Chapter 39 #3
I saw Belle, almost thirty years ago, staring into the same glass and contemplating what she should do.
I had accomplished so much over the last few days—I had solved the mystery of Belle’s true name and birthplace. I had verified the curse and investigated its depths. I had discovered where she’d disappeared to that week and most of what she’d learned. I had even found my mother.
But none of it was going to save me.
Death was coming, and there was no telling what kind of pain I would be forced to endure at the end.
I felt like I was sinking through the floor. There was no hope left in me. Only the heavy desire of wanting to escape this body, this feeling.
What if I can choose?
What if I can decide when? And where. And how.
I imagined sneaking out of the cabin that night when Hess was asleep, going out to the woods, and doing what needed to be done.
Visions of my death had haunted me for months, but now the very thought of it made my shoulders lower a few notches.
My breathing slowed. For the first time in a very long time, I felt the luscious pleasure of control.
Sometime soon, at a time of my choosing, all of the pain and fear and unknowing would be over, and I would finally be free.
I unlocked the bathroom door and went out into the hall, which was now lit by a serene blue light. Hess was on her knees hunched over the mountain of mail, most of it dried and soiled to ancient parchment, nervously sorting.
I kneeled next to her and picked up a husky credit card offer for a company long defunct. I tossed it on to the brightly colored junk pile.
Now that I had a plan, I could be sweet and obliging. I could feel the simple pleasure of sorting, unbothered by the seconds dissolving. I could be like a normal girl.
Toward the middle of the mound, I spotted something larger and unearthed a small box. On the top was the cabin’s address with no return listed. A Santa Barbara post office insignia was stamped in the right corner.
“What’s this?” I asked Hess, and she paled.
“Oh my Lord.”
“What?”
She held her hand out, stroking the letters on the cardboard. “That’s Lou’s handwriting.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, my heart beating fast.
“Yes, I’m positive.”
I quickly pried open the flaps to reveal two rows of glossy cassette tapes stacked like square jewels inside the box. On top lay a small folded piece of paper. I opened it and read,
Hess, my love.
I have one last favor to ask. I know it’s not fair, and I’m sure you hate me right now, but please, if you ever loved me, honor this last wish.
Do not listen to these tapes or share them with anyone else under any circumstances, unless one day, when Rhea is older, she comes to you looking for answers about the curse. Then, please, give these to her.
My greatest hope is that she’ll never need them. But if she does, I won’t be there to guide her. Hopefully these can.
All my love,
Lou
Tears streamed down Hess’s face next to me, and she was shaking. “I can’t believe it. After all this time,” she whispered. She took the paper from me and scanned the words again.
I ran my finger over the rows. Here were the tapes Clayton had described. The story of her life. There were so many of them, perhaps hundreds of hours of audio, and a chilling notion dawned on me: There wasn’t enough time to listen to them all.
I looked out the window at the sun slowly moving lower in the sky, turning from day to evening. I had less than two days left. Moments ago, it had felt like there was too much time. And now, there wasn’t enough.
I picked up the first tape and read the words EARLY CHILDHOOD scrawled on its front. The next few were labeled in the same way, moving chronologically through her life. I skipped to the last tape, which was labeled with a single date: 7.24.82.
I looked over at Hess, who was still staring at the folded note in disbelief.
“Hess—”
“But she didn’t tell me why…”
“Look at this—”
“Why write this note if she wasn’t going to tell me why she killed herself?” she asked angrily.
“Hess!”
She stopped and looked at me wearily. “I’m sorry. What is it?”
I held up the tape. “She recorded this the day before she died. Maybe the answer is here.”
Hess stared at it, then shook her head. “No. She didn’t want me to listen. That’s only for you.”
I huffed. “Are you fucking kidding me? She’s not here. She doesn’t get to decide who knows what anymore. I decide.” I studied the tape again, suddenly worried we’d have no way to play it. “Is there a tape player here?”
Hess stood up, and I heard things being thrown around in the next room. After a while, she came back out with an ancient player clutched in her hand. “I knew we had it somewhere around here.” She set it down on the kitchen table and opened the slot, blowing the dust from its crevices.
I sat in the chair across from her and placed the tape inside. “Are you ready?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ve been waiting almost thirty years for this.”
I pressed the play button, and the wheels of the tape began to whir, and a voice like smoked honey filled the room, surrounding us with its music.