The Thirteen (4 page)

THREE

I
ZZY WAS TALL FOR A WOMAN
, with striking features that had just begun the process of gentle aging. The lines around her mouth and eyes were still soft; she looked elegant, like a woman of a certain age advertising cosmetics. Middle age suited her, as her height suited her. She used both to full advantage whenever necessary.

Standing over Audra’s

(poor Audra)

bed, Izzy felt powerful, and very, very healthy. Being in the presence of illness gave her such a feeling of vitality.

Audra’s eyes were closed. Izzy leaned over and lay her cool hand on Audra’s forehead, tenderly.

“Poor
Audra,” she purred. “Wake up.”

The woman’s eyelids twitched and Izzy suspected she was faking. But then she opened her eyes. The whites were lightly yellowed, as if from jaundice.

“Hello,” Izzy said. “Hate to say it, but you don’t look very good.”

Audra rolled her eyes away from Izzy and tried to sit up. This appeared to cause her pain, and she dropped back with a groan. Her voice was raspy, like bees and sandpaper, the sounds from a throat not just dry but red and tortured. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Well, you’re not well, are you? Has something recently happened that made you ill?” But Izzy didn’t want to be so sarcastic, at least not yet, so she changed the subject. “You missed Margaret’s funeral today—Chick’s. I know how close you two were … Anyway, it was a beautiful service, blah blah blah.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, not bothering to mitigate her weight. The bed shifted, and Audra with it, eliciting another groan.

“Closed casket, of course, since she was crispy-fried. You know, if you are going to light yourself on fire, I swear, do not use hairspray first.
Ugh.”

Izzy had rushed to the funeral home, daubing her eyes with a handkerchief, had insisted on seeing her friend. The kid on duty had finally allowed her a peek

(wasn’t he surprised when she ceased her weeping and looked upon the blackened remains of her friend with a sardonic twist of the lips)

Audra clutched her throat. “Get me some water, will you?”

“What the hell were you two thinking?” Izzy said, unable to play the role any longer.

“I didn’t have anything to do with Chick’s … with the—” Audra’s eyes puddled with tears. She snuffled thick mucus up her nose. “I don’t want to hear—”

Izzy made a face. “You were in cahoots. A little party of two. Bill died anyway, didn’t he? And now Chick is dead, and you’re … ill.”

“How long will I be here?”

Izzy got off the bed. “You’re a danger to yourself and others, Audra.” She went to stand by the window. “You’ll be here as long as it takes to fix the mess we’re in.” The second-floor room faced the mostly deserted parking lot. There was Izzy’s car, and Tula’s car, and a couple of others close to the park at the far end, where there was a ball diamond. There was no sign of the car she was expecting. Not yet. She tugged the curtains shut.

“Do you remember that time we took the kids to Cranberry Lake for the day? They were … what, about six and seven?” She glanced over at Audra, who was staring elsewhere. “Do you remember we went to the playground and that big fat woman with the four fat little children had commandeered all the swings? We waited awhile, waited for those horrible little children to get off at least one of them so our babies could have a turn.”

It had been so easy when the kids were little, Izzy thought, and had a painful flash of her and Audra at the picnic tables that day, laughing and drinking coffee from a Thermos. True friends.

“And finally I went over to the woman and spoke to her. And then those kids got off the swings and went and ate the sand out of the sandbox or whatever and we put our little ones on the swings. Do you remember what you said? You said,
Oh, Izzy, you’re so bossy.”

The room was considerably darker with the curtains closed. It was oddly cosy, or at least that was how Izzy felt, remembering old times.

“You said I was bossy and I said, ‘People just listen to me.’ ”

She turned on the bedside lamp.

“Chick didn’t listen. And like I said, Bill is still dead. Now she’s dead and you’re here. And everyone is in very big trouble.”

That hung between them for awhile like the patch of light from the lamp.

“But I have good news too,” Izzy finally said.

“Izzy, water?” Audra rasped.

There was a pitcher of cold water and a glass beside Audra’s bed. Condensation had formed on the outside of the pitcher. She took the plastic off the glass and poured water into it. Ice clinked as it hit the sides. Izzy put the pitcher down.

“I don’t know if you’re allowed,” she said. “You’re not well, you know.” She picked up the glass and took a couple of dainty sips. “That’s very cold. I think it’s too cold.”

She put the glass back on the table. Audra’s eyes followed it.

“We’ll let it warm up a little bit.”

Audra rolled her eyes and shut them. “I know you’re angry. But you need me,” she whispered.

“I need numbers, and you’re still alive, even if you’re … indisposed.” Izzy flipped on the lamp on the other side of the bed. “You haven’t asked me what the good news is.”

She leaned in close to Audra and sniffed with interest. “You’re not smelling very fresh, sweetie.”

“I don’t care,” Audra said.

“Oh, you will,” Izzy insisted. She looked around the room for anything she could use to spruce up the woman in the bed. She opened the cupboard. Audra’s street things were hanging neatly there, her white boucle suit, a silk full slip, her handbag. On the floor was a pair of pumps, also white. The outfit she’d worn to Bill’s funeral, the day she collapsed. Izzy had ridden in the ambulance with her friend and hung the clothes up herself.

She took the handbag down from the upper shelf and pawed through it until she found a comb, a compact, a mirror and lipstick. “Here we go,” she said. She sat again on the bed beside Audra.

“You have to sit up—” and she tugged her friend into position as Audra tried to suppress a gasp. Izzy ran the comb through her hair, tugging lightly at snarls until they came loose.

She leaned over to whisper close to Audra’s ear. “Someone very special is coming to Haven Woods today.”

“I don’t want to see anyone like this.”

“You will. This one is coming
home.”

Audra wasn’t listening. Every one of Izzy’s ministrations elicited another groan. “How long is this going to go on? What have you done to me?”

Izzy turned the comb under as she got to the ends of Audra’s hair. “Me? Only you are to blame for this.” She grunted, disgusted. “I have no idea how long. This, I think, is just the beginning. Glory wasn’t at the funeral. Would you like to hear why?”

Audra didn’t answer. She closed her eyes.

“Lovely, plump Glory. Not plump anymore, of course. Now she’s slim, but she’s still sticking everything she can into her mouth. What a useless girl … but never mind that. Glory called this morning, weeping, as if something had happened to one of her horrible children, but in fact her finger had fallen off.”

Izzy stopped yanking the comb through Audra’s hair and tossed it on the bed. She got up and crossed the floor to the window again and peeked out. Nothing moved outside.

When she turned back, Audra was watching her, even more anxiously.

“Her finger fell off. On her left hand, I think she said,” Izzy continued. “Now that was not my doing. Maybe I tinkered a bit with you out of anger, but this—” she waved her hand over Audra’s bed “—was not me either.

She got close to Audra. “He’s angry with us. And that is your fault. Chick’s too, of course, but lucky for her—and I mean that—she’s not here.”

Audra shook her head. “No. It could be anything. Some trick or error.” To Izzy’s ears her voice was unpleasantly strained. It sounded … guttural.

Izzy picked up the compact and popped it open. She rubbed the pad over the powder and began to pat it on Audra’s face. Audra flinched. “Stay still,” Izzy commanded, and the woman stilled, her eyes wide, looking into her tormentor’s. It was disconcerting, and Izzy couldn’t help but pause before she stroked more makeup onto Audra’s face.

“Anyway, I have a surprise for you, and since you’re not asking, I’ll just tell you.” She found the lipstick on the bed and rolled it up. The pink tip of it was vaguely obscene. “Smile,” she said to Audra. Audra didn’t. Izzy applied the lipstick to her pale lips anyway.

“Do you blot?” Izzy tugged a tissue from the box on the table and folded it, holding it to Audra’s mouth. Audra turned her head away. Izzy grinned meanly.

“Don’t you look pretty,” she said. She narrowed her eyes. Audra did not look pretty at all. Izzy pawed around on the bed for the mirror, finding it under a fold of sheet. She fondled it. Should she show Audra herself in the mirror?

“Who’s coming?” Audra finally asked.

Izzy smiled. “With your being ill, I thought it prudent to notify your next of kin. Paula’s coming home! Isn’t that wonderful?”

Audra groaned. “No, Izzy,” she said. She tried to wriggle to the edge of the bed, to get up, and it was painful to watch. Her movements were jerky and clearly hurt her.

Izzy put her hand on Audra’s shoulder. “Enough. It’s too late—she’s coming, and her daughter too.”

Audra froze, breathing hard from the effort. “No, you can’t. Send them home. She’s a mother, for crissakes—”

Izzy laughed softly. “A mother. Isn’t that how this all started? We’re all mothers.” She found her purse and fished inside for her own lipstick, found it and put some on. She pressed her lips together. “Autumn Born,” it was called. She didn’t think she liked it much.

“She’s not staying. I won’t let her.” Audra’s voice was a rasp, her face distorted by a mix of anger and fear.

Izzy shrugged. “Numbers, numbers, Audra. We need numbers. Think of Glory and her fat finger falling off and multiply it by what we have left. You included.”

“Leave her be.”

“Pull yourself together. They’ll be here any minute.” Izzy went back to her vigil at the window. “Besides, dear, I think Paula’s had some trouble in the city. I think she’s running home to mother. I think that’s just lovely.”

She knew Audra couldn’t see her smile, but Izzy hoped she could hear it.

Audra had never been a stupid woman

(until recently)

and even as she thought that, a car pulled into the parking lot. It was an old red thing, rusted around the wheel wells.

“Oh my, look at that—a car,” Izzy said excitedly. She turned to Audra. “It’s them.” She turned back to watch a young woman and a girl of about twelve get out of the car. Its doors slammed shut, the sound muffled and distant from the second-floor window. “Oh my,” Izzy said. “From the state of their car it looks like they’ve fallen on hard times. This may be easier than I thought.” She clucked her tongue.

“I’ll tell them to leave.”

Izzy spun around and pointed at Audra. “You’ll do no such thing.” She flipped open her compact, which was still in her hand. “Do you want to see yourself? What you’ve done?” She raised the mirror in front of Audra. “Look,” she hissed. “See how beautiful you’ve become.”

Audra glanced reluctantly at the mirror, then gasped. Staring back at her was a pair of yellow eyes, the pupils elongated, black and soulless, like a serpent’s. She shrieked and covered her face with her hands.

Izzy snapped the compact shut with a scowl. “That’s what you get for betraying the sisterhood,” she hissed. “Judas.
Judas.”
Then she leaned in very close and said into Audra’s ear, “Judas
goat.”

Audra squealed and clawed at her face with her hands, ran them down her arms, her sides, eyes frantically searching the room for another reflective surface. There was none.

“Izzy, my god—”

“You don’t want that to happen to your pretty daughter, do you? Or her pretty bastard? So shush now.” She opened the compact again and fixed her own hair, pinched her cheeks. “Those nasty weird eyes of yours only show in a mirror. Paula won’t notice a thing.”

Audra whimpered, “She doesn’t belong with us.”

“Honey, think of it as a fourth for bridge.”

Rowan had been dozing the past few miles or so and Paula wasn’t sure if she wanted to wake her. The turn signal click-clicked as she took the off-ramp from the highway and followed the curve through a deceptively thin treeline to the road into Haven Woods.

A silly kind of excitement had started to build in her. She’d been gone more or less since she was sixteen and didn’t think she’d ever been truly homesick, yet she had butterflies.

Rowan stirred, woken by the car’s slowing down. She raised her head and looked groggily out the window.

“Look,” Paula said and pointed to a billboard thirty feet high. It showed a happy family in front of a lovely house.
WELCOME TO HAVEN WOODS!

Paula turned right, checking off old haunts in her head.

smoking behind the Casey’s Lumber sign

watching the boys play football in the big field behind the school she and Marla walking the perimeter of Haven Woods over and

over again the winter they were bored

hanging out the second-floor window of Mrs. Hagen’s class at lunch

She was smiling. Thinking of old faces
—Patty, Lonnie
Sanderson, Pete Kelly
—people she hadn’t thought of in years. It didn’t stop there, of course …

David under the bleachers at the

David on the riverbank when

David sweating after ball practice, grinning

still want to kiss me?

His scent stirred in the air of Haven Woods, the river, the bakery, the lime on the ball field—Paula could almost smell him.

“Where’s Grandma’s house?” Rowan said, sitting up.

Paula pointed a few blocks ahead of them. “That’s our street there. Proctor.” She grinned. “Everybody lived on Proctor. It’s a bay that loops around the whole suburb. But we won’t go there yet. We’ll go to the hospital first.”

Once they had passed the big brick school, Paula found herself slowing to a near crawl, watching for the tall tower of the hospital where the big glowing H was mounted, like a crucifix. When she was a little girl, she’d thought the H was for Haven Woods, not Hospital.