4. Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm
4
Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm
Moth
W hen my eyes cracked open the next morning, I pulled the comforter up over my head, refusing to give in to the bright morning sunlight. The aching throb in my bladder only gave me a few more minutes, and I was tossing the blanket away and forcing myself out of bed. I stumbled down the hall and into the bathroom without even bothering to turn the light on.
It was muscle memory.
Funny how that worked. Even after all these years, it was like I’d been here all along.
When I finished, I heard the telltale squeak of the screen door popping open, and by the time I pulled my shorts up, there was a full-blown knock on the door and I groaned.
So many people. Too much social time.
My anxiety was screaming inside my head, and all I could do was shake it away. Most likely, it was another of Dad’s cop buddies, giving their condolences and asking if I needed anything .
Yeah, I need you all to leave me alone, I thought to myself, hurrying out of the bathroom and down the stairs.
Pulling the door open, I saw a familiar face and hiked on a warm smile.
“Hey, Tammy!” I said, trying my best to sound cheerful. At least, I hoped I sounded cheerful and not annoyed.
Tammy was a teacher’s aide at the local elementary, and she’s been a family friend for as long as I could remember. Perpetually smelling of nicotine, her blonde hair and brown eyes looked the same as I remembered them in first grade, minus a few crow’s feet and sun spots. She was a tad thicker in the middle, but who wasn’t?
“Hello darlin’”, she said, flashing me a tight-lipped smile. The same southern drawl I remembered.
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah!” she said. “Barrett got hold of me this mornin’. Told me I ought to come by. Said you were lookin’ to sell your dad’s house now that he’s…”
She trailed off, and I couldn’t stand the sad look in her eyes. I looked away, looking out over the horse pasture and towards the old dirt road.
“Yeah, absolutely. You got your real estate license then?”
“I did!” Tammy said, squeezing past me and into the house. “Just a few months after you left for school. I can’t do a lot with it in a town like this, but I’m lookin’ to move a little closer to the big city, and maybe it’ll do me some good there.”
“I’m sure it will.”
I followed her as she looked around, scribbling notes on the clipboard clutched to her chest. Slowly, we meandered through room after room, and with every little thing she jotted down, my stomach twisted into tighter and tighter knots.
“Boy, does this take me back,” she said with a sigh, stepping through the dining room and into the kitchen. Tammy and my mom had been good friends, and I could still remember waiting for the bus to take me off to kindergarten just as Tammy walked in for coffee and a chat with Mom. I’d walk out the door on dew-drenched mornings, Tammy’s cackling laughter following after me.
“I know the feeling.” I sighed, running my hand down the floral wallpaper over the stove. It was unchanged, much like my dad had been. It was like I walked into a time capsule, and the memories it spat out were painful and heavy.
“Coffee?” I asked, turning toward the sink. I needed something to keep my mind off of it.
“Sure!” she said, taking a gentle seat in one of the kitchen chairs.
I grabbed a pair of mugs out of the cabinet and filled them with the coffee I’d made the night before. If Tammy was anything like she used to be, she only drank it black. She accepted it with a nod of thanks.
“Well, I’ll be honest,” she said, pulling a deep drink from the mug. “The old place needs work.”
“It does,” I agreed with a nod. I had a horrible feeling bad news wasn’t far behind.
“In a small town like this? A house that needs this much love and money ain’t gonna be a big seller.”
“So I can’t sell it?” I asked, and I could feel the emotions burning my throat again.
Damn it.
“No, you can! Just give ‘er some good TLC. Fix what needs fixin’, slap on a fresh coat of paint, and I’m sure I can have those keys in a new set of hands in just a month or two.”
I shrank in my seat, my disappointment obvious.
Months? I had to stay here for months?
“Not what you wanted to hear, I take it?”
“Not really, if I’m being honest.”
Tammy was quiet for a minute, taking another drink. She swallowed hard.
“I don’t blame you, ya know. None of us do. If any of us had gone through what you went through, we’d want to get the hell out of this town and never look back, too.”
I flashed her a fake smile. I hope it did something for her. It didn’t do much for me.
“Tell ya what,” Tammy said, looking down at her clipboard. “When I get home, I’ll call up my cousin Ray—you remember him? Still kickin’, that one! I’ll send him over and see what he can fix for ya. He’d be happy to help. He worked with your dad for quite a while.”
“Yeah, I remember. Ray Boone. He’s a carpenter, right?”
“And inspector,” Tammy corrected me, and I snorted.
In a town as small as this one, everyone wore more than one hat, it seemed.
We sat that way for a while longer, reminiscing about old times and acquaintances. I was sad to learn that my old kindergarten teacher, Mrs Down, had passed a couple of years ago, and the fire chief, Dale Watchman, would be retiring next year .
We talked about my mom, and then about my dad, remembering old times and laughing at dad’s weird priorities and quirks. Then the conversation turned to me.
“What about you? Husband? Kids?”
I laughed, shaking my head.
“As much as I work? No way. I don’t have the time.”
She gave me a sad smile. She was feeling sorry for me. It was annoying, but not anything I hadn’t heard before. I was a woman, and it was unheard of that anyone with a uterus dare be content with her childless life.
Life was ruled by vaginas, after all.
Women killed because of them, and men killed for them.
“Well, you’re young yet,” she said, reaching out to pat my hand. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
I thanked her silently for that statement. It was a step in the right direction, at least.
We talked a little longer, and it was past noon when I looked at the clock again.
“Well, look at that,” Tammy said, clicking her tongue. “Gettin’ late. I better get to steppin’. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“Stop by anytime,” I told her, walking her to the door. “I’ll be here for a while.”
“Oh, lighten up,” she laughed. “You talk like it’s the end of the world out here! We’re happy to have you. Glad to see you, sweetheart. I’ll see ya!”
With that, she bounced off the porch and disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts .
Months in the house, painting, cleaning, and fixing. Months with these memories, and this pit in my stomach that ate at me until it felt like it was gonna swallow me whole. Maybe it was my past, but something had me feeling like I was being watched.
I shook my head, forcing the thought from my mind.
Looking around, I sighed. Every conceivable surface was packed with clutter. There were boxes in the corner stacked with papers, police files, and my mom’s old knickknacks that my dad had cared for obsessively.
I had to take care of it all, but I knew I couldn’t do it alone.
Maybe I’d order some lunch first.
No. First, I’d called Barrett.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and quickly found his number. It only rang twice before he picked up.
“Ya alright?” he asked immediately.
I sighed. How did he always know?
“Yeah, I’m alright.”
“You talked to Tammy? Bad news?”
“A bit. I mean, not really? I’m just a dramatic bitch.”
He barked a laugh.
“Maybe, but you’re the least dramatic bitch I know.”
“But I AM a dramatic bitch?
“Yes, but so am I.”
It was my turn to laugh.
“You are absolutely not a bitch.”
“There are men in this town that would disagree with that.”
“Fuck the men in this town. They can eat my ass. ”
“Give any of ‘em the chance, and I’m sure someone would take you up on that.”
I laughed again, moving from the foyer and into the hallway. Picture frames lined the walls, with old, sun-bleached pictures nestled within. Me on my first day of school, my mom pregnant with me. My graduation pictures—high school and college.
I sighed.
“I just… got a lot of work to do.” I could hear the crackle in my voice, and I hated it. I hated the weakness.
“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. I’ll grab a pizza.”
“Thanks, Barrett,” I said, but the line had already clicked off.
Pushing my phone into my back pocket, I looked around the hallway, at the walls of picture frames hung higher than I could reach.
Well. This was as good a place to start as any, I guessed.
Stepping out of the hall and into the kitchen, I found a box near the trashcan where my dad always kept them. He was an obsessive recycler, even if it meant he had to drive to the next town over every single week to do it. Reusing it was the same as recycling, right?
I moved into the hallway, box held against my hip, and pulled down the first picture, nearest the back door. It hung on a nail, carefully tapped into the plaster. I’d have to take those down and patch the holes as well.
Placing the box on the floor at my feet, I wiped the dust off the frame, and instantly my eyes filled with tears. It was a picture of me and Mom, all the way back when I was six or seven years old. We took it at a local park bench before she got sick. She had the same blue eyes I saw every time I looked in the mirror and the wide-lipped smile I remembered so fondly. Her red hair cascaded over one shoulder, reaching down almost to her waist.
I’d gotten my hair color from Dad.
‘ And that stubborn attitude and thirst for adrenaline, ’ she would always say. After studying it for a minute, I sighed and plopped the picture into the box. This box would be going in my ‘keep’ pile.
Slowly, one after one, I took the pictures down. They held so many memories. A picture of Dad in his uniform. He always looked so proud. Mom and Dad’s wedding picture. A picture of mom, her early ’90s hair almost wider than she was, wearing a hospital gown and holding a newborn me.
There was picture after picture of just me, from newborn to thirteen… and then the pictures just stopped. I had never really been the same after the incident. It changed me in a way that made me darker, and anger was my first and foremost emotion.
What would have become of this little girl if she hadn’t been traumatized?
I heard the front door pop open and turned to see Barrett walk in, kicking his cowboy boots off by the door, holding a pizza box in one hand, and a paper bag in the other.
“I brought wings and beer, too.”
He sighed, looking around the house much like I had earlier. I saw his shoulders drop and his chest deflate in a deep exhale, the same as I had. He had to be thinking exactly what I had been earlier.
“I figured this was gonna be a lot of work. I was right.”
Yep. He was.
We spent the whole day cleaning. By the time we took a break, night was falling, and there was a sizeable pile at the bottom of the driveway near the road for the trashman to pick up. Even despite that, there was still an astronomical amount of stuff to go through.
We sat on the couch, and the pizza box was empty beside a box of bones that were all that was left of the wings. We lay there like a couple of beached whales, nursing our warm beer and watching TV—or trying to, anyway. Out here in the boonies, we didn’t get a lot of channels, and Dad had never sprung for cable or Netflix.
Flipping through the channels, Barrett stopped at the local news station. On the screen, a fire flickered behind the reporter as she spoke into the camera. She was a tall blonde woman, with nicely muscular arms and purple lipstick that didn’t quite fit her complexion.
How was it the same reporter I remembered from years ago, and it looked like she hadn’t aged a single day?
“…yet another one of the mysterious fires here in Cottonwood Falls. Police believe it to be the work of the Firefly, the nickname given to a local arsonist that has yet to be caught.”
Barrett looked over at me, excitement burning behind his green eyes, and I rolled mine.
“No way,” I said. I already knew what sick little thoughts were in his head behind that mischievous smile. Always a drama whore, Barrett wanted to track down the fire and watch the firemen work .
“Oh, come on,” Barrett whined. “Hot firefighters? That’s on Lake Street! I know exactly where that is!”
I shook my head. He wasn’t gonna let this go.
“Nah, you go. I’ve had a few too many.” I raised the beer in my hand before I finished the last couple of swigs.
“ Six too many,” Barrett laughed, standing from the couch. “Maybe I’ll get a number or two for ya.”
“Spare me,” I grunted, and he laughed as he walked out the door.
He left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Long after he left, I listened to the silence, and the sound of the crickets calling outside, searching for their one true love—or at least a one-night fling.
I should be doing the same thing. Everyone around me told me so. I just couldn’t be bothered. I didn’t wanna deal with online dating, and awkward, cringy first dates where you sweat and shake and try not to step on each other’s toes.
I didn’t want anything to do with it. I tried it once, back in college, and I quickly discovered it just wasn’t for me.
Sometime in the next few minutes—maybe because of the beer—I’d fallen asleep. I woke up to the roar of static on the TV. Groaning, I reached for the remote on the coffee table and flipped it off. What fucking time was it? Where was Barrett? I grabbed my phone and squinted at the blaring white screen as I pulled up an unread text.
Headed home. The fire was out before I got there. See you tomorrow!
Sighing, I threw my phone down on the couch. Damn it. Alone again .
The creak of a footstep across the porch caught my ear, and when I looked up, I felt my heart stop in my chest.
Someone was standing there, looking in the window. It was just a shadow in the darkness, but it sent a horrible, prickling feeling scuttling across the back of my neck. I swallowed hard, my fingers shaking and my heart slamming against my sternum so hard that it hurt. If I could have caught my breath, I would have screamed, but something in me had frozen solid, and I couldn’t move. I could feel the weight of eyes upon me, crawling up my spine until it slammed into my head with enough force that it threw me into motion.
I dropped my eyes to the couch, searching for my phone, but by the time I found it and looked up, the shadow was gone. Finally, I let out my breath in a deep whoosh, and when I sucked it back in, it was ragged and shaking.
Heart pounding, I stood on wobbling legs and tiptoed to the foyer. Barrett left the front door open, with only the screen door shut to keep me safe.
Good job, Barrett. Good fucking job. I could’ve been raped and murdered.
Or worse?
Wait… what was worse than murder?
I could still feel that uneasy feeling—the weight of eyes watching me, like a predator lurking in the darkness.
I looked one way, and all that greeted me was shadows and darkness. Looking the other way, I could see the outline of my convertible and the looming specter of the old barn.
Nothing. I was alone again.
Only this time, it was a lot less of a depressing feeling .
Sighing, I looked down, and something caught my eye.
There was a clear glass dome on the front porch, with something fluttering around inside. It shimmered in the moonlight, illuminating a shape flittering about.
Reaching over, I flipped on the porch light and jumped when it flicked on.
Great. Now I was gonna be a jumpy mess for the rest of the night, and possibly tomorrow.
Shivering, I stepped out onto the porch, carefully looking around. When I was content that there was nothing there, I kneeled, taking a closer look.
Underneath the dome, glimmering under the dull yellow glow of the porch light, a moth fluttered against the glass. I recognized it immediately. It was a Luna Moth, easily identified by the light blue color of its wings and the long, thin tear-drop shapes they tapered into.
It was a female—the males were a bright yellow-green.
After emerging from their cocoons, they lived for only one week. They didn’t sleep, hunt, or eat. They lived only to find a mate, and then when they laid their eggs, they died.
They were born, they transformed, they loved, and they died.
It was like some kind of Romeo and Juliet shit.
And it didn’t deserve to spend the last days of its life in captivity.
I dug my fingers beneath the rim of the glass and lifted it, and the moth took off, disappearing into the shadows with a single flap of its wings.
Underneath the dome, there was another note, written in the same handwriting, with the same dark, splotchy ink. I plucked it from the rotted boards and darted into the house. I balanced the dome on the dining room table before I bothered to read the note.
Moth,
You’ve become a beautiful creature all on your own.
I’m so proud of what you’ve become. I can’t wait to call you mine.
Shivering, I hurried back to the door. I locked it, deadbolted it, and slid the chain into place. There was no denying it now. This wasn’t one of my dad’s old cop buddies.