress!”
“Veronica, could you go,” Fred snapped. “I need to have a serious conversation.”
There was an incredibly awkward moment of pause as his sister wrapped her brain around what he just said.
“With who?” she slowly turned to him.
The glare he gave her didn’t make her feel any less uncomfortable.
“V …you got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Before she could respond, Fred began to usher her to the door forcefully.
“Fred! What the fuck? Stop! What are you doing? I said stop! You’re scaring the shit out of me right now!”
“V, I will talk to you later!” He barked. “There is something I have to do!”
“You said you had to have a conversation!” She slammed on the brakes stopping him before he put her out. “Now what the hell is going on? You promised you’d talk to me! You promised!”
In the midst of the commotion, Fred ignored his devices that buzzed violently, and the chill in the air which he prayed his sister did not feel.
“I know I promised!” He held his hands up. “And I swear I will. Just not right now. I just need you to know that no matter what you might be thinking right now …I’m not crazy …and I’m not trying to hurt myself. You have my word as your big brother. But I need you to leave …please.”
She wiped her eyes of fearful tears that fell and brought forth a stern face as she gave his chest several sharp warning jabs.
“Do not …make me come looking for you.”
Fred nodded in agreement. Veronica lurched forward giving him a tight hug; he could still feel her shaking as she held him. He quickly returned the hug patting her back to comfort her and then opened the door.
Veronica kept eye contact with him all the way until he closed and locked the door.
Fred reached into his pocket and ignored all of the messages ordering him to stop, and telling him that he was scaring his sister as he put on his shades while turning on the audio function of his instant messenger application. He marched back into the living room to confront his wife.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Who the hell do you think you’re cursing at?” She demanded to know with arms folded.
“I wasn’t cursing at you!” Fred fired back, “I was swearing at the situation! You want me to clean it up ‘Ms. Born out of the womb dropping the F-bomb’? Fine! Then what the hell is going on?”
“It is time. Each box in the foyer has things to go to my sister, your sister, Cynthia, donations, and for you to keep.”
“Why?” He threw up his hands. “Why are you doing this?
“Not healthy for you to keep all my things, especially my clothes,” she said. “You might actually start wearing them.”
“You see me in a joking mood?” he snarled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Preparing you to move on,” she answered. “You have to let me go.”
“Why?” He shrugged. “You’re back.”
“I’m not back,” she returned. “And this is not healthy for you.”
“But you are back!”
“No … I… am …not,” she answered back.
“Why, because you’re in a doll’s body?” he gestured, “You got dudes marrying livestock these days! And rich house wives seducing their dogs with peanut butter! On the weird chart, I think I’d be registered as relatively healthy!”
“I’m not even going to touch how both sick and disturbing it is that you would put those two references on the opposite scale to our situation,” she held a finger up while reeling back in disgust. “But the fact that you’re even going there means we need to bring this story to an end.”
“No, we don’t!” Fred walked over kneeling before her.
He quickly grabbed her hand giving it a nervous rub while commanding his face to smile.
“You found a way back! We can still be together! We can make this work!”
“No, we can’t Fred,” Mary pulled her hand away while shaking her head. “I’m not back. I was never back, and we have to start moving through the steps so that you can let me go.”
“Okay, so you’re in a doll body,” he began to reason with her. “And you can’t move if I’m looking at you directly, which we solved by me wearing glasses! And we took care of the talking problem! The other upside is no more periods, cramps, menopause, or fear of sagging. We’re together again! If kids are an issue, we can adopt! We can be a family once more!”
“No, we cannot!” She yelled back at him, “Because I am not fucking alive! I am dead!”
Fred felt like a scolded pup as he knelt there before her. It hurt, even more, coming from her than when he said it.
“And you are killing me again, watching you like this.” She continued. “They talk about how the dead haunts the living. What they don’t know is that the living can also haunt the dead. I am haunted by that day. Not just because I died, but the sound of your screaming. You are haunting me! The sound of you screaming on that day haunts me to the point that I cannot move on. And you are still screaming, because you have not moved on …you are not letting me go.”
She had her crying face on although no tears could fall as she looked down at her lap.
“Do you know what I do while you’re at work Fred?”
An uncertain countenance came over his face, unsure if he should respond or wanted to hear the answer.
“I try to write. The last thing I was working on before my death was chapter four of ‘Stop Me If You Heard This’ book two. Every day I sit in my chair, in front of my computer trying to put down a sentence, and I can’t do it. I can cook, clean, surf the web, drive a car, and make love to you, but I can no longer do the one thing I love anymore.”
“Maybe it’s just a case of writer’s block,” Fred mumbled his suggestion.
“It’s not,” she shook her head.
“How do you know? Maybe you just need more time? Maybe you can talk out what you want to write, and I’ll type …”
She placed her right hand on top of his hands begging him to stop.
“Even if that was possible, who’s going to publish a story from a dead woman Fred? What joy would I feel, over a story I cannot claim?” She asked. “That part of me was gone the second I died because I no longer have any use for it where I
am.”
Fred slowly lowered his head in defeat unable to conjure up a response to justify her staying; Mary gently cradled his face lifting it, so that he could see the pain and torment in her eyes.
“You keep talking about how lucky you were, and how I chose you. What you keep forgetting is that you also chose me, and how lucky I was. The day you saw me, you wanted to make me the happiest woman ever. You’re not the only one who lost after my death!
How do you think it feels for me, to watch you wake up every morning by yourself turning to see me, and I’m not there to kiss and hold you? To see you walk through the grocery store taking hours to decide what to pick up, or if you have more healthy food than junk food in your cart? Or how much my heart breaks when I watch you in a clothing store picking out a shirt, or pair of pants …and then look around to see if someone will tell you if the color you chose compliments you, or if it fits right, when it should be me!”
She released him and folded hunching over as the temperature in the living room came to an icy chill. Fred’s heart quickened for a second as a terrifying wail filled the room. Had this been day one he would have probably run out of the room, but being in it for almost a month and a half had erased all fear from him. He slowly got up taking a seat next to his wife and pulled her close to him hugging and comforting her. The wails became louder, but he remained calm rubbing her back and kissing her forehead as she clung onto him. Slowly the cries subsided as the temperature returned to normal in the room.
“So, what do I have to do, to get over you,” Fred sighed.
She placed a hand on his cheek while looking at him.
“You first have to forgive.”
CHAPTER 12
Four days later, Fred and Mary sat outside the San Diego Juvenile Hall. The thirty-minute drive took additional twenty-five minutes due to Fred turning the vehicle around three times heading back home.
With each attempt, his wife forced the Jeep to the side of the road and shut it off until he begrudgingly agreed to comply.
Finally putting up one final act of defiance, he threw a fit in the parking lot refusing to go inside.
“I’m not doing it, screw this, I …we’re not doing it,” Fred muttered as he shook his head.
“You have to; it’s one of the steps.”
“You know, I saw a video on Facebook that pointed out that we as people are too quick to forgive every time something horrible is done to us,” he began to lecture her. “It said being too forgiving is actually unhealthy!”
“Fred.”
“That little bitch in there skull fucked our lives! We don’t owe her jack shit much less forgiveness! She can go…”
Before he could continue his profanity fueled rant, her hand fell on top of his; she gave him a soft squeeze as a request to stop. He obeyed by lowering his head staring aimlessly into his lap.
“She murdered you …and then took you away from me … She killed our baby! How do I forgive that? How?”
“With me by your side,” she answered. “And we’re not doing this for her. We are doing this for us.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Fred turned his head looking out the driver side of the Jeep.
He did not want to get out the vehicle and go inside. He did not want to see or talk with her. It was the soft rubbing of his wife’s thumb across his hand that began to weaken his stance. It brought him back to their conversation before getting there.
As much as he did not want it to happen, Mary had to move on. She came back for him, so he had to put in the effort to be alright so that she could go.
“Fuck it, let’s get this over with,” he muttered while unbuckling his seatbelt.
˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜
Three days before them getting there, Fred made the most painful phone call he ever had to make.
Reaching out to Samantha Bear’s attorney, Fred requested a sit down with her in exchange for sending a letter on her behalf for leniency at her next probation hearing.
He understood that both her attorney and parents would be present for the sit down being that she was still a minor. He also added a stipulation that he would also be bringing something to the sit-down. After giving a full explanation with a little sprinkle of over exaggeration, the attorney agreed to Fred’s request and said she would personally speak to the facility’s Warden to make the proper arrangements.
As they entered the building, Samantha’s attorney stood waiting to greet them. Although Fred told her what he was coming with, he knew he still caught her a bit off guard. He was impressed how quickly she recovered and remained professional.
“Hello, Mr. Garrett,” she smiled.
“Ms. Cooper,” Fred returned while his gaze moved about taking in his surroundings.
“Samantha’s parents are already inside with her. Thank you again for having this sit-down.”
“It’s not a problem,” he cleared his throat forcing the lie out.
“If I may say the …your doll is lovely,” she motioned. “I think I had a similar maxi dress at home.”
“We’re burning this dress when we get home,” his wife blared through his earpiece.
“Thank you,” Fred brandished a forged smiled. “If you don’t mind …”
“Of course,” she nodded. “Let’s get inside.”
They followed Ms. Cooper to the security check point. She went first placing her bag in the tray and walking through the metal detector. She was stopped when it went off, and correctly scanned with a smaller detector and then padded down by a female guard.
Fred removed all possible items with metal from his person including his belt placing it within another tray. He went to push the wheelchair forward when a male correctional officer stepped in his path.
“Uh, sir,” he held his hand up. “You’re going to have to put the doll on the belt as well to get X-Rayed.”
“No …I won’t,” Fred shook his head
“Sir,” the officer said with an authoritative voice. “You have to comply, or you’re not getting in.”
“Then I won’t go in,” Fred shrugged while backing up. “You’re not putting her on that filthy conveyer belt, and that is final. I have a vehicle with a tank full of gas, and nowhere to go to because I took the day off, so that is fine with me. It was a beautiful drive coming down, and it will be an even nicer one going back home.”
“Mr. Garrett, would you be more comfortable if a female officer searched your doll?” Ms. Cooper stepped in.
“I have no problem with that,” Fred nodded.
Another female officer stepped in taking the wheel chair, pushing her through the metal detector, while Fred went through and was properly searched she proceeded to give the doll a thorough search.
“I have to search the vaginal and anal area,” She turned to Fred.
“Do you have to do it here?” Fred respectfully asked.
The female officer glanced at Ms. Cooper before turning back to Fred.
“I’ll take her into the office over here, and bring her right back.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Thank you.”
A couple of minutes later, the female officer returned wheeling her back to Fred. He glanced at his watch to see the buzzing message.
“She was very respectful, and put everything back where it belonged.”
Fred thanked the female guard and followed Ms. Cooper and a correctional officer who escorted them down a hallway to an interview room where the meeting would take place. His heart began to quicken while his palms became sweaty. It was almost as if he was going to prison.
Finally reaching the room, Fred quickly wiped the sweat from his hands before the correctional officer opened the door. He followed Ms. Cooper into a semi-bare room with a brown folding table, and five folding chairs. Samantha Bear’s parents sat in two of the seats off to the side against a wall, while Samantha herself sat meekly in a third chair facing the seat he would be
sitting in.
Two other correctional officers were already within the room with the family flanking opposite walls.
The first thing Fred noticed as he wheeled around the table into position was how small she was. She had to be a size six or four. She was swimming in the green prison attire she wore.
She brushed away strands of her long brunette hair while adjusting her glasses as she timidly looked up at the doll in the wheelchair and then up at him. The escorting officer left the room, while Ms. Cooper took a seat next to her client. Fred sat down and took a moment with bowed head to ready himself. He rubbed his hands together and adjusted his watch as he realized he wasn’t prepared for this.
