Who Loves Her? (20 page)

“Skylark Motel.  Best skyline in the America’s best little town.  Can I help you?”

The wind was still blowing in the background on the phone
.  “Susan…?”  I watched as Mrs. Lemon slowly crossed the parking lot and dropped elegantly into the passenger seat.  She had high heels and one of the golden ankle bracelets that skanks wear on beaches in TV shows.  The wind kept blowing on the phone.

In a low voice, my heart hollowed out by all the flashbacks and the guy from the accident that day, I responded, “What do you want…I really can’t take much more.”

The wind continued.  “Susan, I’m lost.”  More wind.  I heard a car whiz by but wasn’t sure if it was on the phone or outside the window.  Uncle Lars had come and taken the money.  He even heard about the whole parking lot thing since the cops were there when he got there for the deposit.  He offered to let me hang out in the studio apartment the rest of the day with him covering the desk, but I turned him down.  The desk was the little bit of sanity I had left in this world.  Well, at least it was until this asshole started calling me.

“I can’t find you
,” I answered.  More wind.

“You have to…”

“No, I don’t.  You’re dead Anna.” More wind.

“Susan, don’t be like that…
”

“Anna, you’re dead
.  Dad is dead.  Bob is dead.”

“…it isn’t as easy as all of that.”

“Nope.  It’s that easy.  Sucks, but it’s that easy.  You’ll just have to find a way to hell or heaven, or wherever you’re headed, all on your own.”

The branches in the sycamore above the back of our maintenance shed were creaking a little
.  Not as windy, as on the phone, but spooking me.

“Susan…did you rent room
Twelve today?”  Now I was awake, but didn’t want to let on.

“We rent rooms
.  Kind of the job of a motel.”

“But did you rent room
Twelve today?”

“Shut, up
.  Who cares if I rented room Twelve today?”

“Did you
see who checked in?”  More wind.

“I’m tired of this, Anna, or Queen
Latifah, or whoever you think you are acting like.”

“I need help, Susan
, because we’re going to have more company, soon.”  There was a scream behind the wind.  “Susan, please just check with Harris of Harris Motors tomorrow.”

“Oh, stop it
.  There’s no way that Harris Schleting has anything to do with anything.  He’s just a pudgy old bald guy in a fishing hat who thinks he needs to be on every one of his stupid commercials.”  I couldn’t believe I was starting to argue with the ghost voice.  “I’m hanging up now and going to live my very normal, depressing life without my husband.  Good-bye.”

“Harris has Bob
.”  The wind continued to blow.  My hurt just blasted out of my chest and I started to sob.

“Tha
t’s not funny…please stop prank-calling me…please.”  There were deep heaving sobs as I put the phone down on the hook.  Tonight the exhaustion was just too much. My mom had arrived in the middle of the ambulance and police extravaganza, and it hit her worse than it did me about all the memories and losses she’d felt over the last few years.  She avoided the entire thing by busting into my apartment, flipping on the lights and cleaning as if the devil had  a gun to her head.  I almost started to stop her, but knew that the last control-freak thing that hadn’t broken, was her cleaning phase.  She always cleaned when she was stressed.  She passed it down to Anna, whose apartment and later her room at Mom’s house, was clean enough you could do surgery on the kitchen table.  With both of them.  A doctor could have done surgery at four-thirty and they would have had it clean enough for Dad’s pot roast at six o’clock on the dot.

Dad loved his pot roast
.  Tried to get him to eat something else.  He’d rotate to a good bass on the weekend, but past that he wanted pot roast and steaks.  He and Mom would split a beef each year with her cousin, Alfred, who raised them for a pretty healthy living.  He’d just charge Mom and Dad for the feed at wholesale, and they would all split the cost of the butchering.  Dad was as happy as a pig in mud when he was eating his pot roast.

So Mom cleaned my entire apartment
.  Took me weeks to get it back to the sloppy mess it had become.  She also heated up the Mexican Medley casserole with the special sausage, ground beef, and corn, in the oven.  She started to chatter as I stood there watching her open and close the oven door and scrub the kitchen counter.

“I used the Lawry’s taco seasoning this time instead of the McCormick’s taco seasoning
.  Liz swears by the McCormick’s, but the IGA wanted a dollar twenty-nine for it today and I just couldn’t see spending the extra twenty cents on a packet of salt and paprika.  I mean, if you didn’t like this so much I’d try to mix up the salt and pepper mixture I made special for your father.  That was one part sea salt, one part normal iodized salt, and one part black pepper.  You know, he never once asked me what made the pot roast taste so sweet.  That’s because you have to use at least one can of Coke in the bottom to absorb all the juices for the gravy.  I tried once to get by with using just one half can of Coke, but I could tell the difference.  I knew I had to switch back when Anna was in the kitchen cleaning up with me after dinner, and mentioned that the pot roast was just a little dry.  Well, she might as well have slapped your poor old mother in the face with that comment.  She could be so catty when she wanted to be.  Not like you.  You just….well you were your father’s daughter.  You two never even said boo about the pot roast.  He smiled and you would smile.  You would have done anything back then for that old galoot.”

“Mom.”

“Don’t you try and stop me.  That’s what he was.  Just a big old, dufus galoot.”

“Mom, he loved you more than the sky and…”

“Well he had a strange way of showing it.”  Tears were forming in her eyes.

“And…I can’t lose you, Susan
.  I just can’t.  Everyone else is gone.  Anna, Bob, your father…The whole house up there is just full of creaking boards and clicking sounds. If I stay up there much more by myself, I’m going to start seeing ghosts or something.  Susan, I don’t want to end up like Mrs. Hoover at the shelter.” Mom reached out and I hugged her.

“Mom, Mrs
. Hoover had seventeen cats in a one bedroom apartment for way too many years.  Like I said, Mom.  This is temporary.  I just need to sort out some things with the boat house and the life insurance and what not.”

“Well, h
oney, this place is so dangerous!  You don’t know how many stories I’ve heard Lars tell about the guests that come in after hours.  This is no place for a woman to be alone at night.  No place.  And especially tonight when that dear, dear man just lost his wife the same way you lost…”

“Mom, please stop
.”  I was reeling again.

“I mean it was all over the news how similar the car looked.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Mr. and Mrs. Lemon’s car.

“Mom…I love you
.  I really do.  I love the casseroles.  I love that you clean.  I’ll be home just as soon as I can figure some things out.  You want to have some Mexican Medley with me?”

“Oh, h
oney, you know how that gives me gas.”

“Gas is okay
, Mom.  Everyone has gas.”

“Susan
, ladies do not have gas.  They do everything in their power to uphold that tradition.”

“Sure, Mom
.  Well, why don’t we just hang out back here until the dust settles.”

“That would be lovely
.  Do you have any tea?”

I checked all the cupboards.

“Sorry, Mom.  Fresh out.”

So we waited for them to all finish up
.  After I chewed out the deputy, Uncle Lars kind of fielded the rest of the questions and agreed that he would have me come down later if I knew anything. I ate while Mom watched.  She did pick off a corn chip or two, but said she was too upset to eat very much.  I wrapped the rest in tin foil and tossed it in the refrigerator.  Uncle Lars tried to get me to stay back in the apartment, but when he saw Mom and how certain I was I wanted to work the next day, he offered to give her a lift.

“Y
ou want to eat with Janine and I?”

“That would be lovely, Lars, but Janine doesn’t know I’m coming
.  That wouldn’t be polite.”

“Oh, bluster, little sister
.  You eat like a bird and Janine still cooks as if the boys were home.  Our house it is for dinner, and then you can decide if you still want to bang around the big old mansion by yourself after that or spend the night with us.”

He didn’t mean anything by it, like as if I was supposed to feel guilty for not living with Mom
.  It was a huge house.  It was one of the first houses in Alexandria and Dad was a bit of a big wig in his day in the city.  He had the inside track on it, and even though there were only four of us, we were able to live in one of the largest old places they have.  Had a huge tire swing in the back and all of the trees were at least one hundred years old.  I kind of worried once and a while that the school kids were going to terrorize Mom during Halloween, but Uncle Lars bought lots of security lights and made it more difficult for kids to sneak around in the dark.

Mom left wi
th Uncle Lars.

I slept much better
after eating Mom’s casserole and basically had
no energy to cry.  My dreams were filled with flashing sirens and screams, but it was better than the night before.

I woke up with the nagging thing about Harris and the car from my accident
.  Then I decided to re-watch the security tapes and wrote down some numbers from the plates of Mr. and Mrs. Lemon.  I was pretty sure there was nothing, but I was also pretty sure the creepy voice in the wind was going to call, so I thought I would check it all out.

“
Schelcting Motors, how can I help you?”

“Is Harris there?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Susan…Susan from the…”

“Oh, yes!  Let me check and see if he’s in.”

“Susan
!  How have you been!  Need a new car?”

“Um…in a bit
.  I’m still waiting for a settlement.  I have kind of an odd question.”

“Well, odd questions are my specialty
.  Shoot.”

“Do you
still have that car that belonged to the woman from our accident?”

“Oh
, that got impounded quite a long time ago.  Sorry, about that.  I remember it was a real heap when they drug it here.”

“Do you by chance still have the plate number, or make and model?”

“Give me a second.  Yep.  White ninety-six Monte Carlo with personalized plates.”

“The plate?”

“Yep.  It was HYPNTIZ”

“Do they let people keep personalized plates on new cars?”

“Well that all depends.  Sometimes, if it happens to be someone in the family.  Or if the same person had a totaled car.  They might let them transfer it over.”  My blood started to boil.

“Thanks, Harris
.” I called the sheriff’s office.

“Sheriff!” Susan spoke calmly, but her heart was racing.

“
This is Susan down at the Skylark.  Uhm yessir, I am fine, and you?” she felt her anger spike at the trying niceties the sheriff was throwing about.  She had something important to say, and as she remembered she felt fear well up inside of her.

Speaking with forced calm she continued, “
Well I was looking back through the security tapes and we had a guest here last night.”

“Well Susan,” he said, “isn’t that your business?
I would hope you had a guest every night.”  Dammit!  What was wrong with this guy!  Still feigning a matter-of-fact style, she continued.

“
Uhm, yessir, of course, but this guy was different.  Well actually it was the car.  The car was uhm…” Susan’s voice trailed off as she suddenly realized how ridiculous it all sounded.  How long had Anna and Bob been dead? What she was suspecting would have been impossible-or was it?”

‘Sheriff, the truth is I watched our security tapes closely last night
.  There was a man last night.  He…well it…the car…I mean…the car arrived right after all of you got here to ask us questions.  I was in such a daze, I just didn’t think about telling you.”

“Well that’s fine, Susan
, but what do you want to tell me?”

“Well
, the people who stopped here had a personalized license plate.  I mean I didn’t really notice, but then after you all left I just kind of freaked out.”

“Well it’s a stretch
, but you can give it to me and we can add it into the possibilities.”

“
Well sheriff, that’s just about it, sir.  The car had the exact same plate as the one that ran my husband and I off the road.”  After everyone left, I rode down there and was in shock that it happened exactly where we crashed.  I just feel so weird, and it seems so important so I called to verify, and I was right!”

“How do you know that?  What’s the number?”

“HYPNTIZ.  I know it because I had to live it over and over again at the trial and with the life insurance company.  I saw the original police reports.  Didn’t you guys write it down?”

“Well that’s all very interesting, Susan
.  We’ll take down the information and see where it goes.  Thank you very much.”

“
Wait!  Please, please don’t hang up.  I am telling you the truth sir.  You’ve got to believe me!”

“Thanks for your time, m
iss.  We’ll let you know what we find out.”  Susan heard a click and was furious that the cops would not take her unusual information seriously.  Then she tried and tried to remember the other thing the voice in the wind told her.  “Room Twelve.”  In all the commotion, Susan had not checked in on Room Twelve.  Susan stood frozen in place.  Her mind grappling with all the choices that lay before her.  She could go into Room Twelve to have a look for herself.  Who says you have to rely on the police or Sheriff’s department to investigate strange coincidences? Surely, they had to have ditched something there in their room.  Maybe, they had left some kind of clue.  In fact, it was almost a certainty that an overnight stay in a motel would yield some fringe clues left behind.  Perhaps she should go to the Sheriff’s Department and demand action and go over the heads of the deputies that had taken her statement. Susan’s nerves were ragged when the phone rang.  Just as she was expecting it….she heard the now familiar eerie sound…It was the wind.

“Susan…
” the wind was blowing, the soft tone of Anna’s voice barely discernible but absolutely there.

“I believe, you Anna…I believe you!”

Suddenly, the sensation of the surreal wind and her sister’s voice was gone.  Replaced by a new surreal sense of understanding and an urgent drive to action.

“
I’m going to check Room Twelve, Anna.  I am coming!”  Her voice was urgent and breathless as she reached frantically for the key.  She heard the phone slamming to the floor behind her and Anna’s shrieking voice in the chaos.

“No
!  Susan!  Don’t!”

I
t was too late.  Susan was running toward Room Twelve; her heart pounding loudly in her ears.  She was sure it was all going to be all right.  She was going to see Anna.  She was going to see Bob.  This terrible nightmare would be over, finally!

The keys clicked against one another as her shaking hands fumbled with the old lock
.  Suddenly, she threw open the door to Room Twelve and there on the bed sitting calmly, was the woman.  Charles’ throat had been cut.  Susan’s hot breath was burning as she breathed hard, trying to maintain her grip on reality as the impossibility of the setting unfolded before her.  Somewhere her mind was screaming: “No!  This is not real,” and yet here it was as close as if she could touch it.

“Nice to see you
, Susan.  So glad you can join us.  You didn’t even look up and notice that it was I who checked out of the room yesterday.  Charles wasn’t driving.  This car has served me so well over the years.”  And with that, Susan met the eyes of Anna’s and Bob’s ghost.  The husband’s wife was crying in the corner.  They had tears in their eyes and shook their heads.  There was a reason Uncle Lars never rented this room to anyone.  Susan had forgotten the rule.

***

Susan gasped awake as if she had been drowning in a pool.  Her heart was pounding.  She looked everywhere.  She had drooled all over the keyboard and saw a blinking cursor after…

“That’s a tough one sweetheart,” Bob slightly laughed at her question.

“I suppose I’ll think and answer you later.  Wait until you see the live musical band that we have arranged for the wedding.  Funny group.  And guess where we are headed to after the church?  To my oldest and best friend’s farmhouse.  We got a great swimming pool and a view.  He turned it into a bed and breakfast and we’re his first guests.  On the house!”

Then large footsteps came around the corner and gave her a hug
.  Bob said, “You need to stop writing so much Susan!  That stuff is gonna give you nightmares.  You comin’ to bed?”

I was torn between the comfort of the common feel of the room and the impossibilities of the horro
r in my mind.  I could hear Bob’s heavy steps receding down the hall, the sounds of his steps comforting as he headed downstairs for one last check before bed.  I looked at the screen.  For some reason the blinking cursor caught my attention and refused to release me.  I could still hear Dr. Freudette’s words, “Write Susan!  About anything at all.” A nervous giggle escaped from some observer deep inside of me.  My mind reeled through the various worlds suddenly alive inside my mind.  Death, love, fear, happiness, and the macabre were all there, but which was real? My computer was real, the soft hiss of the fan reassuring me that it existed in reality and not in my imagination, but the low hum of the highway outside Uncle Lars motel was also real.  The strange sense of realization that was confronting me now felt eerily connected to the vicious betrayal by Bob, Harris, and their friends.  Would Bob kill me? Was he my savior?  And what about Anna?

Dr
. Freudette was real, Susan was certain of that fact.  Susan’s mind was suddenly alive digging furiously to identify and isolate that which was real in consideration of the vivid details of her imagination.  Somewhere, there in her story was the truth.  Somehow she had written the answers to her personal train-wreck stories.  Someone would be able to read her stories and know the truth.  Someone.  Dr. Freudette had said that writing would provide acceptance and understanding, but now, all I feel is emptiness, confusion, and even fear.  Curiously calm, I tried to imagine what was real and what was imagined.  Suddenly, a voice, a long-familiar voice, whispered into my ear: “Susan we have to keep going!  You cannot stop now; it is your wedding day!  Hurry!”  The familiar sound of Nina’s laughter faded as I turned to greet an empty room.

The End