Hollow Dolls, The (35 page)

34

Jack was back on the grid. Gone. It was
such a big open vacuum. Even Walter was out on his daily rounds. Words ate into
Mel as she sifted through the recorded video feed on her computer.
Gone
.
And
slave
. She watched Kim Li and Alejandra bouncing along in a truck on
a back road in the dark. She couldn’t see much from Kim Li’s necklace cam. She
skipped through the feed to where they were entering a trailer. Alejandra
walked down the narrow hallway into a bedroom. A small girl slept in her bed.

“For Caylee,” said Alejandra.

Mel recognized the name. She and Kim Li had talked about Caylee
Anthony.

Alejandra pushed Kim Li out of the room into the tiny bathroom and
switched the light on. Their faces were similar. Long and thin, they both had
straight black hair. Alejandra had a narrower pointier nose, thinner eyebrows
and she was about five years older. They looked in the mirror together. Mel
felt jealous. She hated it. Whatever they had together was in her now twisting
and turning like some virus. Now she could feel possessive, jealous. They were
new raw feelings. Like being beaten from the inside. Kim Li giggled with some
madness in a stranger’s voice. Mel felt numb as she came across Kim Li’s obsidian
eyes, the irises gone. She was tripping far away.

 ‘Precious’ by Depeche Mode was playing as Blackie rolled past
Prospect Point in Stanley Park.  “Have you heard that story about the girl
Caylee Anthony?” asked Kim Li.

“Sure, I’ve heard of it. The girl murdered by her mother?”

“It happened in Florida. People are convinced the mother killed
her little girl and buried her, but she got off at the trial.” Kim Li had suddenly
gone off on this tangent in the car one day.

“It was a messed up jury. Awful fucking thing.  I saw the
jailhouse tapes and I’m telling you, that woman was lying!”

“Mothers,” said Mel.

Kim Li’s tone was strangely possessive as if she knew the girl. It
went beyond anything that a sympathetic public would feel. It was part of Kim
Li’s borderline personality, the way she’d attach herself to people so deeply
that she didn’t know. It would happen in an instant. And at the same time there
was no real feeling. She was a psychopath. What kicked in was her sociopathic
unnatural sense of justice. A vengeance was inside Kim Li that could flare up
at a moment’s notice. She was really like a loaded gun. A mercenary waiting for
a mission.

“Caylee was left alone to die while her mother went off partying!”
cried Kim Li. “Then she buried our little girl in the woods making up a story.
That bitch’s  parents just backed her up!”

Mel was silent at the time. How weird it was, the way Kim Li said
‘our little girl’.

 “They found Caylee six months later. Buried in the dirt like
garbage. Her mouth had been duct taped! Fuck!” yelled Kim Li.

Kim Li sounded so strange by that point that even Mel had gotten infected
with it. Sometimes Kim Li took on this aura of Kali so completely that Mel
could feel the edge of Kali’s sharp blade on her throat.

Mel got up, paced around the room, then skipped ahead in the tape again.
After going over that conversation in her head she knew what they were doing, at
least, what Alejandra was doing. Why were they in Texas? Mel caught glimpses of
them on the screen. They were in the forest. Out of nowhere a light flashed on
a woman bound to a tree with razor wire. She watched Kim Li sink a knife into the
woman’s chest and say, “Bye-bye Casey doll.”

Mel was too gone on oxys to care. She knew what Alejandra had
done. She had taken a part of what she’d learned about Kim Li. Alejandra had
taken Kim Li’s angst about Caylee Anthony and then brought it all into a real
life insane blood ritual. Kim Li had another notch in her belt.

Partially removed, Mel watched as the video rolled. It was all
about her sisters Winnie and Kim Li being taken away from her now. A shit
movie. Kim Li pulled the knife back out and stuck it into the tree. She turned
and grabbed Alejandra. Mel assumed Kim Li was thrusting against Alejandra
somehow, that they’d ended up on the forest floor, Alejandra had a strap-on.
Mel saw Kim Li’s hand on it close up because both wore Petzl light headbands.  They
rolled around on the forest floor together.

Mel paused the video and went down for coffee. While she stirred a
cup the door opened. Half expecting it to be Walter, she said, “Hi dad, coffee’s
on,” in a feeble attempt to be cheerful. When she turned she saw Kim Li.

“You’re here!” cried Mel.

“Of course I’m here. I live here.”

“Have you seen Winnie?”

“Not for a few days. I’m starved. What have we got to eat?”

 “Scrambled eggs?”

“Got any steak to go with that?”

“I think there’s some.”

“Make the eggs sunny side, and you got a deal,” said Kim Li.

“So what happened, I was worried as hell. Did Alejandra take you
somewhere?”

Kim Li raised her hand like she was actually about to hit Mel then
quickly stopped herself.

“Don’t speak her name.” She said with reverence.

Mel got some things out of the fridge. She realized Kim Li had
gotten too messed up and brainwashed by Alejandra to even think straight.

“I was at my Uncle’s” said Kim Li, “Just hanging out with my cuz.
Nobody took me anywhere!”

 “Okay.”

“Let’s cook,” said Kim Li.

They stepped around each other in an awkward dance getting
breakfast on.

“What happened?” She touched Kim Li on the jaw where she had a
serious bruise.

 “Nothing. Just sparring trophies,” she said and pulled away.

“Oh.”

The distance between them was killing Mel and it didn’t matter a
bit to Kim Li. Mel sat down on a stool at the kitchen’s butcher block island
and watched Kim Li cook. She wanted to tell her so many things and couldn’t. There
were scratches and welts on Kim Li’s arms.

 “Don’t make any for me,” said Mel, “I’m going for a work out.”

“Ok, see ya,” said Kim Li. She didn’t turn around.

Mel decided to go to Claire’s. The only hope of her getting Kim Li
back was to let her process things herself and let it happen on Kim Li’s terms.
She imagined cutting Alejandra’s throat open as she walked along Commercial
Drive. She’d seen her face and neck up close. Nigreda was rising.

Mel was blessed by the anonymity of the city as it breathed it’s social
network into her. Family. The mysterious urban body. She knocked repeatedly at
Claire’s and the door finally opened. Claire squinted, barely able to open her
eyes.

“It’s just me.”

 “Oh, hey gorgeous.”  She waved her in, turning from the suns rays
known to be deadly to musicians if exposed earlier than five pm.  “We had a gig
last night. They locked the place up and we played till, I don’t know, what
time is it?”

“One-thirty.”

“Coffee?” asked Claire.

“Sure.”

Claire put a pot on.

“Hey, someone said they saw you had a fight in the alley. At our Astoria
gig.”

Claire joined Mel on the couch.

“What was that about?”

“Just some biatch. Not to worry.”

“I’m sure you can handle yourself.” Claire rubbed her thigh.

“Claire. Have you noticed anything different about the way I
talk?”

“I like different,” said Claire. She put her hand on Mel’s leg
again and started move it closer.”

“Stop! I’m serious.”

“Well, you did grow up in London so there’s the accent and I don’t
know, cultural things.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I should tell you, I have this friend
Winnie.”

“Oh, that’s why. You’ve got someone else.”

“No! That’s not why anything—just listen.”

“Winnie and I, we met when we were fourteen. We’ve been writing
this memoir together lately and I’ve learned some dark things about myself. Do
you notice anything like that about me?”

“No, not at all,” said Claire. Lie

“Do you know what a psychopath is?” said Mel.

“You’re hardly that,” said Claire. “You’re not gonna tell me you
got bodies in your freezer are you?” Curious.

“Claire, I’m serious. Shit, this isn’t going to work,” said Mel. “I
should go.”

Mel got up and started for the door.

“Wait! Don’t just up and leave,” said Claire, following behind
her.

Claire got hold of Mel from behind as they reached the door,
turned her around and tried to kiss her. Mel pulled away.

“No! You don’t get it. I’ve never even made out like that with a
girl before. Lie. What happened the other day was just me trying to fit in. Confused
lie. Everything in the world is just different all the time! It’s like I don’t
belong anywhere or even know who I am anymore.” Truth.

Claire let go of Mel. Her face dropped sullen in an instant.

“That makes you sad, right?” said Mel.

“Well of course it does,” she said. “You’re the hottest chick ever.
What happened?”

“Nothing happened. That’s just it,” said Mel. “It didn’t really
happen for me.”

 “Look, I want you to stay no matter what. Now come back in and
have a coffee. We can still talk, can’t we? I promise not to attack you.”

Mel sat on the couch and Pye jumped up on Mel’s lap. She
immediately began purring and vying for affection. Claire told Mel her a story
about Pye.

Claire’s mother Eve had had passed along the history of the name
Pyewacket to Claire years ago after they had watched ‘Bell, Book and Candle’, a
sixties movie about a modern day witch starring Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak. Claire
said that after the movie they’d looked up  Pyewacket in the Witches
Encyclopaedia and found out the name Pyewacket had originated in the writings
of Matthew Hopkins, a notorious witch finder. It was in his records of one
particular instance where he’d ‘obtained’ a confession from an accused witch in
1644 in Essex, England.  According to Hopkins’ notes of the witch’s confession,
the witch had described one of her familiars, Pyewacket as an imp.

According to Claire’s mother, who was a witch herself, what the
witch held back from Hopkins was that Pyewacket was bound to the her by the
small ritual object of silver that looked much like a letter opener. It was the
same object that Hopkins had stolen during the witch’s confession to add to his
growing collection of souvenirs.

During the witch’s torture and confession, she knew that Hopkins
had taken it, and secretly instructed Pyewacket to remain bound to the tiny
silver ritual sword, and in her name, to carry out her final command.

As it came to pass, a few years after the death of Pyewacket’s
witch mistress, Hopkins was found presumed dead from tuberculosis at his home
in Manningtree, Essex, August 12, 1647. He was buried quickly only a few hours
later as was the custom for tuberculosis victims in the day.

Apparently, under Hopkins’ bed,  inside a walnut box lined with
dark purple tufted silk, was his prized collection of souvenirs from his days
as witch finder. Amongst them was the silver letter opener by which Pyewacket
had been bound.

It was there on that very night that the imp fulfilled the dying
wish of her witch Mistress. Matthew Hopkins had actually been discovered in a
low state of ‘death breath’. A state conjured in Hopkins during his sleep
through the essences Pyewacket had collected on her underbrush fur from herbs
in the forest and had applied to Hopkins sleeping nostrils whilst he breathed
his way through his last dreamy night.

 Hopkins awoke from his deep bewitched sleep a mere few hours
after his burial and scratched his fingers to blood and bone trying to escape
whilst Pyewacket and her witch Mistress danced their spirit’s drumbeat over his
grave. And he knew they were up there too!

After Claire’s story, Mel realized how far along she’d come in learning
to love. Yet, sitting on Claire’s couch she felt nothing for Claire. She wasn’t
even sure if Winnie mattered any more. No! Winnie mattered. Jesus! It seemed
the only benchmark she really had lately was Scott. Jack was all about sex. She
felt for sure she’d fallen in love with Scott though. Then there was the waitress
in The Astoria. She couldn’t ask. Claire would probably kick her out.

“Did it seem like I was acting weird that night at your gig.
Remember the waitress, what was her name?”

“Annabelle.”

Mel stopped for a moment remembering the breast on her shoulder.

“Was I flirting with her?” Claire remembered for sure.

“I didn’t notice,” said Claire. Lie.

After coffee, Mel disappeared down the alley. It was only four
blocks up to her place from Claire’s. How convenient. Before today, Claire probably
had designs on Mel for the summer.

Mel felt anxious and confused about everything and wanted to get
back to the video feed. She walked along the alley and spotted a car up ahead that
had its halogen lights turned on. Bright even in the afternoon. Annoyed, Mel
walked around by the driver’s side. A man had the back door open and was looking
at a map spread out on the trunk of the older model American sedan. She glanced
in the back seat and noticed a thick cable sticking up in the middle bent in a small
hangman’s hoop. Weird tourist. She felt niggles in her bones. What the fuck.
She couldn’t get it. The world was glitching. Nothing was coming through right.