Becoming Death (10 page)

Max stumbled after her towards his car. I left my money on the table and followed them outside. Sheryl helped Max into the back of his car and slammed the door. She climbed into the front seat. I watched them pull away.

Tracking Max down hadn’t been difficult but getting him to come out of his house was another story. After Sheryl had dropped him off at home last night, he hadn’t made any attempt to leave his house. It was already day two and my three day deadline was ticking away fast. If he didn’t come out soon, I was going to have to go in after him.

Clarissa had been right: I didn’t feel attached to Max. I was indifferent to whether or not he died. He didn’t seem like a nice person or have a lot of reasons to keep on living. The outside of his house reminded me of the unkempt man I had met last night. The lawn was overgrown, forgotten trash bags lined his driveway and a box full of empty bottles overflowed onto his porch. If he had lived in my mother’s neighborhood, he would have been evicted by the homeowner’s society.

An old man hobbled from the house next door and up Max’s driveway. A plastic bag bounced against his thigh as he maneuvered around the trash in the yard. His shoulders slumped when he reached the box of bottles.

He pounded on the front door shouting, “Davidson, I know you’re in there.”

Max stood behind a screen door scratching his beard. His hair pointed in all directions like he had just woken up. He paused for a moment, tying his robe tighter before opening the door. “What is it now, Fred? I was asleep.”

Fred placed his hand on his hip. “It’s three in the afternoon. No healthy person should still be sleeping that late.”

Max held his head and leaned into the door. “What are you, my father?”

“Smart aleck.”

“Anyway, I’m nursing a hangover, so tell me what you want or get off my property.”

“Gladly,” Fred said, shoving the plastic bag at Max. “I assume these cans belong to you. I found them in my roses again.”

Max dropped the bag down next to the box of bottles. “You woke me up for this? Just drop them in the trash.”

“Why can’t you?” Fred looked around the yard. “You need to get off your lazy rear and clean this place up. I have people coming tomorrow to view my roses and they don’t need to see the eyesore you live in. Maybe you’re proud to be bringing down property prices around here, but I’m not going to clean up your mess.”

“Thanks for the advice, old man, but unlike you I have better things to do with my time.”

“Well then, I’ll be talking to my old buddy down at the station. I hear the fine for littering just went up again.” Fred stomped back towards his own house.

Max huffed, tightening his robe again. He picked up two of the trash bags and walked barefoot up his driveway.

I opened my car door and hoped he hadn’t noticed how long I had been parked across the street with my window open. “Excuse me,” I called, waving a map. “Can you help me? I think I’m lost.”

He sat the bags down next to an already full bin and watched me cross the street. Max scratched at his beard again as his eyes lingered over my body. “Well, hello there, beautiful. Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m trying to find my cousin’s place. He lives around here somewhere.” I pointed to a random location on the map. “London Street, I think.”

He chewed his bottom lip. “Yeah, let me see.” He stepped close and reached an arm over my shoulder. “If you go to the end of the road and then turn left, it should be a couple of blocks to the north.”

I pulled away. “Not that far away then.” How was I supposed to touch this guy without him deciding I was making a pass at him?

He leaned across the trash can lid. “Nah. Are you going to be visiting this cousin often? Cause I’d be more then happy to help you get to know the neighborhood better. We’ve… I’ve lived here for about eight years.”

I grimaced. “That’s okay. I’m from out of state. I won’t be stopping by often.”

“What a shame, I was looking forward to seeing your smiling face around the neighborhood.”

I gagged a little. “I better get a move on,” I told him, reaching for my map.

I pictured water as he brushed his fingers against mine while handing me back the map. My body jolted forwards and I had to grab the trash can for support.

I saw Max asking Sheryl to their senior prom. Him waiting for her at the end of the aisle on their wedding day. Her throwing him a party when he started his own business. A fight, where Max told her they were never having children. Max sitting in his car, drunk, as he stared at a picture of Sheryl.

I shook my head to bring myself back to reality. Sheryl really had been his life.

“Are you okay?” Max raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you come inside? I could get you a drink or make you something to eat.”

I backed away. “It’s fine, just low blood sugar. I’ll be okay. I have some cookies in my car.”

“Alright then.” Max’s shoulders slumped. I walked back to my car. I had learned my lesson the first time; I wasn’t waiting around to see what happened.

I rolled out of bed in the middle of the night frustrated and drained. Every time I closed my eyes, I was greeted with Elizabeth’s bruised skull and possible death scenarios for Max.

I tiptoed past Aaron’s closed door, thankful to have avoided him for the second day in a row. I was hoping for some leftover cake from Sunday brunch when I saw a body lying across the sofa. I stepped closer to find Aaron squeezed onto the piece of furniture. His left arm hung slack, still gripping a game controller that rested on the floor. The screen’s game menu cast a warm yellow glow across his face. A slight smirk wound across his lips and I couldn’t help myself from smiling back. I picked up the remote from the table and turned off the TV. I removed the blanket from the back of the sofa and placed it over him. A small part of me wanted him to wake up and pull me down on top of him to build on the impossibly close moment we’d had a few days ago and give into the tension building between us.

I pulled the controller gently from his fingers and lifted his limp arm onto his chest. I leaned down and removed a stray hair from his eye. My eyes lingered on his lips. A strange feeling of longing came over me. I backed away, scolding myself. I shuffled back to my room, giving up on my cake as I glanced over my shoulder once more, hoping he knew.

The next morning, I didn’t avoid him. I strolled right to the kitchen.

I rubbed my eyes as he greeted me. “Morning, stranger. I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Good morning. Yeah, I’ve been so busy with my class and errands for my mom,” I said, my cheeks turning pink.

He tapped on the side of the bowl with his spoon. “We’re okay, right?”

I paused, lifting one shoulder. “Yeah, of course, we made up, everything is fine.”

He nodded his head but didn’t lift his eyes.

I rubbed my elbow before I reached for the abandoned newspaper lying next to his bowl. “Can I borrow this?”

A dribble of cereal escaped his mouth as he said, “Yeah, I guess. When did you start reading the paper?”

I ignored him and opened the newspaper to the obituaries section.

He leaned forwards, glancing at what I was reading. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone turn right to the obituaries first. That’s a little morbid.”

I shifted the paper away from his eyeline. “A friend of my mom’s died.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really, who?”

I waved away his question. “It’s just some guy she went to high school with.”

“Well, is he in there?”

I scanned down the page until I came to a picture that looked vaguely like Max without a beard and about fifty pounds lighter.

‘Max Davidson, 46, died Tuesday afternoon after being allegedly struck by a shovel in a disagreement with his neighbor. Mr. Davison’s ex-wife survives him. Funeral services will be held on Sunday at 4 p.m. at the Park View Cemetery. ‘

“Fred killed him with a shovel?” I whispered to myself, wondering what this death had to do with the water I had pictured. Had I messed up?

“A shovel?”

“Umm… that guy my mom knows was killed with a shovel.”

Aaron shivered. “Very horror movie-esque. Great, now I’m going to think of that every time I shovel snow.”

I frowned. Why hadn’t my influence worked? I had thought of peaceful water when he died. Where had murder come from? Shouldn’t he have drowned? I looked down at the funeral arrangements again. I had to know what had really happened.

I sat across from my mother in the mall food court and unwrapped my hamburger.

My mother’s eyes narrowed at my lunch. “I thought you were going to try something healthy for once?”

“This is kind of healthy.”

Her eyes continued to linger on me.

“Come on, it’s not so bad. There’s a burger with four patties, three kinds of cheese and bacon over there.” I took a bite so big my jaw ached afterwards.

She removing the lid from her salad and applied a light coating of dressing. “How is your reaping going?”

I kicked her under the table. “What are you doing? We can’t talk about that here. What if someone hears us?”

She smoothed her napkin across her lap. “I understand your uneasiness but there is no need for physical violence. I can promise you, no one will hear us. Your grandmother and I talk about the business all the time in public and it’s never been a problem.”

“No way, I’m not taking the risk. I don’t want to get burnt at the stake.”

“That’s for witches, dear,” my mother corrected me.

“Do you honestly think an angry mob will know the difference?”

“Grim reapers have never been burnt at the stake. Drowned, but never burnt,” my mother said.

“Okay, that settles it then.” I made a zipping motion across my lips.

My mother sighed. “Now you’re just being silly.”

“Fine, but we avoid the R and D words altogether. We can we use code words or something, like ‘popping balloons.’” I wiped some stray ketchup from my chin.

“If we must,” my mother said, looking down at her salad. “How many balloons have you popped so far?”

“Two,” I said, pushing back my bangs. “I’m a little confused about the second one. Things didn’t go the way I imagined.”