Sparkle (26 page)

He might even be capable of taking care of himself.

Two hours later, Joe and Eddie’s house was quiet. The television was off, but Eddie hadn’t moved. He hadn’t brushed his teeth. He hadn’t put on his pajamas. For the first time ever, he had gone to sleep sitting up.

He pointed the remote and clicked it without opening his eyes.

Eddie was little. He wore white pants, a white shirt, and white shoes. He didn’t look down, but he felt the burn of bloody handprints on his shoulder and knee.

He was at the top of the stairs, trying to open the door, but the knob was wet and slippery, and he couldn’t get a grip on it. Something was waiting on the other side; he had to get to it. He leaned his head against the door. As his ear touched the sticky warm wood, the blast of a gunshot almost bowled him over. He fell back, grabbed wildly for a railing, and hung on with all his strength. His feet dangled above a bottomless void. Neon blood seeped from under the door and pooled in front of his eyes.

“Just let go.” It was his mom’s voice.

“No!” Eddie screamed. He hung on tightly, but he was losing his grip.

Eddie’s eyes opened, and he stood up as though he had never been asleep. He was going out. Right now. He had no time to lose.

Chapter 37

Wednesday

At one minute after midnight, Jolie’s doorbell rang. She was in bed asleep, but she rose automatically, put on her robe, and looked through the peephole. It was Mark. She opened the door a crack.

“It’s me,” he said.

Jolie stared, groggy with sleep, not knowing what to say. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in, please? It’s chilly out here.” Mark was clutching a grocery-store bouquet of carnations.

“What are those?” Jolie asked.

“For you. A peace offering.”

Jolie recoiled. She was going to tell him to fuck off and close the door in his face, but he stumbled heavily. “Oh my God. You’re wasted.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t drink too good. I went out without you,” he slurred. Then he stumbled again and almost fell off the porch. “I’ll go. Nevermind.”

“Fuck,” she said under her breath, opening the door reluctantly. “You can’t drive. I’ll make you some coffee. Then I’ll call you a cab.”

“Well, I did drive here, as a matter of fact,” Mark said, coming inside. Jolie shut the door and walked into the kitchen. He followed her. “I drove like a trooper. Like a state trooper. In a state.” He was very unsteady. “I don’t drink so well. You should put these in water.”

Jolie tore the plastic off the flowers, threw it in the garbage, and put the flowers in a vase.

“Got any beer?” he asked.

“For God’s sake, Mark,” Jolie said. “I’m making you coffee. And then you’re leaving.”

“Okay.” Mark caromed into the living room.

Jolie took a deep breath before following him. He was already sprawled on the couch.

“It’ll be ready in a couple of minutes,” she said.

Mark patted a spot beside him on the couch. “C’mon, sit down.”

“Don’t get comfortable. You’re not staying.”

“I just want to talk to you.”

“You need to drink your coffee and go home, Mark. It’s late, and we both have work tomorrow.”

“We could call in sick,” Mark laughed.

“I’m getting tired of your jokes, Mark. Do you want to go now, or when you’ve finished your coffee?”

“Seriously, though, Jolie. I’ve been thinking about it…thinking about it long and hard. It’s a crazy world, Jolie.”

“Yeah?” Jolie had no idea what he was talking about. She was still half asleep.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Where was I?”

“Crazy world,” she offered, gritting her teeth.

“That’s what I say. Yeah, totally crazy. Monday shook me up. Somebody broke into your house. Your house. It did…it shook me up. And I had to think about why. And I’m not proud to admit it, but I was scared.” Mark looked into her eyes. Jolie didn’t seem impressed. “I was,” he said. “I was scared to death.”

“I’m fine, Mark. And I think you already said that the last three times you tried to apologize. Maybe you ought to just let it rest for a while. I think you’re trying waaaay too hard.”

“No, no, no. You don’t get what I’m trying to say to you. You’re not listening. Could you just listen for a minute, please?”

“I might listen to you when you’re sober, okay? Coming to my house in the middle of the night isn’t the way to make me feel safe, Mark. You know?”

“Sure, sure. But let me finish. I know that guy was in your house. I know you think he’s harmless. He’s not, Jolie. I don’t like him. He acts all innocent. You’re too trusting. I want to tell you what happened to me.” Mark fumbled with his tucked in shirt, loosening his belt.

“Mark, fucking stop that.”

Mark pulled up his shirt to reveal a huge, livid scar running from his hairless, muscled chest all the way down to his flat belly.

“Oh my God, Mark. What is that? Please, pull your shirt down.”

“You see that? That’s what people like Eddie do. That’s why I’m afraid for you. My old girlfriend. I almost died.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. What did Eddie do?”

“No. Not Eddie. Just like Eddie, though. My old girlfriend’s brother.”

“I’m going to make you some coffee.”

“No. Just a minute. Please. Just let me tell you the story. Then I’ll go.”

Jolie shook her head. “Sit up, Mark.” He did, with difficulty.

Jolie sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

“Okay,” she said. “Do tell.”

Mark fell silent for a moment. There had been a silly, drunken quality to him a moment before, but it seemed to drain away. He was pale. He looked like he was shaking slightly.

“Are you going to be sick?” Jolie asked. “Do you need to go into the bathroom?”

“No. No, I’ll be okay. My scar. I got it from my girlfriend’s brother. He was like Eddie. Very similar. Reynold. He was severely autistic, other stuff. I had a similar feeling about him, too, but my girlfriend—” Mark seemed to choke up slightly, and Jolie waited for him to continue.

“We took him everywhere. I like to hunt. She did too. You know that. I’ve been around guns all my life. Anyway, we took Reynold along with us. He knew we were dating. But something made him freak out. I was…I mean we were in the tent. Making out, you know. We thought Reynold was sitting down by the lake. He’d usually sit there and throw rocks until you came and got him. Before I knew what had happened I had a knife in me. I mean, I heard this loud yell thing—it sounded like an animal screaming— and he just hit me. I thought he’d just hit me horribly hard in the side at first. I didn’t realize I was stabbed until I saw the knife. Theresa got in between us, Reynold was still trying to come at me, it was crazy. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. He was just insane. He stabbed her, trying to get at me, more than once.” Mark stopped again.

“So I managed to get my hands on my shotgun and I shot him.”

“Oh my God, Mark. That’s horrible. Was your girlfriend okay?”

“No. She died.”

“I’m so sorry, Mark.”

“So. Maybe that explains why I feel like I do.”

Jolie thought about what to say for a moment. Finally, she stood up. “Let me go and get that coffee,” she said.

When Jolie left the room, Mark leaned unsteadily to the side and pulled in his stomach. He reached into the back of his waistband and pulled out a snub-nosed revolver. It looked almost like a toy.

Jolie came back into the room with the coffee.

“I brought this for you,” Mark said. “I know you people don’t like guns around here, but it would make me feel a lot better it you had protection.”

Jolie’s breath quickened. “Please tell me that thing isn’t real, Mark,” she said flatly. “If you were ever kidding in your life, now would be the time.”

Mark looked pained. “No, Jolie It’s real. Don’t you get it? This is serious.”

“Oh, my God.” Jolie stood up and faced him. “You’re insane. I’m only going to tell you this once. I’m sorry—truly sorry—for what happened to you. But you need help I can’t give you. I can maybe help you get it, but I can’t do it. Especially not when you are wasted. I do not want that thing in my house. I do not want you in my house. Ever again. You need to go. Right now, Mark. Go wait outside and I’ll call a cab.”

“Fine. I’ll go. But take it,” he said, holding the gun out to her. “It’s not going to hurt you. It’s going to protect you.” He sounded angry.

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the police.”

“Whatever,” Mark slurred, sounding disgusted. “Jesus. Maybe I should have just let that guy kill me.” He stood and held the gun up, drawing a bead on his own reflection in the mirror across the room. “Boom!” he said. “Good bye, loser.”

“You’re starting to scare me,” Jolie said, backing away.

“Give me a break, Jolie,” Mark said. “Maybe I should just kill myself. Like you’d care.”

“Fuck you, Mark. You’re losing your mind. Just…leave. Just get out of my house!”

“I’m going to do it.” Mark slowly brought the gun up toward his head. He was staring intently at Jolie. He looked serious. Suddenly, she believed he might actually be serious.

Jolie didn’t think, but she rushed over, her hand shot up and she moved to yank the gun away from Mark. Mark yanked back.

“Pop!”

Jolie’s head jerked toward the wall as though she’d been slapped and she fell back onto the couch.

Mark stood rooted to the spot, swaying slightly. He looked down at the smoking little gun in his hand.

Chapter 38

The streets around Jolie’s block were deserted. Garbage cans lined the curb for pickup in the morning. A cab pulled around the corner.

Eddie got out.

He paid the driver, a tough-looking turbaned Sikh, in cash. The man looked at Eddie curiously and started to say something but changed his mind.

Eddie waited, rubbing his hair until the cab was out of sight, and then quickly walked around the corner. He could see Jolie’s house clearly, about half a block down on the other side of the street.

It was cloudy, with no light from the moon or stars. The wind was picking up. It would rain soon. One streetlight on the corner cast a thin bluish light. Jolie’s house was the only one on the block with lights on inside.

Eddie hurried down the street until he was opposite her house. He waited. She had made him promise not to come back. His promise was unbreakable. But he’d promised only that he wouldn’t come inside. She hadn’t said anything about keeping away from her whole street.

Of all the new uncomfortable things he had done this week, this was by far the worst. But it was his only option. He had awakened from his dream sure that Jolie was in danger and that he had to act immediately. The sensations were so unfamiliar and jarring that he couldn’t be a hundred percent positive if he were awake or still sleeping.

Eddie couldn’t remember a single time that he had been outside alone in the dead of night.

Suddenly, something seemed to hit him hard, right in the side of the head, and he staggered. He had to lean against a tree for support.

He was too late.

Jolie’s front door opened.

A light flashed in Eddie’s head. He was seeing things as he usually only saw them when he was cleaning.

Everything began to waver and sway. The trees and grass were alive. The houses inhaled and exhaled with the breathing of their sleeping occupants. The asphalt in the street looked soft and molten.

When Jolie’s door opened, the light that swarmed out made Eddie sick to his stomach. It was red and frozen, and he knew it perfectly well. His legs gave out and he slumped to the ground, still leaning against the tree.

Mark stepped across the threshold. He looked inside out, hideous. His face was shifting like a lava lamp. Red fearish light danced around him, sparking and guttering as he shut the door behind him and wiped the knob with an unwilling rag.

Eddie couldn’t move. All he could do was watch as Mark walked toward him. Mark stopped when he reached the street and looked both ways. All was quiet. No one was around.

Something popped in Eddie’s head like a light bulb blowing out.

When Eddie came to, he was still leaning against the solid cool tree. Mark looked normal now—everything looked normal.

The only difference was that it had started to rain. Not hard, but a real rain, drops big enough to get Eddie’s shoulders and hair wet.

Mark turned left and jogged to the end of the block. Eddie grabbed his chest, concerned that its pounding might be enough to hurt him or— worse yet—loud enough for Mark to hear.

He watched Mark stuff something deep down into one of the trash cans that lined the dark street. He watched him sprint back to his SUV and drive quietly away, lights off.

Eddie struggled to get himself upright. He walked as quickly as he could to the trash can. He looked at it for a long time, frozen in place.

He had to sit again. He put his canvas bag on the sidewalk next to him. He pulled out rubber gloves and a plastic bag. Without knowing why he put on the gloves and forced himself to his feet. He reached his arm deep into the garbage, saw his hand and arm as though they weren’t a part of him, as though they were acting on their own, against his will. He watched his hand come out of the trash. It was holding a gun.

The gun was warm. Everything faded from Eddie’s view except the little black weapon. He gingerly stuck the gun in the bag, zipped it shut, and dropped the whole dark nightmare into his Mariners bag.

Eddie stumbled back toward Jolie’s house. He slowed at the front walk and forced himself to straighten up, struggling as if under a great weight as he walked to the front door.

He slowly reached for the knob.

“Eddie,” Jolie had said. “Promise me.”

He’d promised. He knew he shouldn’t have done that. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised. I promised.

After a while Eddie noticed, as though he were outside his own body, that he was keeping time by thumping his head on Jolie’s front door. Softly at first, then harder with each repetition, until the whole door shook and his right eyebrow opened up and spilled over.