“It’s an inside joke.”
Tag was working that Sunday evening, and texted Amber hoping he could stop by after work to see his lovely ladies. She texted back that they were just having some Slippery Nipples at her place and would love the company. Tag wondered if they’d also have anything to drink tonight. Amber texted back ha-ha, aren’t you a comedian.
Sunday is a dead night for the bars so Tag got away with closing shop at midnight and drove his Corolla straight to Amber’s. As he went up the stairs he heard them laughing. It tickled his heart, he smiled.
“Good for you, Mae.”
To Tag’s surprise the door was unlocked. Trust in humanity was being restored at a heart-warming pace. The girls were playing Gin Rummy at the small dining table and had a bottle of butterscotch schnapps and Bailey’s Irish Cream at hand, two filmy shot glasses at the ready. They persuaded Tag to join them and dealt him in.
“How are you doing, Mae? You look great.” Tag judged he may have overdone the great.
“I’m doing okay. Thank you for asking. Did you know this little nut here has six toes?” She laughed, the kind intensified by liquor. “No way. You have six toes?” Amber was laughing too, and nodded. She showed Tag her left foot. Six toes. Holy crap! Tag looked closer. Between the two smallest toes was a toe of a slightly different pigment. Emphasis on pig. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was a little piece of Vienna Sausage. It had a pink toe-nail painted on it. Tag laughed. Mae was busting up, tried to explain but couldn’t. Amber took a try at it. “I was cutting up Vienna sausages earlier to put on crackers, and I guess a piece dropped on the floor. I was too buzzed to notice that I had stepped on it and it wedged between my toes. So Mae and I were on the couch, talking, and I was painting my toe-nails and I went to paint my second toe and it… it had no nail!” She could hardly speak she was laughing so hard.
“So I suggested she paint a nail on it anyway,” Mae said.
Tag borrowed Amber’s shot glass and poured himself a cocktail. After the laughter calmed down a tad, he asked what was new. Nothing, really. Well that wasn’t entirely true. Amber drove Mae to her Oroville house so she could gather up some clothes, medicine, and personal belongings.
“Must’ve been hard going back there, huh?”
“She did great,” Amber said proudly. “I thought she’d react a lot worse.”
“I’ve come to terms with what I did,” Mae said, “and I don’t feel the least bit bad about it. I just feel bad for Kade.”
Tag nodded. “It could have been worse. He could have killed Bonnie too, instead of waiting for her to pass by before coming inside our apartment.” He forced a grin. “Well I’m happy for you. You deserve to feel good about things now. For the first time ever you’re going to have a normal life.”
“I had a normal life, before Trent. But yeah, I know what you mean.” She fixed a more sober gaze at Tag and said, “I’d still like to know how you know what you do, but I guess there are some things in life we’ll never understand.”
“And that’s just it,” Tag said. “I’d love nothing more than to satisfy your curiosity by telling you how I know the details of your life. It would satisfy mine, too. Maybe it was divine intervention. A gift from God, so I could try to help you. Who knows?”
“You know, they never did catch the SacTown Slayer,” Mae said. “You know an awful lot, what do you know about that?”
“Not a damned thing. Just what you know. He stopped killing five years ago, disappeared from the face of the earth. Good riddance.”
“But you knew that Trent pretended to be the SacTown Slayer and killed my parents.”
“Yeah, but that’s different. I knew that because it relates to you. You’re my protagonist. I guess Trent’s my antagonist, and the SacTown Slayer doesn’t fit anywhere in there.”
“Could I read your novels some time?”
“You want to read my stories about you? It would be like reading your biography, I suppose. I don’t see why not.” Tag poured a couple shots for the girls, then one for himself. After shooting it he said, “So you got everything you need out of your house? I don’t expect you’ll be returning.”
“I don’t plan on it. I probably wouldn’t have returned today if I didn’t need my medicine. I’d have just bought new clothes instead and called it good.”
“I know I’m overstepping my boundaries by saying this, but I really don’t think you need that medicine. For all we know it’s been affecting your mind, and not for the better. I never did agree with your parents giving you those crazy pills.”
“Then why’d you write it?” Tag had no answer, at first. Then said, “I write from the heart, doesn’t always turn out how I want.”
“Well, about those pills, I didn’t agree either, as you somehow know. But that’s not the medicine I’m referring to. I have insane allergies and I needed my nasal spray.”
“You don’t take lithium anymore?”
“Nope. Haven’t in years. I thought they made me zombie’ish so I stopped taking them.”
“Hmm. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure I’m not.”
She lowered her hand of cards, narrowed on Tag. “What?”
“Trent’s been sneaking you those pills.”
“No he hasn’t.”
“Like I said, maybe I’m wrong. It’s just that I wrote about it in my second novel.”
“Oh yeah? And how did he ‘sneak’ me the pills?”
“Every morning he’d make a juice smoothie for both of you. A juicer with pieces of fruit shoved through the grinder. After his juicy he’d make yours, and a pink pill would be grinded in there with it.” Mae went from buzzed to sober by the end of Tag’s supposition.
“That asshole!”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Tag said. “Well you don’t have to ever take them again, and I guess that’s the important thing. Better late than never.”
Both bottles of liquor were empty by 2:00 A.M. Amber estimated that she’d have a rough day at work tomorrow. Mae was assured by Nancy, her supervisor at Diamond Smiles, that she wouldn’t be terminated, that in light of her tragic situation she’d be given a clean slate at work. Mae appreciated it, but quit her job anyway. She looked forward to sleeping in tomorrow and wished Amber would be there with her. She’d enjoy her life to the fullest before she enrolled in college classes next semester at Chico State University. Hell, she had the money to stick it out for a Bachelor’s or even a Master’s degree without needing a job (after the assets were liquidated, that is).
Tag regretted that he’d better be on his way for the night, said his goodbyes. Mae gave him an unexpected hug and peck on the cheek. Amber followed suit with a hug and a peck on the lips. Then more than a peck. Mae watched with a grin.
“You didn’t tell me you two were seeing each other.”
“I don’t know what we are,” Amber said gazing longingly into Tag’s eyes. “What are we?”
“Whatever you want us to be. I don’t want you to be someone you aren’t, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean,” Mae interjected.
Amber scowled at Tag.
“Sorry,” he said to Amber.
“Uh-oh, something’s cooking and it smells good. What am I in the dark of?” Mae swooped in and smiled crookedly at the two still embracing. They released one another; Tag looked away, Amber looked away.
“I see,” Mae said sadly. “It’s about me.”
“No, Mae,” Amber said. “He’s just referring to something a little embarrassing for me to admit.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Oh! Are you…? You don’t like…?” She looked at Tag for help. He was preoccupied by something on the wall. It might have been a fleck of paint.
“I don’t anymore,” Amber assured her. “It was just a harmless crush.”
“I had no idea. I’m flattered. I guess was flattered. It was seeing me change in the bathroom, wasn’t it? The scar. Scars.”
“And the bruises. No, it
wasn’t that. You’re just as beautiful, regardless of what that piece of shit did to you. It’s just that I got together with Tag and something clicked. I like him. I like how I feel with him. I’m more comfortable in my skin. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true.”
Mae hugged her. “I’m happy for you, Amber. You deserve someone like Tag.”
“Speaking of Tag,” Amber said as Mae let go of her. She gave him a feisty look. “Since you dropped the dime on me, how about you give her a little confession of your own?”
“And what would that be?” Tag said. He was busy staring at his phone, tapping this and that, cheeks growing rosy.
“She needs positive reinforcement, don’t you think? After years of psychological and physical abuse. Tell her, Tag.”
“Not you too?” Mae said in awe.
He checked the email on his phone, wouldn’t look Mae in the eyes. “You’re pretty, okay? Find me someone who wouldn’t have a thing for you.”
“There’s Something About Mae-ry,” Amber jested.
“Mae-Vee,” Mae corrected without thought. “You two are fucking with me,” she said confidently, grinning.
Tag said “Amber wishes,” as Amber said “Tag wishes.” The three laughed.
“I feel so wanted! Thank you, guys!” Mae went into the bathroom to brush her teeth, said goodnight to Tag, asked him to send his two novels to MaeClarkisme at yahoo-dotcom. He said he would and goodnight.
* * *
On Wednesday the apartment was ready for Mae to move in. Amber had offered to help move, but it had to wait until she got off work at 6:00. Tag and Mae had managed to do the moving on their own that morning. Tag had borrowed Dallas’s truck and they transported a few loads from Sears and Pier 1 to the new apartment. Mae decided she’d sell the Oroville house furnished. New beginnings meant saying goodbye to all that was her past.
The last trip of the day was to Bed Bath & Beyond. As Mae was choosing silverware, Tag asked if she had begun reading either novel.
“I started the first one but had to stop. I can’t handle remembering my fake parents. So I started the second one. You write well, Tag.”
“Thanks. Aren’t you sweet to say.”
“Yes I am.” She pinched his cheek and put a box of silverware in her cart. “Amber is a lucky woman to be with you.”
“You get sweeter by the mouthful.”
“When will you be writing your next novel?”
“I think I’m done writing.”
“Aww, why?”
“Not by choice, it’s just that I have writer’s block or something. I can’t think of anything to write now that I’m done writing of Mae Clark. I tried. It was horrible.”
“Maybe you were put on this earth to write just those two novels. Your destiny.”
“Who knows? How far did you get with the second novel?”
“About halfway. I skipped through a few parts that were difficult to read. Bad memories.” She pushed the cart along to the dishware. “How much of what you wrote is real and how much is pure imagination?”
“I thought it was all imagination until I met you.”
“Granted, but now that you know I’m real, how much of it is imagination?”
“I don’t know. Wouldn’t you know better than me?”
“Yes, you’d think. But the part about Michael, my neighbor, you know who I’m talking about?”
“Of course. I wrote it. That was in my first novel, Red Trouble.”
“I’m not referring to the part where I kissed him.”
“You did more than kiss him, sweet-cakes.”
She sighed. “Okay, showed him my dumb boobs. Not that part. You wrote that he committed suicide. That didn’t happen. I flirted with him so he wouldn’t commit suicide. And he didn’t. It worked.”
“Yeah it worked. But I guess it only lasted for so long. Someone who flirts with the idea of killing himself isn’t going to escape the thought forever.”
“So you mean to tell me that he did kill himself?”
“Oh I don’t know. In my book he did. It’s still somewhat like a dream knowing that he even exists.”
“He was a strange boy. A curious boy. Hormones worked very well. If he did kill himself, that’s really depressing. If it happened according to your novel, when did it take place?”
“Didn’t you read it?”
“No. I skimmed over that part when I saw where it was heading. It was too sad. Sorry. No offense, you do write well. It’s just hard to stomach certain parts. Like Michael dying.”
“He died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. It wasn’t long after your parents died.”
“It wasn’t too soon after they died. I hung out with him a few months after, some crazy shit was going on during that time, jealousy and stuff, Trent and a couple other boys I knew. But I wonder why I never heard about Michael committing suicide. I guess suicide isn’t news-worthy and I wasn’t living next door to him anymore.”
“Even if it was news-worthy, the SacTown Slayer was dominating the airwaves at that time. I suppose it may have happened after the slayings ceased, but if so, not long after.” Mae put a box of blue plates in her cart. “Poor Michael. I’m going to check online tomorrow after Verizon hooks up my cable and internet, to see if he really did die. If not, maybe I’ll call him. It would be nice to see how he’s been.”
“You know something?” Tag reflected. “I remember writing that part. I was wanting to—bear in mind that I thought Michael wasn’t a real person—I was wanting to make Michael the serial killer. Have him commit suicide because he felt bad for doing what he did to all those families.”
“Yeah right, Michael a serial killer.” She met eyes with Tag. “What made you change your mind?”
“I have no idea. Sometimes that little muse in your head who’s responsible for creative writing has a will of his own. He dictates the direction of the story. He must not have thought it best for my novel. He wanted the killer to remain undiscovered.”
“Well good. You know how shitty I would feel if he was the serial killer? I helped him out when he was depressed before all those slayings took place. It’s bad enough I helped a priest out, leading to kids being molested. There’s only so much kindness a gal can do that ends up turning to shit, you know? I’d rather not consider that what I did led to people getting killed. Which glasses do you like better, these or these?”
“Those. They’re cheaper, too. Bonus.”
That evening the apartment was looking like a home. Amber stopped by after she got off work with a present tucked at her side. Tag kissed her and declared how beautiful she looked. She blushed, more so when Mae grinned at her.
“The place looks awesome!” Amber said to end the awkwardness. “You have good taste in furniture, Mae.”
“Thanks. What did you get me?” Mae gaped eagerly at the wrapped package at her side.
“A house-warming gift.” She handed it to Mae, who wasted no time opening it. It was an ornate wooden cross, hand carved and stained dark brown. “It’s thought to be good luck for a house,” Amber informed. “Every home needs a cross on the wall, my Grandma says. Protection against evil.”
“Thanks, Amber. It’s pretty, too. I’ll hang it by the door, so I’ll be blessed every time I leave the house and again when I come home. I’ll put it up right away.”
Mae’s first night alone wasn’t without its nightmares. Trent was raising hell even after death. At least the bruises she received in her dreams were gone by morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she dreamt of Breuer, either. It had to have been a couple of years. That night she had one. Breuer was a real person, and everyone seemed to think he was human. He was sprightly as always, capering about, skipping along as he loved doing. She woke with no idea where she was. A terrifying sensation. She looked over at Pancho sleeping in a ball beside her and that comforted her. It was her new apartment. She opened the blinds: sunny cloudless day. The kind of day that was made for walking. She couldn’t recall the l
ast time she went for a walk. But she was free from the bastard now: she could go for a walk on a whim and not have to answer to anyone. It was a simple thought but her heart swelled with appreciation for her newfound freedom. Why not go for a walk? Heck, you could walk to the DMV to get a study guide for your driver’s license. You can’t expect Amber and Tag to drive you around forever, you know. To think that she could have her own car and a license that allowed her to drive clear to Canada if she so chose. It was enough to put a grin on her face. She resolved to make the most of this beautiful day and its limitless possibilities.
After a bowl of Raisin Bran, she gathered a skirt, underwear, and a charming little pink cotton vee-neck shirt and headed for the shower. The water pressure was dismal, at best, but that couldn’t bring her down today. As she washed her body she was careful to avoid the stitches in her arm and chest, and was pleased to see the last of her bruises had faded from saffron to nearly invisible. She’d never have ugly bruises again, God willing. The scar on her chest was ugly, though. But it would fade in time. It wouldn’t go away entirely, but she supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. It would be a reminder of the sacrifice made to achieve her ultimate freedom. Freedom from Trent. And what sacrifice could be more just?