“God, that gives me the creeps.” one of the teenage girls mounting the porch said. “Why do you make me come here?”
Here, was a well preserved craftsman style house, one of a hundred or so in the historic downtown area. Walking distance from the high school, many students either lived in one of the hundred homes or had relatives who did. That wasn't remarkable, the city wasn't that big. Big enough to support a university, the people who worked there and the businesses that provided them. It felt tiny to anyone over the age of eleven.
The well-preserved house in question was painted a dull shade of tan with green trim. The trim, a deeper green than the lawn, was chipped in places. Neat beds of flowers lay under the windows, the blooms reaching for the sills as if they wanted to peek inside.
The deep porch, with benches built at either end, was hung with wind chimes. Whenever a visitor climbed the porch steps the chimes would swing, creating a cheerful greeting. The chimes sang whether the wind was blowing or not. The porch floor was poured concrete, it didn't cause the roof to tremble. The chimes simply rang hello to guests, some of which found it charming. Others like the girl approaching the front door, found it off-putting.
The front door was standing open, but the screen was closed. An open front door meant that the lady of the house was happy to welcome company. A closed front door meant all was not well and best to head back to the sidewalk.
“I don't MAKE you do anything.” the other girl replied. “Go home if you want.”
A long sigh escaped her friend. “The chimes just creep me out.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets. “Can we go to Starbucks when you're done?”
They waited. They heard bare feet on the wood floor before the woman appeared on the interior side of the screen.
“Hey-ya. What's up?” She could have been anywhere between twenty-eight and forty. She was average height and average weight with average brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.
Wearing jeans and red t-shirt, but over this she had put on an old style floral apron. The kind that pulled over your head and tied on the sides. Various things were sticking out of the pockets, a wooden spoon, a paintbrush, a wadded up paper towel. The unmistakable shape of a cigarette pack pressed out against the fabric. No filters, it appeared, from the squareness of the box.
“Hi. Um, you read my cards a while ago? And I was wondering...”
“Oh sure, Kirsten and her friend Annie. Come on in.” the older woman held open the screen for the two younger females. The girls stepped into the house.
A perfectly ordinary house. The two most exciting things were a Mac, open on a table in the breakfast nook and an easel set up in the second bedroom just to the left of the front door. There were oil paintings hung around the living room and dining room. Not very good ones. The lines were irregular, the backgrounds blotchy, what were supposed to be trees were simply blobs of paint dabbed onto the canvas with a brown line running vertically through them.
Light poured through the windows, which were free of any coverings. The drapes pulled back from the windows were blackout curtains, fully sixty-five years old. They were drawn most nights and turned the house into a solid brick of darkness.
On Halloween the house was left open and the woman who lived there sat on her front steps to hand out generous handfuls of candy. The children who knew her gave her hugs. Some parents made the sign of the evil eye as they steered their offspring toward safer begging grounds.
The woman walked over to the dining room table and began to pull things out of her apron pocket. Clothes pins, a hairbrush, a cordless phone, a gardening trowel, crumpled pieces of paper were all tossed into a pile. But still her pocket yielded more debris and the cigarette pack remained outlined sharply against the cloth.
“Dammit!” she cursed under her breath and disappeared into the larger bedroom to return with a plastic laundry basket. She swept everything off the table into it and dropped it in a corner. She held her pocket open and reached in again. The square disappeared. Her hand emerged holding not smokes, but playing cards. She took them out of the box and began to shuffle them.
“Hey, Jane?” Annie asked. “Is it okay if I go wait outside?”
“Oh sure. There's a fridge on the back porch with drinks and stuff, go ahead. We'll come out when we're done.”
“Is it okay if I smoke?”
“I'm not your mother.” Jane answered as she started to lay the playing cards out on the table.
Annie headed out back, away from the windchimes.
The backyard was different from the stark neatness of the front. The backyard was not much wider than the house but stretched for a hundred feet. In the corners farthest from the porch there were bee boxes, surrounded by yellow and red flowers growing wherever they liked.
A clothesline on a pulley had been strung between the house and a big oak tree. Sheets and dishtowels were waving the breeze, emitting the scent of lavender. Just past the big tree where the clothesline ended, a garden started. Plants were not in rows, but clumps. Clumps of tomatoes, clumps of corn and clumps of and clumps of peppers were growing along with other plants Annie didn't recognize.
Old toilets were set up along the west fence, all of them with herbs growing from the bowls. Wood lattice work was supported by the porch's pillars. The lattice was covered in roses that had been allowed to vine.
The rest of the yard was dedicated to grass that wasn't tended.
It seemed that every three feet there was a ceramic garden gnome of some kind. Gnomes, frogs, fairies, rabbits, even a big ceramic deer were scattered around and through the overgrown back lawn. They stood watch over the toilet planters and peeked out from the clumpy garden.
Three bird baths held water and bird houses hung in the three big trees that shaded the yard. There were Adirondack chairs set up in the deepest pools of shade with small tables next to them. One had an ashtray on it.
Annie took a Diet Pepsi from the fridge, which seemed to hold every kind of soda pop made, took a seat there and lit up.
Kirsten thought she was possessed. Their friend Madison had made a Ouija board a while ago and they'd all been messing around with it.
Kirsten had taken it home. She'd been playing with it by herself and started having nightmares. That made her work the board more, trying to get the spirit to leave her alone. Her nightmares got worse and she found herself wanting to use the board all day every day. Madison said she should burn it right away. But when they'd Googled 'Ouija board get rid of' they'd found a bunch of sites that said burning it was the worst thing you could do. So they'd decided to come talk to Jane about it.
**********
Jane stared down at the cards on the table, frowning.
“That Ouija board you've been messing around with? If you want to stop the bad dreams just throw the thing away. You're the one freaking yourself out. There is no bad spirit following you around. It's a lot harder to make contact with the dead than you think. If you had one following you around you'd know it. And don't worry about how you get rid of it, just toss it.” Jane reshuffled the cards and laid them out in a different pattern.
She looked up at Kirsten. “You're dad's sick?”
Kirsten nodded. Jane nodded back. “Want to take him some ginger? Might help his stomach from the chemo?”
Kirsten's bottom lip trembled. “Is he going to be okay?”
“That's still hidden. If I knew I'd tell you. But once the plan for him is in place it'll happen before I can see it. I wish I could tell you something better, but I'd be a liar if I said yes.” Jane rooted around in her apron pocket and handed Kirsten a clean handkerchief. She headed into the kitchen to slice ginger while Kirsten wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
Annie saw Jane through the kitchen window and stubbed out her cigarette. She clomped up the steps and pulled on the screen door. It didn't open. Annie yanked harder, the door stuck fast.
She knocked.
Jane appeared at the back door with ginger root in one hand a knife in the other. “Oh, sorry!” she pushed the door open from the bottom with her foot. “Please come in.”
Annie walked into the kitchen and turned to re-latch the screen door. There was no latch. No hook and eye, no bolt, no nothing. Just the screen resting there in it's frame. Annie pushed. It swung open easily.
Kirsten brought the hankie to Jane in the kitchen. “No, that's for you.” Jane said.
“Thanks.”
“And here's the ginger for your dad. Put it in a cup of hot water so he can drink it like tea. “
“What do I owe you?”
“Whatever you think it's worth.”
Kirsten put a ten dollar bill on the kitchen counter and turned to find Annie. The windchimes sang them a merry good-bye.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Learning via Bob Ross
Robert walked his bike up the front walk. Jane's voice came out the screen door loud enough to be heard over the windchimes.
“Work you son-of-a-bitch!” a moment of silence. “GodDAMMIT. Come ON!”
Robert paused at the first porch step, waiting to see if she would slam the front door shut.
“Jesus. Finally!” Robert propped his bike on the porch and approached the screen.
“Hey Jane? Can you let me in?” he called.
“Hang on Bobby!” a second later Jane appeared, her apron streaked with paint. Paint was smeared on her fingers and her face where she'd brushed her hair away. A loaded palette was in her left hand, in her right she held what looked like a putty knife. She elbowed the door open. “Hey sweetie, come on in.” She leaned in to kiss his face, but he leaned away.
“AHH! Don't get paint on me. What are you doing this time? Dolphins?” he tossed his Danish school bag on the sofa and followed her into what she called the studio.
“Mountains with trees. I think I'm getting the hang of it.” Jane retreated to the second bedroom where she kept her easel. A metal TV tray stood next to it. On it were tubes of oil paint, squeezed in the middle and oozing from their uncapped openings. Drops of paint spattered the wood floor, the windows, the tray and a few spots clung to the ceiling. Her Mac had been placed on top of a dresser, far enough away to be safe from flying pigments. “Hit play for me will ya?”
“Weren't you doing mountains with trees last time?” Robert used his finger to move the cursor to the 'play' symbol and tapped.
Jane took her place before the canvas, putty knife poised. The canvas had been smeared with gray and black paint in a vaguely triangular pattern over a background of streaky blue and white. Green paint stuck to the edges in patches.
“I have to add the tree trunks.” Jane dipped up a generous dollop of black paint on her putty knife.
“......now, just lightly lightly draw in our friend's trunk.” The man on the computer screen with the curly hair seemed to just breathe his painting instrument down the canvas, leaving a perfectly straight line which faded out at the appropriate places and looked, in fact, like a tree trunk for an evergreen tree.
Jane took her overloaded putty knife and yanked it down the canvas, adding a heavy black line at the beginning but scraping off paint near the end.
“Now then. We'll take a clean and very dry large brush. Now this is...” the rest of the video instructor's words were drowned out by Jane dunking her large brush enthusiastically in a jar of liquid and then hitting it repeatedly against the leg of her easel. Flicking turpentine and paint on Robert when she did.
“Hey! Watch what you're doing Grandma Moses. You almost got that in my eye. What happened to your paint knife thingie?”
“It broke. How was work?” Jane dragged the mostly dry brush along her painting, attempting to blend colors, but mostly making brush marks.
“Boring. I'm thinking of going back to school again.” Robert sat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Maybe I'll be a vet.”
“You'd be good at that. Maybe you could do something about all the cats around here. Fix them so they don't have litters under the house.” Jane took up a smaller paintbrush.
“......we'll add in all the little grassy things that live right up in here. See? There they are. Use a light touch with this misty green....” the frizzy haired man said from the Mac's screen.
Jane stabbed at the canvas making big green dots. “What do you want to do for dinner? I put a chicken in the over but I can save that for tomorrow.”
“No, chicken's good. I'll be right back.” Robert headed to the bathroom. He closed the door halfway and heard Jane whacking at the canvas.
“...maybe a little path lives right in here. Just go back and forth with the fan brush....” he heard the man's soothing voice instruct. Whack whack whack he heard Jane pummel her picture. Then her voice softly, “Oh, shit.”
Robert wandered back into the studio. “I love plumbing. Have I told you that? Plumbing is amazing. “
“Work you son-of-a-bitch!” a moment of silence. “GodDAMMIT. Come ON!”
Robert paused at the first porch step, waiting to see if she would slam the front door shut.
“Jesus. Finally!” Robert propped his bike on the porch and approached the screen.
“Hey Jane? Can you let me in?” he called.
“Hang on Bobby!” a second later Jane appeared, her apron streaked with paint. Paint was smeared on her fingers and her face where she'd brushed her hair away. A loaded palette was in her left hand, in her right she held what looked like a putty knife. She elbowed the door open. “Hey sweetie, come on in.” She leaned in to kiss his face, but he leaned away.
“AHH! Don't get paint on me. What are you doing this time? Dolphins?” he tossed his Danish school bag on the sofa and followed her into what she called the studio.
“Mountains with trees. I think I'm getting the hang of it.” Jane retreated to the second bedroom where she kept her easel. A metal TV tray stood next to it. On it were tubes of oil paint, squeezed in the middle and oozing from their uncapped openings. Drops of paint spattered the wood floor, the windows, the tray and a few spots clung to the ceiling. Her Mac had been placed on top of a dresser, far enough away to be safe from flying pigments. “Hit play for me will ya?”
“Weren't you doing mountains with trees last time?” Robert used his finger to move the cursor to the 'play' symbol and tapped.
Jane took her place before the canvas, putty knife poised. The canvas had been smeared with gray and black paint in a vaguely triangular pattern over a background of streaky blue and white. Green paint stuck to the edges in patches.
“I have to add the tree trunks.” Jane dipped up a generous dollop of black paint on her putty knife.
“......now, just lightly lightly draw in our friend's trunk.” The man on the computer screen with the curly hair seemed to just breathe his painting instrument down the canvas, leaving a perfectly straight line which faded out at the appropriate places and looked, in fact, like a tree trunk for an evergreen tree.
Jane took her overloaded putty knife and yanked it down the canvas, adding a heavy black line at the beginning but scraping off paint near the end.
“Now then. We'll take a clean and very dry large brush. Now this is...” the rest of the video instructor's words were drowned out by Jane dunking her large brush enthusiastically in a jar of liquid and then hitting it repeatedly against the leg of her easel. Flicking turpentine and paint on Robert when she did.
“Hey! Watch what you're doing Grandma Moses. You almost got that in my eye. What happened to your paint knife thingie?”
“It broke. How was work?” Jane dragged the mostly dry brush along her painting, attempting to blend colors, but mostly making brush marks.
“Boring. I'm thinking of going back to school again.” Robert sat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Maybe I'll be a vet.”
“You'd be good at that. Maybe you could do something about all the cats around here. Fix them so they don't have litters under the house.” Jane took up a smaller paintbrush.
“......we'll add in all the little grassy things that live right up in here. See? There they are. Use a light touch with this misty green....” the frizzy haired man said from the Mac's screen.
Jane stabbed at the canvas making big green dots. “What do you want to do for dinner? I put a chicken in the over but I can save that for tomorrow.”
“No, chicken's good. I'll be right back.” Robert headed to the bathroom. He closed the door halfway and heard Jane whacking at the canvas.
“...maybe a little path lives right in here. Just go back and forth with the fan brush....” he heard the man's soothing voice instruct. Whack whack whack he heard Jane pummel her picture. Then her voice softly, “Oh, shit.”
Robert wandered back into the studio. “I love plumbing. Have I told you that? Plumbing is amazing. “
“You tell me that every time you move your bowels.” Jane flung more paint on.
“Not EVERY time.”
In the kitchen, a timer started to ring, indicating dinner was ready.
“Not EVERY time.”
In the kitchen, a timer started to ring, indicating dinner was ready.
Robert confesses
Jane and Robert were riding their bicycles to the farmer's market downtown. Robert on his mountain bike. Jane on her older bike with wide handle bars and a basket on the front. She'd strung pink streamers from the grips and they fluttered as she pedaled. Behind her she towed a trailer Robert had built for her filled with jars of honey in various sizes. All of them neatly labeled with price stickers on the lids.
Jane allowed herbs near the bee hives to spread and flower in addition to the garden. The bees feasted on tomato, basil, mint, geranium, peonies, squash and lavender. She called the honey “Herbal Blend” and sold it at the farmer's market every Tuesday. She kept some of the exact same honey in smaller jars labeled “Elixir” and sold them for a higher price. People in town swore to their friends in whispers that her elixir honey would cure everything from insomnia to impotence.
Robert once said she reminded him of the snake oil salesmen who sold bottles of alcohol as a cure-all. “Should I call you 'Doctor Good'?” he'd teased her.
“What does it matter if it works because it's magic or if it works because they THINK it's magic? It still works. And it doesn't eat out your liver like those bottles of hootch did.” She'd answered.
A very pretty woman in her early twenties was coming towards them walking a dog down the sidewalk.
“She was really pretty wasn't she?” Jane commented after they'd passed her.
“Who?” Robert looked confused. He pedaled backwards liking the clockwork sound the gears made.
“That girl with the dog. Didn't you see her?”
“Not really. I don't notice women much anymore.”
“A randy old devil like you? You're kidding me. I'm not going to be mad if you notice other women. You know I'm not like that.”
Robert rode faster, knowing she couldn't keep up towing all the honey. He arrived at her spot in the market and unshouldered his backpack to spread out the quilt they would use to display the honey jars.
Jane finally pulled up, panting. “What was that for?”
“I don't want to talk about this Jane.” Robert flipped the quilt into place and sat on it. He pulled a wad of ones from the pocket of his pants and stuck it into his shirt pocket, where it would be in easy reach. “Leave it alone.”
Jane bit her bottom lip. She sat astride her bike looking at the man. Finally, she swung her leg over and started to unload the honey, carefully setting it on the quilt. She blinked several times, trying to hold back tears.
“Look. I know you're with other women while you're waiting for me. It's okay. I'm not mad or jealous or anything. You don't have to shut me out.” She fussed with the jars. Rearranging the geometric rows into clumps, moving the elixir jars to the back where they'd seem hidden and special.
Robert sighed. “Jane. This is really embarrassing for me, can we just drop it please?”
“No. I need you to understand that I understand. I'm totally okay with you being with other women when we're not together.” she paused. “I give you permission to have sexual relations with other women when I am not of age. Do I need to be clearer?”
Robert heaved a sigh. “Jane, you are so far from what's bothering me it's comical.”
“Huh?”
“I haven't been with another woman in one hundred and ten years. Are you happy now? You know my last secret. Now shut up about it.” Robert turned his head away from her.
Jane sat back on her heels, an astounded look on her face. “You haven't been with anyone else in that long?”
Robert kept his head turned away. “It doesn't feel right when I'm not with you. I miss you when you're gone. And being with other women just reminds me that I miss you and then I feel horrid. I dislike feeling horrid so I don't keep company while I'm waiting for you.”
“I wish we could have a child.” Jane said after a long pause.
Robert looked at her. “Now, you know that doesn't happen for us. It would have if it did.”
“I know. But I always wish a baby would arrive the way my trunk does. It would be nice to have a child with you.”
Robert leaned over and hugged her. “I know.”
Jane allowed herbs near the bee hives to spread and flower in addition to the garden. The bees feasted on tomato, basil, mint, geranium, peonies, squash and lavender. She called the honey “Herbal Blend” and sold it at the farmer's market every Tuesday. She kept some of the exact same honey in smaller jars labeled “Elixir” and sold them for a higher price. People in town swore to their friends in whispers that her elixir honey would cure everything from insomnia to impotence.
Robert once said she reminded him of the snake oil salesmen who sold bottles of alcohol as a cure-all. “Should I call you 'Doctor Good'?” he'd teased her.
“What does it matter if it works because it's magic or if it works because they THINK it's magic? It still works. And it doesn't eat out your liver like those bottles of hootch did.” She'd answered.
A very pretty woman in her early twenties was coming towards them walking a dog down the sidewalk.
“She was really pretty wasn't she?” Jane commented after they'd passed her.
“Who?” Robert looked confused. He pedaled backwards liking the clockwork sound the gears made.
“That girl with the dog. Didn't you see her?”
“Not really. I don't notice women much anymore.”
“A randy old devil like you? You're kidding me. I'm not going to be mad if you notice other women. You know I'm not like that.”
Robert rode faster, knowing she couldn't keep up towing all the honey. He arrived at her spot in the market and unshouldered his backpack to spread out the quilt they would use to display the honey jars.
Jane finally pulled up, panting. “What was that for?”
“I don't want to talk about this Jane.” Robert flipped the quilt into place and sat on it. He pulled a wad of ones from the pocket of his pants and stuck it into his shirt pocket, where it would be in easy reach. “Leave it alone.”
Jane bit her bottom lip. She sat astride her bike looking at the man. Finally, she swung her leg over and started to unload the honey, carefully setting it on the quilt. She blinked several times, trying to hold back tears.
“Look. I know you're with other women while you're waiting for me. It's okay. I'm not mad or jealous or anything. You don't have to shut me out.” She fussed with the jars. Rearranging the geometric rows into clumps, moving the elixir jars to the back where they'd seem hidden and special.
Robert sighed. “Jane. This is really embarrassing for me, can we just drop it please?”
“No. I need you to understand that I understand. I'm totally okay with you being with other women when we're not together.” she paused. “I give you permission to have sexual relations with other women when I am not of age. Do I need to be clearer?”
Robert heaved a sigh. “Jane, you are so far from what's bothering me it's comical.”
“Huh?”
“I haven't been with another woman in one hundred and ten years. Are you happy now? You know my last secret. Now shut up about it.” Robert turned his head away from her.
Jane sat back on her heels, an astounded look on her face. “You haven't been with anyone else in that long?”
Robert kept his head turned away. “It doesn't feel right when I'm not with you. I miss you when you're gone. And being with other women just reminds me that I miss you and then I feel horrid. I dislike feeling horrid so I don't keep company while I'm waiting for you.”
“I wish we could have a child.” Jane said after a long pause.
Robert looked at her. “Now, you know that doesn't happen for us. It would have if it did.”
“I know. But I always wish a baby would arrive the way my trunk does. It would be nice to have a child with you.”
Robert leaned over and hugged her. “I know.”
Robert's story
A long, long time ago Robert had been granted a wish. There were still wishes to be had, but a person had to slow down to find them. The modern western world was in such a hurry they didn't see the magic around them. Robert could still spot a mystic creature. Jane could if he pointed them out to her, but she didn't have the attention span to find them on her own. She hadn't learned to watch for the subtle differences in lighting or the small colored dot in their eyes. There was a cat in her yard that could grant wishes, not that he'd told anyone about it.
Robert had been young. He'd not taken time to think before he opened his mouth and wished to be immortal. This had been a mistake for many reasons. But through many, many years of trial and error he'd learned to make the best of it.
Robert hadn't learned to read until the 1800s. He hadn't needed to. Public education was a new idea in North America. At one time, the majority of the population had been illiterate. He'd been taught out of the Bible.
As he heard the stories, it had taken all of his control to not laugh, especially at the New Testament with it's painted pictures of Jesus with blue eyes and long, blond hair. There had been many prophets at the time Jesus had been preaching. The writers of the Bible, whoever they were, had taken parables from all the prophets and credited Jesus. There were stories that Jesus had never told nor would he have thought.
Robert was old enough that he'd known Jesus the carpenter, his mother Mary and father Joseph. Humble people with several children. Robert was, however, surprised at how much in the Bible was right.
Jesus was a carpenter, like Joseph had been. He had had a group of disciples including Mary Magdalene, who had been a prostitute. The disciples of Jesus were not the higher echelon of society. The closest equivalent in modern times were people who worked at collection agencies. Robert had taken a meals with them a number of times. Simple, smaller meals of food that had been prepared that day. These meals, with such little food served, would go on for hours. Everyone lounging on the floor, leaning against rocks or trees, eating slowly and laughing.
Jesus had loved to laugh. His laughter was ringing and loud, the true sound of joy. He would throw back his head, crumbs in his beard, his teeth crooked and brown and laugh as if the only thing that mattered in the world at that exact moment was to laugh with joy. Then all of them, everyone covered in a crust of dust and sweat and stinking like days old meat, could not help but roar along with him. Robert had always been awed by Jesus' ability to find the joy.
Once, Robert had looked to where Jesus sat with Mary Magdalene. Sitting close together as they always did. Jesus had leaned over to her and said something in her ear. Mary's face had turned bright red.
That was how Robert remembered Jesus. The man who could make a whore blush.
Robert had been young. He'd not taken time to think before he opened his mouth and wished to be immortal. This had been a mistake for many reasons. But through many, many years of trial and error he'd learned to make the best of it.
Robert hadn't learned to read until the 1800s. He hadn't needed to. Public education was a new idea in North America. At one time, the majority of the population had been illiterate. He'd been taught out of the Bible.
As he heard the stories, it had taken all of his control to not laugh, especially at the New Testament with it's painted pictures of Jesus with blue eyes and long, blond hair. There had been many prophets at the time Jesus had been preaching. The writers of the Bible, whoever they were, had taken parables from all the prophets and credited Jesus. There were stories that Jesus had never told nor would he have thought.
Robert was old enough that he'd known Jesus the carpenter, his mother Mary and father Joseph. Humble people with several children. Robert was, however, surprised at how much in the Bible was right.
Jesus was a carpenter, like Joseph had been. He had had a group of disciples including Mary Magdalene, who had been a prostitute. The disciples of Jesus were not the higher echelon of society. The closest equivalent in modern times were people who worked at collection agencies. Robert had taken a meals with them a number of times. Simple, smaller meals of food that had been prepared that day. These meals, with such little food served, would go on for hours. Everyone lounging on the floor, leaning against rocks or trees, eating slowly and laughing.
Jesus had loved to laugh. His laughter was ringing and loud, the true sound of joy. He would throw back his head, crumbs in his beard, his teeth crooked and brown and laugh as if the only thing that mattered in the world at that exact moment was to laugh with joy. Then all of them, everyone covered in a crust of dust and sweat and stinking like days old meat, could not help but roar along with him. Robert had always been awed by Jesus' ability to find the joy.
Once, Robert had looked to where Jesus sat with Mary Magdalene. Sitting close together as they always did. Jesus had leaned over to her and said something in her ear. Mary's face had turned bright red.
That was how Robert remembered Jesus. The man who could make a whore blush.
Jane's trunk
Jane's trunk lived at the foot of her bed. It was quite old. It's brass brackets were pitted. The leather was nicked and scratched. But it was still solid, it's domed lid was not crushed and the sides would still withstand the jostling of travel.
Jane's trunk always arrived just after her nineteenth birthday. It simply appeared outside the front door. Once she'd opened it, her memories appeared in her head. It was not an overwhelming flood of new information. It was as if she'd walked into the kitchen, forgotten why she was there and then in the living room remembered she needed the scissors. They just appeared, comforting and familiar.
Inside her trunk were five urns. Each of them containing the ashes of a body Jane had inhabited in a former life. Each of these bodies had been adopted as infants. Each of these bodies had been female. Each of these bodies had been named Jane. Each of these bodies had loved Robert and waited eagerly for him to return. Each of these bodies had raised gardens and read cards and dispensed teas for sore throats. And as Jane was born again and again, she gained more and more knowledge.
She remembered how to weave cloth, butcher a pig, midwife to a woman in labor, make stained glass, keep accounting books, speak French and read Latin among her skills. This in addition to what seemed like a million recipes for dishes some of which contained ingredients that simply didn't exist anymore.
There were also photographs and drawings in her trunk. Rag dolls and ink pens and little china boxes were kept there along with many pieces of jewelry and her floral apron.
Once she and Robert had run into the woods in Georgia, fleeing from Sherman's advancing men. They'd returned days later to find the house burned to the ground, with her trunk resting unscathed in the middle of a pile of ashes.
The trunk had traveled with them in the Carnival train, residing in their train car. It had seen dust storms in Kansas in the 1930's.
Her trunk had gone with them from rock show to rock show, loaded on buses and planes and vans in the 1960's. David Crosby had laid out neat lines of cocaine on it while Robert had smoked cigarettes and looked disgusted.
She'd sat on her trunk in a theatre as Harry Houdini regurgitated a key and freed himself from shackles.
None of these bodies of Jane's past lives had lived past forty. Their bodies were cremated and ended up in the trunk that had belonged to them all. Where it went after that, she did not know. She knew that it found her the same way Robert found her. She was always so so happy to see them both.
Jane's trunk always arrived just after her nineteenth birthday. It simply appeared outside the front door. Once she'd opened it, her memories appeared in her head. It was not an overwhelming flood of new information. It was as if she'd walked into the kitchen, forgotten why she was there and then in the living room remembered she needed the scissors. They just appeared, comforting and familiar.
Inside her trunk were five urns. Each of them containing the ashes of a body Jane had inhabited in a former life. Each of these bodies had been adopted as infants. Each of these bodies had been female. Each of these bodies had been named Jane. Each of these bodies had loved Robert and waited eagerly for him to return. Each of these bodies had raised gardens and read cards and dispensed teas for sore throats. And as Jane was born again and again, she gained more and more knowledge.
She remembered how to weave cloth, butcher a pig, midwife to a woman in labor, make stained glass, keep accounting books, speak French and read Latin among her skills. This in addition to what seemed like a million recipes for dishes some of which contained ingredients that simply didn't exist anymore.
There were also photographs and drawings in her trunk. Rag dolls and ink pens and little china boxes were kept there along with many pieces of jewelry and her floral apron.
Once she and Robert had run into the woods in Georgia, fleeing from Sherman's advancing men. They'd returned days later to find the house burned to the ground, with her trunk resting unscathed in the middle of a pile of ashes.
The trunk had traveled with them in the Carnival train, residing in their train car. It had seen dust storms in Kansas in the 1930's.
Her trunk had gone with them from rock show to rock show, loaded on buses and planes and vans in the 1960's. David Crosby had laid out neat lines of cocaine on it while Robert had smoked cigarettes and looked disgusted.
She'd sat on her trunk in a theatre as Harry Houdini regurgitated a key and freed himself from shackles.
None of these bodies of Jane's past lives had lived past forty. Their bodies were cremated and ended up in the trunk that had belonged to them all. Where it went after that, she did not know. She knew that it found her the same way Robert found her. She was always so so happy to see them both.
Jane's folks
Jane stood in her bedroom, looking at the framed photographs on the wall. Her mom and dad at her high school graduation. Jane as a child surrounded by kittens, a look of horror on her face. Her parents at the altar saying their wedding vows. Jane's adoption certificate was framed along with the photos.
Jane and her adoptive parents had no idea who her biological parents were. All three of them had done research for years, but the paperwork was nowhere to be found. Private investigators and former Department of Records employees had been unable to find one scrap of evidence about Jane's genetic donors.
Not that she needed the information, it was just something she'd felt she needed to do at the time. Now, she was very happy to have her parents. They were living in a cabin outside Nashville. They regularly went into the city to the Grand Old Opry. Old time country music was something they both loved. Being so close to so much of it made them giddy. They'd collected autographs of just about every performer they'd ever seen.
They emailed her pictures of themselves standing with musicians and singers or standing in front of historic honky-tonks. They hung the paintings she sent them in their cabin and proudly told their friends their daughter was a painter.
Her father, Carson, had been a professor of music at the university for decades before retiring to Tennessee. Her mother, Diane, ran a small business doing alterations and custom sewing out of their spare bedroom.
Jane loved to sew. She'd helped her mom every chance she got. She could whip up anything she liked on a sewing machine. She had an old pedal operated machine. She'd never gotten the hang of an electric machine. She didn't like not being in control of the needle. Embroidery, knitting, crocheting, needlepoint and even weaving were all things she'd mastered. Her fingers simply knew what to do when they held a needle.
Jane and her mother had spent hours together making Halloween costumes, graduation dress, suits, shirts and anything else they fancied. Jane had made prom dresses for five of her friends. Copied them right out of magazines and took great pride in watching her girlfriends twirl in front of the full length mirror in the sewing room.
Jane never went to any formals. But she loved making the dresses for her friends. She never once felt that she was missing out on anything. She much preferred to stay at home. Listening to her dad play piano and her mom's sewing machine hum.
Jane and her adoptive parents had no idea who her biological parents were. All three of them had done research for years, but the paperwork was nowhere to be found. Private investigators and former Department of Records employees had been unable to find one scrap of evidence about Jane's genetic donors.
Not that she needed the information, it was just something she'd felt she needed to do at the time. Now, she was very happy to have her parents. They were living in a cabin outside Nashville. They regularly went into the city to the Grand Old Opry. Old time country music was something they both loved. Being so close to so much of it made them giddy. They'd collected autographs of just about every performer they'd ever seen.
They emailed her pictures of themselves standing with musicians and singers or standing in front of historic honky-tonks. They hung the paintings she sent them in their cabin and proudly told their friends their daughter was a painter.
Her father, Carson, had been a professor of music at the university for decades before retiring to Tennessee. Her mother, Diane, ran a small business doing alterations and custom sewing out of their spare bedroom.
Jane loved to sew. She'd helped her mom every chance she got. She could whip up anything she liked on a sewing machine. She had an old pedal operated machine. She'd never gotten the hang of an electric machine. She didn't like not being in control of the needle. Embroidery, knitting, crocheting, needlepoint and even weaving were all things she'd mastered. Her fingers simply knew what to do when they held a needle.
Jane and her mother had spent hours together making Halloween costumes, graduation dress, suits, shirts and anything else they fancied. Jane had made prom dresses for five of her friends. Copied them right out of magazines and took great pride in watching her girlfriends twirl in front of the full length mirror in the sewing room.
Jane never went to any formals. But she loved making the dresses for her friends. She never once felt that she was missing out on anything. She much preferred to stay at home. Listening to her dad play piano and her mom's sewing machine hum.
Jane's dishes
Jane was home doing dishes. They had to be done by hand as the house had no dishwasher.
She loathed doing dishes. They tended to pile up until she was eating out of mixing bowls and empty yogurt containers.
Or, until they started to smell and Robert would refuse to come over until she'd done something about it. He said he could smell them from the porch no matter how many scented candle she lit or how much rosemary she hung over the kitchen sink.
“Why don't you come over and dry? It'd be easier for me if you were here.”
Robert snorted “I will help dry the dishes if they are done right after the meal. Not just tossed next to the sink to ferment.”
“You're mean.” Jane pouted.
“No. I don't want to lift a plate off a pot and find maggots in the last of the macaroni and cheese.”
So Jane was in her apron with blue rubber gloves on, scrubbing dishes when the windchimes announced a visitor.
She cursed under her breath for forgetting to close the front door. Dishes took a long time and involved taking dirty dishes out of the sink before it could be filled with hot, soapy water.
Jane pulled her hands out of the water and went to the front door, dripping on the wood floor.
A somewhat disheveled young woman was on the porch.
“Hi. Um, my friend told me you might be able to help me.”
Jane cocked her head to the side, frowning a little. “What do you need help with?”
“Ah. I need to know if I'm pregnant.”
Jane could smell that she was. A low, fruity scent signaled this girl was definitely with child.
“What if you are?”
“I heard you could make teas and stuff to help with the morning sickness.”
“Yeah, I do. Come on in.” Jane pushed the door open and stepped back into the living room.”
Before the girl could step over the threshold, the front door slammed in her face. At the same time, the back door banged shut and every blind on every window dropped.
Jane coolly pulled the blackout drapes shut and went back into the kitchen. She sat down on her step stool and listened to the girl bang on the screen door.
Jane heard a car door slam and a male voice say “What the fuck?”. His tone was bewildered rather than angry.
“The door just slammed in my face. I couldn't get in.”
“But she opened the screen. “ “I know, but the door closed.”
“Let's go try around back.”
Jane listened to them go around the back and the resulting noises from the cats jumping over the fences. The two voices began to speak in lower voices, it sounded like they were sitting on the back porch steps.
She didn't know what would have happened if they'd come in the house. They probably had every intention of just getting some ginger tea and taking some of the pamphlets Jane would give them about Planned Parenthood. If the girl's parents didn't know she was pregnant, she'd want to hide the morning sickness. But, had they come in, something very bad would have happened.
Jane went back to her dishes, listening to the girl cry on the back steps.
She loathed doing dishes. They tended to pile up until she was eating out of mixing bowls and empty yogurt containers.
Or, until they started to smell and Robert would refuse to come over until she'd done something about it. He said he could smell them from the porch no matter how many scented candle she lit or how much rosemary she hung over the kitchen sink.
“Why don't you come over and dry? It'd be easier for me if you were here.”
Robert snorted “I will help dry the dishes if they are done right after the meal. Not just tossed next to the sink to ferment.”
“You're mean.” Jane pouted.
“No. I don't want to lift a plate off a pot and find maggots in the last of the macaroni and cheese.”
So Jane was in her apron with blue rubber gloves on, scrubbing dishes when the windchimes announced a visitor.
She cursed under her breath for forgetting to close the front door. Dishes took a long time and involved taking dirty dishes out of the sink before it could be filled with hot, soapy water.
Jane pulled her hands out of the water and went to the front door, dripping on the wood floor.
A somewhat disheveled young woman was on the porch.
“Hi. Um, my friend told me you might be able to help me.”
Jane cocked her head to the side, frowning a little. “What do you need help with?”
“Ah. I need to know if I'm pregnant.”
Jane could smell that she was. A low, fruity scent signaled this girl was definitely with child.
“What if you are?”
“I heard you could make teas and stuff to help with the morning sickness.”
“Yeah, I do. Come on in.” Jane pushed the door open and stepped back into the living room.”
Before the girl could step over the threshold, the front door slammed in her face. At the same time, the back door banged shut and every blind on every window dropped.
Jane coolly pulled the blackout drapes shut and went back into the kitchen. She sat down on her step stool and listened to the girl bang on the screen door.
Jane heard a car door slam and a male voice say “What the fuck?”. His tone was bewildered rather than angry.
“The door just slammed in my face. I couldn't get in.”
“But she opened the screen. “ “I know, but the door closed.”
“Let's go try around back.”
Jane listened to them go around the back and the resulting noises from the cats jumping over the fences. The two voices began to speak in lower voices, it sounded like they were sitting on the back porch steps.
She didn't know what would have happened if they'd come in the house. They probably had every intention of just getting some ginger tea and taking some of the pamphlets Jane would give them about Planned Parenthood. If the girl's parents didn't know she was pregnant, she'd want to hide the morning sickness. But, had they come in, something very bad would have happened.
Jane went back to her dishes, listening to the girl cry on the back steps.
Jane and the cats
Robert found Jane in the backyard smoking the bee boxes with the regular population of cats. They didn't belong to anyone in particular, they just showed up to lounge in the trees in the backyard or drape themselves on the porch. Jane didn't feed them or let them inside. She always told them sternly to stay away from her whenever she ventured outdoors.
They would line up and watch whatever she was doing until she turned and said “Stop STARING you freaky things!” Then the cats would wander away to hunt for mice or lay in the grass.
They had kittens in the crawl space under the house. They clawed the trees. They ate the grass when they felt sick. They threw up hairballs on the mat outside the back door and the front door. They shat in the garden and fought in the middle of the night.
Jane always wanted them to go away, but they never did
Robert stooped to pet a particularly friendly calico he liked while he waited for Jane to finish with the smoker. Once she had that put away he'd help her pull up the slats to harvest the honey.
She headed for the back steps with her smoker. “Oh Jesus, don't encourage them! What's wrong with you?”
Robert sat down on the grass and pulled up a long blade to use as a cat toy. “I like cats. I like all these cats around. It's neat. If you're in a bad mood I can come out here and get a little affection.”
“I know, you come in covered in cat hair and make me sneeze.” Jane said taking the netting off her wide brimmed hat. That was another thing. Jane was allergic to cats.
The calico rolled over to have her tummy rubbed. Robert obliged and made little kissin noises. “Izzum you a puddin'? Yes you is! Youz a widdle puddums. “ he cooed to the kitty.
“You're phone's ringing.” he stated. “Sounds like it's in your pocket.”
Jane looked down at her apron. “Oh no.” She reached her hand inside and rooted around. Out came an empty soda can, a pair of gardening shears, a spool of thread, a tampon, a balled up tissue, a pair of knitting needles and still the phone beeped cheerfully. Robert leaned back against the tree, amused by the whole production. The calico rubbed against his hand purring.
As Jane tossed things out of her pocket the other cats ran up to see what was going on. They lined up in front of the toilet planters and twitched their ears.
“DANG it!” Jane held her pocket open and reached her hand in halfway to her elbow. The fabric bulged and rippled and she tried to find her phone.
“Great, it's caught on something.” she pursed her lips and pulled.
Robert leaned against one of the trees. “Don't you ever clean that thing out? It would make things easier on you.”
Jane's hand flew out of the pocket, the phone clutched in her fingers. She pushed a button, “Hello?....Hi mom.”
Robert threw his head back and laughed. The cats scattered at the sound.
They would line up and watch whatever she was doing until she turned and said “Stop STARING you freaky things!” Then the cats would wander away to hunt for mice or lay in the grass.
They had kittens in the crawl space under the house. They clawed the trees. They ate the grass when they felt sick. They threw up hairballs on the mat outside the back door and the front door. They shat in the garden and fought in the middle of the night.
Jane always wanted them to go away, but they never did
Robert stooped to pet a particularly friendly calico he liked while he waited for Jane to finish with the smoker. Once she had that put away he'd help her pull up the slats to harvest the honey.
She headed for the back steps with her smoker. “Oh Jesus, don't encourage them! What's wrong with you?”
Robert sat down on the grass and pulled up a long blade to use as a cat toy. “I like cats. I like all these cats around. It's neat. If you're in a bad mood I can come out here and get a little affection.”
“I know, you come in covered in cat hair and make me sneeze.” Jane said taking the netting off her wide brimmed hat. That was another thing. Jane was allergic to cats.
The calico rolled over to have her tummy rubbed. Robert obliged and made little kissin noises. “Izzum you a puddin'? Yes you is! Youz a widdle puddums. “ he cooed to the kitty.
“You're phone's ringing.” he stated. “Sounds like it's in your pocket.”
Jane looked down at her apron. “Oh no.” She reached her hand inside and rooted around. Out came an empty soda can, a pair of gardening shears, a spool of thread, a tampon, a balled up tissue, a pair of knitting needles and still the phone beeped cheerfully. Robert leaned back against the tree, amused by the whole production. The calico rubbed against his hand purring.
As Jane tossed things out of her pocket the other cats ran up to see what was going on. They lined up in front of the toilet planters and twitched their ears.
“DANG it!” Jane held her pocket open and reached her hand in halfway to her elbow. The fabric bulged and rippled and she tried to find her phone.
“Great, it's caught on something.” she pursed her lips and pulled.
Robert leaned against one of the trees. “Don't you ever clean that thing out? It would make things easier on you.”
Jane's hand flew out of the pocket, the phone clutched in her fingers. She pushed a button, “Hello?....Hi mom.”
Robert threw his head back and laughed. The cats scattered at the sound.
Jane and Bobby
Jane sat at her vanity putting on her makeup while Robert lounged on her bed.
“You know what I miss?” he asked, looking at the ceiling.
“What?”
“I miss traveling with the carnival. Wasn't that fun? Trains. Animals. Different towns every week. Hootchie coochie girls. All that good diner food.” Robert sighed.
“Oh god, Bobby! For the last time, Ray Bradbury did not base the character Dark in Something Wicked This Way Comes on YOU.” Jane said without pausing in her mascara application.
“He did so! You're just too stubborn to admit it. I'm Dark and you're the Dust Witch. It couldn't be clearer. We were living in that fantastic wagon with the velvet drapes and the feather bed. I KNOW you remember the feather bed.” Robert waggled his eyebrows around.
“Don't change the subject. You were not the tattooed man and you weren't the magician so how could Dark be based on you? The Dust Witch never speaks and, as you enjoy pointing out to me, I never shut up. And I don't remember the outhouse being particularly luxurious.” Jane started rooting through her jewelry box, looking for earrings.
“You're such a snob. How about the part where the Dust Witch goes up in the hot air balloon? You know that came from our show. And you wore that whole get-up with the mantilla. You looked good too. You should go back to black hair, it makes you look exotic and mysterious.” Robert rolled onto his side and propped his head on his right hand. “For me? Please?”
“You told me you couldn't wait for that time to be over so you didn't have to live with that smelly costume. I sweated like a horse in that thing and I couldn't wash it. It practically stood up by itself. Anyway, I wanted to be the mermaid.”
“Too bad you couldn't hold your breath like Alice could. I told you to practice and you'd get it eventually. But nooooooo, you had to go spend time with the pinheads.”
“Well, you'd certainly know if Alice could hold her breath. Michael wasn't going to let me do anything but be a psychic. If I goofed the readings he cut my pay because I wasn't accurate and if I was too accurate he cut my pay because I scared away the marks. “ Jane found the earrings she was looking for and put them on her ears.
“And he ALSO told you to speak as little as possible so no one would hear that Marie Provost accent you had. That goes to MY story that I'm Dark and you're the Dust Witch.”
“Ray Bradbury is still alive you know. Why don't you ask him?” Jane applied more lipstick.
“Oh, sure. I'm sure he's listed in the phone book. And I hate telling people I'm my own grandson.” Robert leaned down to retrieve his shoes.
“Give me a break. “ Jane leaned back to inspect herself in the mirror.
“Jim Morrison agreed with me.”
“Jim Morrison was stoned all the time. If you had gotten Ray Manzerek to agree with you then I'd listen. Are you ready?”
“I've been ready. I'm waiting on you. As usual. That's all I do is wait on you. Here, I'll help you with your coat.”
“You know what I miss?” he asked, looking at the ceiling.
“What?”
“I miss traveling with the carnival. Wasn't that fun? Trains. Animals. Different towns every week. Hootchie coochie girls. All that good diner food.” Robert sighed.
“Oh god, Bobby! For the last time, Ray Bradbury did not base the character Dark in Something Wicked This Way Comes on YOU.” Jane said without pausing in her mascara application.
“He did so! You're just too stubborn to admit it. I'm Dark and you're the Dust Witch. It couldn't be clearer. We were living in that fantastic wagon with the velvet drapes and the feather bed. I KNOW you remember the feather bed.” Robert waggled his eyebrows around.
“Don't change the subject. You were not the tattooed man and you weren't the magician so how could Dark be based on you? The Dust Witch never speaks and, as you enjoy pointing out to me, I never shut up. And I don't remember the outhouse being particularly luxurious.” Jane started rooting through her jewelry box, looking for earrings.
“You're such a snob. How about the part where the Dust Witch goes up in the hot air balloon? You know that came from our show. And you wore that whole get-up with the mantilla. You looked good too. You should go back to black hair, it makes you look exotic and mysterious.” Robert rolled onto his side and propped his head on his right hand. “For me? Please?”
“You told me you couldn't wait for that time to be over so you didn't have to live with that smelly costume. I sweated like a horse in that thing and I couldn't wash it. It practically stood up by itself. Anyway, I wanted to be the mermaid.”
“Too bad you couldn't hold your breath like Alice could. I told you to practice and you'd get it eventually. But nooooooo, you had to go spend time with the pinheads.”
“Well, you'd certainly know if Alice could hold her breath. Michael wasn't going to let me do anything but be a psychic. If I goofed the readings he cut my pay because I wasn't accurate and if I was too accurate he cut my pay because I scared away the marks. “ Jane found the earrings she was looking for and put them on her ears.
“And he ALSO told you to speak as little as possible so no one would hear that Marie Provost accent you had. That goes to MY story that I'm Dark and you're the Dust Witch.”
“Ray Bradbury is still alive you know. Why don't you ask him?” Jane applied more lipstick.
“Oh, sure. I'm sure he's listed in the phone book. And I hate telling people I'm my own grandson.” Robert leaned down to retrieve his shoes.
“Give me a break. “ Jane leaned back to inspect herself in the mirror.
“Jim Morrison agreed with me.”
“Jim Morrison was stoned all the time. If you had gotten Ray Manzerek to agree with you then I'd listen. Are you ready?”
“I've been ready. I'm waiting on you. As usual. That's all I do is wait on you. Here, I'll help you with your coat.”
The Devil
Annie was approaching Jane's house, hoping to get some of her tea that cleared up your sinuses. It worked just like Sudafed and lasted for a whole day and night. Wonderful stuff. Annie's little brother had horrible allergies that kept him from sleeping at night but Jane's tea cleared the little guy right up. It didn't taste very good, but he was good about drinking it fast once he figured out that he felt better afterwards.
Annie heard a woman's raised voice from around the corner. “You've got to do this for me!”
When the house came into view, Annie saw a young woman standing on the porch, her hand on the handle of the screen door, tugging on it. “Let me in and help me!” she was wearing a long flowered dress and had two books in her other hand. One was unmistakably a Bible, the other must be the Book of Mormon. Annie stopped just beyond the edge of the lawn.
Jane's voice drifted out “I don't do that. I don't even know how. I can tell you what herbs to use but I don't grow them. You've got to help yourself.”
“But it's a sin. If you do it then the Devil acted on me. Please, I can't do it on my own.”
“Did someone take advantage of you? Did someone trick you? You need to go to the police if that happened. You can go to Planned Parenthood. It's right across the street from the high school. They'll help you understand your choices. They'll help you if you weren't willing. But there's nothing I can do for you.” Jane's voice sounded concerned and sad. “DID someone take advantage of you?”
“Open the door you WITCH!” the girl began to bang on the screen, crying now. “I know you're the Devil's whore. Why won't you DO WHAT I SAY?! I'm a child of GOD! OPEN THE DOOR! ” her voice lowered “Please, I have to be clean so I can be married in the Temple. Please, please make me clean.”
“I'm so sorry, I can't. I don't do that. I don't know how. There's a handkerchief in your pocket. That's for you.” Jane slowly shut the front door, leaving the sobbing woman on the porch.
Annie turned and headed for home.
Annie heard a woman's raised voice from around the corner. “You've got to do this for me!”
When the house came into view, Annie saw a young woman standing on the porch, her hand on the handle of the screen door, tugging on it. “Let me in and help me!” she was wearing a long flowered dress and had two books in her other hand. One was unmistakably a Bible, the other must be the Book of Mormon. Annie stopped just beyond the edge of the lawn.
Jane's voice drifted out “I don't do that. I don't even know how. I can tell you what herbs to use but I don't grow them. You've got to help yourself.”
“But it's a sin. If you do it then the Devil acted on me. Please, I can't do it on my own.”
“Did someone take advantage of you? Did someone trick you? You need to go to the police if that happened. You can go to Planned Parenthood. It's right across the street from the high school. They'll help you understand your choices. They'll help you if you weren't willing. But there's nothing I can do for you.” Jane's voice sounded concerned and sad. “DID someone take advantage of you?”
“Open the door you WITCH!” the girl began to bang on the screen, crying now. “I know you're the Devil's whore. Why won't you DO WHAT I SAY?! I'm a child of GOD! OPEN THE DOOR! ” her voice lowered “Please, I have to be clean so I can be married in the Temple. Please, please make me clean.”
“I'm so sorry, I can't. I don't do that. I don't know how. There's a handkerchief in your pocket. That's for you.” Jane slowly shut the front door, leaving the sobbing woman on the porch.
Annie turned and headed for home.
Witch
Jane and Robert were riding back from a picnic at the small lake on the university campus. They'd had a good time. Lounging in the shade, eating bread and honey and making up ailments they hoped would be cured by Jane's honey. A couple of students had stopped by to say hello to Jane. Robert had tickled Jane with a blade of grass until she screamed in frustration. They'd made out a little and felt very much in love.
As they pulled up to the house Jane braked suddenly, her eyes wide. Written on the front walk in chalk were the words “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Ex 22:18” Robert got off his bike and walked up the porch steps. A streak of water was still drying on the threshold, a Bible propped against the screen door. A cross had been painted on the screen itself with spray paint.
He looked back at Jane. “They tried to block you from going in again.” Jane got off her bike and walked it up to the porch.
“Let's hope they didn't rip up the herb garden again.” Jane sighed. “I think I'll leave it out this time. Until it rains anyway. Why do people hate me?”
“Not everyone hates you and you know it. Harry Houdini loved you.”
“Harry Houdini was a megalomaniac with an Oedipus complex. He wasn't trying to get in touch with his mother. He was trying to talk to God to find out how he staged a hostile take over.”
Robert smirked. “Try not to let it get to you. You know this happens once in a while. The person who did it has probably been to see you. We know it's not the Unitarian Universalists, they've invited you to church a bunch of times.”
Jane popped the kickstand down on her bike. She blinked hard. “It still hurts my feelings. I don't hurt anybody. I make tea and I keep bees. “ She suddenly burst into tears.
As they pulled up to the house Jane braked suddenly, her eyes wide. Written on the front walk in chalk were the words “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. Ex 22:18” Robert got off his bike and walked up the porch steps. A streak of water was still drying on the threshold, a Bible propped against the screen door. A cross had been painted on the screen itself with spray paint.
He looked back at Jane. “They tried to block you from going in again.” Jane got off her bike and walked it up to the porch.
“Let's hope they didn't rip up the herb garden again.” Jane sighed. “I think I'll leave it out this time. Until it rains anyway. Why do people hate me?”
“Not everyone hates you and you know it. Harry Houdini loved you.”
“Harry Houdini was a megalomaniac with an Oedipus complex. He wasn't trying to get in touch with his mother. He was trying to talk to God to find out how he staged a hostile take over.”
Robert smirked. “Try not to let it get to you. You know this happens once in a while. The person who did it has probably been to see you. We know it's not the Unitarian Universalists, they've invited you to church a bunch of times.”
Jane popped the kickstand down on her bike. She blinked hard. “It still hurts my feelings. I don't hurt anybody. I make tea and I keep bees. “ She suddenly burst into tears.
Tea and honey
“Can you make me that tea to help me sleep?” the woman at Jane's table asked.
Jane blew out and exasperated breath. “Of course I can. But aren't you sleeping plenty now?” There were cards laid out in front of her on the table.
“Not really.” She squirmed around, pulling at her expensive t-shirt before reaching for her Coach purse. She rooted around in it looking for something.
“There's a handkerchief in your pocket. That's for you.” Jane said, irritated.
The woman pulled a hankie out of the pocket of her jeans and wiped her face with it, she was sweating.
“So, what do the cards say? Should I sue for more child support?” She leaned on her elbows and looked at Jane expectantly.
“The cards say you should go to rehab. The cards said you should go to rehab last time you were here. The cards will say you need to go to rehab the next time you're here. I can read them again, but they'll just be same. Here, I'll show you, you shuffle.” Jane gathered the playing cards up into a tidy stack and pushed them across the table.
The woman picked them up uncertainly. “Go ahead. Mix ém up.” Jane took a drink of her iced tea and watched her shuffle clumsily, a difficult task with her long nails.
“These are trick cards aren't they?”
“No Madison, they are not trick cards. They're just playing cards. When these wear out I'll buy a new box at the dollar store. No, don't give them to me, you're going to lay them out.” Jane showed Madison the pattern to arrange the cards in.
They fell in exactly the same order as when Jane had laid them out three minutes before.
Madison looked up sharply. “You're a fucking liar and a thief. You've been taking my money and you just have a trick deck. My ex put you up to this didn't he? Didn't he?”
Jane looked at her with sympathy. “Madison, I don't even know who your ex-husband is. I know that you don't have your kids. I know that you have a problem and you need to go to rehab.”
“I take my medication as prescribed.” Madison tapped the table with her first finger for emphasis.
Jane sighed. “Okay. Look, if you keep coming back here the cards are just going to say the same thing. I can give you some tea to help you through some of the withdrawls but you really need to go to a medical detox center. “
“Give me some honey then.”
“Honey is not going to cure anything. You want some honey for your toast? Fine. I'll give you some honey. But you can't keep coming back here. “
“I suppose you want me to pay you?” Madison picked up her purse. Pills rattled inside.
“Whatever you think it's worth.” Jane replied.
Madison reached into her handbag, tossed a quarter on the table and left the house. The windchimes sang her a good-bye song.
Jane blew out and exasperated breath. “Of course I can. But aren't you sleeping plenty now?” There were cards laid out in front of her on the table.
“Not really.” She squirmed around, pulling at her expensive t-shirt before reaching for her Coach purse. She rooted around in it looking for something.
“There's a handkerchief in your pocket. That's for you.” Jane said, irritated.
The woman pulled a hankie out of the pocket of her jeans and wiped her face with it, she was sweating.
“So, what do the cards say? Should I sue for more child support?” She leaned on her elbows and looked at Jane expectantly.
“The cards say you should go to rehab. The cards said you should go to rehab last time you were here. The cards will say you need to go to rehab the next time you're here. I can read them again, but they'll just be same. Here, I'll show you, you shuffle.” Jane gathered the playing cards up into a tidy stack and pushed them across the table.
The woman picked them up uncertainly. “Go ahead. Mix ém up.” Jane took a drink of her iced tea and watched her shuffle clumsily, a difficult task with her long nails.
“These are trick cards aren't they?”
“No Madison, they are not trick cards. They're just playing cards. When these wear out I'll buy a new box at the dollar store. No, don't give them to me, you're going to lay them out.” Jane showed Madison the pattern to arrange the cards in.
They fell in exactly the same order as when Jane had laid them out three minutes before.
Madison looked up sharply. “You're a fucking liar and a thief. You've been taking my money and you just have a trick deck. My ex put you up to this didn't he? Didn't he?”
Jane looked at her with sympathy. “Madison, I don't even know who your ex-husband is. I know that you don't have your kids. I know that you have a problem and you need to go to rehab.”
“I take my medication as prescribed.” Madison tapped the table with her first finger for emphasis.
Jane sighed. “Okay. Look, if you keep coming back here the cards are just going to say the same thing. I can give you some tea to help you through some of the withdrawls but you really need to go to a medical detox center. “
“Give me some honey then.”
“Honey is not going to cure anything. You want some honey for your toast? Fine. I'll give you some honey. But you can't keep coming back here. “
“I suppose you want me to pay you?” Madison picked up her purse. Pills rattled inside.
“Whatever you think it's worth.” Jane replied.
Madison reached into her handbag, tossed a quarter on the table and left the house. The windchimes sang her a good-bye song.
Potion 9
A girl named Laura walked up the steps to Jane's house. She was fourteen. The front door was open, but a note had been attached to the screen with a bobby pin that said “I'm in the backyard.”.
Laura went back down the steps with the chimes ringing and walked around to the back of the house. Laura heard Jane before she saw her.
She was yelling “Aaahhhhhh! Stop staring at me! Go away!”
Jane was in the garden brandishing a trowel at the cats jumping over the fence. She was wearing a big, floppy hat and streaks of sunscreen were visible on her arms. She looked up as Laura came into the yard.
“Hey Laura. How're you doing?” Jane had met Laura a number of times. Her mother was a regular at Jane's, wanting to have the cards read about one man or another.
“I'm okay.” Laura sat on the grass next to the garden, her knees pulled up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees.
“You want to just hang out? I could use some help weeding.” Jane pulled up another clump of bermuda grass.
“I'll help.” Laura knelt down and began to yank out the unwanted grasses.
Jane was used to being patient, waiting for people to tell her what they wanted or just needed to say. She moved one of the gnomes from one clump of plants to another.
“Why do you move them around?” Laura wiped her forehead with her sleeve.
“Oh, I think they like a change of scene. These guys were out on the lawn for a while before I swapped them with the ones that were in the garden. I know when it's time to move them around when I find them a little out of place. They're letting me know they're bored where they are. A couple of them have just left. I guess they don't like the cats either.” Jane lifted a female gnome from a patch of chives and resettled her with the tomatoes.
Laura giggled and wiped her hands on her pants. “'Maybe I could take one to my house. I think a gnome in the front yard would be funny.”
“'I like garden gnomes. They're cheerful.” Jane wiped dirt off the face of another little statue after she'd shifted it over to the zucchini plant.
“'Hey, Jane?'”
“Yeah?” Jane put down her trowel and looked at Laura.
“Do you make love potions?”
“'Not for anyone under 25. Which is you.”
“No, no not for me. For my mom.”
“You want one for your mom? What's going on?” Jane was frowning a little.
“Well, she's been dating this guy for a while now. I like him a lot. He talks to me and wants me to come with them places. He won't spend the night at our place, he says he won't do that until I tell him it's okay with me. And I haven't said that yet. He's not creepy like Alex was. And he's not weird, like he doesn't know how to talk to me like James was. He's just, nice. He has a job and all that. I want my mom to marry him. But...... you know how she is.”
“Does he want to marry your mom?” Jane sat in the dirt crosslegged, resting her chin on her folded hands.
Laura nodded. “He asked for my permission. I said yes, but I asked him not to propose for a little while. I just don't want to happen what happened last time. “
Jane nodded. She'd seen Larua mother about a year ago. She was asking for a card reading about her current engagement, which she was desperate to break. Jane had told her the truth, the cards said to stay with the man as he was stable and good for her and her daughter. But she'd broken off the engagement anyway, claiming she felt no passion for him.
“Okay. I'm going to give you a mixture to give your mom. You can dip it in her coffee, she won't taste it. Dip it in three times and stir it clockwise three times. Then make your fingers and thumb into a heart, like this.” Jane touched the tips of her thumbs together and curved her first fingers into the curved heart shape. “Hold your fingers over the cup. While you're holding your hands over the cup say Passion fire love so deep make a bond that never sleeps three times.
While she's drinking it, tell her how much you like her boyfriend. Don't over-do it though. Just say something like you had a really good time the last time you guys want and did something or something like that. That should do it. Are you sure about this? Because you can't turn it back.”
Larua nodded. “I'm sure. There've been so many guys, I know I'm sure. I want him to be my dad. And he'll be my dad. Don't tell my friends okay?”
“Of course not. Come on. Help me pick the herbs we need. “
After they'd gathered the necessary plant stuffs, Jane invited Laura into the kitchen. She put her to work mashing the leaves with a mortar and pestle. After she'd made them into a paste, Jane added rose petals, working the mixture with her hands until the petals were rolled into small balls coated with the paste. She tied the results into a cheesecloth bag, securing it with a pink ribbon.
Jane handed it to Laura. “Now, remember. Only if you're sure. Please promise me you'll wait until at least day after tomorrow okay? If you decide not to use it you can just empty the bag into the yard, but don't keep it. It goes rancid after a while.”
Laura put the little bundle into her purse. She looked up at Jane with her eyebrows raised.
“'Whatever you think it's worth.” Laura pulled a necklace out of her bag, a locket on a fine chain. “'Here.”
Jane's eyes widened in surprise. “”Where did you get that? Did someone give it to you? I don't want to take it if it's your grandma's or something.”
“Alex shoplifted it. It was expensive and I didn't have enough money. He thought I'd start to like him if he gave it to me. I don't want it.” Laura grinned. “I thought one of the gnomes would like it.”
Jane laughed. “You know what? I think I know who wants it too.”
After the windchimes bid Laura goodbye Jane went and hung the necklace on a nail that stuck out from the fence about six inches off the ground. The next morning one of the frogs was wearing it. She told him he looked very handsome.
Laura went back down the steps with the chimes ringing and walked around to the back of the house. Laura heard Jane before she saw her.
She was yelling “Aaahhhhhh! Stop staring at me! Go away!”
Jane was in the garden brandishing a trowel at the cats jumping over the fence. She was wearing a big, floppy hat and streaks of sunscreen were visible on her arms. She looked up as Laura came into the yard.
“Hey Laura. How're you doing?” Jane had met Laura a number of times. Her mother was a regular at Jane's, wanting to have the cards read about one man or another.
“I'm okay.” Laura sat on the grass next to the garden, her knees pulled up to her chest. She rested her chin on her knees.
“You want to just hang out? I could use some help weeding.” Jane pulled up another clump of bermuda grass.
“I'll help.” Laura knelt down and began to yank out the unwanted grasses.
Jane was used to being patient, waiting for people to tell her what they wanted or just needed to say. She moved one of the gnomes from one clump of plants to another.
“Why do you move them around?” Laura wiped her forehead with her sleeve.
“Oh, I think they like a change of scene. These guys were out on the lawn for a while before I swapped them with the ones that were in the garden. I know when it's time to move them around when I find them a little out of place. They're letting me know they're bored where they are. A couple of them have just left. I guess they don't like the cats either.” Jane lifted a female gnome from a patch of chives and resettled her with the tomatoes.
Laura giggled and wiped her hands on her pants. “'Maybe I could take one to my house. I think a gnome in the front yard would be funny.”
“'I like garden gnomes. They're cheerful.” Jane wiped dirt off the face of another little statue after she'd shifted it over to the zucchini plant.
“'Hey, Jane?'”
“Yeah?” Jane put down her trowel and looked at Laura.
“Do you make love potions?”
“'Not for anyone under 25. Which is you.”
“No, no not for me. For my mom.”
“You want one for your mom? What's going on?” Jane was frowning a little.
“Well, she's been dating this guy for a while now. I like him a lot. He talks to me and wants me to come with them places. He won't spend the night at our place, he says he won't do that until I tell him it's okay with me. And I haven't said that yet. He's not creepy like Alex was. And he's not weird, like he doesn't know how to talk to me like James was. He's just, nice. He has a job and all that. I want my mom to marry him. But...... you know how she is.”
“Does he want to marry your mom?” Jane sat in the dirt crosslegged, resting her chin on her folded hands.
Laura nodded. “He asked for my permission. I said yes, but I asked him not to propose for a little while. I just don't want to happen what happened last time. “
Jane nodded. She'd seen Larua mother about a year ago. She was asking for a card reading about her current engagement, which she was desperate to break. Jane had told her the truth, the cards said to stay with the man as he was stable and good for her and her daughter. But she'd broken off the engagement anyway, claiming she felt no passion for him.
“Okay. I'm going to give you a mixture to give your mom. You can dip it in her coffee, she won't taste it. Dip it in three times and stir it clockwise three times. Then make your fingers and thumb into a heart, like this.” Jane touched the tips of her thumbs together and curved her first fingers into the curved heart shape. “Hold your fingers over the cup. While you're holding your hands over the cup say Passion fire love so deep make a bond that never sleeps three times.
While she's drinking it, tell her how much you like her boyfriend. Don't over-do it though. Just say something like you had a really good time the last time you guys want and did something or something like that. That should do it. Are you sure about this? Because you can't turn it back.”
Larua nodded. “I'm sure. There've been so many guys, I know I'm sure. I want him to be my dad. And he'll be my dad. Don't tell my friends okay?”
“Of course not. Come on. Help me pick the herbs we need. “
After they'd gathered the necessary plant stuffs, Jane invited Laura into the kitchen. She put her to work mashing the leaves with a mortar and pestle. After she'd made them into a paste, Jane added rose petals, working the mixture with her hands until the petals were rolled into small balls coated with the paste. She tied the results into a cheesecloth bag, securing it with a pink ribbon.
Jane handed it to Laura. “Now, remember. Only if you're sure. Please promise me you'll wait until at least day after tomorrow okay? If you decide not to use it you can just empty the bag into the yard, but don't keep it. It goes rancid after a while.”
Laura put the little bundle into her purse. She looked up at Jane with her eyebrows raised.
“'Whatever you think it's worth.” Laura pulled a necklace out of her bag, a locket on a fine chain. “'Here.”
Jane's eyes widened in surprise. “”Where did you get that? Did someone give it to you? I don't want to take it if it's your grandma's or something.”
“Alex shoplifted it. It was expensive and I didn't have enough money. He thought I'd start to like him if he gave it to me. I don't want it.” Laura grinned. “I thought one of the gnomes would like it.”
Jane laughed. “You know what? I think I know who wants it too.”
After the windchimes bid Laura goodbye Jane went and hung the necklace on a nail that stuck out from the fence about six inches off the ground. The next morning one of the frogs was wearing it. She told him he looked very handsome.
Butterflies
Jane and Robert were sitting in the big oak tree in her backyard. They'd gone out with the plan to pick tomatoes for sauce, but ended up climbing the tree. They sat comfortably on a big branch, not talking.
“Hey.” Robert kicked Jane gently in the foot. “Do the thing with the butterflies.”
Jane smiled. She held out her right hand, cupping it slightly. Then she moved her fingers back and forth, only moving them a little.
After about thirty seconds a monarch butterfly landed on the palm of her hand. It was joined by two more. Then a painted lady and a red admiral landed on her fingers. Carolina satyrs, common skippers, pearl crescents and dainty sulphurs covered her hand. And still, the butterflies flew towards them. They fluttered through the leaves of the tree, landing on Jane's hair and Robert's shoulders. The sun filtered through the leaves, turning their faces dappled as they began to be dusted with butterfly feathers.
Robert laughed and held his hand out. Butterflies landed on his outstretched palm. Soon both of them were covered in butterflies. Jane closed her eyes as one landed on her cheek, as if she were giving the winged creature a kiss.
Then, Jane held up her hand and blew slightly. The butterflies flew away. All of them gone in a matter of seconds.
Robert looked at Jane. “I love that.”
Jane smiled at him. “'I know. Come one. Let's pick tomatoes.”
“Hey.” Robert kicked Jane gently in the foot. “Do the thing with the butterflies.”
Jane smiled. She held out her right hand, cupping it slightly. Then she moved her fingers back and forth, only moving them a little.
After about thirty seconds a monarch butterfly landed on the palm of her hand. It was joined by two more. Then a painted lady and a red admiral landed on her fingers. Carolina satyrs, common skippers, pearl crescents and dainty sulphurs covered her hand. And still, the butterflies flew towards them. They fluttered through the leaves of the tree, landing on Jane's hair and Robert's shoulders. The sun filtered through the leaves, turning their faces dappled as they began to be dusted with butterfly feathers.
Robert laughed and held his hand out. Butterflies landed on his outstretched palm. Soon both of them were covered in butterflies. Jane closed her eyes as one landed on her cheek, as if she were giving the winged creature a kiss.
Then, Jane held up her hand and blew slightly. The butterflies flew away. All of them gone in a matter of seconds.
Robert looked at Jane. “I love that.”
Jane smiled at him. “'I know. Come one. Let's pick tomatoes.”
Out!
Robert let the screen bang shut behind him as he followed Jane into the house. She went into the kitchen and began to fill a glass bottle with water from the tap.
He looked over his shoulder into the dining room and spotted a purple cloth spread on the table.
"Are you doing an exorcism today?" he asked.
"Yep, at three. They'll be here early which is why I'm getting ready now. Do you know where the big crucifix is?" She wiped off the bottle before carrying it into the dining room to place it on the purple cloth.
"Christian exorcism then, eh? Do you need communion wafers?" Robert dragged the step stool over to the refrigerator so he could open the cabinets above it.
"I don't think we have any. I'll just cut up vellum paper."
Robert handed down a silver candle holder and a large crucifix. "Want me to polish these?"
"Do you mind?"
"Nope." Robert actually liked polishing silver or any other hand cleaning. He found it hugely satisfying.
Jane rummaged around in the china hutch in the dining room, looking for an old wooden cross she kept there. Robert had given it to her when they were living in Georgia in the 1860's. He had carried it with him since the 1200's when he'd rescued it from being trampled by a mob. He couldn't remember what had caused the riot, but riots weren't all that uncommon. People were poor, sick, bored and angry. They'd riot over just about anything. Hard work and hunger had that effect on a person. She found the cross Robert had plucked out of the mud in Europe 800 years ago and placed it with her other religious items.
Robert scrubbed the silver. "What's the story today?"
"Same old, same old. Teenager has been acting out and says a dark voice has been talking to them. They hear sounds and they're being attacked. They got a ouija board and now they think they invited the Devil into their house."
Jane had performed hundreds of exorcisms. She'd witnessed many more. In all those years, she'd only seen one that involved an actual supernatural being. And that had been many, many years before.
She'd been one of a group of eleven women standing with their hands linked outside a circle drawn in salt. They'd watched the old woman inside the circle sit on a man yelling and screaming and demanding that the spirit within him leave. Old Hattie wasn't demanding anything in the name of God or compelling with the power of Christ, she was shouting "GET OUT! OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!" while she wrestled with the man on the floor as he flopped like a fish.
Suddenly, Jane had felt as if someone had grabbed onto two of her ribs and yanked hard. Her midsection had jerked forward, making her grunt in surprise. Then, it was very difficult to describe, the best she could do was that she felt like her blood had been drawn out of her. Her knees had buckled and she fell down, along with the other women. One of them had pitched towards the line of salt but instead of falling across it, she'd bounced back like she'd hit a wall. The air in the room had then suddenly dropped in temperature. Jane had exhaled when she fell, but when she'd breathed in her nose and throat stung with cold and her eyes watered. She and the other women flung their arms around themselves trying to control the shivering that had overtaken all of them.
"Open the door!" the old woman in the circle had screamed. The man on the floor had gone rigid, only his head and his feet touching the floor, the rest of his body arched up. His shirt was moving up and down in wavy undulations.
The door to the small shack was flung open as the crone pulled a knife out of her belt. She kicked a small section of salt aside and used the knife to draw a circle in mid-air. Jane had just gotten to her feet when a bright ball of light shot out of the man's right eye, through the invisible circle and out the door. As it had passed Jane was knocked back down. For split second the forest around the shack had lit up with a bright orange light, then darkness had descended again. The twelve women sat in stone silence, waiting. A long time later the crickets and frogs began to converse again. None of them moved until the sun came up. The possessed man had burned with fever for three days before coming back to his senses. Not that he'd ever come back to his senses completely.
Jane got out candles and laid them on the table. "Okay, holy water, candles, I need to cut up vellum paper for the host... OH! A Bible." She went into the bedroom to open up her trunk. Inside she fished out a Bible she'd taken from a hotel room in 1967. Another surface where David Crosby had laid out lines of cocaine. Jim Morrison had snorted all of it and a fistfight had broken out with Jim on the losing end. Jane had booted them all out, screaming and whipping them with her macrame belt.
She took the Bible into the dining room and laid it on the table.
"Jane, do I need to get twine or something or do you think he'll sit still?" Robert was rinsing the silver in the kitchen sink before buffing it to a high shine
"I think he'll sit still." Jane took the candle holder from him and placed candles in it. "Okay, we've got it together. You hungry? I need a sandwich."
"I could go for a sandwich. Tuna fish please?" Robert loved tuna. He wandered into the kitchen nook and found a box on the table. "Hey Jane? What's this?" He rummaged through it.
"It's my certification courses from the American Association of Exorcists."
"Oh, ha ha. What is it?"
Jane appeared in the archway mixing tuna in a bowl. "It's my certification course from the American Association of Exorcists. Once I get certified I'm going to hang it up with my ordination certificate from the Universal Life Church to show I'm legit."
"You have got to be kidding me. Jane, these are cassette tapes. Do you even have anything you can listen to these on?" Robert picked up the cassette case and shook it lightly.
"Yeah, I went to Goodwill and found an old player. It works. I have to watch 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose' and write a paper about the legal ramifications of the priests actions." She turned to open the fridge for mayonnaise and relish.
"How much did you pay for this?" Robert began to rummage through the box.
"There are 19 courses and each one is $20." Jane started to spread the tuna salad on big pieces of bread.
"Whew! What a scam." He read one of the course outlines. "What, you have to buy more books?"
"No, I already read the exams. I can pass without buying any of the books." Jane put lettuce and cheese on the sandwiches.
"Oh yeah?" Robert pulled one out. He read a question out loud "Number five. Signs and symptoms of demonic possession include : a. Speaking in a language that is foreign to the client. b. Unusual strength. c. Speaking in a strange voice, especially if the vocal cords are not used to speak. d. Fear and hatred of Jesus Christ. e. All of the above. f. Only a, b, and c." Robert blinked. "Wow. You are not kidding."
Jane brought their sandwiches to the table on clean plates, a novelty. "Here, we'll need nourishment for the task ahead."
"mmmmmm. Thank you sugar. " Robert leaned over the papers to kiss Jane on the cheek.
*******************************
Outside the house a car door slammed. Jane finished drying the dish she was holding and put it into a cabinet. "Showtime."
Robert pulled the plug in the sink, letting the soapy water out. He went to light the candles and put on the black smock he wore while he helped Jane with exorcisms.
One of Jane's wind chimes was hug and low-toned. As Mrs. Perkins helped her son from the car and up the walkway, the chime bonged low and long, the only one of the chimes to sound. The woman and the teenage boy stumbled up the steps to the solemn soundtrack. Only one of the cats, a black one, sat on the steps. It growled at the woman and her son as they moved by.
Jane opened the door, now dressed in her purple robe with her hair pulled back. "Please. Come in." Mrs. Perkins and her son Jake both had large, purplish circles under their eyes. Jake was too thin, his hair was falling out. Both of them were deathly pale.
Jane held her arm out towards a chair she and Robert had moved to the center of the living room. Jake collapsed into it.
Jane picked up a small vial of oil and said simply "Let us begin." She poured a few drops of oil onto her fingers before touching them to Jake's forehead. "I anoint you in the name of God the Father. Creator of the Universe. Holiest of Holies."
Jake moaned. "Mrs. Perkins, please recite the Lord's Prayer throughout. Please sit on the floor next to your son." The tired woman mostly collapsed next to Jake and began to whisper the prayer to herself.
Jane began to recite the Christian rite "God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging your kindness, that you graciously grant me help against this and every unclean spirit now tormenting this creature of yours; through Christ our Lord."
Robert said the amen and took the vial from Jane. He winked at her when she handed it to him and pinched her on the bottom as she turned away. She shot him a look that said 'don't make me laugh!'.
She continued "I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions;Begone and stay far from this creature of God."
Robert amen-ed and handed Jane the water, sticking his tongue out at he as he did. She mouthed 'stop' at him.
She dipped her fingers and drew a cross on Jake's forehead. He shrieked and writhed in the chair. "It burns! It burns!"
"What is your name demon?" Jane asked firmly. "Tell me your name."
"My name is Legion." Jake stabbed his right index finger out and drew a star in the air, drawing a circle around it to complete the pentagram. "I will not leave. You cannot compel me to let go of this soul. He is mine and I will do with him as I like." His voice came out in a low growl making Robert wince, the kid was going to have a sore throat later.
Jane dipped her fingers again and drew another cross on Jake's forehead. "Begone in the name of the Father." Another dip and another cross "and of the son," again, she dipped her fingers and drew a cross "and the Holy Spirit."
Jake screamed and clawed at his face. His mother intensified her prayers, clutching at his pant legs.
"Begone, then, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Jane dipped her whole hand into the water and flung it onto Jake's face. He clenched his jaw and flopped around in the wing chair, squealing.
Jane turned to Robert who was quietly chanting "amen amen amen amen amen" to the tune of 'Funky Town'. He passed her the circles of vellum paper she was using as a substitute for communion wafers. She used her left thumb to pry Jake's mouth open and jammed in the paper. Jake gagged immediately and started to retch.
Robert calmly bent down to retrieve the good old metal bucket from under the dining room table, still softly singing 'a-men'. He shoved it between Jakes knees just in time to catch the nasty bile Jake's stomach shoved out.
Quite a lot spattered on Jake's mother who recoiled and yelled "Ewwwww!" This made Robert quickly cover his face with his arms to cover his laughter. Jane looked at him with huge eyes, biting her lower lip to stop the giggles. Jake shoved his head into the bucket and roared. The noise bounced around against the metal, causing a weird sounding echo. 'Calling for Huey' it was called in the UK. Or 'Will You Buy the Buick'. Jake sounded just like he was yelling 'Will you buy the Buick!' 'Will you buy the Buuuuuicckkkkk'. Jane's face turned red with effort, holding back the giggles. Robert, put his finger against the tip of his nose and pushed it up while crossing his eyes at the same time. Jane smacked him in the chest.
They turned to the heaving teenager and waited for him to quiet down. He brought his head up, panting. Jane grabbed his face and poured water into his mouth at the same time. He gurgled and spat. His hands clutched at this throat.
Jane put her entire hand over his face "I do order you to leave this soul in the name of Mary the Holy Mother. Hail Mary full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of they womb. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us now." Jane began to pull her hand away from Jake's face like she was pulling a string. With a sudden jerk of her arm, she flung her hand toward the front door. The screen banged open, then the front door banged shut. The sound of many cats yowling came through the closed door.
Jake's mother began to sob. Jake collapsed over, his head upside down between his knees. His breathing became less ragged and more even. When Jake raised his head, his color was much improved and his eyes were clear. Jane handed him a glass of water, which he drank down.
"My throat hurts." he whispered. His hands were shaking.
Jane nodded. "I ran a bath for you. There are clean clothes for you in the bathroom. Scrub yourself down. Make sure you get every inch of your skin. Put the soiled clothes in the box in there. You'll feel better when you come out."
Jake got to his feet and went to take his bath. Jane turned to his mother. "Come on, you'll want to get cleaned up."
She led her out into the backyard. Jane had hung quilts on the clothesline and from the trees in such a fashion that they created a little room. Inside the four quilt walls was a large, metal washtub filled with water. In it was floating several different kinds of herbs. Jane held back one of the quilts.
"Stand in the tub and use the smaller bowl to pour the water over yourself. Be sure to get your hair and the back of your neck. I've left a clean dress and lingerie here for you. Drop your unclean things on the ground." Jane left her to wash herself and turned to the garden. She fetched her garden shears from the ground and cut several long branches of rosemary.
When she arrived back in the house, Robert had cleared the dining room table and opened the front door. Jane could hear Jake splashing in the bathtub. She took a ball of string from a drawer and began to tie the rosemary into a bundle while Robert put the kettle on.
When she was done she had a broom without a handle. She took her rosemary broom and swept down the chair, table, floor and around the front door. It made the house smell nice.
Mrs. Perkins called from the back door and Jane went to let her inside. Jane had her sit on the couch to drink some tea.
"I don't know how I can thank you. I know you'll tell me 'whatever you think it's worth' but I don't have anything near that number. I don't know what to do for you." Mrs. Perkins began to cry.
Jane hugged her "It will come to you. Don't worry."
Robert had gone to check on Jake, Jane could hear him talking to the teen through the wall. The two of them appeared a moment later. Jake clean and smelling much better, but still too thin.
"Now," Jane began "Go home and give the house a good cleaning. Peel seven lemons and put the peels in a bucket of water. When you're done cleaning use the lemon water to just damp mop the floors, wipe down the thresholds and windowsills and pour it down all the drains in the house. Put a line of salt all around the house. Try and get some sleep. Here are some teas for you. This one is for a sore throat. This one is calming. This one will help you sleep. "
Jane saw them out the door and watched as they drove away slowly.
"What do you think that was about?" Robert asked.
"He's really ashamed of something he did. The sad thing is it was probably something normal. Poor kid." Jane watched them drive away.
"Five dollars says they come back next year." Robert was taking off his smock.
"How do the cats learn to be such drama queens?"
He looked over his shoulder into the dining room and spotted a purple cloth spread on the table.
"Are you doing an exorcism today?" he asked.
"Yep, at three. They'll be here early which is why I'm getting ready now. Do you know where the big crucifix is?" She wiped off the bottle before carrying it into the dining room to place it on the purple cloth.
"Christian exorcism then, eh? Do you need communion wafers?" Robert dragged the step stool over to the refrigerator so he could open the cabinets above it.
"I don't think we have any. I'll just cut up vellum paper."
Robert handed down a silver candle holder and a large crucifix. "Want me to polish these?"
"Do you mind?"
"Nope." Robert actually liked polishing silver or any other hand cleaning. He found it hugely satisfying.
Jane rummaged around in the china hutch in the dining room, looking for an old wooden cross she kept there. Robert had given it to her when they were living in Georgia in the 1860's. He had carried it with him since the 1200's when he'd rescued it from being trampled by a mob. He couldn't remember what had caused the riot, but riots weren't all that uncommon. People were poor, sick, bored and angry. They'd riot over just about anything. Hard work and hunger had that effect on a person. She found the cross Robert had plucked out of the mud in Europe 800 years ago and placed it with her other religious items.
Robert scrubbed the silver. "What's the story today?"
"Same old, same old. Teenager has been acting out and says a dark voice has been talking to them. They hear sounds and they're being attacked. They got a ouija board and now they think they invited the Devil into their house."
Jane had performed hundreds of exorcisms. She'd witnessed many more. In all those years, she'd only seen one that involved an actual supernatural being. And that had been many, many years before.
She'd been one of a group of eleven women standing with their hands linked outside a circle drawn in salt. They'd watched the old woman inside the circle sit on a man yelling and screaming and demanding that the spirit within him leave. Old Hattie wasn't demanding anything in the name of God or compelling with the power of Christ, she was shouting "GET OUT! OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!" while she wrestled with the man on the floor as he flopped like a fish.
Suddenly, Jane had felt as if someone had grabbed onto two of her ribs and yanked hard. Her midsection had jerked forward, making her grunt in surprise. Then, it was very difficult to describe, the best she could do was that she felt like her blood had been drawn out of her. Her knees had buckled and she fell down, along with the other women. One of them had pitched towards the line of salt but instead of falling across it, she'd bounced back like she'd hit a wall. The air in the room had then suddenly dropped in temperature. Jane had exhaled when she fell, but when she'd breathed in her nose and throat stung with cold and her eyes watered. She and the other women flung their arms around themselves trying to control the shivering that had overtaken all of them.
"Open the door!" the old woman in the circle had screamed. The man on the floor had gone rigid, only his head and his feet touching the floor, the rest of his body arched up. His shirt was moving up and down in wavy undulations.
The door to the small shack was flung open as the crone pulled a knife out of her belt. She kicked a small section of salt aside and used the knife to draw a circle in mid-air. Jane had just gotten to her feet when a bright ball of light shot out of the man's right eye, through the invisible circle and out the door. As it had passed Jane was knocked back down. For split second the forest around the shack had lit up with a bright orange light, then darkness had descended again. The twelve women sat in stone silence, waiting. A long time later the crickets and frogs began to converse again. None of them moved until the sun came up. The possessed man had burned with fever for three days before coming back to his senses. Not that he'd ever come back to his senses completely.
Jane got out candles and laid them on the table. "Okay, holy water, candles, I need to cut up vellum paper for the host... OH! A Bible." She went into the bedroom to open up her trunk. Inside she fished out a Bible she'd taken from a hotel room in 1967. Another surface where David Crosby had laid out lines of cocaine. Jim Morrison had snorted all of it and a fistfight had broken out with Jim on the losing end. Jane had booted them all out, screaming and whipping them with her macrame belt.
She took the Bible into the dining room and laid it on the table.
"Jane, do I need to get twine or something or do you think he'll sit still?" Robert was rinsing the silver in the kitchen sink before buffing it to a high shine
"I think he'll sit still." Jane took the candle holder from him and placed candles in it. "Okay, we've got it together. You hungry? I need a sandwich."
"I could go for a sandwich. Tuna fish please?" Robert loved tuna. He wandered into the kitchen nook and found a box on the table. "Hey Jane? What's this?" He rummaged through it.
"It's my certification courses from the American Association of Exorcists."
"Oh, ha ha. What is it?"
Jane appeared in the archway mixing tuna in a bowl. "It's my certification course from the American Association of Exorcists. Once I get certified I'm going to hang it up with my ordination certificate from the Universal Life Church to show I'm legit."
"You have got to be kidding me. Jane, these are cassette tapes. Do you even have anything you can listen to these on?" Robert picked up the cassette case and shook it lightly.
"Yeah, I went to Goodwill and found an old player. It works. I have to watch 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose' and write a paper about the legal ramifications of the priests actions." She turned to open the fridge for mayonnaise and relish.
"How much did you pay for this?" Robert began to rummage through the box.
"There are 19 courses and each one is $20." Jane started to spread the tuna salad on big pieces of bread.
"Whew! What a scam." He read one of the course outlines. "What, you have to buy more books?"
"No, I already read the exams. I can pass without buying any of the books." Jane put lettuce and cheese on the sandwiches.
"Oh yeah?" Robert pulled one out. He read a question out loud "Number five. Signs and symptoms of demonic possession include : a. Speaking in a language that is foreign to the client. b. Unusual strength. c. Speaking in a strange voice, especially if the vocal cords are not used to speak. d. Fear and hatred of Jesus Christ. e. All of the above. f. Only a, b, and c." Robert blinked. "Wow. You are not kidding."
Jane brought their sandwiches to the table on clean plates, a novelty. "Here, we'll need nourishment for the task ahead."
"mmmmmm. Thank you sugar. " Robert leaned over the papers to kiss Jane on the cheek.
*******************************
Outside the house a car door slammed. Jane finished drying the dish she was holding and put it into a cabinet. "Showtime."
Robert pulled the plug in the sink, letting the soapy water out. He went to light the candles and put on the black smock he wore while he helped Jane with exorcisms.
One of Jane's wind chimes was hug and low-toned. As Mrs. Perkins helped her son from the car and up the walkway, the chime bonged low and long, the only one of the chimes to sound. The woman and the teenage boy stumbled up the steps to the solemn soundtrack. Only one of the cats, a black one, sat on the steps. It growled at the woman and her son as they moved by.
Jane opened the door, now dressed in her purple robe with her hair pulled back. "Please. Come in." Mrs. Perkins and her son Jake both had large, purplish circles under their eyes. Jake was too thin, his hair was falling out. Both of them were deathly pale.
Jane held her arm out towards a chair she and Robert had moved to the center of the living room. Jake collapsed into it.
Jane picked up a small vial of oil and said simply "Let us begin." She poured a few drops of oil onto her fingers before touching them to Jake's forehead. "I anoint you in the name of God the Father. Creator of the Universe. Holiest of Holies."
Jake moaned. "Mrs. Perkins, please recite the Lord's Prayer throughout. Please sit on the floor next to your son." The tired woman mostly collapsed next to Jake and began to whisper the prayer to herself.
Jane began to recite the Christian rite "God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, I appeal to your holy name, humbly begging your kindness, that you graciously grant me help against this and every unclean spirit now tormenting this creature of yours; through Christ our Lord."
Robert said the amen and took the vial from Jane. He winked at her when she handed it to him and pinched her on the bottom as she turned away. She shot him a look that said 'don't make me laugh!'.
She continued "I cast you out, unclean spirit, along with every Satanic power of the enemy, every spectre from hell, and all your fell companions;Begone and stay far from this creature of God."
Robert amen-ed and handed Jane the water, sticking his tongue out at he as he did. She mouthed 'stop' at him.
She dipped her fingers and drew a cross on Jake's forehead. He shrieked and writhed in the chair. "It burns! It burns!"
"What is your name demon?" Jane asked firmly. "Tell me your name."
"My name is Legion." Jake stabbed his right index finger out and drew a star in the air, drawing a circle around it to complete the pentagram. "I will not leave. You cannot compel me to let go of this soul. He is mine and I will do with him as I like." His voice came out in a low growl making Robert wince, the kid was going to have a sore throat later.
Jane dipped her fingers again and drew another cross on Jake's forehead. "Begone in the name of the Father." Another dip and another cross "and of the son," again, she dipped her fingers and drew a cross "and the Holy Spirit."
Jake screamed and clawed at his face. His mother intensified her prayers, clutching at his pant legs.
"Begone, then, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Jane dipped her whole hand into the water and flung it onto Jake's face. He clenched his jaw and flopped around in the wing chair, squealing.
Jane turned to Robert who was quietly chanting "amen amen amen amen amen" to the tune of 'Funky Town'. He passed her the circles of vellum paper she was using as a substitute for communion wafers. She used her left thumb to pry Jake's mouth open and jammed in the paper. Jake gagged immediately and started to retch.
Robert calmly bent down to retrieve the good old metal bucket from under the dining room table, still softly singing 'a-men'. He shoved it between Jakes knees just in time to catch the nasty bile Jake's stomach shoved out.
Quite a lot spattered on Jake's mother who recoiled and yelled "Ewwwww!" This made Robert quickly cover his face with his arms to cover his laughter. Jane looked at him with huge eyes, biting her lower lip to stop the giggles. Jake shoved his head into the bucket and roared. The noise bounced around against the metal, causing a weird sounding echo. 'Calling for Huey' it was called in the UK. Or 'Will You Buy the Buick'. Jake sounded just like he was yelling 'Will you buy the Buick!' 'Will you buy the Buuuuuicckkkkk'. Jane's face turned red with effort, holding back the giggles. Robert, put his finger against the tip of his nose and pushed it up while crossing his eyes at the same time. Jane smacked him in the chest.
They turned to the heaving teenager and waited for him to quiet down. He brought his head up, panting. Jane grabbed his face and poured water into his mouth at the same time. He gurgled and spat. His hands clutched at this throat.
Jane put her entire hand over his face "I do order you to leave this soul in the name of Mary the Holy Mother. Hail Mary full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of they womb. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us now." Jane began to pull her hand away from Jake's face like she was pulling a string. With a sudden jerk of her arm, she flung her hand toward the front door. The screen banged open, then the front door banged shut. The sound of many cats yowling came through the closed door.
Jake's mother began to sob. Jake collapsed over, his head upside down between his knees. His breathing became less ragged and more even. When Jake raised his head, his color was much improved and his eyes were clear. Jane handed him a glass of water, which he drank down.
"My throat hurts." he whispered. His hands were shaking.
Jane nodded. "I ran a bath for you. There are clean clothes for you in the bathroom. Scrub yourself down. Make sure you get every inch of your skin. Put the soiled clothes in the box in there. You'll feel better when you come out."
Jake got to his feet and went to take his bath. Jane turned to his mother. "Come on, you'll want to get cleaned up."
She led her out into the backyard. Jane had hung quilts on the clothesline and from the trees in such a fashion that they created a little room. Inside the four quilt walls was a large, metal washtub filled with water. In it was floating several different kinds of herbs. Jane held back one of the quilts.
"Stand in the tub and use the smaller bowl to pour the water over yourself. Be sure to get your hair and the back of your neck. I've left a clean dress and lingerie here for you. Drop your unclean things on the ground." Jane left her to wash herself and turned to the garden. She fetched her garden shears from the ground and cut several long branches of rosemary.
When she arrived back in the house, Robert had cleared the dining room table and opened the front door. Jane could hear Jake splashing in the bathtub. She took a ball of string from a drawer and began to tie the rosemary into a bundle while Robert put the kettle on.
When she was done she had a broom without a handle. She took her rosemary broom and swept down the chair, table, floor and around the front door. It made the house smell nice.
Mrs. Perkins called from the back door and Jane went to let her inside. Jane had her sit on the couch to drink some tea.
"I don't know how I can thank you. I know you'll tell me 'whatever you think it's worth' but I don't have anything near that number. I don't know what to do for you." Mrs. Perkins began to cry.
Jane hugged her "It will come to you. Don't worry."
Robert had gone to check on Jake, Jane could hear him talking to the teen through the wall. The two of them appeared a moment later. Jake clean and smelling much better, but still too thin.
"Now," Jane began "Go home and give the house a good cleaning. Peel seven lemons and put the peels in a bucket of water. When you're done cleaning use the lemon water to just damp mop the floors, wipe down the thresholds and windowsills and pour it down all the drains in the house. Put a line of salt all around the house. Try and get some sleep. Here are some teas for you. This one is for a sore throat. This one is calming. This one will help you sleep. "
Jane saw them out the door and watched as they drove away slowly.
"What do you think that was about?" Robert asked.
"He's really ashamed of something he did. The sad thing is it was probably something normal. Poor kid." Jane watched them drive away.
"Five dollars says they come back next year." Robert was taking off his smock.
"How do the cats learn to be such drama queens?"
Jane and the OD
Jane and Robert were watching Days of Our Lives while freezing rain fell outside. Jane had propped open the front door, liking the rush of the cold air into the house.
Robert had bundled himself under two blankets and was complaining when a car screeched up outside.
A young woman ran up to the house yelling "Jane! Jane!!"
"What the hell?" Jane got up and went to look out the front door. "Oh, no. It's Shellie. What now?"
Shellie ran up the porch steps. The windchimes clanged together as she stumbled to the front door. "It's Bradley." she panted "I couldn't find him. So, I went and looked in the park where he sleeps sometimes. He's passed out. He's totally cold and his lips are blue. Please you have to help him."
"Shellie, you have to take him to the hospital. Why did you bring him here?" Jane yelled through the screen.
"Jane we don't have any money! He's got warrants out! They'll send him to psychiatric! He'll just check himself out! Stop fucking around and let us in!"
"Shit, fine, okay. Robert go help her."
Robert tossed off the blankets and got up. Jane took them to her room and spread them out on the bed. She went back to hold the screen door open so Robert and Shellie could haul the skinny, unconscious man into the house.
Shellie and Bradley had been together since they were twelve, ten years. Bradley had been on and off drugs for the last three. He'd finally settled on prescriptions. His family and Shellie had intervened, but he'd refused treatment. The consequences had been losing his place to live with his parents. Shellie had taken him in, which was not what she'd said was her bottom line, but he disappeared for days at a time. This sent Shellie into hysterics. She called everyone they knew and drove around for hours, checking all the places he might hide.
Shellie had come to Jane for anything to help Bradley. Jane had told Shellie he needed rehab and given her some tea to help her calm down when she felt a panic attack coming on.
Shellie had taken to coming over when she was scared or worried, asking for tea and crying.
Jane had learned to work around her. Giving her tissues and refilling her teacup as Jane moved through her daily routine.
"Strip him down and put him in my bed. Make sure he's dry first. There are towels in the bathroom. Bobby go put the kettle on." Jane knelt next to Bradley on the floor and held her ear next to his mouth, which looked like he'd been eating blueberries. She felt a small puff of air. He was breathing.
Shellie came out of the bathroom with a stack of towels and began to take Bradley's wet clothes off, trying to yank his soaked sweatshirt over his head while she sobbed and begged him to wake up.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Jane muttered. She reached into her apron pocket and brought out a pair of scissors. She quickly cut through Bradley's clothes and dropped the scissors back where they'd come from.
Shellie started to rub him down. His skin was white and cold to the touch. Jane pried his mouth open and stuck her fingers into his mouth. She felt along the back of his tongue, waiting to see if he'd gag. He didn't.
"Shellie. His gag reflex isn't working, so I can't make him throw up whatever he took. All I can do is get him warmed up and wait until his body starts to respond. Okay, he's dry. Put him in my bed then you strip down and get in with him."
Shellie frowned. "Huh?"
"Shellie. He's hypothermic. We need to warm him up slowly. The best way is with another person's body heat. You're going to get in bed with him and hug him until the warmth from your body starts to warm him up. Now get undressed and get in bed with him."
Robert came back into the room and helped Jane hoist Bradley's naked form up onto the mattress. Shellie got in and undressed under the covers.
She hugged her boyfriend and started to cry. "Oh god. He's going to die isn't he? Isn't he? He's freezing! It feels like he's made of ice!"
"Shellie, I'm going to keep bringing you tea so you can keep warm. I'll keep checking on Bradley until I can do something else okay?" Jane shut the door and sighed. "So much for our quiet evening. Would you close the front door? Get away from my door you stupid cat!"
Robert closed the front door. The kettle whistled. Jane made calming tea for Shellie. She took it to her then stuck her finger down Bradley's throat again.
This time he gagged. "Bobby! Get a bucket! Here we go!"
Robert brought Jane's metal bucket from under the kitchen sink. "He gonna yak?"
"Oh yeah." Jane rammed two fingers down Bradley's throat. His stomach sucked up under his ribs as his body tossed up whatever was in his stomach. A large number of partially digested pills came up. Robert deftly caught the stream, waiting a minute to see if anything else would appear.
"Man! I can smell the gin. How is he alive?" Robert made a face. "Whew!" He left toting his bucket of vomit. Jane heard him go out the back door.
"He's a long time user that's how he's alive. He's going to start going through withdrawal soon. This is gonna suck. Shellie, you can't bring him here anymore. I won't be able to save him next time."
Shellie hugged Bradley's back and nodded, tears streaming down her face.
"If he's an advanced alcoholic the withdrawals can kill him. Do you get that? He needs a medically supervised detox. Even then he may not stop." Jane squatted down next to the bed so she could look in Shellie's face on an even level. "But listen to me. If you bring him here again I'm going to close my door to you. I can't save him. You can't save him. He's an addict. Tea is not going to solve this. You got it?"
Shellie hid her face in Bradley's back.
"Warm up your man." Jane stood up and went to let Robert in the back door. She found him on the back porch, watching the sleet come down.
"You can't take them in anymore." Jane went to lean against him.
"I told her that. He'll be okay this time, but next time he won't. If he keeps this up he's going to get a bleed in his throat and die. She thinks it's been three years but he's been using since they were fourteen. She thinks they're Romeo and Juliet."
Robert moved behind Jane to put his arms around her waist and rest his chin on top of her head. "It's like Catherine all over again."
Jane nodded. "Like Catherine all over again. Cheap hooch and lady heroin." Then Jane cried too.
Robert hugged her and listened to the women cry.
Robert had bundled himself under two blankets and was complaining when a car screeched up outside.
A young woman ran up to the house yelling "Jane! Jane!!"
"What the hell?" Jane got up and went to look out the front door. "Oh, no. It's Shellie. What now?"
Shellie ran up the porch steps. The windchimes clanged together as she stumbled to the front door. "It's Bradley." she panted "I couldn't find him. So, I went and looked in the park where he sleeps sometimes. He's passed out. He's totally cold and his lips are blue. Please you have to help him."
"Shellie, you have to take him to the hospital. Why did you bring him here?" Jane yelled through the screen.
"Jane we don't have any money! He's got warrants out! They'll send him to psychiatric! He'll just check himself out! Stop fucking around and let us in!"
"Shit, fine, okay. Robert go help her."
Robert tossed off the blankets and got up. Jane took them to her room and spread them out on the bed. She went back to hold the screen door open so Robert and Shellie could haul the skinny, unconscious man into the house.
Shellie and Bradley had been together since they were twelve, ten years. Bradley had been on and off drugs for the last three. He'd finally settled on prescriptions. His family and Shellie had intervened, but he'd refused treatment. The consequences had been losing his place to live with his parents. Shellie had taken him in, which was not what she'd said was her bottom line, but he disappeared for days at a time. This sent Shellie into hysterics. She called everyone they knew and drove around for hours, checking all the places he might hide.
Shellie had come to Jane for anything to help Bradley. Jane had told Shellie he needed rehab and given her some tea to help her calm down when she felt a panic attack coming on.
Shellie had taken to coming over when she was scared or worried, asking for tea and crying.
Jane had learned to work around her. Giving her tissues and refilling her teacup as Jane moved through her daily routine.
"Strip him down and put him in my bed. Make sure he's dry first. There are towels in the bathroom. Bobby go put the kettle on." Jane knelt next to Bradley on the floor and held her ear next to his mouth, which looked like he'd been eating blueberries. She felt a small puff of air. He was breathing.
Shellie came out of the bathroom with a stack of towels and began to take Bradley's wet clothes off, trying to yank his soaked sweatshirt over his head while she sobbed and begged him to wake up.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Jane muttered. She reached into her apron pocket and brought out a pair of scissors. She quickly cut through Bradley's clothes and dropped the scissors back where they'd come from.
Shellie started to rub him down. His skin was white and cold to the touch. Jane pried his mouth open and stuck her fingers into his mouth. She felt along the back of his tongue, waiting to see if he'd gag. He didn't.
"Shellie. His gag reflex isn't working, so I can't make him throw up whatever he took. All I can do is get him warmed up and wait until his body starts to respond. Okay, he's dry. Put him in my bed then you strip down and get in with him."
Shellie frowned. "Huh?"
"Shellie. He's hypothermic. We need to warm him up slowly. The best way is with another person's body heat. You're going to get in bed with him and hug him until the warmth from your body starts to warm him up. Now get undressed and get in bed with him."
Robert came back into the room and helped Jane hoist Bradley's naked form up onto the mattress. Shellie got in and undressed under the covers.
She hugged her boyfriend and started to cry. "Oh god. He's going to die isn't he? Isn't he? He's freezing! It feels like he's made of ice!"
"Shellie, I'm going to keep bringing you tea so you can keep warm. I'll keep checking on Bradley until I can do something else okay?" Jane shut the door and sighed. "So much for our quiet evening. Would you close the front door? Get away from my door you stupid cat!"
Robert closed the front door. The kettle whistled. Jane made calming tea for Shellie. She took it to her then stuck her finger down Bradley's throat again.
This time he gagged. "Bobby! Get a bucket! Here we go!"
Robert brought Jane's metal bucket from under the kitchen sink. "He gonna yak?"
"Oh yeah." Jane rammed two fingers down Bradley's throat. His stomach sucked up under his ribs as his body tossed up whatever was in his stomach. A large number of partially digested pills came up. Robert deftly caught the stream, waiting a minute to see if anything else would appear.
"Man! I can smell the gin. How is he alive?" Robert made a face. "Whew!" He left toting his bucket of vomit. Jane heard him go out the back door.
"He's a long time user that's how he's alive. He's going to start going through withdrawal soon. This is gonna suck. Shellie, you can't bring him here anymore. I won't be able to save him next time."
Shellie hugged Bradley's back and nodded, tears streaming down her face.
"If he's an advanced alcoholic the withdrawals can kill him. Do you get that? He needs a medically supervised detox. Even then he may not stop." Jane squatted down next to the bed so she could look in Shellie's face on an even level. "But listen to me. If you bring him here again I'm going to close my door to you. I can't save him. You can't save him. He's an addict. Tea is not going to solve this. You got it?"
Shellie hid her face in Bradley's back.
"Warm up your man." Jane stood up and went to let Robert in the back door. She found him on the back porch, watching the sleet come down.
"You can't take them in anymore." Jane went to lean against him.
"I told her that. He'll be okay this time, but next time he won't. If he keeps this up he's going to get a bleed in his throat and die. She thinks it's been three years but he's been using since they were fourteen. She thinks they're Romeo and Juliet."
Robert moved behind Jane to put his arms around her waist and rest his chin on top of her head. "It's like Catherine all over again."
Jane nodded. "Like Catherine all over again. Cheap hooch and lady heroin." Then Jane cried too.
Robert hugged her and listened to the women cry.
The cats take action
Jane's friend Monica was visiting with her baby girl Sally. Sally was a fat and happy baby who shrieked and waved her arms when something delighted her. And Sally found the world a delightful place.
Sally's dad liked to tote her along to the guitar store where he bought strings. One of the guys who worked there had a shaved head except for two tufts of hair that were spiked up to look like horns. Whenever Sally saw his funny haircut she screamed and waved her arms, bouncing up and down in the back carrier she rode in, banging her dad on the head in her enthusiasm for life.
Whenever Monica and Sally came to visit, Sally would actually hold her breath, waiting for the windchimes to play. When they did, she screamed and waved her arms around. On these occasions, she would whap her mom in the face as she tried to juggle baby and bags while dodging cats.
Sally also loved the cats at Jane's house. She was currently looking out the front screen door at the felines on the porch, screaming and banging on the screen. When Sally banged on the screen with her pudgy arms, the screen didn't open. It stayed shut tight, keeping the baby from falling out of the house. She'd been sitting there, watching the cats come up one by one to examine her through the screen for the better part of twenty minutes.
The cats were doing a fine job of keeping Sally occupied. They hunched their backs and made themselves puffed up, danced around or batted at her nose that was pressed against the mesh. All of this made her scream and laugh and bounce up and down.
Sally was dressed in a diaper and a cotton onesie today. She would protest when put into any other clothes so her mom had given up the battle to stuff her into any of the dresses the grandmother's sent. This onsie had been tie-dyed green by Jane. Drool dripped down Sally's chins, coming from the tooth she had coming in.
Jane and Monica sat on the couch talking about not much of anything while Jane buffed Monica's nails. They'd met in the second grade and had been fast friends every since. Monica and her boyfriend, the father of her love child Monica liked to say, had taken dinner at Jane's house regularly. Jane had helped paint Sally's nursery.
Monica had taken the changes in Jane's life in stride. Her response to everything new had been "Wow. Neat. Did you see the new issue of Real Simple? Real Simple my ass, I couldn't cook that quinoa salad." or words to that effect. The first words were always 'wow. neat.' with a change of subject right afterwards.
And Monica never came to Jane asking for card readings or teas. Monica came over to help can tomatoes or make jam. She did take as much honey as she wanted because she liked honey on her toast in the morning.
Monica had made the mistake of bringing her chihuahua over once. They'd left again almost right away since the cats had teased the dog mercilessly through the screen. Sally thought this was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen. While Monica and Jane had a high tolerance for background noise, that high pitched barking combined with the high pitched shrieking along with the cats screeching outside had been just too much. They'd shouted to each other they'd try again next week.
Monica had brought her latest attempt at crocheting. She didn't count stitches so her blankets turned out uneven but she gave them to her pregnant friends anyway. Her latest was no exception. Narrower at one end. Some stitches tight and some loose, but made of a wonderfully soft yarn that would be perfect for a new baby.
The women drank tea, chatted and watched Sally watching the cats. Eventually, Sally remembered she was hungry. She blew raspberries until her mom picked her up and gave her a Zweibak cookie. While she ate she grunted and smeared her hands with cookie mush. She had chew on a frozen banana in a little mesh bag before drinking a bottle. Afterwards, her mom cleaned out the crevices under her chins and put her back on the floor to watch out the screen some more.
Thirty minutes later Sally became tired and cross. Monica stood up, "Oops, the queen says it's time to go. Want to get together next Thursday?"
"I thought you had Mommy and Me class on Thursday."
"I was switched to Monday Wednesday. And her tooth should have cut through by then so she won't have all that gross slime on her face." Monica bent her knees to lift up her daughter. Sally had knocked out her grandmother's back once. Now Grandma Sara wouldn't pick her up off the floor.
Jane handed Monica her diaper bag. Monica balanced Sally on her hip while she swung her bag on her shoulder. Before opening the screen door.
As soon as the door swung open one of the cats ran forward and growled, it's back arched up.
"Oh, please." Jane said firmly, "Cut it out and get off my porch." She kicked out at it with her bare foot. The cat swiped at her with it claws out, hissing and spitting.
Monica put a hand up to Sally's face. "Whoa. They've never done that before."
Another of the cats ran up and growled as well. When Jane tried to scat them a second time, two more joined the first pair.
Monica laughed nervously and said "We're out numbered Janie."
"Let's try the back door." Jane went through the kitchen, but was met by yowling cats there as well.
"Monica, this is weird. Let's put Sally down on my bed and we'll wait and see what they do."
Before they could take Sally in the other room, they heard a screech outside.
An old Honda Accord came around the corner entirely too fast and slammed into Monica's car, squarely hitting the driver's side door. Since Monica and Jane had the habit of talking over the roof of the car for a while, Monica would have been standing in between the car body and the driver's side door, bouncing it back and forth with her foot.
Monica and Jane looked at each other. Monica handed the baby to Jane before running outside and throwing up over the side of the porch. Jane reached into her apron pocket for her phone.
The cats were nowhere to be seen.
Sally's dad liked to tote her along to the guitar store where he bought strings. One of the guys who worked there had a shaved head except for two tufts of hair that were spiked up to look like horns. Whenever Sally saw his funny haircut she screamed and waved her arms, bouncing up and down in the back carrier she rode in, banging her dad on the head in her enthusiasm for life.
Whenever Monica and Sally came to visit, Sally would actually hold her breath, waiting for the windchimes to play. When they did, she screamed and waved her arms around. On these occasions, she would whap her mom in the face as she tried to juggle baby and bags while dodging cats.
Sally also loved the cats at Jane's house. She was currently looking out the front screen door at the felines on the porch, screaming and banging on the screen. When Sally banged on the screen with her pudgy arms, the screen didn't open. It stayed shut tight, keeping the baby from falling out of the house. She'd been sitting there, watching the cats come up one by one to examine her through the screen for the better part of twenty minutes.
The cats were doing a fine job of keeping Sally occupied. They hunched their backs and made themselves puffed up, danced around or batted at her nose that was pressed against the mesh. All of this made her scream and laugh and bounce up and down.
Sally was dressed in a diaper and a cotton onesie today. She would protest when put into any other clothes so her mom had given up the battle to stuff her into any of the dresses the grandmother's sent. This onsie had been tie-dyed green by Jane. Drool dripped down Sally's chins, coming from the tooth she had coming in.
Jane and Monica sat on the couch talking about not much of anything while Jane buffed Monica's nails. They'd met in the second grade and had been fast friends every since. Monica and her boyfriend, the father of her love child Monica liked to say, had taken dinner at Jane's house regularly. Jane had helped paint Sally's nursery.
Monica had taken the changes in Jane's life in stride. Her response to everything new had been "Wow. Neat. Did you see the new issue of Real Simple? Real Simple my ass, I couldn't cook that quinoa salad." or words to that effect. The first words were always 'wow. neat.' with a change of subject right afterwards.
And Monica never came to Jane asking for card readings or teas. Monica came over to help can tomatoes or make jam. She did take as much honey as she wanted because she liked honey on her toast in the morning.
Monica had made the mistake of bringing her chihuahua over once. They'd left again almost right away since the cats had teased the dog mercilessly through the screen. Sally thought this was the most wonderful thing she'd ever seen. While Monica and Jane had a high tolerance for background noise, that high pitched barking combined with the high pitched shrieking along with the cats screeching outside had been just too much. They'd shouted to each other they'd try again next week.
Monica had brought her latest attempt at crocheting. She didn't count stitches so her blankets turned out uneven but she gave them to her pregnant friends anyway. Her latest was no exception. Narrower at one end. Some stitches tight and some loose, but made of a wonderfully soft yarn that would be perfect for a new baby.
The women drank tea, chatted and watched Sally watching the cats. Eventually, Sally remembered she was hungry. She blew raspberries until her mom picked her up and gave her a Zweibak cookie. While she ate she grunted and smeared her hands with cookie mush. She had chew on a frozen banana in a little mesh bag before drinking a bottle. Afterwards, her mom cleaned out the crevices under her chins and put her back on the floor to watch out the screen some more.
Thirty minutes later Sally became tired and cross. Monica stood up, "Oops, the queen says it's time to go. Want to get together next Thursday?"
"I thought you had Mommy and Me class on Thursday."
"I was switched to Monday Wednesday. And her tooth should have cut through by then so she won't have all that gross slime on her face." Monica bent her knees to lift up her daughter. Sally had knocked out her grandmother's back once. Now Grandma Sara wouldn't pick her up off the floor.
Jane handed Monica her diaper bag. Monica balanced Sally on her hip while she swung her bag on her shoulder. Before opening the screen door.
As soon as the door swung open one of the cats ran forward and growled, it's back arched up.
"Oh, please." Jane said firmly, "Cut it out and get off my porch." She kicked out at it with her bare foot. The cat swiped at her with it claws out, hissing and spitting.
Monica put a hand up to Sally's face. "Whoa. They've never done that before."
Another of the cats ran up and growled as well. When Jane tried to scat them a second time, two more joined the first pair.
Monica laughed nervously and said "We're out numbered Janie."
"Let's try the back door." Jane went through the kitchen, but was met by yowling cats there as well.
"Monica, this is weird. Let's put Sally down on my bed and we'll wait and see what they do."
Before they could take Sally in the other room, they heard a screech outside.
An old Honda Accord came around the corner entirely too fast and slammed into Monica's car, squarely hitting the driver's side door. Since Monica and Jane had the habit of talking over the roof of the car for a while, Monica would have been standing in between the car body and the driver's side door, bouncing it back and forth with her foot.
Monica and Jane looked at each other. Monica handed the baby to Jane before running outside and throwing up over the side of the porch. Jane reached into her apron pocket for her phone.
The cats were nowhere to be seen.
Robert and the Wii
"I'll be right there! I'll be right there!" Jane yelled. Robert heard her feet patter on the floor before she kicked the screen open yelling "Come in!" before she dashed away.
Robert saw why she was rushing. Jane was in the middle of playing Wii Fit. No, Wii Fit PLUS. Same a Wii Fit, but with some additional games. Home video games puzzled him.
He had liked video game when they first came out. The big pieces of machinery all lined up in arcades. It was a social event, going to the arcade. Meeting up with people, watching the high scorers, talking to the girls who were really way too young to be there but they were the only ones who ever showed up.
He'd liked the guys who had white skin because they never went outside. They spent all their time in the dimness of the arcade with their friends. They wrote out elaborate cheat sheets on notebook paper and sold them. Sitting outside later, drinking Cokes and discussing what went right or what went wrong that day.
"Man, I think I sprained my wrist wacking off. Messed me up today." Robert remembered one of the guys saying. A conversation followed about techniques that preserved the workings of one's lower arms but yielded the maximum amount of pleasure. Debate about lotion versus baby oil versus petroleum jelly followed.
The arcade was a social thing.
The movies had been social too. It used to be you got a lot of bang for your buck. A serial, a cartoon, a newsreel and sometimes a live show all came before the feature. People got dressed up. An usher would show to you to a velvet covered seat. You could buy popcorn, but that was all. There were no whole meals served at the movies. You had to either eat at home or go out afterwards. It was an event, going to the movies.
Robert felt that the more technology advanced the more humans became disconnected from each other. You played video games at home. You watched movies at home. You could work from home, do your banking from home, shop from home, go to school from home.
With the exception of going out for groceries there was no reason to ever leave the house. Until the 1990's, those people had been known as "crazy". Now, they were "lucky".
"What are you doing Jane?"
Jane was stepping in place on the the plastic board, holding the controller horizontally in both hands. "I'm doing the bike ride. I have to find the last checkpoint and then I can finish. Look! I've done almost a mile!"
"Uh, why don't you just go for a bike ride?"
"Because I can't do these big jumps on my bike."
"You're not taking big jumps. You're standing on a plastic board yelling 'whoo hoo'." Robert told her.
"We can play bowling too. Let's do that later."
"Why don't we just go bowling? I have my shoes and my ball at my place."
"Because the ball's too heavy. We might hurt ourselves. Besides, it's loud and all that." Jane was intently focused on stepping in place as quickly as she could.
"Come on. Let's put together a picnic and ride up to the lake. It's beautiful today and we can watch the sunset."
"I'm having fun." Jane leaned, making her pretend bike turn.
"And the surgeon general wonders why people are fat." Robert grumped.
That was another thing that confused him. How complicated being sick had become. It used to be simple. You got sick, you called the doctor, he came to your house. Even if you had no money he'd come to your house and take care of you anyway. He gave you your medicine, or he'd call the pharmacist who would get your medicine ready and send a delivery boy to your house. If you had money you paid them. If you couldn't you gave the doctor a chicken or whatever you had. Doctors had tended to be fat based on all the food they received in exchange for services. If they lady of the house was well, she'd invite the doctor to stay for dinner or supper and he'd usually take her up on that offer
First of all, if you were sick and contagious, why did you have to leave your house to sit in a room with a bunch of other people and make them all sick too? During the H1N1 outbreak, children had been required to go to a triage center to be diagnosed with H1N1 and told to stay home.
Women who'd had c-sections and told to stay in bed had to get up and go to the doctor's office to have their incisions checked. It made no sense.
If you were sick you had to find a doctor to see you and you had to pay cash up front if you didn't have insurance. Insurance boggled Robert's mind. So, you paid the insurance company, like putting money into a savings account in case you got sick. But then the insurance company could tell you that they wouldn't pay the doctor if they thought you didn't need it. But, wasn't it technically your money?
If you went to the emergency room, they asked if you had insurance and treated you based on your coverage. Then you got a bill for many thousands of dollars. If you couldn't pay it they'd eventually just take payments out of your paycheck.
You had to go to the pharmacy yourself, further spreading sickness. And you had to pay them up front. He understood there were people not taking medications because they couldn't afford it.
He thought vaccinations were a great thing. You could keep a person from getting polio or measles? Illnesses that could kill you, paralyze you or cause brain damage? Sounded like a good deal to him. But now he heard parents stating they wouldn't not vaccinate their children because they didn't trust the drugs. But those same parents embraced antibiotics. So did they trust the drugs or didn't they? He couldn't keep it all straight.
"What's your problem?" Jane wanted to know.
"My problem is that's it's a gorgeous day and you are here in the dark pretending to ride a bike instead of actually riding your bike. You want to pretend to bowl instead of actually bowling. This is just weird. You want to know why people are fat? Because they eat a lot and then sit on their ass all day. Because kids aren't allowed to go outside. Shit, kids pack together and keep an eye on each other! Let them run through the fucking streets and get dirty! I really hate this part of this century. Nobody talks to each other! Everything is dangerous! Don't go outside! Don't talk to anybody!
Do what you want. *I* am going to go ride my bike." Robert yanked open the door, slammed it behind him and then pedaled away .
Jane turned off the Wii and went out to weed the garden until he came back. He was right, but she wasn't willing to admit it in front of him.
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