The fallen towels landed in a heap of plastic detritus from his various medications, near a set of fresh, folded pajamas, which he now would never wear, and a stack of books he now would never read. Everything in the room was touched with the chaos that disrupted the operating energy of a household at such a time and showed that, all along, the appearance of control had been an illusion.
From somewhere down below came the shrill repetitive shrieking one of our ilk will emit when wishing to attract to themselves another of our ilk for urgent consultation.
A sound it is not within our power to ignore.
—
I sank through the floor into the kitchen.
The cry was sounding from somewhere below that.
I sank through the kitchen floor into the basement.
The cry was sounding from somewhere below that.
I sank through the foundation into the underlying soil, past a rotted wood beam from an ancient barn, half a wagon wheel, a cluster of three cow skulls, and a writhing closet-sized mass ofliving worms, which, as I passed, came alive with awareness of my presence.
And there found the source of the cry:
A spindly old woman with a shriveled, apple-like face, in a rocking chair lying on its side, there deep within the earth.
He sent me to ask two things, she said.
Who did? I said.
Spoke foreign, she said.
French? I said.
Coulda been, she said. How about set me up?
I set the chair upright.
That’s better, she said. What they done to my cabin? This aren’t it.
You’re dead, I said.
Think I don’t know it? she said. I hurtled over here. Through space. From where I was. From where they put me. In the graveyard, in Arkansas. Was taking my rest there. I’m always on the run but sometimes I go back for a rest. On my grave. But then that foreign feller showed up. Said I should come here and ask you two things. First was: Are you ready?
For what? I said.
How should I know? she said. I’m just an old former weaver-lady in a rocker. As you can plainly see. Who died the day the big war ended. And missed every damn parade about it. But I’ll tell you a secret. If you lean in. Lean in, girlie.
I leaned in.
All them years, of my marriage to Joe? she said.
And winked, and spread her legs apart, then closed them, then opened them up again.
That’s right, she said. Any and all takers. If they was handsome enough, nice enough. Tell the truth, didn’t have to evenbe all that handsome. Just nice. That’s why I’m still afoot. Supposed to be looking for Joe, to say sorry. But I ain’t. Ain’t looking, ain’t sorry. So there. So be it. I’m happy enough. With my memories. That mean little ogre, I did him dirty again and again, but he did me dirty again and again. The taking of me by force, I mean. And when he passed? I never came near his stink.
Good Lord, I thought.
Taken by force?
By her own husband?
Got to where he only got me when he made me, she said. And then I started scratching and a-biting.
