People who knew Aunt Caroline considered her to be a motor mouth who babbled endlessly. When she was on a roll, she was as unstoppable as a wildfire in a forest of dead trees on a windy summer day. The average person had a mere thirty seconds to dart into the conversation, which was about the length of time it took her to light another link in her chain smoking. Once you paused, you forfeited your turn and Caroline would take the reins again, generally ignoring anything you brought to the conversation. When she wasn’t with anyone, she’d watch television and absorb as much trivia as possible to use as fodder for her next conversational encounter. Caroline could be talking about fish sterilization in the Buffalo River in one breath and switch to the sex life of the Japanese beetle in the next.
When they finally got home from the airport, the Wagner’s bailed from the car like paratroopers jumping from a burning transport. Listening to Aunt Caroline rattle on should be classified as cruel and unusual punishment and banned in all fifty states.
After Jean undressed in her bedroom, she took her blouse to Helen’s room and said, “I wish Dad wouldn’t let Aunt Caroline smoke in the car. Smell my blouse. Who knows how many times I’ll have to wash it to get the cigarette smoke out of it. I never want to be in the car with her again. And the way that woman can talk!! It wouldn’t be so bad if she shared information that people actually wanted to hear. I don’t understand how her husband can tolerate her. I can’t stand that woman and the thought of living with her while I go to school makes me want to skip college and just find a job.”
Helen chuckled and said, “Well, Aunt Caroline has always spoken highly of you!”
Jean rolled her eyes, glanced up at the ceiling and sighed as she returned to her own bedroom. “A compliment coming from Aunt Caroline means about as much as a piece of dried bread,” she muttered as she strolled from the room.
Helen listened for Jean’s door to close and then removed her diary from the chest. She jumped into bed and scooted up until her back rested against the headboard. She unlocked it and prepared to make her daily entries. She made notations regarding Jean’s dismal evaluation of Aunt Caroline and her statement about getting a job. Given Jean’s attitude regarding work, her statement about getting a job instead of going to school was a rather drastic one. Helen also made a note regarding her hope that Jean’s absence would make Helen’s heart grow fonder of her. It certainly couldn’t hurt their relationship.
She finished her entries, returned the diary to the chest and crawled under her blankets. She tried to plan a dream for the night. She wanted to think about a time and place when she was older. Perhaps living in a tropical paradise, or some place where there wasn’t any snow, with millions of dollars and no cares or worries. She wanted to plan her dream in an attempt to thwart a recurring dream that she began seeing about a week ago. No matter what she did, it got longer and more detailed with each night. She hated the dream because it was dark and foreboding. It always began with a silhouetted figure, standing in a gentle sprinkling of black raindrops. It was pointing a long, knobby finger at her and appeared to be floating several inches from the ground. It was like reading a distressing story that revealed new information with each chapter. It was an ominous and private story that she opted not to share with anyone. Unfortunately, the dream refused any substitutes and returned nightly like an unwanted rash. The images would make her feel uncomfortable and scared. The emotional effects rarely kept her awake for any real length of time though. The last image she saw each night before she eventually dozed off, was that of the figure with the knobby finger.
Aunt Caroline was an excellent cook who was a devoted fan of TV cooking shows and who owned no less than twelve different cookbooks. The following morning, she treated the Wagners to a splendid breakfast.
Helen entered the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised by the spread of food and temporary reprieve from her typical culinary obligations. Aunt Caroline turned from the stove and asked, “How would you like your eggs?”
Helen smiled and said, “Scrambled, thank you.”
“How many eggs do you normally scramble for yourself?“
“I can only eat three. Sometimes I add milk to stretch the eggs out a little. They taste just as good and we don’t have to buy them as frequently.”
Caroline nodded and said, “I’ve got sliced fruit, freshly cooked bacon and blueberry muffins on the counter here. Would you like some toast with your eggs?”
“No, thank you, Aunt Caroline. You’ve really been busy this morning. Would you like some help with the cooking or clean up?”
“I’m just about done here and I have all day to worry about taking care of the mess I’ve made. It was sweet of you to offer.”
Aunt Caroline handed Helen a plate of scrambled eggs and said, “Don’t forget the stuff on the counter. Your dad and Jean have already eaten so don’t hold back.”
Helen piled four pieces of bacon on the edge of her plate and returned to the table. Caroline was waiting for her to sit down and as she did, she poured Helen a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Aunt Caroline set the pitcher on the table and sat in the chair adjacent to Helen’s. She smiled and said, “How are the bacon and eggs?”
“Wonderful. You’re a remarkable cook.”
“Joe told me that you prepare most of the meals around here. I’ll bet it feels good to get a little break.”
“It sure does, Aunt Caroline. Thanks.”
Caroline rose, got her cigarette from the ashtray on the counter and took a drag. She walked back to the kitchen table and remained standing. She took another drag and said, “When you get home from school today, I’d like to have a private talk with you about an issue that’s somewhat serious and important to me.”
While Helen was listening, she noticed the gray ashes from her aunt’s cigarette had grown to over an inch in length.
“Your ashes are about to fall in the butter you know!” said Helen as she waited for them to succumb to the natural forces of gravity. “Serious and important? How serious?”
“I think it would be better to wait until you get home tonight. It’s a long story,” responded Caroline, cupping her hand at the last second and catching the ashes.
“One of these days I’m going to quit smoking for good. Sometimes I think the expense of buying them is worse than the health hazards! I truly have tried to quit several times over the years.” Caroline paused reflectively, looked at the floor, then back at Helen. “Your Uncle Harold stopped trying to talk me into it. He has never had the curiosity or desire to try smoking a cigarette. He continues to bring home pamphlets from the American Cancer Society and anyone else who produces literature on the dangers of smoking. Truthfully, I rarely read them. I pretend to just to make Harold happy. I really appreciate what he’s trying to do for me. It’s difficult for me because I get a certain satisfaction from smoking, despite the dangers. Everyone thinks all you have to do is decide to quit and just like that, you’re smoke-free. In reality, for a smoker who has smoked as many years as I have, quitting is like trying to hold your breath for five minutes. I was watching television the other night and heard that they found nicotine in the tissue of Egyptian mummies. How they got nicotine is beyond anyone’s understanding, since tobacco plants were thousands of miles away and international trade hadn’t been established yet. Nonetheless, it was even found in mummies. I wonder if they were smoking it or chewing it. I don’t remember who discovered the nicotine but…”
“Excuse me,” blurted Helen. “I have to get going or I’ll be late for school.”
“Of course, Helen,” replied Aunt Caroline as she ran the remains of her third cigarette of the morning under tap water. She pulled another cigarette butt from her coffee cup, tossed into the trash and then gathered the remaining dirty breakfast dishes from the kitchen table.
“Have a great day at school, dear.” Caroline gave Helen a hug goodbye and filled the sink with hot water.
Helen saw the rising soap suds and said, “It sure is nice to have someone other tha
n myself doing the dishes.”
“I hope you enjoy the break. I have always found washing the dishes to be soothing to my nerves. Maybe some day your dad will have the dishwasher fixed.”
Helen nodded as she kissed her aunt goodbye and left for school. She thought about her aunt most of the day. She assumed that her aunt wanted to share her version of “the birds and the bees”, since it was to be a private talk. It made perfectly good sense. Maybe her dad’s discussion about not knowing much about girl’s needs was simply a prelude for just a talk from Aunt Caroline.
She was amused by her dad’s sneaky efforts, if in fact he was behind it. Then it hit her. It was like walking into the path of a speeding car. It wasn’t going to be about sex at all. Her trip had nothing to do with sex or Jean’s relocation. The true motivation prompting her aunt’s journey was something altogether different. She could usually see through any thin veil of secrecy her father erected and it occurred to her that there were no veils this time. The thing that hit her was Aunt Caroline’s comment about the jigsaw puzzle. Aunt Caroline was only bringing the jewelry as an excuse to come. She probably planned to use it to barter for something the Wagners had. Something like her mother’s jigsaw puzzle. After all, the only thing she asked about was the puzzle. That had to be it. The big question would be why? The jewelry had far more monetary value than miscellaneous pieces of worn, colored cardboard. Nobody in their right mind would make such a foolish trade, unless the puzzle had a hidden value of some kind. Or, maybe Aunt Caroline wasn’t in her right mind anymore. It was a pretty bizarre thought, jewelry for cardboard. If not the puzzle, then what in the world would Aunt Caroline possibly want to talk about? Why go all these years without a conversation of substance? Why now?
Helen found her mind drifting back and forth throughout the day and paid scant attention to academic presentations in her classrooms. Once she thought she had everything figured out and then a new revelation would spring forward. Trading jewelry for cardboard was an absurd notion. She concluded that it had to be about sex or dating. Her father probably realized he couldn’t handle it and asked her aunt to come. In any event, Helen prepared herself mentally to do battle with her aunt and had every intention of being victorious. However, she would have to wait until she got home to resolve the issue and the wait was driving her crazy.
While the family was away for the day, Aunt Caroline straightened up the house. Even though the girls had done a relatively thorough job the preceding night, she discovered many avenues for improvement. Shortness of breath and the fact that she wasn’t the woman she used to be, caused her to take several breaks throughout the day.
Caroline managed to add five pounds of body weight each year since her 40th birthday. The added weight, the premature gray hair and too many days cooking her body in the blistering sun, made her look far older than her fifty-five years. She was a good woman though, with a caring and loving heart. She was always ready and willing to help anyone, anytime, anywhere.
She was using a kitchen chair to dust the living room cornice when she felt a sharp pain in her wrist. She stepped down slowly and retreated to the couch. She removed a prescription bottle from her dress pocket, pulled out a pill and swallowed it without water. “I hope it works,” she cried. “Please, oh please God, let it work.” Caroline was not talking about the pill. There was something else on her mind.
By the time everyone got home for the day, the house was clean, her body aches and pains had subsided and she had prepared a tasty dinner. Aunt Caroline was quiet and only picked at the food on her plate. Her silence was confusing to the Wagners because Aunt Caroline having nothing to say was like a hurricane with no wind or rain.
Aunt Caroline only ate some of her dinner. She put her plate in the sink and went outside to have a cigarette while she waited for the rest to complete their feasting. She lingered in the kitchen until they were finished and then gathered up the dirty dishes. When they were all washed and dried, she turned to Helen and said dryly, “Do you mind if we go to your bedroom and talk now?”
“I’m ready.” Helen’s reply was an understatement. Saying she was ready was like saying water is wet.
Aunt Caroline didn’t say anything else until they reached Helen’s room. Her aunt’s demeanor was unnerving, even scary to Helen.
Helen sat upright on the edge of her twin bed and after Caroline closed the bedroom door, she sat next to Helen. She was uneasy about the whole situation and decided to ask her aunt something before she began a potential talk marathon. There was no telling how long this rare opportunity of being able to say something to her aunt would last. “How much do you know about dreams?”
“Dreams? I’ve read some books on them. Have you been having strange dreams?”
“Yah. I told a friend at school about them and she said I need a psychiatrist. I don’t want to tell my dad, because he has enough to worry about. If I told Jean, she’d laugh until she was sick, call me weirdo and then tease me about them for the rest of my life.”
“Why don’t you tell me about them? I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” replied her aunt as she lit another cigarette.
“Well, it’s really the same dream over and over. It always starts in an open area with a woman standing in a black rain.”
“The raindrops are black?” asked Caroline.
Helen frowned and said, “There’s a light of some kind behind her and I can clearly see the raindrops and the black dress she’s wearing. She raises her arm deliberately and points to me with long, knobby fingers. They almost look like skeleton fingers. The dream starts that way every night and the only thing that changes, is that she gets closer each night. She’s close enough for me to see a really scary-looking smile. The last three nights I’ve also seen Grandma Kline. She’s standing somewhat behind the woman and she’s also getting closer. Last night, Grandma called the woman’s name in a normal voice. The woman didn’t turn around or answer her. She just kept staring at me”
“What name did my mother use?” asked Caroline.
“The only thing I can remember is Grandma saying, ‘Malvada.’”
“Malvada? That’s an unusual name. Did your grandmother mention a last name?” asked Caroline as her eyes wandered aimlessly around Helen’s room.
“If a last name was mentioned, I didn’t hear it. It’s really a scary dream, Aunt Caroline and I can’t stop dreaming it, no matter what or how hard I try.”
Aunt Caroline appeared to be growing impatient with the dream discussion. She hadn’t looked at Helen the entire time Helen was talking. “Malvada was probably just a friend of your Grandma’s. I know Grandma had neighbor named Martha Anderson that she was close to. Maybe you saw a picture of them together, while they were at a family picnic or something and wish they were still alive. The human mind is a mysterious thing. You could have easily combined the names in your dream to come up with Malvada.”
“I guess it’s possible. I’ve never seen anyone who looks like her though. The woman in my dreams is extremely ugly. When she stares at me, it’s a cold, mean stare. The first time I saw her face in my dreams, it scared me so badly I woke up immediately. She always starts by pointing that stinking, knobby finger at me. Then she opens her palm and extends her open hand to mine, like she’s calling me to come to her or go somewhere with her. Well, a strange thing happened last night. I wasn’t nearly as scared as I usually am. Even with the mean stare, I felt a little closer to her. I could see Grandma better and remembered her smiling. I could see Malvada’s face and twisted body more clearly and felt myself wanting to take her hand. She was horrible looking and had eyes like I’ve never seen before, yet I felt drawn to her. Just as I was about to put my hand in hers, something woke me up.”
“It is a strange sequence of dreams all right. Do you eat or drink anything in particular that might cause the dreams?” asked Caroline.
Helen shook her head no. “I haven’t changed a thing in my diet. Want to hear the freakiest part?”
“Of
course,” replied Aunt Caroline slowly. She was mentally drifting away and barely caught the question.
“I told you that something woke me up just as I was about to take her hand last night. It was a cramp in my right arm. I never get cramps in my arm…ever! She was waiting to take my hand with her right hand and she patted me on the right arm with her left hand just before I got the cramp.”
“So, you think this Malvada person gave you the cramp?”
Helen shrugged her shoulders and looked at her aunt quizzically.
“The cramp could have been from anything. Your brain simply worked the cramp into the dream somehow to explain it. Remember, the brain is a mysterious and wonderful thing. My guess is that all this Malvada stuff is a result of bad diet. I’m concerned that your dad doesn’t pay much attention to the food you girls eat. Women are more attentive and responsible when it comes to matters like that. I certainly wouldn’t pay much attention to the dreams. They could mean hundreds of things. Some of the dreams I’ve heard over the years would put permanent curls in your hair!! Would you mind getting me an ashtray, dear?”
Helen rose slowly and moved pensively away from her aunt. “You’re no help either,” she muttered quietly.
Aunt Caroline stood the old cigarette butt on the nightstand next to Helen’s bed and lit another. After exhaling the initial drag, she stared at the shag carpet fibers and remembered the first cigarette she ever smoked. Her Uncle Roger had come over to help install a ceiling fan in their living room. He was talking to her dad in their kitchen and lit a cigarette. He threw the pack on the kitchen table and the two men went into the living room. She slid one out of the unguarded pack and ran outside. Caroline, her sister Audrey and a neighbor girl had just finished celebrating Caroline’s twelfth birthday and were in a great mood. They ran behind the Wagner garage and lit the cigarette with some matches provided by the neighbor girl. Caroline was the leader of the pack and the one who lit it. They all took turns trying to smoke it. Once the burning eyes, coughing and gagging had ceased, they threw it to the ground and resolved to never try it again. Audrey and the neighbor girl lived up to their vow. Caroline wasn’t as strong or opposed to the experience and was drawn back several more times. Within five years she had become an inveterate smoker.
She sensed that the red flag had gone up, indicating that her conversation time had expired. Caroline could hold back no more.
“Helen, there are only two other people who know what I’m about to share with you. One is my doctor and the other is my husband, Harold. What I’m about to tell you must remain strictly confidential. I don’t even want your father or Jean to know. Can I count on you to keep this between us women?”
Helen responded without hesitation. “I’m real good at keeping secrets…and promises.” I just wish you were as good listening as you are talking, she thought.
Helen shelved her thoughts. It was Aunt Caroline’s turn so Helen took her spot beside Caroline on the bed and prepared for the verbal onslaught.
Caroline flicked her ashes into the shag fibers and rubbed them in with one of her black, leather pumps. She set the smoldering butt upright, next to the other one on Helen’s nightstand.
“I got your ashtray, Aunt Caroline!!” said Helen as she leaped up. She gave her aunt a scolding look, removed the butts gingerly, as if they were radioactive and dropped them into the receptacle.
“About three months ago, my doctor told me I had some problems with my heart. He explained that surgery would be ineffective and could even cause more harm. He said he could prescribe several medications to help me manage any pain or discomfort. Then he quite candidly gave it to me point blank and told me I could only hope to live another six months to a year.”
Helen’s jaw dropped wide-open as she looked at her aunt in disbelief. “Oh, my God!” she said sadly. “That’s horrible!” Painful memories of her mother’s losing battle with illness and subsequent death came rushing back like a tidal wave.
“I’m sharing this information with you because you’re the only one in the world…this world anyway, who has the ability to help me.”
“Me? What makes you think I’m capable of doing something that experienced medical doctors can’t? Even my strongest, most sincere prayers couldn’t help my mother.”
“Your mother was a loving woman that didn’t believe in the unbelievable until it was too late. She procrastinated when it came to doing anything about her illness. When she did try, she was too weak. She ran out of time before she could finish.”
“How can you say that she waited too long? She did everything her doctors told her to do. My dad told me that the experts had done everything humanly possible to save her and failed. They all said there wasn’t any hope of recovery.”
“Audrey hesitated too long before starting the puzzle. Maybe, if she had started sooner…well, who knows what the outcome might have been.”
“What puzzle?” asked Helen. She asked her aunt the obligatory question even though she knew exactly what puzzle. What she didn’t know was how or why.
“Her jigsaw puzzle. It was her only hope…her last chance.”
“You mean the one in the blue box?”
“Yes, that’s the one. Our father used to call it Blue Castaway because there was a blue boat with the name Castaway painted on the bow. When our dad passed away, Audrey was charged with caring for it. Please tell me you haven’t lost any of the pieces,” said Caroline almost pleadingly.
“No, I haven’t. I kept the box and all the pieces in my cedar chest since Mom died. I had planned to finish it for her one of these days. Don’t think for a minute that just because you’re her sister and an adult that you can walk in here and take it from me. I won’t let you take it. Besides, my dad said I didn’t have to give you anything I didn’t want to.” It’s not precisely what her dad had said, nonetheless, it would work for argument’s sake.
Aunt Caroline frowned slightly and said, “It’s a damn good thing you haven’t tried to put the puzzle together yet.” She shifted her head to bring her eyes into alignment with Helen’s. “Trust me. It’s no ordinary jigsaw puzzle. Your grandfather said it had rare, magical properties and served as the doorway to eternity. Put the last piece in its proper setting to complete the puzzle and the door will open. Once the puzzle is completely assembled, anyone who touches it will be whisked away to a land that is more grand and fantastic than Utopia. No more hunger. No more diseases. No more despair or cramping pain that blinds you from seeing or feeling anything else.”
Helen looked at Caroline skeptically and displayed a huge grin. “You really don’t expect me to believe that story, do you? If it were really true, why did my mother wait so long to use it? Why didn’t she use it sooner and take you and all of us with her? Since you guys knew about this magic doorway, why wait so long? How could you possibly pass up such a wonderful fantasy land?”
“It is only used as a last resort because once you go through the door, you can never return. What if you and your family went through and when you got there, you realized you had forgotten something? Even the smallest things can have huge meanings. Your fantasy land would become a sad and possibly lonely place then.”
“You’ve had years to think about everything you need and want. Surely you could have made a thorough list by now and checked it hundreds of times to make sure you didn’t forget anything or anyone.”
“That’s true and there have been times I’ve actually written lists, only to throw them away. Your mother did too. Audrey was an selfless woman, right until the end. The puzzle scared her and she avoided it until she had no more options. She knew what she had in this world and didn’t want to chance losing it. Another thing we weren’t sure of is how many times the puzzle can be used. What if your mother and father went through and the door closed, preventing you and Jean from getting through? What if they sent the two of you through first and one or both of them couldn’t follow? The combinations are many and the risks great. Your mother didn’t want to cha
nce being without her family.”
Helen’s skepticism was wavering. She remembered her mother trying to work the jigsaw puzzle at the last minute and thought it was just a way for her to get her mind off the pain. Aunt Caroline was speaking with such conviction. Maybe it was possible. It would certainly be awful if her parents were able to go through the door and not bring Jean or Helen. Having just her sister for companionship would either be very lonely or very troubling. Doubt could give way to acceptance with a little substantial proof.
“Let’s say everything you’ve told me so far is true. Why aren’t you taking Uncle Harold with you? Don’t you love him anymore?”
“I love him very much. I’ve loved him since the day I opened my dormitory door at college and saw him standing there with a pink rose between his teeth. It was so funny because he picked it impulsively from someone’s yard on his way to see me. In his haste to impress me, he didn’t take any time to remove any of the thorns. When he yanked it from his mouth, a small thorn caught the inside of his nostril. It made a slight gash and caused a tiny stream of blood to flow to his lip. He was so embarrassed that the color of his face quickly blended in with the blood. His thoughtfulness impressed me then and has continued to impress me throughout the years. Yes, Helen, I love him and will love him forever. He chooses not to believe in the puzzle either. He thinks I’ll be home in a week. I insisted that I wouldn’t because I know for a fact that the puzzle works. He said that if you call him and tell him that the puzzle works, he’ll come right away and join me.”
“You’ve seen the puzzle work? When?”
“Yes, I’ve seen the puzzle. My mother, father and their black Labrador, Rusty, all went through to the other side.”
“You actually saw them go into the puzzle?” asked Helen in amazement. How could her aunt keep something like that a secret for so long?
“We only saw our dad go through. He told us that your grandmother and Rusty had already made the trip. He saw them in the puzzle and could sense their overwhelming feeling of peace and happiness.”
“My mom said that Grandpa Kline gave her the puzzle just before he died. Why did she lie to me? Why didn’t she tell me the truth?”
“Think about what you just said. There are several obvious reasons I don’t even need to cover. How could she explain something so complex and mysterious to a little girl?”
“She could have told me before she died, while she was working the puzzle. I would have been able to help her and we could have gone through together,” said Helen resentfully.
“There’s another reason why Audrey didn’t tell you anything about it. She thought the puzzle was controlled by evil forces of some kind. When death becomes a house guest that won’t leave, your attitude changes. Some people want to live on forever, regardless of the cost. They disregard traditional safety precautions and do what they need to do in order to survive.”
“What made her think it was evil?”
“After Grandpa Kline went into the puzzle, a very repugnant, vomit-like odor permeated the room. Your mom’s nostrils burned whenever she took a breath. She tried to block the odor by pulling a pillowcase from my parent’s bed and holding it over her nose and mouth. It was contrary to everything our religion taught us about good and how good would manifest itself.”
“Didn’t the smell bother you?” asked Helen as she recalled how bad it smelled when she had a stomach virus and threw up on everything. Just smelling it made her want to heave again.
“Of course it did. I was so enthralled by what I saw, I couldn’t move and simply overlooked the nasty aroma. It was miraculous to me, not evil,” said Aunt Caroline with a bounce in her voice. She paused to fire up another cigarette. Helen inched away from her aunt to put some distance between her and the smoke.
“Your mom also said that after our dad went through, the light in our living room grew very dim. I didn’t notice any change in the lighting. I must have been too absorbed in other things. Besides, if it did grow dim, it could have just been a bunch of clouds passing in front of the sun at the same time. The darkness didn’t bother her nearly as much as the painting of Christ on our dining room wall. There was a thin, clear layer of sticky junk all over it. Right after the smell disappeared, she noticed the ooze dripping off in fine droplets. It scared the shit out of your mother…pardon my language. I told her it was nothing more than sap being secreted from the pine frame. It was like a blast furnace in our house that day so it was a logical enough explanation for me. Not for Audrey though. Especially when she examined other paintings in the house and couldn’t find the nefarious goo on any other frames.”
Caroline took a deep drag on her cigarette, producing a bright glow at the lit end. “Come to think of it, your mom told me she used to have bad dreams before she started working on the puzzle. I don’t think she ever told what they were about. If she did, I don’t remember. I just assumed the dreams were associated with her illness.”
Helen looked at the floor and thought, She probably told you, Aunt Caroline. You were probably too busy thinking of what you were going to say next to hear anything. Then she looked at the cedar chest and a mental image of the painting of Christ hanging in her grandparents’ house popped into view. It was an unsettling scene. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe the puzzle was evil after all. Aunt Caroline has never been running on all cylinders at the same time. She’s a nice person who she sees what she wants to see, just like most everyone else in the world.
Helen turned back to her aunt and asked, “Where did Grandpa get the puzzle?”
“Did you know that he was a real-estate agent? He was a damn good one too. He was in real estate for a little over four years and was made a member of the Millionaire Club. As sweet as it sounds, it doesn’t mean that you’ve earned a million dollars. It simply means that you have sold a million dollars worth of real estate. I’m pretty sure you have to do it for a consecutive number of years, I just can’t recall how many. He never made a million dollars in commissions and some years when the market was lean, he hardly made any money. He did earn a good bit overall though,” stated Aunt Caroline proudly.
As Caroline paused to yield to a tear-provoking cough, Helen edged in and said, “Mom did tell me he sold houses and was a kind man. Dad said he made some really bad investments with his money and lost it as soon as he earned it. He said all those bad investments stressed him to the max and clouded his judgment even more.” Helen hoped that her aunt was able to hear what she said amidst the loud hacking.
Caroline’s lung spasms finally subsided and as she wiped the tears from her eyes she asked, “Did my mascara run very much, dear?”
Helen shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it ran at all.”
“Your grandpa was a brilliant, kind, sensitive and trusting man. Many times he was too trusting. Despite his age and experience, he could be naïve about some matters. As you get older, you’ll discover, as I did, that although there are many good people, there are also those that don’t give a damn about you. All they care about is what you can do for them or how much money they can get from you. My dad ran into some very smooth- talking swindlers that said all the right things and soaked him good. He was oblivious to their greed and saw a way to provide a sound financial future for his family. When he learned that they owned a non-existent business and fled town with all of our money, he was totally devastated. To make matters worse, no one was buying real estate so we had no money coming in. My mother had limited job skills, so she took a job as a cashier at a local grocery store. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough money to pay all of our bills and the house payment. We had to move to a smaller house and watch every penny. One night after we moved, I got up to get some water and heard a noise in the kitchen. When I went to investigate, I found my dad sitting at the kitchen table. His body was highlighted by the moonlight streaming through the window. He was hunched over and had his face buried in his hands. I listened for a minute and heard a muffled weeping. It didn’t really sound like
ordinary crying. It sounded more painful than that. He never saw me and I never mentioned it to him. I don’t think he ever recovered from that loss financially or mentally.”
“I wish I would have known him better and longer. I wish he was here,” said Helen as she vaguely recalled his image.
Caroline smiled, “I wish he was too. He was so giving and thoughtful. I can remember the day one of our neighbors, Henry Gunderson, almost cut off his right foot. Audrey and I were playing in the yard when we heard Mrs. Gunderson screaming her lungs out. My goodness, Helen, we lived three houses away and I swear, it sounded like Mrs. Gunderson was right behind us. Talk about lungs! Anyway, we ran to see what the fuss was about and saw Mr. Gunderson sitting on the ground in his backyard. Mr. Gunderson was trying to split some firewood to help heat his house that winter. The axe blade glanced off the edge of a log and slammed into his ankle. He was clamping down on his ankle to stop the bleeding. He shouted that he was getting a cramp in his hand and couldn’t hold it anymore. He let go and a small fountain of dark, red blood spurted out like a garden hose with no pressure. Audrey ran home, got our dad and he rushed Mr. Gunderson to the hospital. There sure was a lot of blood in our back seat. Every time I got in the car after that, I could see the memory of the blood, even though my dad spent hours cleaning it all up.
Mr. Gunderson didn’t have any insurance and couldn’t work because of the injury so Dad loaned him money to help him out. I think the only way Mr. Gunderson repaid him was with friendship and to my dad, that was enough.”
“Was it a lot of money?” asked Helen.
“It doesn’t matter. The sad thing was that my dad was like that for many people during his life and when he was down on his luck, no one was around with a giving hand or helpful word.
A thin cloud of white smoke, formed as a result of Caroline’s constant puffing, was hovering above them. Helen’s eyes were burning slightly and the smoky air was discomforting. She opened her window and allowed entry to a frigid, hungry wind that had been biting at the glass.
Caroline continued as the cloud rapidly dispersed. “One day my dad was contacted by someone who represented a company in Florida. He was asked to sell a piece of property that had a lien against it. Apparently, some guy owed someone a lot of money and stopped making payments so the company he owed the money to went to court and was granted permission to take the house as payment. They, in turn, contacted my dad’s real-estate company and asked him to sell it and send them the proceeds from the sale. My dad drove to an undeveloped part of Elmhurst to look at the house and all he found was a vacant lot. He went to the tax assessor’s office and all records indicated that there was supposed to be a small, two-bedroom house sitting there. I know this sounds complicated. Are you following all of this?”
The cold air did its job and quickly diluted the smoke screen. Helen shivered a little and closed the window as Caroline lit another cigarette. She rubbed her arms with her hands to warm the chill that had rested on them and replied, “I’m still with you. I’m guessing you’ll eventually tell me how Grandpa went into the puzzle.”
Caroline straightened as if to relieve a strain on her back. “I’m getting there, dear. My dad went back out to the property site and tried to determine exactly where the house should have been. All he had to go by were concrete lot markers in the ground. He had a heck of a time trying to find it. The whole area was wooded and overrun with weeds that tickled his waist. He unfolded the surveyor’s blueprint made for the prior owner and tried to determine where the house should have been standing.”
“That’s weird. It must have burned down,” offered Helen.
“It was very weird. With blueprint in hand, my dad walked off the measurements with his feet and used broken sticks to mark where the house should have been standing. When he was done, he stood back and studied the crude outline. There were no burnt or rotting timbers. No piles of crumbled brick or small pieces of broken window glass. There weren’t any walkways or any concrete for that matter. The inhabitants that could have been living there were creatures of the woods. There were absolutely no signs any person had ever been there before. No signs except one. There was a jigsaw puzzle resting on the ground next to a wild raspberry bramble. It had been there long enough for weeds to grow tall around it. It was amazing that it wasn’t affected by the weather it must have endured. The box was in much same condition that it’s probably in now.”
Caroline fumbled with her near-empty cigarette pack and withdrew the next to last one. A sharp, stabbing pain pulsated through her chest, causing her to grimace and sit rigidly, like she had been turned to stone.
“Are you okay, Aunt Caroline?” shrieked Helen.
Caroline clamped onto Helen’s wrist with one hand and braced herself on the bed with the other. She squeezed her eyes shut and angled her head toward the floor.
Helen was rapidly closing in on panic. “Should I get someone?”
Aunt Caroline shook her head and relaxed her grip. The pain had subsided and Caroline’s body was returning to normal status. Normal as it could be for Caroline, that is.
“Do you need me to get you anything?” There was a decided difference in Helen’s tone. She could feel her throat opening and she was able to breath much easier.
“No, thanks, dear. I’ll be all right,” reassured Caroline in a calming voice. She sat erect again, returning to the near-perfect posture she was so proud of. Her unlit cigarette had fallen to floor and naturally, she had to pick it up and light it before she could continue. She exhaled and said, “Now, where was I?”
“Why not rest for a couple of minutes. We can always finish the conversation tomorrow,” urged Helen.
Caroline smiled sincerely and said, “No, sweetie. These pains come and go. Each time they get sharper and last longer. Rest never affects them. It’s all part of my illness.” She rolled her neck until she heard some grinding sounds and said, “I remember. We were discussing how Grandpa Kline found the puzzle. Very bizarre circumstances indeed. Like I said, the box was in great shape. Then Grandpa saw something even more startling. Sitting a foot or so away from the box, was the jigsaw puzzle itself. It was only missing a single piece from being completely assembled. He flicked the pieces apart with his fingers and was amazed by how fresh and clean they felt. He told me that he felt an unusual attraction to the puzzle and decided to keep it. When he arrived home that night, his fingers had small, shallow cuts in them. He assumed he had cut them on the raspberries without realizing it. Anyway, that’s the story of the puzzle and how it came into our possession. Sadly, your dad was right in one respect. My dad spent most of his money unwisely.”
“That doesn’t change how I feel about Grandpa. What I remember is good stuff and that’s what I’ll always remember.”
“That’s the way it should be.” Caroline extinguished her cigarette in the ashtray this time and immediately lit the last one in the pack.
“I understand how Grandpa discovered the puzzle. I’m not clear on how he knew the puzzle was the gateway to eternity if he found it in a field of weeds.”
“He brought the puzzle home with him that evening and showed it to my mother. She loved doing puzzles and was fascinated by it. It sat on our dining room table for a couple of weeks until she finally had the time and desire to start it. Once she began, she became nearly obsessed with it. The more she worked on it, the more she had to work on it, if you know what I mean.”
Helen slid off of the bed and returned to the window for more fresh air. The outside temperature was dropping steadily and so was the amount of smoke-free air in the room.
Caroline stared at a memory and continued, “One night, my mom and dad were relaxing in our living room. My dad was sitting in his reading chair, flipping through a magazine and smoking a horrible-smelling Cuban cigar. Audrey and I were playing a board game on the living room carpet. My mother was at the dining room table, frantically sorting and snapping puzzle pieces together. As she put the last piece of the puzzle in, R
usty jumped up and put his paws on the edge of the table. He was excited about something and I thought he just wanted to go to the bathroom. My mother didn’t want to be bothered so she pushed Rusty to the floor and kicked at him with her foot. I’d never seen my mother react to Rusty like that before. Normally, she treated that dog better than most people get treated. She raised her hand as if to hit him and I saw scores of small, red lines on her palms. I walked over to her and saw that they were short, thin, razor-like cuts. I asked her what happened and she told me to get away from her. Around the same time, Audrey called to me, telling me to come back to the game because it was my turn. Your grandma hurt my feelings so I gladly returned to the game.”
Helen’s eyes widened, her pupils dilated and her mouth dropped open slightly.
“Anyway, Rusty must have been about ready to bust a gut because he ignored my mother’s angry foot and jumped back up like he was spring-loaded. I went to the foyer, got his leash and turned to call him. Just that quick, he and my mother both were nowhere to be seen. Then I saw my dad fly out of his chair and run to the puzzle. The way he bolted to the puzzle scared me so I ran to see what alarmed him. When I got to the table and looked down, I saw my mom and Rusty standing on a beach in the puzzle picture my mom had just finished. My dad was frightened and didn’t know what to do. He lifted the end of the table and slid the puzzle to the floor, breaking the puzzle assembly and sending pieces everywhere. He carefully retrieved all of the pieces and put them back into the box. Those pieces stayed in the box for nearly four years. That’s when he decided that Audrey and I were old enough to manage our own affairs. He was desperately lonely, nearly broke and aging before his time. He decided to join our mother and his dog. He called Audrey and me into his bedroom one night and announced his incredible plan. That’s the night your mom and I watched as he was sucked into the puzzle.”
Helen stared at her aunt with raised eyebrows and her mouth was as wide as it could possibly be. “Didn’t anyone ever ask where your mother was? It wouldn’t have been too hard to explain away a missing dog. All you have to say is that it ran away or died. I would think that coming up with a story about your parents would have been much more difficult. What in the world did you say to people about Grandma and Grandpa?”
“My dad told everyone his wife died and her body was shipped to Pittsburgh, where she was born. He bought a family plot in a small cemetery and had a marker with her name and birth and death year laid into the ground. Prior to his own departure, he tied up all loose ends and gave me and Audrey detailed instructions on how to handle things after he was gone. He told everyone he was moving to Arizona for his health. It’s amazing how few people miss you when you’re broke and have nothing more than a handshake and a hug to offer.”
Helen looked at the massive heap of cigarette butts growing in the ashtray and said despondently, “I wish you weren’t sick. I wish people didn’t have to die.”
Aunt Caroline smiled, gave Helen a gentle hug and said, “I agree with the first part, dear, however, don’t you think it would be an awfully crowded world if people lived forever?”
Helen thought a minute and said, “Then I guess it’s better for you to go into the puzzle than stay here and suffer needlessly.” She looked at the cedar chest and back at her aunt. “It would be wonderful if the puzzle is what you say it is. Maybe I could go with you!” said Helen with a newfound feeling of excitement.
“Absolutely not!! You’ve still got a lot of life and wonderful experiences ahead of you in this world.” Caroline brought Helen close and hugged her again. While holding her, she spoke softly into her ear. “Sweetie, give life a chance. I’m sure you have your problems, like all other girls your age. With a little effort, you can usually get yourself out of most jams you get yourself into. Once you enter that puzzle, I know of no way to return. As far as I know, it’s a one-way ticket.” Caroline let go of Helen, sat back and emphatically looked her in the eyes. “The puzzle should be saved as an option of last resort. Do you understand me?”
Helen frowned slightly and nodded. “It’s just that I get so lonely and feel so out of place everywhere I go and with everyone I meet. I have no close friends and spend most of my time alone.”
“Feeling out of place is natural, dear. Most people experience that dilemma at one time or another in their life. A lot of people you meet are only pretending to be the person you see so that more people will like them. Try concentrating on feeling better about the person you are. If you keep changing to please others, somewhere along the line, the real Helen will get lost. Then you’ll have major problems to deal with. Don’t give up. It gets better, I promise.”
“I’m not so sure!’ said a doubtful Helen.
Caroline smiled, rubbed Helen’s back affectionately and said, “Give it time.”
“I’ll try. When are you going to start working on the puzzle?”
“I’m anxious to get started on it right away. I don’t want to repeat Audrey’s mistake and wait until I’m too sick to finish it. I’m going through as soon as I’ve completed it. I’ll leave a note to your dad, explaining that I had to leave early and caught a cab to the airport. Although your Uncle Harold has his doubts about the puzzle’s power, he knows my intentions and will take care of all necessary details. He’s going to tell my friends and neighbors that I came here for medical tests. If the puzzle works for me, Harold will explain that I had an attack while I was here and passed away. He already has a cremation urn that will supposedly contain my remains. I’ve also made new arrangements for Jean’s boarding this fall. She’ll be staying at my best friend’s house. I don’t think I’ve overlooked anything. If I have, it’s very minor and should be easy to deal with.” Caroline patted Helen’s leg softly. “I’m going to get another pack of cigarettes and I’ll be ready.”
“Okay,” replied Helen as Caroline left the room. She heard the words as clearly as she had ever heard anything before. Words like passing away and cremation were not everyday words in Helen’s vocabulary. She wondered why people referred to death as passing away. Death seems so harsh and cold. Too harsh to use such a soft description as passing away. Why not say that someone has been deleted or purged from the records. Why does coffin sound so scary? Why hide the truth at all? Death is death. If someone asked where Aunt Caroline went, the conversation could go something like this:
“Where’s your Aunt Caroline?”
“We put her in the recycle bin.”
“Sorry to hear that. When was she deleted?”
“Has she been purged yet?”
“No, the service will be on Friday.”
It was a creepy thought knowing that Aunt Caroline would be spending her last hours with Helen and there was nothing Helen could do about it. If she hid the puzzle so Caroline couldn’t work it and it somehow really worked, then she would be sentencing her aunt to more months of pain and suffering.
Tears were streaming over her Helen’s lips and dripping from her chin by the time Caroline returned. She ran to her aunt as she entered the room and embraced her with a powerful bear hug. “I’m going to miss you so much! It’s so hard to say goodbye.” It was a moment reminiscent of her last moments with her mother and it compounded Helen’s grief.
“Shhhh,” whispered Caroline. “It’ll be all right. Trust me, it’s for the best.”
The two held each other tightly for a few minutes and mutually backed away.
“Let’s get started,” said Caroline with a compassionate, understanding smile.
Helen withdrew her arms, sniffled and wiped her tears away. “What do you need me to do?”
“Well, first I’ll need the puzzle, obviously, and then a table to assemble it on. If you’ll take care of those things for me, I’ll run downstairs and start a pot of coffee. Do you like coffee, Helen?”
“No, it’s way too bitter for me. It also gives me heartburn. I would appreciate a cup of hot tea if you don’t mind.”
“Let me think…” said Caroline. “I remember.
Two sugars and no cream!”
Helen nodded and ran to the basement. She returned with the same folding table her mother used when she started the puzzle. She went to the cedar chest and lifted the blue puzzle box as though it contained a dozen loosely packed, raw eggs. She was putting the box on the table when Caroline returned with Helen’s hot water and soaking tea bag.
“Here you go, dear. I’ve already added the sugar. It’ll take a little longer for the coffee to brew. I saw the instant packs down there but I’m like your dad and prefer the freshly brewed stuff.”
Caroline took the hot cup gingerly and set it on her dresser. “Thanks, Aunt Caroline.”
They opened the box, exchanged glances with one another and started picking pieces from the odorous container.
“Oh my! I hate the smell of this thing!”
Helen blinked her eyes several times and said, “Whew!! It’s nasty all right. It smells just as strong today as it did when my mother opened it. It kinda’ smells like someone puked on it!”
Caroline chuckled. “Maybe so, and probably more than once!!”
“Shouldn’t we wait until my dad and Jean are asleep?”
“No, dear. There’s no time to waste. I want to start right now.”
The two worked relentlessly, stopping only for trips to the bathroom and caffeine refills. By 2 a.m., Helen’s burning desire to help her aunt and wild curiosity about the puzzle, had shifted radically and settled on frizzled indifference and eyelid eclipses.
Helen stood slowly, stretched and expelled a long, eye-watering yawn. “Sorry, Aunt Caroline. I don’t think I’m going to make it. I’m having a hard time focusing and I have to go to school in a few hours.”
Her aunt said nothing. Her head was bent over the puzzle. Her eyes were rapidly scanning the assorted shapes and colors of the mysterious cardboard.
“You can keep my bedroom light on if you need to. I’m so tired right now, not even an earthquake could keep me awake,” said Helen as she looked through blurry eyes at the tiny cuts on her fingers.
Aunt Caroline was firmly in the clutches of the enchanted puzzle and once again failed to respond.
Her aunt’s silence was just fine with Helen because she really didn’t feel like engaging in conversation anyway. She went to the bathroom, changed into her white, flannel pajamas, brushed her teeth and after putting a salve on her finger cuts, returned to her bedroom.
She put her arms around Caroline’s shoulders and tried to give her a goodnight hug. Caroline resisted and twisted free, not wanting to be disturbed. Helen was taken aback by the rude response. Be that way, see if I care, she thought. Just as she was about to crawl into bed, a horrifying image flashed in her mind. The image heretofore restricted to the darkness of her dreams, appeared vividly in her conscious mind.
She felt like she was on an amusement park ride that was moving from side to side and became remarkably unsteady. She quickly grasped the edge of the bed in an effort to stop the sensation of motion. The imaginary movement stirred the contents of her stomach, giving birth to a commanding feeling of nausea. Helen could taste portions of her dinner and she thought she would vomit for a second review of the meal at any moment.
Helen could no longer maintain her balance and dropped to the floor with a thud. The loud report of her ass kissing the hardwood floor didn’t even produce a blink from her aunt. While sitting on the floor, she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and counted to three. She opened them slowly and to her dismay, nothing had changed. She could now clearly see Malvada’s ugly face, as though she were mere feet away.
Helen heard a woman’s screams echoing in her mind. She had a terrible feeling that they were somehow emanating from Malavada’s image, even though the woman had her mouth closed and remained stationary.
Indiscernible faces darted in haphazard patterns throughout her mind. Some had vacant eyes without souls and others had no eyes at all. Black raindrops fell amidst spurts of bright, giant flames of fire. There were long spears suspended from something overhead that had copious amounts of red blood dripping from the blade edges. Malvada stood squarely in the center of it, pointing a shaky, knobby index finger at Helen.
Helen put her hands to her head and squeezed tightly like a vice, hoping that the pressure would force the thoughts from her brain. She tried to think of other things. Good, or pleasant things that would yank her out of the spiraling horror. Things like the first real snow of winter or how much fun she had at the carnival last spring. She envisioned a carnival barker’s broad smile and call to wager a quarter and win a toy. Only this time when she went to his booth, she saw his head ripped from his body and sucked into a kitchen blender. She was firmly in the grasp of a hideous, unforgiving darkness, steeped with vile images and disgusting acts.
She shook her head and said, “I won’t think of this crap. I won’t think of this crap…”. She tried to remember the joy her family shared the last Christmas her mother was alive. They made strands of popcorn and wrapped them around the pine branches, only to remove them days later because all they could smell throughout the house was popcorn. She could see the ornaments and colorful lights and the stack of presents with pretty bows and ribbons, tucked neatly beneath the lowest branches. Then there was a poof and the tree burst into flames. Christmas lights began to pop and presents exploded. She found herself standing in a cold and barren, stone passageway. Helen felt herself being pushed unwillingly through the passageway and struggled to turn back. Everything was so real. She could feel cold, whitish mildew clinging to the damp stone. She continued to be pushed forward despite all of her efforts to stop. She experienced a sharp pain in her foot and when she looked down, she saw a rat, the size of a full-grown alley cat, chewing off her right toe. She screamed but no sound came out. She cried but no tears fell. Dark images were racing faster and faster toward her, swerving at the last minute to avoid colliding with her body. She had never been so terrified. She screamed again and again, although no sound left her body.
“Think of something else, Helen!!” she shouted. Once again she tried to shift her thoughts to a more pleasant place and time. She tried to remember how much fun they had when Joe brought home a new wading pool. Helen was six or seven and couldn’t wait for her dad to fill it with water so she could splash him. She could see the pool and then it changed from the warm and fuzzy memory as suddenly as everything else. The pool became a bathtub and the grass became cold, damp bathroom floor tiles. The only source of light in the image was a night-light plugged into a socket above the medicine cabinet. She tried to scream again as she saw thousands of whirligig beetles racing on a watery surface. Two snakes emerged from the water, each one slithering out and immobilizing her by curling around her ankles. The attack knocked her to the tile floor and as she lay helplessly, she saw two more snakes slither out and curl around her wrists. Thousands of bugs of all sizes crawled from everywhere in the room and enveloped her struggling body. Cockroaches struggled to get into her mouth, while ants bit at her ears. She thrashed, kicked and yanked, trying to free herself, all to no avail. She felt thousands of painful little bites, as the bugs began eating at her flesh. She tried to scream again and as she did, a waiting cockroach scurried down her throat. She gagged and spit as she felt it make its way down her throat.
She felt another body-wrenching pain in her right shoulder. She turned her head reflexively in the direction of the pain and saw a giant lobster clipping her arm and pulling it off like she were in his place on a dinner plate. It dropped her arm and raised a claw over her head. With a swift swipe from his claw, she lost her left eye. She looked with the remaining eye to see the crab admiring it like a trophy and then swallowing it.
As the creatures feasted on her, she became aware of a new entry into the room. It was a woman dressed in black from head to toe. It was Malvada. There was a foul odor about her. One that Helen had never smelled before. A red and green fluid dripped from her lips as she spoke to Helen for the first time. “Coming to my beach party, dear??
??
Then, as suddenly as it all hit, it stopped. She closed her eyes and opened them one at a time to make sure she still had both of them. She rubbed her sore stomach as she stood and looked around her bedroom. Her Aunt Caroline was still working on the jigsaw puzzle, oblivious to all around her. Her favorite white, teddy bear was sitting obediently on the wooden rocker in the corner. Everything was as it should be. Everything except sweat-soaked pajamas.
Helen got another pair from her dresser drawer and trudged her way into the bathroom to change. The dry flannel cloth, with small bluebird print, comforted her and made her feel secure once again. The experiences had worn her out like never before. She felt chewed up, spit out, washed with too much bleach and then dried by an old-fashioned, hand-driven clothes ringer.
She returned to her bedroom and said, “Aunt Caroline, I just went through the worst experience of my life. I’ve never done any drugs, yet I was having horrible hallucinations. I was scared like I’ve never been scared before. It all seemed so real and I was helpless to stop any of it. It’s bad enough to have terrifying images like I experienced when I was sleeping. Having those same dreams when I’m awake can’t be good! It’s got to mean something’s wrong with my brain. Maybe Jean was right. Maybe I am too weird. Do you think I need some kind of professional medical help or therapy?”
Aunt Caroline once again responded with silence. She offered no acknowledgement of any kind. Her attention remained steadfastly fixed on the jigsaw puzzle before her.
Helen remained statue like as she waited for some kind of reaction from her aunt. Sensing that her aunt was going to remain unresponsive, she raised her voice a few notches and asked, “Aunt Caroline, did you hear anything I just said to you?”
Caroline tried fitting a piece of the puzzle. She put it back and tried another, treating Helen as if she weren’t there.
“Aunt Caroline…I’m talking to you!!!” shouted Helen in a never before utilized tone of voice. Once again, her pleading fell on deaf ears. Helen was both astonished and angered by her aunt’s indifference. It became obvious that her aunt’s fountain of knowledge would not spew forth any magical solutions for Helen’s ordeal that night. Her day had taken her well beyond her normal limits and she was at wit’s end.
Helen sighed deeply, looked at the floor meekly and tearfully said, “Well, I guess the nightmares will stop or they won’t.” She looked around her room and then said, “Does it even matter to anyone if I’m starting to lose my mind? Probably not. Why should anyone care?”
Her eyes burned from fatigue and smoke. She cracked her bedroom window slightly and crawled into bed. “Goodnight, Aunt Caroline, although I know you’re not listening to a word I say.”
She set her alarm clock and said, “If I’m lucky, I’ll get four hours of sleep. School ought to be a real joy…if I can manage to stay awake that is.”
Helen sluggishly maneuvered her body under her thick comforter, using her last bit of energy to adjust her feather pillows. She was initially afraid to close her eyes and tried a couple of dry runs first. She’d close them for a couple of seconds and quickly open them. She repeated the tests until she felt comfortable that there’d be no recurrence of the awful images she had experienced earlier. She felt secure once again. Much to her relief, the pawl holding her wheel of sanity in place was functioning again. Moments later, she drifted off to sleep. Fortunately, it was a peaceful sleep. Instead of dreaming of an old, ugly woman forcing live worms up her nose and gagging as they slid down her throat, she dreamed of riding a horse. She dreamed she had mounted the back of Red Thunder, a beautiful hackney she met on a farm near her Uncle Harold’s house. She was spending a couple of summer weeks with her aunt and uncle and quickly developed a friendship with the kids living on the farm. Before long, going to visit with the kids was just an excuse to spend time with the horse.
Red Thunder had a great life and did little more than graze on wild grasses. Helen was the only one who wanted to saddle him. The farm children had dismissed him as being too ancient and too languid for their good. It was undeniable that he had surpassed the point where he could be used for any strenuous labor. He still held his head high though, and walked with a lively, confident gait.
Helen would spoil him with timothy hay, mixed with just enough clover or alfalfa as a bonus. And what would a great meal be without an apple or sugar cube for dessert?
Thunder, as she called him, was an intelligent, sensitive and loving horse. Helen felt a mutual bond of warmth each time she put her hand on his noseband. He would turn his head carefully and nudge her shoulder as a sign of acknowledgement and affection. He knew he would receive a good brushing and gentle handling. And although he had seen as many years as Helen, he would reward her love by carrying her for as long as she desired, at a pace they could both handle. He was her friend. He was her best friend.
The following morning, Aunt Caroline was still working the puzzle, with a mere handful of fragments remaining. She had deep black rings under her eyes and her hands shook terribly, hindering her ability to link the final pieces together.
Helen showered and dressed for school, expecting her aunt to be busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Caroline had no interest in moving and probably wasn’t even cognizant of the time. Helen wondered if her aunt had bothered to go to the bathroom. She smiled when she thought about her aunt’s bladder being the size of a ripe watermelon.
She surveyed her bedroom, noting that the four packs of cigarettes her aunt had piled on the table had dwindled to one. The ashtray was overflowing. Some of the butts hadn’t had more than a couple of drags taken before they were brutally crushed and discarded. Helen’s tea cup and Caroline’s coffee cup were bone dry. Her aunt would expel a fluid cough periodically, but was otherwise isolated from the world outside of the puzzle.
Helen sensed the futility in any communication efforts. “What’s the point,” she muttered as she kissed her aunt on the head and left the room.
She went downstairs and offered a cover story that Aunt Caroline had a bad night’s sleep and wanted to sleep in. Helen stretched, rubbed her eyes and yawned. “If anyone wants breakfast, you’re on your own because I’m not in the mood to do anything.” After her tired proclamation she consumed a meager meal of buttered toast and a glass of milk. When she finished, she felt obligated to make a final attempt to say goodbye to her aunt.
She stood in her bedroom doorway and looked at the puzzle. When they dumped the pieces out the preceding night, the colors were faded and lackluster. She was somewhat startled to see how vibrant and shiny they had become. “Just in case you’re listening, Aunt Caroline, I wanted you to know that I made it the rest of the night without any more bad dreams or visions.”
As anticipated, the puzzle remained the nucleus of Caroline’s life and she remained mute.
Helen shrugged her shoulders and realized that if the puzzle indeed worked, her aunt would be gone within a matter of minutes. She accepted the idea and seized the opportunity to render a final expression of goodbye. She smiled, approached her aunt and wrapped her arms around Caroline’s shoulders tenderly. “I love you very much and I’ll miss you with all my heart. I hope sincerely that the puzzle works like you expect it to. I hope you’ll be able to find the good health and happiness you deserve.”
Helen putting her arms around her aunt’s shoulders was like setting off a land mine. Caroline finally broke her concentration in an explosive manner. She whipped her head up sharply, glared at Helen with curled lips, exposing her brown-stained teeth and shouted, “GET YOUR DAMN ARMS OFF OF ME OR SO HELP ME I’LL…”
Helen released her arms and reeled back in astonishment .
Caroline’s verbal outburst was as powerful as a physical assault. She calmed down enough to speak in a controlled voice and continued. “Your annoying interference might cause me to lose a puzzle piece. You’ve finally been successful in destroying my concentration. All you do is whine and rant about stupid bullshit. You’re not appreciativ
e of what you do have. Feeling sorry for yourself has become a way of life for you. It’s exhausting trying to cheer you up with positive bullshit. You’re such a pain in the ass. I hope you get a spine some day and grow up.”
Helen was further hurt by the second unexpected blast. She put her hand on the door frame and looked wide-eyed at her aunt. She had never anticipated such a cruel outburst from Caroline and had never once heard her raise her voice.
Caroline lit yet another cigarette and turned in Helen’s direction. “Why are you still here? Did someone pack shit in your ears during the night or are you just mentally impaired today?” She took another drag from her cigarette, put a puzzle piece into place and seeing Helen still standing in the doorway, shouted, “LEAVE!! What does it take to get through to you? Is deafness a trait of stupid, over-sensitive bitches or are you an exception to the rule? Go out and get laid or do something bratty, little, asshole girls your age enjoy doing. JUST GET YOUR TIGHT LITTLE ASS OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, YOU DUMB SHIT…NOW!!!” screamed Caroline at the top of her lungs.
Helen turned and did just that. Tears flowed like a ruptured dam all the way to school. Thoughts of her aunt’s attitude and total commitment to the mysterious puzzle consumed her consciousness throughout the entire day. Her thoughts were divided. One part of her told her that it couldn’t be possible, while an inner gut feeling that it was. If it wasn’t true, however, what kind of mood would her aunt be in when she got home from school that night? And if it was true, where would her aunt really go? How could it all be possible? Where was the place in the puzzle? It certainly couldn’t be in Helen’s dimension. Was the puzzle truly evil like her mother said? Aunt Caroline was certainly adding credence to that statement.
Helen fought an overbearing fatigue and desire to sleep in her classes. School clocks slowed to an unbearable pace. Seconds ticked by like minutes and minutes like hours. In one of her classes, she actually dozed and didn’t awaken until the class bell rang. She used the point from a lapel pin in subsequent classes to poke different parts of her body and to prevent herself from falling asleep again.
Her hands throbbed and swelled slightly from the cuts. Her head was pounding from the extreme fatigue and stress. Sandwiched amidst the physical ailments were thousands of conflicting thoughts, questions and fears. One of Audrey’s favorite expressions, “All that glitters is not gold,” kept coming back, over and other.
The final bell of the day rang, releasing Helen and allowing her to finally seek fulfillment of fantasies she was having about her soft pillows and warm comforter. The driving force in her life had become the pursuit of her deprived sleep. The cold, fresh air was invigorating and helped restore her to a better functioning level. About halfway to her house, her mother’s words returned and forced all else from her mind. “All that glitters is not gold. All that glitters is not gold. All…” The words replayed as though they were on an endless loop tape recording.
Helen was always the first one home. Jean was involved in numerous school activities and budgeted very little time for studying. To the surprise of most who knew her, she was able to maintain a C average in every subject. Her algebra teacher suspected her of cheating somehow, but he was never able to substantiate his suspicions.
Jean’s best subject was boys. She’d be talking to Randy on the telephone, while writing some bullshit note to Eric. Meanwhile, Tony would be impatiently ringing the front doorbell.
With Joe’s schedule and long commute, he’d be home when he got home. Regardless of his arrival time, Helen would ensure that he had a good meal waiting. If she didn’t prepare something for him, he just wouldn’t eat. It wasn’t because he was lazy or lacked an appetite, he was simply too exhausted to fix anything. He never asked his daughters to do anything special for him because he didn’t want to burden them or make them feel like his personal servants.
When Helen arrived home, she lifted a silver tray on the corner cupboard where they always put the day’s mail. She picked up a plain, white envelope addressed to all three Wagners. She dashed up the stairs like she’d received a shot of adrenalin. She stood breathlessly at her bedroom doorway and saw the shiny, completed jigsaw puzzle sitting squarely on the folding table. To her right, she saw another envelope resting on her dresser. Both notes were written and put into place by her aunt prior to starting work on the puzzle. Her aunt told her to expect a couple of notes. She was vague about the importance and nature of them.
Helen tore the first envelope open and unfolded the paper inside. It was succinct and rather to the point. It simply read, “Thanks for your kindness. Had to leave early. Goodbye. Love, Aunt Caroline.”
As she opened the second envelope, she became acutely cognizant of a peculiar odor. The initial whiff caused her to gag slightly and made her feel a little nauseated. She opened her window, took a deep breath and read the second note. “Make sure you use something like a broom to jar the table legs and hit them hard enough to knock the puzzle to the floor. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO TOUCH THE PUZZLE WHILE IT IS STILL INTACT. Once you’re sure the completed puzzle has separated into individual pieces again, it should be safe enough for you to pick them up and put them back into the box. Hide the puzzle and NEVER, EVER tell anyone else about it. Remember, very little is known about this puzzle. ALWAYS EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION.”
There was no salutation, farewell, or signature. Just instructions like you’d find while assembling a new toy, except these instructions were only in English.
Helen wadded the dramatic note into a small paper ball and eyed her white, plastic trash can across the room like a marksman zeroing in on a target. As she cocked her arm to throw, she gave the jigsaw puzzle a quick glance. “If Aunt Caroline is truly in that thing and not on a flight home, then anything should be able to go into it.”
She inched her way cautiously to the edge of the table, extended her arm over the puzzle and dropped the paper ball into the center. When the paper hit the puzzle pieces, there was a weird sucking sound and it was gone. The sound reminded Helen of a time she was cleaning the house and accidentally sucked a stray pair of Jean’s nylons into the vacuum cleaner hose.
Helen looked around her room for other items to experiment with. The next thing to go was the overflowing green ashtray, ashes, butts and all. Fruuump. Just like that, it too was gone without leaving a single ash. There was no indication of where it hit the puzzle either. She was looking for any sign of entry when she saw another woman in the picture. She hadn’t seen the woman in the picture depicted on the cover of the box. Of course, she had also never seen the completed puzzle before, so it didn’t necessarily mean anything.
She received another strong blast of the same sickening odor that first greeted her when she entered her bedroom. It certainly was a foul smell, only this time it didn’t have as much impact on her senses as before. She turned her head away, blinked her eyes a few times and tried to think of something else to pitch in..
The next thing to go was an extremely ragged pair of sneakers. The long forgotten kind of sneakers. The kind found entombed under a heap of old stuffed animals, outdated clothing and other miscellaneous crap jammed in the corner of the closet. Sneakers that cockroaches have condemned, hung danger signs on and refuse to enter.
She yanked them out of the closet, dangled them over the puzzle and let them drop. Fruuump. Gone, and another powerful gust of colorless, puzzle exhaust shot into Helen’s waiting face.
Helen was about to throw in an empty soda can, when a green object in the puzzle caught her eye. She stopped abruptly, moved her face closer and squinted. Then she dropped the can and ran to Jean’s room to get her magnifying glass. She held the glass about two inches from the surface of the puzzle and moved up and down until the green object was in focus. Resting in the sand, about three feet from a dog that she presumed was Rusty, was a green ashtray. It was the same one abused by her aunt that Helen had pitched in moments earlier. The new woman in the puzzle was headed in the direction of
a gathering of tropical trees. She was wearing an outfit identical to the one her aunt was wearing while she worked on the puzzle. Even the hair color, style and body shape were the same as her aunt’s. If it looks like duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck! She stood back, smiled widely and said, “You did it! You really did it!”
She picked up the soda can and dropped it in. Fruuump. She couldn’t see where it landed and didn’t really care. She got what she wanted… another burst of puzzle gas. Helen was leaning over, looking for the can and sensed a suction from the puzzle. It was pulling at her mildly, like a boa coiling itself around the neck of its intended victim. She put her palms against the edge of the folding table and pushed herself backward to the end of her bed. She sat motionlessly for a few minutes, rubbed her eyes and then blinked them rapidly a few times. She was trying to clear her mind of a trancelike feeling she was experiencing. Instead of feeling better, she began to feel worse. An internal vibration rattled her bones. The room started spinning and severe stomach cramps doubled her over. Like some of her dreams, everything started fast, hit hard and then left quickly. The difference with this episode was that her lips and mouth were dehydrated as if patted dry with sterile gauze pads.
Driven by a demanding thirst, she left her room and traipsed downstairs for something to drink. She was unconcerned about the puzzle and put the dismantling project on hold.
Helen yanked the refrigerator door open, grabbed a soda can and slammed the door shut. The recoil from the door knocked a standing flashlight from the top of the refrigerator to the floor, causing it to explode into several parts. She ignored the flashlight and walked at a leisurely pace to their living room. She turned on the television and sat in the wooden rocker her mother used to favor. Her attention shifted to the stairs leading to her bedroom. She stared at them in a trance like state. Her mind drifted to the puzzle and any thoughts of taking it apart faded away like new camera film exposed to light. It was an unusual concept for Helen because she was never one to procrastinate about anything. Even though she was a dreamer upon occasion, she was always punctual, neat, energetic and maintained focus on her priorities. The memory of her aunt’s instructions to take the puzzle apart was fading away like a small white cloud on a windy, summer day.
The television had no audience, despite the fact that one of her favorite shows was being aired. She began rocking the chair back and forth in a smooth, almost hypnotic way. As she rocked, all curiosity about her aunt’s whereabouts, the puzzle and her dreams slipped away to some hidden storage chamber in her brain. All she could focus on was the puzzle and the newfound joy of puzzle gas. She stopped rocking, rose like a newly activated robot and shuffled back to her room. She stood directly in front of the puzzle, tossed the soda can into the center of it and said devilishly, “Here ya go!” Fruuump. More puzzle gas. The obnoxious odor was more foul than ever, only now it was no longer offensive to Helen; it was actually quite addictive. A gaseous odor that smelled like fresh vomit from a malnourished drunk, mixed with rotting fish, and a generous dose of rotten eggs and meat, was becoming as pleasurable as smelling a new rose. Anyone else would get ill just hearing the description. Not Helen. She grinned thinking about it and wanted more.
There were other changes in Helen as well. Physically, her soft-looking face with a ready smile was tightening and showing a thin crop of wrinkles. Her wide eyes narrowed to slits with small bags underneath. Her right index finger doubled up and her knuckles took on a knobby appearance.
Her personality started to strip a few gears, dragging her down a dangerous slope. Instead of picking up a sweater that had fallen to the floor, she kicked it violently into a corner. She walked into Jean’s room, jumped on her bed and urinated on her pillow, laughing hysterically the whole time. When she looked out Jean’s window, she saw a bird singing on a tree branch. She imagined how fun it would be to take some pliers and squeeze its beak shut. When she was done in Jean’s room, she felt a grumbling in her stomach and went to the kitchen to look for something to snack on. As she opened a cabinet, the pothos plant hanging nearby caught her eye. Helen felt the soil to test for moisture and realized the dirt had become hard as rock.
“Feels like you could use a drink. Well, you’re just screwed! No water for you today, asshole!” she remarked as she pursed her lips and yanked a few leaves off.
Helen used to take great care in tending to her plants. She had a Chinese evergreen in the kitchen, (next to the pothos), an asparagus fern in the living room and several other varieties of plants scattered throughout the house. All of them were accustomed to a daily dose of pampering and careful attention. Those days were over. Helen unhooked the pothos and held it up in the dwindling kitchen sunlight. She raised her left eyebrow, displayed an evil grin and said, “How about if I put you out of your misery? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Then with a sadistic joy, she pulled the leaves from the plant stem and tossed them indiscriminately into the air. She yanked the roots out watched gleefully as they flew through the air and crashed on top of the canary yellow, gas range. She pitched the empty, red, clay pot over her like a basketball player making a hook shot and was oblivious to the crash. She opened the refrigerator door and said, “Shit, I’m thirsty! Oops, pardon my language,” she said as she kicked and dented the refrigerator door.
With a soda can in hand, she returned to the living room, turned off the television and walked to the pine book stand her father had handcrafted. She ripped out all of the books and sent them flying everywhere. One book, written by Stephen King, went sailing through the dining room, crashed through a window pane and landed in a bush outside.
Once the books were gone, she felt bored. She poured the remainder of her soft drink onto the carpet, randomly tossed the can and went out the front door. She was walking down the steps leading to the sidewalk when a car pulled up to the curb in front of her house. She stopped and waited for the driver to get out.
Scott Majczyk opened his car door, waved and said, “Hey, Helen. How’ve you been?”
Helen cocked her head to her right and stared, while Scott opened his trunk and produced a power saw. He closed the trunk and looked at Helen.
As Scott’s eyes met Helen’s, he interpreted her silent glare as a sign that she had been informed of his encounter with Jean.
“I haven’t seen you in some time.” He noticed some of the unsightly changes and said nervously, “Are you feeling okay?”
“What’s it to you? Are you a doctor now or something?” she replied as she spit past him.
Scott cringed and asked, “Is your dad home from work yet? I wanted to return the power saw I borrowed a couple of weeks ago.” Bringing the saw back was an excuse to once again try to patch things up between the two of them. As far as Scott could tell, Joe hadn’t mentioned anything to Heather yet and he’d really like to keep it that way. Gluing the friendship back together was essential.
Helen looked at the saw in Scott’s hand, smiled and said, “Finally bringing my dad’s saw back? It’s about time.”
“It took longer than expected to finish the garage shelving. So, is your dad home or not?” asked Scott again as he shifted the saw to his other hand.
“Yeah, he’s home. He’s up in my room doing something with the wall outlet next to my bed. I’ll take you up there,” said Helen with an ominous grin.
The two walked the flight of stairs to Helen’s bedroom and when they got there, Helen flung the door open, sending the doorknob into the plasterboard wall. The smell blasted Scott in the face like an atomic explosion. He raised his free hand, pinched his nose shut and uttered, “Jeeesssus! What in God’s name is that smell?”
She faced the table, cocked her head in Scott’s direction and pointed to the jigsaw puzzle. “What do you think of my work? It took me all night to finish. I’m so proud of my accomplishment!”
Scott was suspicious of her sinister smile. He didn’t want to unnecessarily antagonize any more members of the Wagner f
amily, so he stretched his neck and said, “Is that a boat on a lake?”
“Hardly! It’s a boat on the ocean.” Helen pointed to the sandy area and said, “It’s coming to shore. Those are different people on the beach. There’s even a dog chasing something.”
Scott swiveled his head in different directions trying to discern the objects she was referencing.
Helen motioned to Scott and said, “Come closer so you can get a better look. I even painted some of the pieces to restore them to their original colors.”
Scott looked in vain for Joe. He was no where to be seen. Nervous feet and a reluctant brain brought him closer. All he needed was for Helen to close the door and tell her dad that something happened that didn’t happen and Scott would be in deeper shit with Joe.
“Feel how smooth the pieces are, asshole!” suggested Helen with a mean grin.
Her language startled Scott. He played it down, chuckled and said, “I can’t believe you just called me an asshole. I gotta be hearing things!” Scott was certain Joe had discussed his encounter with Jean. It was the only explanation for her attitude. He thought a little more and changed his mind. Joe hadn’t mentioned a word to his sweet, little daughter. It was Jean. It had to be Jean. She probably confided in Helen all the time. It was only natural for siblings to share secrets. It was also natural for them to be defensive when one is hurt or attacked. Helen was exacting her verbal retribution.
Scott needed to know for sure. He didn’t want to play games. He put the saw on the floor and said, “Tell me why you called me an asshole.”
“Damn, Scott, get over it and come closer. After I restored the pieces I covered them with a sealing agent to make them shine forever.”
Scott inched closer and said, “I don’t know what Jean told you, Helen. I promise you that it’s not like you think. Nothing happened between us. We just had a couple of drinks together. I know I was wrong. I can’t change the past, no matter how hard I try and I don’t think I should have to pay for one mistake for the rest of my life.”
“Jean didn’t say shit to me! Let go of your nose, you look like a jackass. Now come look at my puzzle!” said Helen in a strained, almost shouting voice.
Scott relented and moved in closer to the edge of the table. He released his nose for a minute, allowing puzzle gas into his nasal passageways. The smell caused him to cough slightly and burned his nose as he inhaled. He quickly pinched his nose shut again and put his free palm on the edge of the table.
“See what I mean? Isn’t it beautiful? Look at the detail in the picture. See how realistic the images are?” stated Helen as she raised a lamp pole over her head.
“You have a real fine piece of work here for sure,” said Scott as he looked at each image.
Helen hauled back on the pole like a batter coming to the plate with the bases loaded. She followed through with the swing and landed the heavy metal base in the middle of his back. He reflexively thrust his hands forward to break the fall and planted them firmly on the border of the puzzle as he did. Fruuump. Scott was gone, leaving a super burst of sublime puzzle gas in his wake.
Helen sucked in the puzzle gas and became a little dizzy. She had grown to love and almost need the smell. She looked and then bent down to get the saw. She smiled as she threw it into the puzzle and said, “How about some dessert, baby?” Fruuump. The meager deposit yielded a small burst of gas. At least she received another whiff of that wonderful fragrance.
“Flesh! You prefer blood and meat, don’t you?” Helen turned and went outside in search of more gratifying puzzle treats. As she meandered around the front yard, Sneezer, the neighbor’s black dachshund, came dashing over to greet her. His tail was wagging as fast as a metronome out of control.
Helen squatted down to receive Sneezer’s loving attention. His tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth as he jumped up and rested his front paws on her knees. Helen displayed a menacing smile and proceeded to vigorously scratch his back. The more she scratched, the more pressure she applied, driving her fingernails deeper and deeper into his skin. Sneezer whimpered and attempted to wiggle his body from her clutches. The downward pressure of her scratching held him in place and his whimpering intensified. He tried pushing away as hard as he could with his back paws. Sadly, his little body was no match for her strength and body weight. He curled his lips and tried his best to rip her hands to shreds with his little teeth. The angle was such that he only managed to pierce thin air. The dog was betrayed and defenseless against someone he loved and trusted. His efforts were exhausting and he surrendered to her will. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes and panic paralyzed any further attempts.
Helen laughed hideously and finally let him go. Sneezer sped off like a lit bottle rocket and didn’t stop until he had completely expended the air in his lungs. He was confused by the breach of trust and didn’t know what to do. His ears hung low and his tail was tucked deeply between his legs. He looked to Helen for a reason…an explanation.
Helen apathetically scrutinized the dog’s blood underneath her dirty fingernails and displaying the same devious grin, called Sneezer back to her. “Come here, Sneezer, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she uttered in a soft, apologetic and luring voice.
The dog took a few steps forward and stopped. He looked away, ears still hanging low, then back at Helen. He was unsure if she was to be trusted again. He inched forward with a cautious hesitation in each step.
Helen smiled as she saw him returning. Her heartbeat skyrocketed and her breathing kept pace. “Come on, Sneezer. Gooood boy! I won’t hurt you anymore!” she said with clenched teeth. “I love you, sweetheart! Come on…where’s my baby?”
Sneezer stopped a couple of feet short of Helen and surveyed her eyes. When he saw her bend and extend her hand in friendship, he felt more secure. Maybe it was just a huge misunderstanding. Maybe Helen wasn’t aware of how hard she was scratching. She had never hurt him before. Sneezer continued to close the gap between the two.
He had settled mere inches from Helen and looked meekly at her. His tail began to sway in an intermittent kind of uncertain, cautious wag. A wag normally reserved for strangers or new dogs in the area.
Without warning, Helen shot her hand forward and caught Sneezer’s tongue between her index finger and thumb. She squeezed as hard as she could, driving her fingernail in the tongue and pulling at the same time. She leaned backward to gain more leverage and pulled as though she was trying to yank it out. She giggled at his useless attempts to break her hold with his tiny front paws.
Helen stood slowly, lifting Sneezer by the tongue as she rose. The dog was in terrible pain and had no avenue of escape. She started to swing the dog from side to side, hoping his tongue would give way to the stress. Sneezer’s little body wiggled like a freshly caught fish dangling on the end of a fishing line. A stream of blood began to flow from the sides of his mouth The more blood she saw, the harder she laughed.
A car pulled to the curb of the Wagner house and stopped abruptly. Julie Fisher was behind the wheel of her new car and drove it everywhere, regardless of the distance. She often volunteered to give classmates rides home just so she could drive some more. Jean was sitting in the passenger seat, laughing about an amusing event that occurred at school, when she witnessed Helen’s torturous treatment of the dog. “HOLY SHIT!!” exclaimed Jean as scrambled to get out of the car. Jean flung the door open, leaped out and shouted, “HELEN WAGNER!! You let go of that dog this very instant!”
Helen scoffed at her sister’s demand and raised the dog even higher.
Jean dropped her school books, ran to Helen with both arms fully extended, palms out, and slammed into Helen’s back like an old battering ram. The impact released her grip on Sneezer’s tongue and drove Helen to the ground. Sneezer tucked his tail between his legs and bolted from the scene. He was lucky for a second time and had learned his lesson. He would never return to give Helen a third opportunity.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Helen? Sneezer
is a poor, defenseless animal who has always been kind to you and trusted you. How could he possibly deserve that kind of torture? How would you like me to do that to you?” scolded Jean.
Helen watched Sneezer disappear around the corner of his house and then spit to Jean’s right. Jean eyed the expelled fluid from Helen and said, “You’re so gross. I want an answer from you. Why were you being so mean to that poor dog?”
“Go to hell, bitch. I don’t have to answer to you now or ever.” She laid facedown on the ground and dug her fingernails deep into the dirt. She clenched her teeth so tightly that one of them cracked under the pressure. She moved her fingernails back and forth in a raking motion then smiled widely. She spotted a few drops of Sneezer’s blood and edged forward to lick the cooling droplets with her tongue.
Jean had never seen her sister or anyone for that matter, behave in such a bizarre manner. “You better talk to me, you crazy bitch! What’s going on with you? Did someone give you some drugs at school today?” asked a very confused and frustrated Jean. The way Helen was acting, only two things could have happened. Either she had totally lost her mind or someone had given her some drugs to sample.
Helen rose in a leisurely manner, her teeth still tightly clenched. She looked Jean in the eyes with an evil glare. Then she spat on Jean’s shoes and walked toward their front door.
“You asshole!! I’m definitely telling Dad about this. Don’t think I won’t! Wait until he finds out his precious little baby is really a megabitch!!” shouted Jean.
Helen maintained her shroud of silence. She opened the front door, flipped her sister off and went inside.
Julie Fisher handed Jean the discarded books and said, “What’s gotten into her? I’ve never seen her act like that before. She looks horrible too. You can tell me if she’s on drugs. You know I won’t tell anyone.”
“Give me a break, Julie! Little Miss Wonderful doesn’t even like to take aspirin. You’re right though, we have a real bad situation here. You and I both know that she’s weird. I think she’s finally snapped and lost her mind. Maybe there’s been too much shit going on with her lately and she can’t handle it.”
Julie looked to the house in the general direction of Helen’s room and said, “She’s been too good for too long. The pressure probably turned her brain to pudding. If she were my sister and acted the way she acted around you, I’d march right up to her room and kick the living shit out of her. That would shake the pudding up and get her mind right!”
“Damn! Look what she made me do!” exclaimed Jean. “Helen made me break a fingernail when I knocked her down. Look at the size of the piece just hanging there!”
“Want me to come inside with you and hold her down while you beat her ass?” asked Julie.
“Nah. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do to her yet. I need time to come up with a punishment to fit the crime. Whatever I settle on, I’ll do in private. I sure as hell don’t want any witnesses!” said Jean with a mischievous smile.
“All right. Remember, I offered. I’m going to head home. Give me a call later and let me know what you decided to do. We also have to talk about the decorations for Sarah’s party next weekend. Her mom is going to make sure Sarah’s not home so we can sneak in and set everything up. She’ll freak when she comes home and sees what we’ve all done.”
Jean adjusted her books and said, “I’ll give you a call around nine or so.”
“Okay. Catch ya later,” said Julie as she selected the ignition key on her key chain and got in her car.
Jean waved goodbye as Julie drove off and then went inside. She was agitated and surprised when she saw the scattered books and soda spill on the carpet. Helen was standing near the stairs, watching Jean carefully, like a cat studying its prey.
“I know you caused this mess and I also know that you better than to just leave it that way. You’d better clean this shit up before Dad gets home. He’ll be pissed as hell.”
Jean looked at Helen’s eyes suspiciously and said, “Have you been screwing around with my mascara again? I swear, you’ll regret the day you were born if you did.”
“I didn’t touch your freakin’ mascara! By the way, you might look for another pillow before you go to bed,” suggested Helen with an sinister smile.
Jean shook her head and sighed. It was a useless venture to try and communicate with Helen. “By the way, where’s Aunt Caroline? I can’t believe she’d put up with your crap. We’re supposed to talk about boarding arrangements for college this fall. I absolutely hate talking to that woman and dread the day I’ll be under the same roof with her. I might as well get it over with.”
Helen brought her hands in front of her face and rotated them slowly to examine them. She saw the knobby knuckles and wrinkles that had formed. The startling transformation was inconsequential to her. She let them fall to her sides and said, “Aunt Caroline is upstairs. She’s in my bedroom waiting to talk to you about school.”
When Jean grabbed the worn, wooden handrail to the staircase, she groaned and fanned the air in front of her face. “What is that awful smell? Did you puke in your room or something?”
“I don’t smell anything. Our magnificent guest of honor, Aunt Caroline, doesn’t like to be kept waiting by any child,” said Helen as she gave Jean a firm nudge in the middle of her back.
Jean whipped around and said, “Quit pushing me! I’m perfectly capable of moving on my own and I’ll go when I’m damn good and ready.”
Jean purposefully hesitated a few minutes to validate her statement. The horrible odor meandering down the steps hastened her decision.
When they entered Helen’s room, Jean covered her mouth and nose in an attempt to mask the fumes. Her eyes drifted to the floor and she saw her magnifying glass leaning on an angle against a folding table leg. When she picked it up and saw a wide crack running through the lens, it fired up her boilers of wrath. “You careless bitch! You have no right to go through my things when I’m not around. I never touch any of your crap. And you can bet your sweet ass that the first thing on your agenda this weekend, will be to buy me a new magnifying lens. I’ve never been as pissed at you as I am today. I’ve thought you were weird for some time now. So, is it your life’s ambition to set the new world record for weirdness? I really don’t know what to say to you or what to do about your behavior. Just wait until Dad gets home. You’re going to catch some heavy-duty shit. I can’t stand the smell any longer. We need to open all the windows in the house and air this place out.”
Helen grabbed the broken glass from Jean’s hand and lobbed it into the jigsaw puzzle. Fruuump. More puzzle gas. The more puzzle gas Helen inhaled, the more she liked it and perhaps even needed it. Each dose of gas produced more changes in her physical appearance and demeanor.
Jean’s jaw dropped open in amazement. “What in the world was that? Did my magnifying glass really get sucked into that puzzle? How did you do it?” Jean stepped back, bent and looked underneath the table. She smiled and said skeptically, “Come on, I know there’s a trick to this. I get it. Everything that’s going on today is all part of some elaborate act you’re preparing. Did you cook this scheme up with some of your twisted little friends?”
“Come closer to the puzzle and I’ll show you how it’s done. It’s a pretty slick trick all right. Aunt Caroline spent a great deal of time teaching it to me,” said Helen with a cold, calculating smile.
Jean was less than eager to get closer to the smelly puzzle. She wanted to leave the room but her curiosity assumed control. She moved closer and said, “How can you stand the stink? I’ll bet it’s part of the trick. You get people to focus on the odor so they can’t see how the trick is done. So tell me, how do you get it to smell so foul? Is there a canister or spray can hidden somewhere under the table or nearby?”
Helen yawned and replied, “The smell comes directly from the puzzle. What do you think of the scene? It’s a secluded tropical paradise. If you bend down and look very closely, you’ll see two people that
resemble Grandma and Grandpa Kline.” Helen maneuvered inconspicuously behind Jean and smiled.
“I guess they kind of look like Grandma and Grandpa. It’s a beautiful and peaceful scene. The colors are so vibrant and alive. I’d love to live in a beautiful place like that and lie on the beach all day. Can you imagine what a great tan I’d have? All my friends at school would die with envy! I’m damn sure I couldn’t live with this awful smell though.” Jean squinted and looked even closer. “There’s another guy near Grandpa Kline that looks vaguely familiar. There’s a kind of mist over the puzzle that makes it hard to see. He almost looks like one of Dad’s friends. I wish I could see his face better.”
Helen planted her feet directly behind Jean, smiled and raised her hands to the battering ram position that Jean had used on her earlier. “Your wish is my command. Remember though, Sis, all that glitters is not gold!”
Jean started to turn around to face Helen and said as she turned, “What the hell are you talking about now?”
An instant later, Helen slammed both of her palms into Jean’s body with a force previously unknown to Helen. Jean gave vent to a loud, “Ughhh!” and was immediately vacuumed into the puzzle. Fruuump. Another tremendous burst of puzzle gas permeated the area.
Helen inhaled deeply and filled her lungs to capacity with the puzzle delight. The quantity and intensity of the puzzle gas grew with each feeding. Flesh and bone seemed to provide the best results.
“Now you know how it feels to have your back hammered in, don’t you, Jean?” laughed Helen as she inhaled deeply once again to capture any lingering wisps of gas.
Helen was amused by her act of vengeance and smirked as she passed her image in the mirror. Her skin color had changed to a light shade of gray. The black rings under her eyes were spreading and getting darker. Small, red blotches were developing all over her arms and legs, producing a body rash like no other body rash. The image she projected was changing rapidly and dramatically. She nonchalantly dismissed the changes because she had things to do. Important and imperative things for her new friend.
As she was leaving her bedroom, a last bit of rational emotion slipped back into her consciousness. She felt a tremendous jolt of terror. She felt so disoriented and dizzy that she could barely stand. She clutched the doorjamb so tightly, that her graying knuckles turned white. Helen felt a rapidly submerging part of her being gasping for recognition. The last of what was good in her wanted to scream until she exhausted all of her air and wore her vocal cords out. It demanded that she cry until every ounce of water in her body had been drained. It begged for some hero to materialize, come running to her aid and slay the griffins flying around inside of her brain.
Most of all, it wanted her to run to her mother’s open arms and rest her face against the warmth of her mother’s chest. Helen’s essence ached to have her mother’s arms wrapped securely around her body and listen to soothing whispers of endearment. It wanted her mother to return with a saving light and end the darkness. There was another part of her rational mind, lingering somewhere on the edge of sanity, that knew it wouldn’t happen. It wanted her life to return to the way it was before the puzzle gas but it couldn’t see that happening either. Once again she wanted to cry and once again, the well was dry. The old Helen seemed to be pretty much forfeited to the puzzle.
Helen grabbed her stomach and felt extremely nauseated. She was losing self-control and knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the contents in. She ran to the bathroom, flipped up the white toilet seat cover, dropped to her knees and puked her guts out. She gagged so hard that she thought she would puke her all of her intestines out at any moment.
When she was through, she leaned back against the yellow wallpaper and wiped her mouth with a matching yellow hand towel. She rubbed her forehead and weary eyes, then leaned forward to survey the contents prior to flushing. As she put her hand on the silver, trip handle, she saw seven or eight tiny, black, crow-like creatures splashing around in the rancid toilet water. There were several dozen worms as well. Small red worms, like the ones her father used when he fished for bluegill and crappie. Worms just like the ones the horrible woman in her dreams kept shoving up her nose while she slept.
Ordinarily, such a sight would have sent Helen screaming wildly out of the house. That period in her life was gone. Her emotions had been relocated and the worm mess had absolutely no effect on her.
Helen spat a remaining chunk of mangled worm into the toilet bowl and returned to her room without flushing. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the puzzle. She could feel the floor beneath her feet delivering soothing vibrations. She felt like the puzzle was communicating something to her. Perhaps even beckoning to her. The puzzle and the woman in her dreams had a nebulous mission for her. She didn’t care what it was or where it would lead her. All she wanted was more puzzle gas.
Helen bent over, picked a towel from the floor and tossed it into the puzzle. Fruuump. A small shot of puzzle gas shot out and once again, Helen was feeling better. The puzzle gas was becoming more than a pleasure. It was transitioning to a necessity.
Helen heard a dog bark outside and cast her eyes out her bedroom window. She saw Sneezer in his back yard, facing her room. When their eyes met, Sneezer ran under his porch and peeked his head out. Helen looked at the puzzle, than back at Sneezer. She smirked and said, “Third time’s a charm!!”
CHAPTER NINE
THE CURSE