Fiends SSC (34 page)

    Joyce stood beside the bed, six feet away, still smiling. The nightie blew softly, stirred by the breeze from the window. Though it concealed nothing with its sheer fabric, at least it had been straightened so her breast no longer stuck out.

    She has a better figure than me, Barbara thought.

    She’s more
beautiful
than…

    Barbara looked away, frowned at Darren. Though she wanted to sound calm, her voice came out high and childlike when she asked, ‘What’s going on?’

    Darren shrugged. He stroked her thigh. ‘It’s nothing to be upset about. Really.’

    ‘Nothing to be upset about? You’ve got your dead wife
stuffed
in your bedroom… and wearing
that!'

    He smiled gently. ‘Oh, she isn’t stuffed. She’s freeze-dried. I found a place that does people’s deceased pets. She looks wonderful, doesn’t she?’

    ‘Oh, God.’ Barbara murmured.

    ‘And that’s her favorite nightgown. I don’t see why she should be deprived of it, but if you’d rather she wear something a bit more modest…’

    ‘Darren. She’s dead.’

    ‘Well, of course.’

    ‘You bury dead people. Or cremate them. You don’t… keep them.’

    ‘Why not?’

    ‘It just isn’t done!’

    ‘Oh, if I couldn’t have had her preserved so nicely, I suppose there’d be some reason to dispose of her. But look at her.’

    Barbara chose not to.

    ‘She’s as fresh as the day she died. She doesn’t smell. What’s the problem?’

    ‘The problem? The problem?’

    ‘I don’t see any problem.’

    ‘You’ve had her here… in your house… all along?’

    ‘Sure.’

    ‘Under the bed?’

    ‘Well, only when I expected you to come over. I was afraid you might not take it well, so I felt it best to keep her out of sight.’

    ‘Under the
bed
? When I was here? All those nights I spent here, she was… Oh, God. You had this… this
stiff
under the bed while we…’

    ‘Not just any stiff. My wife.’

    ‘Oh, that’s supposed to make it okay?’

    ‘She
was
my wife, darling. What was I supposed to do, throw her out like an old shoe? I loved her. She loved me. Why should we part, just because she stopped being alive? I would’ve been… so lonely without her. And look at it from her point of view. Do you think she would’ve
enjoyed
being put in a hole, all by herself? Or burnt to ashes? Good Lord, who would want a fate like that? Instead, she’s here in her own house where she belongs, with her husband. Isn’t that the way
you
would want it? Really? It’s what I’d want for myself. It’s what I’d want for you if, God forbid, you should stop living before I do. So we would always be together.’

    ‘I suppose,’ she muttered, ‘it would be better than… those other things.’

    ‘No doubt about it.’

    ‘You should’ve told me, though.’

    ‘I was waiting for the right time. I’m just sorry you had to find out about her… the hard way. She must’ve given you quite a shock.’

    ‘Yeah, I’ll say.’

    ‘You’ve taken it really well, though. You're a champ.' With that, he spread open her kimono.

    ‘Darren!’ She swept it shut. Fast. And looked at Joyce. Who didn’t seem to be watching. The former wife’s gaze was directed, not at Barbara, but toward the open window beyond the bed, which she seemed to find pleasing, possibly a little amusing.

    ‘Now, now,’ Darren said. ‘Relax.’

    ‘But Joyce.’

    ‘She can’t see what we’re doing. For heaven’s sake, she’s dead.’

    ‘I don’t care. Not in front of her. No way.’

    ‘Now you’re being silly.’

    ‘Silly! Goddamn it!’

    ‘Shhh, shhh. Calm down. It’s all right. I’ll take care of her.’ Darren bent low, parted just enough of Barbara’s kimono to expose her groin, kissed her softly there, then climbed off the bed. Stepping in front of Joyce, he took off his velours bathrobe. ‘Forgive me?’ he asked. Then he draped the robe over her head. It hung down nearly to her waist.

    He stepped away from her. He faced Barbara. He smiled. ‘Better?’

    ‘Can’t you just put her out in the hallway or something?’

    Darren looked disappointed. ‘That wouldn’t be nice. This is her bedroom, too, you know. I can’t just put her out.’

    Barbara sighed. This would be their first night together in the house as man and wife. She didn’t want to make a stink. Besides, it wasn’t really so bad now that Joyce’s face was out of sight. ‘All right,’ she said.

    ‘I could put her back under the bed, if you’d…’

    ‘No, she’s fine there.’ Under the bed, she would be so much closer. Directly beneath them as they made love. Awful.

    Darren stepped over to the light switch.

    ‘No, leave the lights on.’

    ‘Are you sure?’

    ‘I don’t… want to be in the dark with her.’

    ‘Whatever you say, darling.’

    As he returned to the bed, Barbara sat up and took off her kimono. She glanced at Joyce, then lay down and shut her eyes.

    Darren sank down on top of her. He kissed her mouth. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he whispered.

    ‘I know. I’m a champ.’

    ‘You are. You truly are.’

    Barbara couldn’t help it: every now and then as Darren kissed her and fondled her and plunged inside her, she looked over at Joyce. His other wife. His dead wife. Standing there shrouded by a bathrobe. Which wasn’t pulled low enough in front to hide how the diaphanous nightie, drifting in the breeze, brushed against the dark tuft of hair between her legs.

    He used to make love to her, Barbara thought.

    Here, on this same bed.

    Does she know? Does she know he’s doing it to me, now, right in front of her? Is she jealous?

    Don’t be ridiculous.

    Barbara tried to shake off the notion. But couldn’t.

    At the proper moment, she faked an orgasm.

    It took a while for Darren to recover. Soon after he was breathing normally again, he whispered, ‘See, it was just fine.’

    ‘Yeah.’

    ‘She didn’t bother you at all, did she? Joyce, I mean.’

    ‘Not really.’ A lie. Why not?

    ‘I bet she made it better for you. She did for me.’

    What Barbara thought was,
Oh my God.
What she said was, ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

    A while later, Darren said, ‘Maybe I should turn the lights off now.’

    ‘No. Leave them on.’

    ‘You aren’t still spooked, are you?’

    ‘Just a little.’

    ‘Well, that’s all right. I’m sure she’ll take a little getting used to.’ I’ll never get used to her, Barbara told herself. Never.

    

    

    Soon, Darren fell asleep. Barbara tried to sleep, but her mind was in a turmoil. She’d just married a man who kept his dead wife in the bedroom. Liked her there. As much as admitted that it turned him on to have her standing nearby while he made love.

    Weird. Disgusting.

    But it calmed Barbara whenever she thought about how things would be once she’d gotten rid of Joyce. Calmed her enough so that she was almost able to fall asleep.

    Each time she started to drift, however, she lurched awake with a sickening dread and had to look. To make sure Joyce hadn’t moved, hadn’t pulled the robe off her head, hadn’t crept closer to the bed.

    The bitch seemed to be staying put.

    Of course.

    All that ever seemed to move was the nightie, blown by the breeze so it floated against her belly and pubic curls and the tops of her legs.

    When Barbara woke up, the bedroom was bright with sunlight. She’d fallen asleep after all. Somehow. In spite of Joyce.

    Joyce.

    She didn’t want to see her, fought the urge to turn her head, instead gazed at the ceiling and tried to appreciate the feel of the warm breeze caressing her body.

    I can’t spend another night in the same room with her, she thought. Just can’t. I’ve gotta make Darren listen to reason.

    She turned her head toward the other side of the bed.

    Darren was gone.

    No! What if he took his robe with him? What if
she’s
uncovered?

    Barbara snapped her head the other way.

    Joyce was gone.

    Gone where?

    Barbara bolted upright. Heart thudding, she scanned the room. No sign of the corpse. She blew out a shaky breath and filled her lungs with the sweet morning air.

    Not here. Maybe Darren came to his senses and…

    She went cold inside and her skin crawled with goosebumps.

    
He put her under the bed!

    Moaning, she flung herself off the mattress. She rushed to the middle of the room and there, a safe distance away, dropped to her hands and knees and peered into the space beneath the bed.

    No Joyce.

    Thank God.

    But where
is
she? What’s Darren done with her?

    At least she’s not here. That's the main thing.

    Calming down slightly, Barbara got to her feet. She brushed some carpet lint off her hands and knees. She was still trembling, still shivery with gooseflesh.

    I can’t live like this, she thought as she returned to the bed. She put on her silk kimono, wrapped it snugly around herself and tied the sash. Then she turned toward the closet. She wanted her house slippers.

    What if Joyce is in there?

    She stared at the shut door. And decided it could stay shut. She could do without her slippers.

    Heading for the bedroom door, she noticed that her suitcase was missing. Darren must’ve taken it out to the garage.

    Maybe he’d also taken
Joyce
out to the garage.

    If only.

    Fat chance.

    She halted at the doorway, leaned forward and swiveled her head from side to side. The corridor looked clear. She rushed for the bathroom. Its door was open. No sign of Joyce. She entered and locked the door. Then had a few bad moments as she approached the tub. But the tub was empty. Barbara sighed, relaxed a little.

    She used the toilet, washed her face, brushed her teeth, sat on the edge of the tub and tried to work up her courage for venturing out of the sanctuary of the bathroom.

    This is crazy, she told herself. Why should I be scared of Joyce? She can’t hurt me. Can’t do anything but freak me out. And make me wonder if I’m married to a crazy man.

    He’s not crazy. He cares about her, that’s all. Can’t bear to part with her.

    Jesus H. Christ on a crutch.

    He damn well
will
part with her. It’s her or me.

    Right. What’ll I do? Where’ll I go? I gave up my apartment. I already quit my job, for godsake. Guess I can always find…

    Why should
I
be the one to leave?
She’s
the dead one.

    Just gotta talk to Darren. If he’ll only listen to reason and put her away someplace, everything will be okay.

    Barbara forced herself to leave the bathroom. As she walked down the corridor, someone stepped out of the bedroom. She flinched before realizing it was Darren.

    He’d already gotten dressed. He wore one of the bright red aloha shirts they’d bought on Maui. It hung loose down past the front of his Bermuda shorts. His legs looked darkly tanned above the tops of his white socks. He had his Reeboks on.

    ‘Morning!’ he said, smiling as he hurried toward her. ‘You sure slept in, didn’t you?’

    Then she was in his arms. She hugged him, kissed him. My Darren, she thought.

    He felt solid and warm and comfortable.

    When they released each other, he said, ‘I have a surprise for you.’

    ‘You’ve put Joyce in storage?’

    His smile faltered. ‘Don’t be silly. I made a trip to the doughnut shop. Maple bars!’

    He knew how she loved maple bars. But she couldn’t work up much enthusiasm as she said, ‘Oh, that’s sweet.’

    Taking her hand, he led her into the kitchen. On the counter, the pot of coffee was ready. On the table, a heaping platter of doughnuts, including four maple bars, waited. In the corner, smiling, staring at Barbara as she entered, stood Joyce.

    Her hair was done up in a ponytail. She wore a fresh white blouse. The bra beneath it, faintly visible through the thin fabric, was black. Her blouse was tucked neatly into the elastic waistband of her glossy blue shorts. She wore white socks and blue L.A. Gear athletic shoes.

    ‘You dressed her,’ Barbara muttered.

    Darren grinned. ‘She didn’t dress herself.’

    ‘Why?’

    ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ He laughed softly and picked up the coffee pot.

    ‘I mean, why did you dress her?’

    ‘Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be right for her to go around all day in her nightgown.’ He filled the mugs with coffee and set them on the table. He pulled out a chair for Barbara.

    ‘I’ll sit over here,’ she said. And took the chair on the opposite side of the table. So she wouldn’t have her back to Joyce. So she could keep an eye on her.

    Darren sat down in the chair he’d intended for Barbara. He took a sip of coffee. ‘Actually, I did keep Joyce in her bathrobe for a while, at first. I thought to myself, why bother putting clothes on her? It got depressing, though. There she was, day and night, standing around in her robe. It made her seem… oh, I don’t know, like an invalid.’

    Tempted to make a remark, Barbara bit into a maple bar instead.

    ‘So then I decided to start dressing her up. Off with that tired old bathrobe, on with… well, whatever the occasion demanded. Nightwear at night, casual things for daytime wear, one of her nifty little bikinis for poolside… she always liked to join me out by the pool, though she wasn’t much for swimming. For more formal occasions - a birthday, Thanksgiving, that sort of thing - a lovely evening gown. Whatever seemed right.’ Smiling, he bit into a jelly doughnut.