The Book of Paul -- A Paranormal Thriller (12 page)

Norine looked him up and down, gauging his size, his weight. She peered deeply into the stillness of the dead mask.

Martin felt his tears well up again as Norine’s shoulders slumped in resignation.
No!
You promised! You promised me we’d get away!

Paul turned on Martin again, his boots raising clouds of dust as he trudged toward him with the doomed inevitability of a nuclear aftershock.

“Oh, yes, I’ve got objections!” Norine yelled at him, her voice strangled with emotion. “I object very, very much!”

Paul turned toward her. Martin flew out the door as fast as he could, dropping the chair as he ran to her, hugging her leg, trying to puff his little chest out as far as he could, letting Daddy know he would do anything…
anything
…that would keep him from hurting his beloved Norine.

What Paul did next surprised them both. He looked down at Martin and softly patted him on the head. Then he stared into Norine’s eyes and said, “Maybe if you knew what I had planned for the little tyke, you wouldn’t be objecting so much.”

“What?” Norine asked, completely thrown off track by his mysterious declaration.

“It’s a surprise,” Paul whispered, nudging his chin in Martin’s direction.

Norine knew it was just another ruse to get Martin into the truck without dragging him screaming inside. “What kind of surprise?” she asked nervously, trying to think of a way to get Martin into her car and try to outrun the lumbering truck with her Chevy V-8.

Paul mouthed a “not-in-front-of-the-kid” pantomime and nudged his chin again, this time in the direction of the screen door. “Would you mind stepping inside for a minute so we don’t ruin everything for the dear lad?” he whispered into Norine’s ear with a cupped hand. He was so close that her nose wrinkled from the smell.

She nodded slightly. Paul smiled and gave her a secret wink. “Martin, I’m going inside to have a word with this man,” she said, turning her back on Paul, signaling Martin with her eyes that he needed to get into the car as soon as they were out of sight.

Martin stared at them with the most heartbreakingly hopeful smile she had ever seen.

He still didn’t get it. He still thought everything was going to be okay.

Paul smiled broadly. “That’s right, Martin. Go have yourself a rest in the truck while me and your auntie have a nice little chat.”

“No, go sit in my car, the seats are more comfortable,” she said, knowing she was calling the big man’s hand. He would have to show his cards now, perhaps forcibly attempt to abduct the boy. Then Martin would see what kind of man he really was, and at least he’d have a chance to run for it while she did whatever she could to slow him down.

What Paul said was just as unforeseen as his earlier actions. “Splendid idea! Those seat springs in the truck are popping all the way through the upholstery. Make yourself nice and cozy in your auntie’s car and we’ll be back lickety-split!”

Martin practically peed his pants in agreement. Maybe they could all leave together! He walked a few steps to the car while Paul opened the door for Norine with the exaggerated courtliness of a Southern plantation owner. He even gave her a tiny bow as she passed the threshold. When she was out of sight, Paul turned to Martin and gave him a big, warm smile, lifting up his thumb, as if to say, “Don’t you worry now. Everything’s going to be A-OK.”

Martin grinned from ear to ear, glad to have Daddy taking care of everything again. He scampered into Norine’s car seat like they were all going out for a double-dip ice cream cone. When Paul raised his finger to his lips, reminding him to stay nice and quiet, Martin kissed his finger and let out a long conspiratorial “shush” in response.

Martin sat on the fat vinyl cushion and smiled through the dirty windshield. He watched happily as Paul disappeared into the shadows and closed the door. He waited and rubbed Mrs. Morgy’s ears against his cheek. They were so soft. But they would never feel as soft as Norine’s cheeks. Nothing would ever feel that soft and good to him again.

Paul was inside with Norine for a long time. When the door opened, he came out alone. He picked up the little white chair, then walked over to Norine’s overstuffed trunk and grabbed Martin’s bag of clothes, shouting, “C’mon, little buddy. Your auntie said we should go ahead and she’ll catch up with us in a few shakes. She wants to put together her own little surprise for you, so we can all join in the fun together!”

Martin grinned and leapt out of the car, clutching Mrs. Morgy as he scampered over to the truck behind Paul’s quickly moving legs. Paul gently placed his belongings in the back of the truck, then hopped into the cab and started the clunky motor without saying another word. Martin jumped into the seat next to him and Paul reached over and rubbed his mop of hair. He threw the gearshift into reverse and stepped on the gas so hard that dust flew up in every direction. He was shifting back into first gear when Martin grabbed his arm as tightly as he could.

“Where’s Aunt Norine?” he asked, looking nervously at the motionless screen door. “You said she was coming right behind us.”

Paul slammed on the brakes. A cloud of dust cascaded over the windshield like a brown waterfall. “No, Martin, I said she’d be coming a little later.” His smile was unwavering and unfathomable.

“When?”

“If I told you that, it would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

“What surprise?” asked Martin, fully attentive.

“It isn’t a surprise if you tell. You know that, don’t you?”

Martin frowned, mulling it over. Then he grabbed Paul’s arm again. “I don’t want the surprise. I want Aunt Norine to come with us now.”

“That’s what you say, but you don’t know what the surprise is! Why do you think I drove here so early in the morning? It must be something pretty special, eh?”

Martin had to think about that. Paul said it with such tantalizing allure that Martin’s brain momentarily disengaged from the problem of “No Norine” to ponder the dangling promise of the mysterious surprise. He was bursting with curiosity, but his true-blue heart pulled him back like a slingshot to the door on the porch.

“Why didn’t she come out to say good-bye?”

“Because she’s getting ready, that’s why,” Paul said glibly.

“Ready for what?”

“For the surprise, Martin…the surprise!” Paul shouted, patting him on the head and jamming the shift down so hard that the grinding gears sounded like the chains of a castle drawbridge. Before Martin had time to say anything else, they were barreling down the dusty driveway. He turned quickly backwards, pressing his face into the rear window.

She had to be coming! She
had
to! But no matter how hard he tried to believe it, he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest as he searched window after window for any sign of movement.

Why didn’t she wave? Why didn’t she look out the window and wave?

Martin stared at the bare blazing bulb overhead, then down at the nail emerging from the flesh of his hand. As bad as this was, it was a million times better than what he’d been seeing in his head.

Curtains drawn, just in time.

He was glad his memory didn’t work like it should anymore. It was more like the switch now, only he didn’t have much control over when it turned off and on. That was okay. Some part of him knew when to use it and always seemed to spare him the very worst parts. Most of the time. But not this time. This time he saw too much.

He was in the truck with Daddy. His head turned back every few seconds to look at the dust-blurred speck of Norine’s receding house. When they reached the end of the driveway and took a sharp left, his body stiffened. They were headed back home.

“No!” Martin cried. “Don’t take me back there! Please, Daddy, please!”

Paul’s smile never wavered. “Don’t you worry, little man,” he shouted back. “Everything is going to be fine and dandy.”

Martin’s shoulders slumped to his chest. He stared at Daddy’s smiling face, knowing there was no use in arguing with him, knowing with equal certainty that nothing was going to be fine, or dandy, or any other word that sounded happy. It was going to be bad. Really, really bad.

“
SURPRISE!”
Paul yelled, throwing open the door to the dining room.

The table was lined with party hats and toys and balloons of every color. More balloons hung from the ceiling with ribbons that reached all the way to the floor. There was a white cake in the middle of the table. It was shaped like a heart with little red candy hearts running along the outside edge like the trim on a lace doily. Eight glowing candles flickered with every gasp of his breath. As he read the script spelled out in gooey red letters, Paul’s voice shouted along with him,
“Happy birthday, Martin!”

Martin didn’t even know today was his birthday. Momma never told him. The table was set for three, with name cards in front of each chair spelled out in big block letters in what looked like Momma’s red lipstick: MOMMA. DADDY. MARTIN. Three cards. Not four. He looked at the cards and the cake and back at Daddy. He wanted to ask why Norine wasn’t coming, but Daddy was pointing at the door on the other end of the room. His sad eyes told him something awful was coming.

Martin’s eyes followed past the cake and the balloons. Past the cards and the napkins. Past the toys and the shining wrapped presents. The door opened slowly and Momma walked inside. She had a look in her eyes he’d never seen, even in the cellar. She was all made up, blue eye shadow and bright red lipstick, her hair brushed down, soft and blond, wisping against her naked shoulders.

Her smile was scary. So was the look in her eyes. But that wasn’t what made him want to run. It wasn’t just her shoulders that were naked. Momma wasn’t wearing anything at all.

She came toward him slowly, leering and swaying her wide hips.

“Look at her, Martin!” Paul leered with his arms stretched open, as if his naked mother were the icing on the cake. “Just look at your dear sweet Momma!”

Momma smiled crookedly and cupped her breasts in both hands. Martin turned to run out the wide French doors on the other side of the room, but let out a scream when he saw they’d been locked. “Where you goin’, honey?” Momma asked, still walking toward him. “Don’t you want to play with me?”

Martin sat and cried, trying to turn his head away, not being able to. Her hair was dark down there, almost black. Even in his blind panic he couldn’t help but wonder why it didn’t match the brassy blond hair on her head.

She came closer. Her breasts wobbled as she walked.

Martin looked at the doors and at Paul with an expression that could only be a called a prayer. Please. Please help me, Daddy.

Daddy was wearing the dead mask.

The mask didn’t change when she squatted down, resting her hand on Martin’s leg, moving it slowly up his thigh. It wasn’t until she put Martin’s hand on her breast that Daddy’s face came alive.

“Would you look at that
,
Martin!” Paul shouted, his eyes wild and savage, his smile sliding up and down like a see-saw. “Would you look at that evil skank of a whore cunt!”

Momma shot up like her legs were spring-loaded. “You bastard!” she shrieked, so humiliated by his unforeseen betrayal that she didn’t know whether to scramble for her clothes or attack. She attacked, rushing at Paul with her nails poised like talons, ready to rip the sneer from his face. Paul pushed her backwards on the floor with the one-handed ease of a farmer tipping over a sack of grain.

“
Me
a bastard?” he asked in a gurgling laugh that sounded like a toilet flushing. “That’s pretty cheeky comin’ from a kiddie-raping cunt like you!” He walked over, plucking up Martin’s easy weight and cradling him in a single arm, their heads side by side. Together, they stared into the blast furnace of Momma’s hate. “Look at her, Martin…just look at her!”

Martin couldn’t. He buried his face in Paul’s thick neck as Momma tried to cover herself with an ugly throw rug by the door.

“I’ll cut your balls off, you fucking ape!” she growled, regaining her footing.

“Well, isn’t that exactly what I’m talking about, eh?” Paul mocked, turning Martin’s chin out, forcing him to watch her. “Do you know what she wanted to do?” Paul asked sadly. Martin’s stomach tightened with dread.