Fallen Under

Chapter One

The woman in front of me was wasting away. Obviously once broad shouldered and strong, her body had not shrunk. Rather, the flesh between her bones had receded and her thin skin pulled over the deep hollows, like hides stretched to dry.

The chair’s urn splat nestled between her empty shoulder blades creating a second, stronger, spine, while her elbows dropped back to become helplessly caged between the spindles.

I gently cleared my throat, surprising myself by how the slight sound shattered the silence. Minutes earlier, the nurse had shown me into this room and offered me a seat on the opposite side of the large, mahogany desk behind which Edith Bauer only barely subsisted.

I stared down past my bare knees, and studied the pattern of the rug beneath my shoes. I could see the hem of Mrs. Bauer’s excessively long silk robe beneath the table; the heather grey fabric was tarnished, doubtless from years of being dragged across the floor. Yet, given the woman’s frailty, the discoloration seemed less that of the ground than of the grave, rising in increments to consume her.

“So, you’re here for the room?” she asked.

“Yes.”

The small word itched and pulled across the dryness in my throat, and I looked up to meet an unblinking stare.

“I have a few boarders renting rooms, and the kitchen and small library are communal. You will hardly be alone here,” she said.

“Yes, I was told...”

A knock came at the door behind me. I heard it swing open a little, but I didn’t turn around. Edith Bauer waved away the source of the interruption, and the door gently clicked closed.

“I have already received the payment, so you can move in today. Do you have your things?”

I nodded.

“Margaret will show you to your room,” she said.

I stood up and held my hand out across the desk.

She stared at the offered hand, while her withered limbs lay motionless and trapped at her sides.

I quickly withdrew, and pressed my now trembling fingers against my hip. “Thank you, Mrs. Bauer.”

“Edith.”

“Thank you, Edith,” I said.

The door behind me opened once again, and Edith’s nurse, Margaret, escorted me from the office.

She was a resolute looking woman, and tall: at least eight inches taller than me. Her sandy blonde hair was drawn tight against her skull into a small bun at the nape of her neck. She wore light blue scrubs, grey sneakers, and a cream-colored cardigan the sleeves of which were rolled up unevenly.

Her only concession to vanity was a light layer of pink lipstick, though even this cosmetic touch was sharply offset by the fact that her mouth seemed permanently pulled into a thin-lipped frown.

I retrieved my suitcase while Margaret waited inside. I had been so afraid of blocking in another car, that my tires were nearly on the front lawn. I glanced over the parking job once more as I headed back toward the house, trying to satisfy myself that it was at the very least adequate.

As my fingers reached for the front door handle, the door swung inwards. I automatically took a couple of steps back, pulling my suitcase out of the way, before looking up.

The man standing in the doorway was about six feet tall with a strong, solid build. He appeared to be in his early forties with brown hair and pale blue eyes. He had a large, aquiline nose, which looked to have been broken once or twice and poorly reset, but this did nothing to detract from a roguish handsomeness. If anything, this single imperfection only drew attention to how exquisite his face truly was.

His lips were stretched into a half-smile. He took a step back, into the foyer, and extended his arm.

“After you,” he said.

His voice was almost indulgent in its softness, and I had the distinct impression that he rarely spoke so gently. I felt the tremble of anticipation seep through my core as I glanced over his body again.

“Thank you,” I said as I moved past him into the hallway.

He had only stepped back a little and was still partially blocking the door. My shoulder brushed his chest as I passed him, and I found myself wondering if he had leaned forward just a little.

“Can I help you with your bag?” he asked, his voice deep and close.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I said.

A flush crept over my cheeks, and I could only pray that the darkness of the unlit foyer was enough to hide my obvious interest.

“Nadia, come this way,” Margaret said, joining us abruptly. “We’ll head upstairs.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said to the man.

Immediately, I felt stupid. We hadn’t even exchanged names.

“A pleasure,” he said. He offered a parting smile before walking out the front door.

My gaze lingered on him until he was out of sight. Margaret cleared her throat, and I turned to her.

“If you don’t mind,” she said.

I followed Margaret up a green carpeted staircase, boosting my suitcase with the toe of my shoe at every step.

“Where are the other boarders staying?” I asked.

“Boarders?” Margaret asked, her head not so much as turning. “Other than you, there’s only one person actually paying for a room, and that would be Matthew. He’s a medical student who rents the basement apartment. Edith’s sister, Theresa, has a small studio apartment in the attic. She’s too infirm to come down those stairs anymore, so you’re unlikely to see her.”

We walked through the second-floor hall, which featured the same green carpet as the stairs. Margaret opened the door to the first room on the right.

“This will be your bedroom,” she said, stepping aside so I could walk in. “My room is the one across the hallway, and Edith’s is the one next to mine, further down.”

“So, you live here too?” I asked.

Margaret nodded. “I care for Edith and Theresa full-time.”

“That’s nice,” I said, offering the typical, perfunctory interjection, though unsure of whether or not it was true.

“I’m surprised you’d want to be cooped up in a small town like this. I regret it most days,” she said, as though anticipating me.

I smiled politely. “I don’t mind it.”

“You might,” she said.

“So, there are four people living here right now?” I asked, trying to avoid making it obvious that my mind was completely fixated on the handsome stranger in the foyer.

“Five. In the room next to yours is Vic, Edith’s son. He’s the one you met by the door,” she said. Based on her tone, the effect he’d had on me had not gone completely unnoticed by the nurse.

I shrugged, unsure of what to say.

“He moved back home saying he wanted to be near his mother, given her recent health troubles,” Margaret continued. She lowered her voice. “Between you and me, he hadn’t visited her once before in the seven years I’ve been working here.”

“You’ve been here seven years?” I asked.

Margaret nodded. “At first, I only worked with Theresa. That’s not to say Edith was in perfect health, but it’s only over this past year that she became the way she is now, almost completely disabled by pain. Her deterioration was rapid and Vic moved in a month later.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to have family near her, given her situation,” I attempted.

Margaret almost smiled. Her fingers were still wrapped around the handle of the open door, but her grip had become absentminded.

“I know it sounds like he returned to care for her, but he hasn’t said five words to her since moving in. Maybe he hit a streak of bad luck, maybe he needed somewhere to crash. Whatever the reason for his arrival, he’s not here because he’s worried about Edith.”

There was a venom to her words, and I got the sense that Margaret had waited a long time to voice these concerns to someone, trapped as she seemed by her surroundings. When it was clear I could offer her nothing more, she returned downstairs and I closed the door to my bedroom.

If I were to be honest, Margaret’s words only heightened my curiosity about the man, and perhaps my initial dislike of the nurse made it all too easy to disregard her words and focus instead on the strange bitterness to her tone.

My bedroom was simply furnished. The white painted bedframe held an old, soft mattress, draped in floral print bedding. The dresser and nightstand were heavily painted with the same chipping white color, and the hardwood floor was half-covered by a worn, light blue and gold patterned rug.

A door on the left-hand side of the room led to a small bathroom with a sink and bathtub, both porcelain.

I washed my face and reapplied my makeup, which had begun to smudge and disappear already. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was readying myself for, as there was little to do.

My painting supplies were still packed away in the trunk of my car, and I figured they’d stay that way for a while at least. Over the past year, an immoveable procrastination had replaced painting as my art form, but I hoped that a new location might prove to be the change I needed.

Edith’s poor health had delayed my moving into the room, though the check had been cashed almost immediately upon receipt. This delay had allowed me to spend a few days in town, where I found the business district was made up of three restaurants, a small grocery store, a cinema, and a pharmacy. Years ago, there had been an operating train station, but all that remained was a platform with a leaky canopy.

These days, the train speeds right past.

I unpacked my clothes, taking an artificial care with each dress, blouse, and skirt. I lined my shoes up against the wall, and set my cosmetics in the medicine cabinet. Apart from running clothes, my wardrobe now consisted entirely of overly formal, feminine attire. I’d packed my bags with judgement gently skewed by three glasses of merlot.

I looked out my window into the backyard. A wooden fence ran around the grown-wild enclosure, which bordered the woods. There was a quiet which was only rarely interrupted by passing cars, and I sat on the very edge of the bed and listened to the blanketing silence.

I decided to go back into town for an early dinner. Though it had been clear that food, drink, and full use of the kitchen had been included in the price of the room, I wanted to stay out of everyone’s way until I had a better sense of my surroundings

Then, there was the other reason.

I slipped quietly out of my bedroom, the fresh, yawning darkness of the hallway like an open mouth at my throat. I paused briefly at the top of the stairs to make sure I wouldn’t run into anyone on the first floor. When I heard nothing below, I descended.

A few lamps were now switched on in the foyer. I could see into the kitchen, but the room was ill-lit. I could only discern the silver gleam of the sink, and the time display on the stove.

I was surprised by how dark the house had become. The deep colors of the rugs and furnishings hungrily absorbed the sparse golden lamplight, leaving much of the interior in aching shadow. The porch light was visible through the window, only enhancing my sense of unease.

As soon as I could, I walked out into the cool, spring air. The breeze carried the green scent of early-blooming flowers and warm, wet dirt.

A single car passed by, and I shielded my eyes against the headlights.

The expanse of road was again in darkness, and I walked toward the faint lights indicating the town, only two miles away.

I ate dinner alone, in silence, and took my time walking back. I had thought on that brief interaction with Vic more than once during my meal, and rumination only ever heightened my nerves.

The windows were dark, and I let myself in. The door had been left unlocked, and I wasn’t sure if that was habitual, or done for my benefit since I hadn’t been given a key.

Light from a simple chandelier cast a faint, golden glow over the kitchen. I could hear the murmur of voices, which died down as I drew closer to the door.

At the wooden table in the center of the room, Vic sat across from a man I didn’t recognize. Vic was wearing the same grey t-shirt and dark blue jeans he’d had on earlier, and he was leaned back in his chair, idly thumbing the stem of a wine glass.

Vic smiled when he saw me, and stood up from the table. Even this simple movement emanated strength and ease.

“You must be Nadia,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself properly when we ran into each other earlier. My name’s Vic, and this is Matthew. Please, join us for a drink.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Already, with Vic’s eyes fixed intently on me, I could feel my heartbeat quickening. There was a strange expression which played just beneath his features. It lingered somewhere between amusement and desire, and made his beautiful face all the more captivating.

Vic pulled out the chair next to his, and motioned for me to take a seat. To my surprise, he didn’t move when I sat down, and I felt my hair brush against his hands.

“Wine, or would you prefer something stronger?” he asked, still holding the back of my chair.

“Wine, please,” I said.

I looked across the table at Matthew and offered him a quick smile. He nodded, but remained impassive. I had the sense my presence was undesired, by Matthew if not by Vic.

Matthew appeared to be in his mid-thirties. I had expected he would be younger, since Margaret told me he was still in medical school. He was shorter than Vic, a little under six feet tall. His hair was blond, and beneath his eyes were deep circles, made darker by the low light. His fingers twisted and knotted around the glass of dark liquor on the table in front of him.

Vic sat back down, setting a glass of red wine in front of me, and a freshly refilled glass on the table in front of his chair.

I caught a trace of amber as he drew a little closer, and I breathed his scent in deeply.

“Cheers,” Vic said.

I picked up my glass and gently clinked it against his, trying to ignore the way his eyes were locked on mine, the way his smile only grew wider.

“So, what brings you out here?” Vic asked after taking a sip.

“My artwork’s felt stagnant, and I thought I might need a change of scenery,” I said simply. I offered another smile as apology for so brief an answer. “I guess it’s like a retreat for me.”

“So, you’re an artist,” he said.

I nodded. “A painter, but I’ve done nothing worthwhile recently.”

“I’d love to see what you can do,” he said. The deep, gentle tone of his voice left me in little doubt as to exactly what he meant.

“Did you grow up in this house?” I asked, quick to change the subject.

“Yeah, I only moved back recently to help take care of my mother. She’s in a lot of pain these days, and I want her to have family nearby.”

I thought about what Margaret had said, and wondered whether it was true that Vic had not spoken with Edith once since returning home.

I glanced across the table at Matthew, whose eyes were still sullenly fixed on the drink in his hand.

“Matthew goes to medical school about two towns over,” Vic said, drawing my attention immediately back to himself. “You won’t see him too often during the day, but he’s usually here weekends.”

At this, Matthew glanced up, but he looked only at Vic.

“He’s actually helped my mother a lot,” Vic continued. “He developed a tincture that takes away her pain for hours, even days, at a time. It’s something that up until now no doctor has been able to do.”

“That’s incredible,” I said.

Matthew’s lips thinned. “I should go to bed,” he said.

“Goodnight,” Vic responded.

Matthew carried his drink with him into the hallway and out of sight.

Vic leaned back and reached his right hand up to run it through his hair. His shirt lifted a little, and my breath caught as I drank in the sight of the exposed flesh, a hint of what lay beneath the grey t-shirt: a hint that left me craving more.

Maybe he caught me staring, because when I looked at his face again, he was watching me with a wide grin. His blue eyes appeared darker and fuller in the low light: wide, limpid pools of indigo.

I lifted my glass and took another drink. I was glad that the lights were low enough that he couldn’t see me blushing. I felt immediately embarrassed to have been caught staring at him, trying to glimpse his body, all while shying away from his smile.

When I looked back at Vic, he was still watching me, still smiling.

“I should probably go to bed,” I said, drinking down the last of my wine a little too quickly.

I stood up, still clutching my glass, and edged my chair back with the hollow of my knee. The chair legs thudded over the breaks in the floorboard, and I cringed internally at the sound.

Vic rose from his chair in an easy, graceful motion. I was again engulfed in the deliciously heady scent of amber, this time mixed with the trace of wine on his breath.

He reached his hand out, and took the glass from me. His fingers momentarily folded over mine, the contact warm and soft.

“Goodnight, Nadia,” he said.

His lips were only inches from my ear and I could feel the heat radiating from his body, so close to my own.

“Goodnight,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He carried the empty glasses to the sink and, as I walked through the door, I glanced back one more time.

He was standing over the sink. His broad shoulders rippled in the shadows thrown by the faint light of the chandelier.

I exhaled softly as I turned away and walked upstairs to my bedroom.