Death Rhythm (22 page)

"Hello," she said. "Like some?" She held out the bottle to Andy.

"No. But thanks."

"Sure." A smile spread across Mae's lips, then faded. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be handling it this way. I've had a bit too much to drink. Sure you don't want some?"

"I'm sure," Andy said. He sat down across the table from Mae. Mae's eyes focused on the Styrofoam cup, now empty, in her hands. She held it and began to scratch it with her thumb.

"Are you okay?" Andy asked.

She looked up surprised. "Yes. Just nervous." She continued to scratch at the cup.

"About what? About Natalie?" he asked, the scenes of Natalie and Hector unfolding in his mind once again. The scenes of him and Natalie in the car.
Jesus
.

"No," Mae said. "No." She set the cup down and looked at Andy with bloodshot eyes. The smile reappeared on her lips. "She's coming," she said. She got up from the table, re-capping the gin bottle, placing it back in the cupboard above the refrigerator. A laugh escaped her lips. "She's coming. She's actually coming."

"Who's coming?" Natalie quickly faded from his mind.

Mae leaned over the table, supporting herself with her arms, her eyes locked on Andy's. "
Your mother
," she said. "
Your mother's coming
."

Mae stood up. "Tomorrow morning." She walked around the table and patted Andy on the shoulder as she walked past him, breath heavy with gin, walked past him and continued down the hall, up the stairs to her room.

Andy sat there, not moving. Andy sat there for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes seemed like fifteen hours, seemed like fifteen years. Then he slowly got up. Walked over to the cupboard. Pulled down the bottle of gin. He poured it in Mae's Styrofoam cup, filling it to the top. He drank it all, then stood staring at the cup. The hairs on his neck prickled him as he saw what Mae had scratched on the surface. He threw the cup down and ran to the sink, vomiting the gin back up in a violent rush.

On the cup, Mae had scratched two words. Two words that echoed in Andy's mind all the way to his bedroom, and only stopped echoing as he fell asleep.

On the cup, Mae had scratched the words, BIG ED.

THIRTY-SIX

In the dream, Andy pulled a corpse through the open back door of Mae's house. It wore a flowery summer dress that was caked with mud and moldy leaves and dead grass. It was heavy, and Andy had to struggle with it through the door.

The corpse talked to him.

"Andeeeee," it said, it's voice high pitched and venomous. "Andeeeee," it said. "Where are you taking me?"

Andy didn't answer and dragged the corpse over Mae's kitchen floor. One of its arms shot out and grabbed the kitchen table as it passed by. Andy pulled harder. "Let go."

"So you do talk," it said, its face obscured by a mop of long brown hair dangling down to its chin, parting like drapes around the mouth. It held on.

"Let go," Andy said, again. He pulled, kept on pulling until he heard a snap.

"Andeeeee, you motherfucker. You tore my arm off," the corpse said.

Andy dragged the corpse to the head of the stairs while its arm remained behind, clinging to the leg of the kitchen table.

"Andeeeee. Where are we going?" the corpse asked again.

Andy stood at the top of the stairway leading down to the basement. "You tell me."

The corpse laughed.

Andy felt as if he glided down the steps, the corpse in tow, its head banging on each step in a quick series of dull, hollow thuds.

"Ouch, ooch, eech, oww," it said, laughing.

"Andeeeee," it said when they reached the bottom. "That hurt, you
mother fucker
." But it continued to laugh.

The basement was empty except for a chair and a desk in the middle.

"House or school?" the corpse hissed. "House or school?"

"Shut up."

"House or school, motherfucker?"

Andy lifted the corpse into the chair. It was stiff, but he managed to prop it up, getting it to stay in place.

"School?" the corpse asked.

The desk was old, with a lift-up top. The corpse opened it with its remaining hand. "Looks like a nice place to puke," it said.

Andy reached for its forehead, trying to keep it from leaning into the open desk. He wasn't strong enough. Its head went forward, and Andy jerked his hand away, feeling an unbearable chill from the corpse's skin.

A rumbling started in its stomach. The flower print material on its abdomen moved. It looked as if someone was pumping air into it. The corpse's stomach expanded until it stuck out like a basketball. Then the giant lump moved slowly up the corpse's chest.

Oh god, Andy thought. No, God.

The corpse laughed. Its voice came out in a gurgle, as if talking through a mouthful of oatmeal. "Andeeeee," it gurgled, its head still face down in the open desk. "Wanna see me puke?"

Oh god, no.

The huge lump traveled slowly up, under the breastbone, making the flowers of the rotting dress dance. The lump moved up to the neck.

"Stop," Andy yelled. "
Stop it!"

The corpse's words were no longer intelligible. It sounded like it was drowning in mud, its laugh continuing in a low decibel growl.

The lump moved up the corpse's neck until it began to swell and rip just below its chin.

Andy couldn't move.

He tried to yell, but a small lump of terror anchored itself in his own throat.

"Unghh gurghhhhh," the corpse said, its head beginning to shake and rattle.

Suddenly, Andy found his strength. It came to him in a wave of fear and adrenaline.

He lashed out at the open top of the desk, slamming it down on the corpse. He closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him. It quickly passed.

The corpse struggled to back out from the desk. Andy held down firmly with both hands as sweat poured like a river from his face and neck.

The rumbling coming from the corpse increased, its one arm flailing, blindly punching in the air at Andy.

"Gunghhhh unghhhh," its head said from inside the desk.

Andy heard a dull tearing noise. The collar on the dress ripped as the corpse stomped on the floor. Andy continued to press down, holding the corpse's head in tight.

Finally, the sound of suction cups being ripped from glass echoed through the empty basement as the corpse pulled its body free. Pulled its body free, but the head remained in the desk.

"Unghhh-gunghhh," the head still gurgled from inside.

As the body ripped free from the head, it stumbled backwards, the contents of the rising lump in its neck shooting into the air as if from an air cannon.

Blood, mucus and vomit splattered against the ceiling.

And something else. Something else.

A shriveled hunk of flesh shot up through the corpse's neck. At first, Andy thought it was its heart, expanded to a gigantic size, but then he realized that, no - no, it wasn't its heart.

As Andy watched the piece of flesh hit the ceiling and land at his feet, he realized it was a fetus. A hand popped out from its body, grabbing the cuffs of Andy's pants.

It began to cry.

It began to cry and say Andy's name.

"
Andeeeee
," it said.

Andy woke up whimpering.

As he sat up in bed, wiping the moisture and matter from his eyes, he saw a form framed in the doorway of his room. The form came into the room and sat down next to him, putting an arm around him. "Andy," it said. "My baby. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

It was his mother.

Andy's mother had come.

Andy's body went rigid as his mother wiped his tears away.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Mae laid out three plates around the dining room table. As she set out a plate of crisp bacon and a bowl of scrambled eggs, Edna came into the room, followed by Andy.

Mae stopped what she was doing and held out her hand to Edna. "Good morning, Edna."

"Good morning, Mae. My, you've got breakfast all ready. This is wonderful."

"I see you've roused Andy from his slumbers." Mae looked over at Andy. "Your mother got in around three last night - this morning - then took a short nap in the guest room."

"She told me," Andy said.

They were silent as they all took their places around the table. As they consumed the breakfast set out before them, Mae and Andy continued their silence while Edna talked between bites of egg and bacon.

As she talked, her perfume drifted in the air, mingling with the breakfast smells, the coffee, the food. The perfume drifted over their bodies, enveloping them, enveloping Edna's graying brown hair, her pale green sweatshirt, her empty smile, her brown, corduroy slacks. Her face was slightly creased with wrinkles, as was Mae's, however the wrinkles on Edna made her appear downcast and gloomy.

"Mae, it's so wonderful to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been very good at keeping in touch. When you called the other day I was so surprised. I thought you'd forgotten about me. But don't get me wrong. I was happy you called. Surprised, yes, but happy, too." She took a small bite of bacon and washed it down with a sip of coffee. Andy noticed for the first time how big and strong her hands looked, and how strange it was to see this big-boned woman taking diminutive portions of food into her system.

Edna's eyes remained on Mae as she talked. "Yes, I'm happy you called. In fact, I'd been thinking about you. I'd been thinking of writing you, or maybe even calling. But then you called and it was so nice. Thank you. And now I'm here. The first time I've seen you in I don't know how long. Thank you. It's wonderful."

Mae smiled perplexedly.

Edna continued. "So last night, early in the evening, I figured - after our chat on the telephone - I figured, why not go over and visit my sister. So I called and said I'd be there in the morning, and I just couldn't wait to leave, so I thought I'd just leave, just then, shortly after I called. And I got here a bit earlier than I had planned. I hope it didn't inconvenience you."

"No, not at all," Mae said.

"Well," Edna said. "Good." She turned to Andy for the first time since coming to the breakfast table. "Cathy's worried sick about you. She called me four days ago, asking if you were with me, and I said no, I didn't know where you were. Then Mae called, telling me you were with her. But I really think you should give Cathy a call. Tell her you're safe and fine at least. Could you do that for me?"

Andy didn't answer and continued to shovel food into his mouth.

"Well," Edna said, turning her attention back to Mae. "Anyway." She wiped a dribble of coffee from her chin. Then she looked at Mae closely. "You look a little peaked this morning. Are you all right? Like I said, I hope this hasn't been any inconvenience for you."

"It hasn't, Edna. Just got a bit of a headache. I'm glad you're here. I asked you to come."

Andy set his knife and fork down on his plate. He watched Edna talk to Mae, watched her in disbelief, then said, "Jesus Christ, Mom, how could you?"

Mae and Edna quickly turned their heads to Andy.

"How could you? How could you have done all that? You sit there and tell me I'm worrying Cathy. You sit there and tell me that with a straight face, and here you are, sitting and acting like you're the most sane person in the world, like you were never the monster you were, like you never kil-"

"Andy," Mae interrupted. "Settle down. It's not the easiest thing to talk about. You should know that. Give your mother some time."

"How much time does she need?" He turned to Edna. "How much time do you need, Mom?"

Edna looked down at her plate.

Mae reached across the table and took hold of his hand. "She's here now, isn't she? She came. She's not hiding any longer. It's just not so easy to start off a conversation off with, 'so why did you play with dead bodies when you were a kid?' Think about it a little, Andy. Put yourself in her place. My place."

"I don't think I could ever do that," he said, but then remembered he had, almost had, last night, in the back seat of his car with Natalie. It wasn't the same, really, though, was it? But he had come close, too close, nearly strangling Natalie, and now he closed his eyes for a moment, took in a deep breath, and said, "I'm sorry, Mom. It's just hard for me to take in all of this so suddenly."

Edna looked up, looked up at Andy. She smiled, this smile a little more genuine. Her wrinkles softened a bit. "I know it's hard for you, Andy, but that was a part of my past I had to forget about. It's not something I wanted to reminisce about around the Christmas tree, if you can understand that. And - Jesus, Andy - has Mae told you everything?"

Andy nodded. Mae nodded. "At least all the juicy bits," Mae said, smiling.

Edna lifted her hand to her mouth. "But I'm all cured," she said. "I'm all cured. Really. You must believe me. That was so long ago. And all those years I spent in the hospital - I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that, Andy, but I really didn't see it as any of your business. What's done is done."

"But is it done?" Andy asked, remembering all the times, all those times Edna had come into his room as a child, saying baby, baby, oh my baby doll, Andy my baby doll.

"Yes," Edna said. "Most definitely, it is done."

And even this morning she'd come into his room and said - what did she say? She'd said,
'Andy - my baby.'
Wasn't that what she said? So is she really
cured
? Andy wondered. Is she cured?

Edna, Mae and Andy stood side by side in the basement. Empty now, except for the container of gasoline Mae's flaming cat had almost ignited. How strange it was. How eerie it was to be down here with Mae and Edna, the two of them together for the first time since - the first time since so long ago. Andy shivered. As he looked up and saw the light bulb, still bare, throwing shadows on his aunt and mother, he felt his stomach cartwheel.

Edna whispered, "It's so empty."

"I don't come down here much at all," Mae said. "I don't
like
to come down here. Only when the weather is bad, then I bring a chair and blanket down here, along with a radio and a good book. But otherwise, there's no need for it."