DoubleDown V (8 page)

As she looked for houses that she wanted to walk through, she realized she hadn’t worried recently about Bobby Jersey, and she wondered what he was up to.  She no longer thought about him hurting her when she was frozen and he was free to do as he liked.  It’d been too long.  If he wanted to do something, he’d have done it already.

A sickening truth came to her: she missed talking to him.

He was still the only other person she’d ever met who lived the same life she did.  As much as she loved Bonnie, she could never tell her about what she thought of as her
real
life.  Her
free
life.

She’d think I’m fucking nuts.

Bobby’s the only person who understands
.

There was one other reason she felt safer from Bobby.   She knew exactly where to find him, and if he ever messed with her, she’d mess back, only a whole lot worse.

*   *   *

Karen worked her way down the street, wandering inside the homes that looked the most interesting.  Her Secrets Journal was now crammed full of things that nobody imagined would ever see the light.

She knew of dozens of men who were cheating on their wives or girlfriends, and an equal number of women doing the same.

She had seen every possible sex act, between every combination of a man and a woman, and sometimes with three or more people involved.

She watched people hurt themselves and those they loved, over and over.

She saw most of the Ten Commandments broken without much thought by the sinners, and she saw people treating other people horribly, while in public smiling as if they were the nicest people in the world.

Karen realized that she could never like most of the people in her neighborhood.  They lied, they cheated, they stole, they fucked each other over like there was no tomorrow, and they didn’t seem to feel a hint of remorse.

On the other hand, remorse flowed like blood through her veins.  She would often visit the secret boxes in her mother’s bedroom, looking at her dad’s .45, hefting it in her hands, rereading his confession and then looking at the face of the innocent girl whose life he had stolen.

And she’d cry.

Karen shook her head to try to shake out the demons that haunted her.  For some reason they worked more on her when time stopped, as if the worldly issues slid off her body and left her shrouded in her father’s guilt.

“Stupid,” she chided herself.  There was nothing she could do about the past.

There was a party in the house down the street from the Mayberry Care Center, about twenty people scattered around the basement and plumes of marijuana smoke hanging motionless in the air.  They looked like college students.  Karen was a sophomore, and even though it was a long shot, she checked each person to see if she knew anyone.

Nope.

The bathroom door was shut but not locked. She opened it and saw a girl about her age bending over the sink.  Her pants were off and her legs spread apart.  A guy was fucking her from behind.  He had a grizzled black beard and a joint in his mouth.  His expression showed that he was only concerned about his own pleasure and didn’t give a rat’s ass about the girl he was using.  She was grimacing and gritting her teeth.

Karen moved closer and saw that he wasn’t using a condom.  She doubted they’d known each other before the party, but the girl wouldn’t likely forget him anytime soon.

Karen felt anger rush through her, and for a second, she thought about slicing Tina’s boyfriend’s cock.  Surely this guy deserved the same.

Didn’t he?

Then a thought hit her:
  What makes me so perfect a judge?

She wondered if she might turn into a vigilante, roaming the streets to take revenge for the sins she discovered.

She left the building and walked away, trying to forget the party.

*   *   *

“You’re back.”

“You’re very observant.”

“Still as cute as ever.”

Karen didn’t really want to talk to Bobby Jersey, but then again, she did.

Fuck, I’m messed up.

“I guess I just miss talking to somebody who understands.”

“Yeah,” he said.  “I’m glad you came back.  It’s been a long time.”

“You ever wish you were normal?”  Even as the words left her mouth, she knew she really was asking herself that question, not him.

“Nah.  I figure I can have a lot of fun and nobody’s the wiser.”

She nodded, not wanting him to elaborate on the kind of fun he was talking about.  She’d seen some of it and didn’t need to see any more.  He was one more asshole in a sea of assholes.

“Can you come with me?” she asked.

“Where to?”

“Just a mile or so away.”

He shrugged and laughed.  “Why not?”

On the way, Karen told Bobby about the secrets her father had kept, including the murder.  He didn’t interrupt her, just listened.  Karen kept looking straight ahead while they walked, so she never knew if he glanced over to her during the story or not.

When she finished, he put a hand on her shoulder.  “Sorry you had to find that out.  Must be hard.”

“I want to make it right somehow.”

They walked through the gates of Blue Ridge Cemetery.  It was midafternoon and the sun was bloody hot.  She didn’t care.  She needed to find Tammy Preston.

*   *   *

Karen looked down at the closest tombstone.  She’d been walking for almost an hour and still hadn’t found what she’d been looking for.

For that matter, she wasn’t sure she even knew for herself exactly what she was seeking.  The one she was looking at now had a woman’s name followed by:

Born July 4, 1960, Died December 10, 1999

Beloved Mother and Artist

She Brought Life to Those Close to Her

A gust of wind blew some loose strands of Karen’s long blonde hair so they covered her view.  She pushed them back behind her ears.

“Is that the one?”

The voice behind her was gentle but insistent. 

“Are you getting tired of looking?” 

Karen smiled as she turned to face Bobby.  He stood a respectful two feet behind her, as if he were trying to give her all the privacy she might need while still being there to offer any emotional support.

Not bloody likely,
she thought.

Bobby was nineteen years old, just like she was.  Somehow, though, he looked older.  If she didn’t know better, she’d peg him at about twenty-five.  He was tall, rugged, and handsome, exactly the kind of guy who would turn girls’ heads wherever he went.  His deep voice made her wonder if he could have had a future in radio.

Karen, on the other hand, knew she barely looked seventeen, let alone nineteen.  She was slim and short and never seemed to fill out like other girls her age.

“Sorry, I didn’t intend to sound impatient,” he said.  “Take all the time you want.  Time is the one thing both of us have lots of.”

Karen nodded. “I just need to find the right one.”

Bobby smiled.  “I know.  Really, it’s okay.”

“I’m not sure anything will be okay ever again.”

Bobby didn’t answer.  What could he say to that?

Karen looked at him with the hint of emotion in her eyes, but she was determined not to let a single tear drop.  She tried to detach herself and just concentrate on Bobby’s face—the dark brown eyes; the pitch-black, curly hair; the dimples she knew would appear when he smiled.

She exhaled a long breath and turned back to the headstone.  “I wonder what kind of art she practiced.”

“Do you want to check?  You can Google it on your iPhone.  Shouldn’t be hard to find if she really accomplished anything.”

Karen shook her head.  “In a way I’d rather imagine my own truth.  I think she loved to put together collages from nature, picking up stray oak and maple leaves wherever she went and then spending hours rearranging them to tell a story.”

She knelt and touched the granite stone, feeling the etchings of some of the letters.

“This isn’t the one,” she said finally.

Bobby joined her as she walked past a few more tombstones.  None of them interested her.  Only a few had called to her so far.

The sun was starting to set behind them, casting a long shadow through the graveyard.  Karen knew Bobby just wanted her to find the right damned stone so they could leave, but it wasn’t that easy.  It had to be the
right
one.

If she couldn’t find it, she’d come back tomorrow, and the day after that.

“Did you know there’re two thousand people buried here?” asked Bobby.

She ignored him.  A cool breeze blew, and she felt goose bumps rise on her arms.  All of a sudden she moved to her right and fell to her knees in front of an old weathered stone.

“This is the one,” she said.  “I found her.”

*   *   *

The grave marker was hard to read but once she was close to the ground, she could make it out easily enough:

Tammy Preston

Died Too Young

Never to be Forgotten

Karen ran her fingers over the etchings and tried to imagine the loss Tammy’s parents would have felt.  She couldn’t.

“I’m so sorry, Tammy,” she whispered.  “I wish I could have helped you.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek, closed her eyes, and said a silent prayer.  Even after distancing herself from her church, she needed to do that.

It wasn’t long afterwards that she felt the calling; she had to hurry back to work before time started again.

As she ran back, she knew Bobby was following her, but she couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

Karen got back just as she felt the tension rising to a ridiculously high degree.  Her body was tingling and every cell was shouting at her to
get back into the fucking right place!

The calling had never been this strong. She wondered what would happen if she somehow found the courage to ignore the un-ignorable and stay where she was, out of time, out of place.  She’d never been able to resist the calling, though; and if she’d been unable to do it while knowing that Bobby Jersey was following her, she surely never would.

He knows where I work
.

The thought was followed by:
He can find where I live anytime he wants to.
  The hospital had records that would be easy for him to find if he chose to.

But then, why would he bother?  He already knew where to find her.  The next time that he was free and she was frozen, he could come over and do whatever he wanted.

Bobby was evil.  She knew that.   She knew it as surely as she knew her own name, and although his smile said otherwise, in her heart she knew that he’d happily do whatever happened to cross his mind.  She’d seen that side of him and she was frightened of it.

“Go see Mrs. Jenkins.”

Karen snapped out of her thoughts and realized that her supervisor, Maggie Kincaid, had had to repeat her request.

“Sorry, Maggie.  I’m on my way.”  She smiled and hurried down the hall to Room 217.

Mrs. Jenkins had only been admitted for a few days and was already close to death.  Karen felt anger whenever she visited, because Mrs. Jenkins was thirty-two, much too young to be dying.  Her husband visited her every morning and every night, and when Karen saw him, she saw confusion, fear, and anger on his face.  She understood because she felt the same way.  No fair God should ever allow some disease Karen had never heard of to take away such a young woman.

“Hello,” she whispered.  She took the patient’s hand. 
The patient
, she reminded herself. 
Not “Mrs. Jenkins.”
  Dehumanize them as much as possible.  That was part of her training.

Every day when Karen left work, she felt lonely and frustrated.

But she felt an amazing sense of tranquility by the time she got home.  Every day she made somebody’s life just a tiny bit better than it would otherwise be.

She wanted to work at the Mayberry Care Center for the rest of her life.

“Thank you,” said the frail woman.  She tried to squeeze Karen’s hand but could only manage a tiny pressure.  Tubes ran from her nose and arms.  There were others beneath the covers.

“Would you like me to read to you?”

Mrs. Jenkins shook her head, a gesture Karen barely noticed.  “Just … .”

Karen waited for her to finish the sentence, but the woman couldn’t get the words out.  Her lips moved but no sound emerged.

“What did you say?”

Karen leaned close.

“Just kill me.”

Karen pulled back in shock. 

“Please,” whispered the woman.  “It hurts so much.”

“I can’t.”

Mrs. Jenkins stared at her, her mouth clawing in bits of air.  Her eyes were like accusing spikes.