The Other Side Of Midnight Page 17

  My smile turns into a grin. “Told you. I took it last night, never slept a wink, and I don’t feel tired or sleepy even now.”

  “What kind of herbs are those?” she asks curiously.

  “No idea. Rocco gave them to me and I was too busy with other things to ask.”

  She curls her body towards me, and puts her hands under her cheek. “I bet you were too busy to worry about herbs. Did you use the two condoms?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well, well, the virgin becomes a woman. Come on then, tell me everything.”

  So I tell her. I tell her about the amazing sex. Then I tell her about my plausible scenario theory about his family. Reluctantly, she agrees with my guess. She links her fingers with mine and tells me not to worry or give up hope. She believes Rocco will stand by me. She believes given enough time Rocco will fall in love with me and he will not forsake me.

  After that we get ready, have breakfast, and go out into the freezing smoky Big Apple. There is so much to see and do before we fly back to our separate destinations. We eat hotdogs, we laugh, we take a million photos, we talk to strangers.

  I cry at the airport. I don’t know why I cry.

  She hugs me tightly. “Stop being such a wuss. I’m just a phone call away.”

  “I know. I’m just going to miss you.”

  “Love you, Autumn. Love you so much.”

  I’m so choked with emotion I can’t even say the words back to her.

  The last call for her flight comes through the loudspeaker system.

  “That’s me,” she says brightly. “Send me a text when you land.”

  I stand there watching her walk away, her red curls bouncing recklessly. I don’t know why I feel so sad to let her go, maybe it is because of my insecure situation with Rocco.

  My voice comes back and I shout out, “I love you, Sam.”

  She stops, turns around, and blows a kiss at me. Then the crowd swallows her.

  Chapter 46

  Autumn

  The next day I go back to work and other than the lovely surprise of the new car Rocco bought for me, life settles back seamlessly into its old pattern. Brianna from the bakery comes in for a chat with some doughnuts and coffee. She ends up buying a small garden sculpture of a fairy. After she leaves, I clear up the mess. As I wipe down the table Sam calls.

  “Whatcha doing?” she asks.

  “Cleaning the table after eating some sugary doughnuts.”

  “Ugh… sugar. It’s ten in the morning. How could you do that to your body?”

  “Well, I tried your cereal and it was disgusting, so I got Brianna to come over with some real food. Oh, and I’m packing it all up and mailing it to you.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she warns.

  “How’s it going with you?” I ask with a smile.

  “I’m on my way to class, and I’m a bit late, but I just wanted to call and hear your voice. By the way, guess what I—”

  Her voice is cut mid-sentence at the same time that there is a loud bang. She must have dropped the phone, because the sound of it hitting hard ground was so loud in my ear I have to jerk the phone away from my ear. For a second, I stare at the phone in confusion. Then I snatch it back to my ear and scream, “Sam! Sam, are you all right?”

  Sam doesn’t answer me, but I hear other people screaming, moving, shouting out desperate questions and frantic commands.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Call 911. Someone call 911.”

  “Is she alive?”

  “For fuck’s sake move out of the way.”

  “Did anybody get the car’s registration?”

  “It’s a hit and run.”

  “Sam,” I scream.

  Someone picks up her phone and says, “Hello.”

  “Hello, what’s happened to the girl with the red hair?” I ask frantically.

  “Hi, I… uh… were you talking to her before the accident?”

  “Yes, yes,” I nearly scream. “Is she all right?”

  “I’m so sorry, but she’s not moving at all. Someone’s called 911 and asked for an ambulance, we’ll have to see what they say.”

  “Can you stay with me on the phone till they get there?” I beg.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I stand in the middle of the shop for about fifteen minutes, then I hear the sounds of sirens. Authoritative voices ask people to move. I wait, hardly daring to breathe.

  “What’s going on?” I finally whisper.

  “I don’t think she made it,” the girl whispers tearfully. “They’re… Oh, my God, she’s dead.”

  “No. Noooooo.”

  I kill the connection and look around me in a daze. It cannot be. It cannot be. I walk towards a painting and straighten it. It’s a lifelong habit. I hate paintings that are not straight. It gets on my nerves. I walk away from the painting and stand in the middle of the gallery. My gaze slides around the other paintings, my mind feels strangely blank. Larry comes downstairs.

  “I’m going to Old Joe’s. Want a burger?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “With extra cheese and mustard.”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  I stand in the middle of the gallery and watch him walk across the road. A woman pushing a stroller goes by. Her baby drops its pacifier and she bends to pick it up. I watch them without expression. How long I stand there I do not know, but eventually, Larry comes back.

  “Here’s your burger. I’ll have mine upstairs.”

  I take the brown paper bag from him. “Thanks.” I put the Out For Lunch sign on the door, then take my burger to the backroom. I put it on the table and switch on the radio. A song I do not recognize comes on. I open the small fridge and pull out a can of Coke. Then I sit at the table, unwrap the burger and stare at it.

  I can see that Joe has been really generous with the cheese. It has oozed on to the paper bag. I take a bite of the burger. It tastes good. I take a sip of Coke. I don’t believe Sam is dead. The girl is either playing a cruel prank on me, or she did not see clearly. She’s not a doctor. How can she know? Sam will be taken to the hospital and the doctors there will take care of her. They will mend her again. She is young. She will survive.

  I take another bite. A song I like comes on and I sing along and bob my head to the rhythm. I look at my phone. No messages yet. It’s early yet. Obviously, I have to give the doctors time to work on her. They may even need to perform surgery on her. I wonder if I should call the hospitals around that area and find out exactly what is going on with her.

  No, just give it a bit more time.

  I take a swig of Coke. I’m not hungry, but I take another bite. It is a shame to waste good food. I wipe my mouth with the napkin and chew. In fact, I was wrong, the burger doesn’t taste as good as it usually does. There is almost three quarters of the burger left. I wrap it and put it into my bag. I will give the rest to the raccoons.

  I go out front and take off the Out For Lunch sign. Then I sit at the table. There are no thoughts in my head. My mind is oddly empty, which is strange. I find my fingers tapping impatiently on the surface of the table. I jump when my phone rings. I run to it to pick it up. I am sure it is Sam, she is calling me from some hospital, but it is not. I freeze next to it. I stare at the lighted screen in horror. The lighted words read:

  Sam’s Mom

  I don’t move until the phone stops ringing. The message icon starts blinking. I pick it up and hold it to my ear.

  “Autumn, it’s Sam’s mom here. I’ve got some bad news. Sam… Sam,” her voice breaks. There is a pause where I hear her take a deep breath. Then she continues in a strange robotic monotone. “Sam’s gone. It was a hit and run. She didn’t suffer. She died on the spot. I’ll call you again about the funeral. Goodbye, dear.”

  Chapter 47

  Autumn

  Slowly, I put the phone back on the table. I clasp my hands together to stop them from trembling. I don’t believe her. I can’t believe her. She can’t be right. It’s impossible. I
saw her last weekend for God’s sake. I think I stood there for hours, but I cannot say, because time had lost all meaning for me. I must have been in shock. I was startled into movement by the sound of the bell above the door.

  Lifting my head, I walk into the gallery. It is the lady from the boutique where we bought our dresses. She is carrying a large white box.

  “Hello,” I greet, my voice sounds strange. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to deliver this dress to you. I’m sorry I’m a day late. Someone accidentally left an oily finger print on the skirt so I had to have the stain professionally cleaned. It is now flawless again.” She smiles.

  I frown. I feel so confused. I can’t even think straight. “I didn’t order a dress.”

  “Well, somebody did. It’s all paid for. Enjoy,” she says, with a wink. She leaves the box on the table. “Give me a call if you need to make any alterations.”

  I stare down at the box.

  “Bye,” she calls as she exits the gallery.

  I open the box and part the tissue inside. It is the green dress in the window. I take the envelope and pull out the card.

  I simply couldn’t resist.

  I knew it would be perfect for you.

  Make sure you don’t let Mr. Ghost tear it in his haste though. LOL

  Send me pics as soon you as you get this.

  xxxxxxx

  Sam

  A thin, high-pitched, completely foreign sounding wail flows out of my mouth. It is such an eerie sound I hear Larry running across his office. He runs down the stairs and appears in the gallery an anxious look on his face.

  “What is it?” he asks urgently.

  I can’t answer him. Tears are running down my face.

  “Autumn, what the hell is going on?”

  “Sam’s dead. Hit and run.” The unbearable words come out in an odd scratchy voice.

  As his jaw drops in shock. I feel the card drop back on top of the tissue, and my legs start moving as if they have a mind of their own. I run out of the gallery and down the road. I run without knowing where I’m going. Sam’s dead, but she bought a dress for me. People turn to stare at me, but I don’t care. Nothing matters anymore. Sam is gone.

  I run until I get to the bar. I stop and go inside. It smells of beer and fried fish inside. There are only a few customers seated at the tables. I take a seat at the bar.

  “I work at the gallery, but I haven’t brought any money with me. Could I have some drinks now and pay for it tomorrow, please?”

  The bartender takes one look at my snotty face and nods. “No problem. What would you like?”

  “Vodka neat. Make it a double.”

  His expression doesn’t change. As if he’s used to grief-stricken women coming in alone in the late afternoon to order vodka doubles. “Gotcha.”

  My throat hurt. My eyes hurt too and there is a horrible, horrible pain in my chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. Why did she have to go and die on me? How could she? My eyes are so full of tears the bar becomes blurry.

  “Here you go,” the barman says.

  I pick up the glass and throw the Vodka down my throat and it spreads its warmth into my belly. She was supposed to outlast me with her superfoods, healthy breakfast smoothies, her careful study of food labels before she deemed them good enough to put into her body. She might as well have eaten ice cream and cake for breakfast, drank full fat Coke, and stuffed herself with fast food for lunch and dinner. My gut burns with rage. She was cheated. I was cheated.

  I slam the glass on the counter. “Another one… please.”

  “Coming up.”

  I throw a few back. My head spins slightly. I stand. “I’ll be back tomorrow to pay the tab.” Then I leave the bar. Outside the setting sun hits my eyes and makes me squint. I sway for a few seconds as I get my bearings. I must have drunk far more than I thought, or maybe it was just because I drank on an empty stomach.

  “You all right, hon?” a man asks. His face is leather, and his brown eyes are kind.

  I nod, then I start to walk in the direction of my caravan. It’s a long walk and my shoes start to chafe and hurt. I take them off and walk in my bare feet. It gets dark and I stumble along blindly. My body feels hollow. I cannot accept she is gone. I refuse to. I keep thinking of how she looked at the weekend. The way she had laughed when I clowned around at the hotel spa. She had been so happy, so excited about the future.

  The caravan site comes into view. As I walk past Joe’s caravan, I see him sitting on the step drinking a beer.

  “Howdy neighbor,” he calls out.

  I completely ignore him and walk on. When I get home, I get my bottle of Vodka out of the cupboard, and go sit outside. I swig a mouthful straight from the bottle. Then I lean my head back against the cold metal of the caravan and close my eyes.

  “Oh Sam,” I whisper brokenly.

  “Hey, you all right?” Joe’s voice asks.

  My eyes snap open and I frown at him. “Get lost, Joe.”

  In the darkness his eyes glitter dangerously. “Why are you being like that? I’m just trying to be friendly-like.”

  “Go back home, Joe. I’m really not in the mood to chit chat.” I stand with the intention of going back inside, but he moves fast, and suddenly he is standing in front of me. I’m trapped between him and the chair.

  “I’m a good listener, Autumn,” he says softly.

  “Then you should have fucked off by now, because I’ve already asked you to leave three times,” I snarl.

  “Woah,” he says, widening his eyes in mock fear, “watch it Joe, this cat has claws.”

  “For the last time, move,” I mutter between gritted teeth.

  He grins, his teeth flashing like a Cheshire cat. “Why? I like where I am. Let’s go inside your caravan. I promise I’ll make you feel real good.”

  I take a deep breath, then I knee the moron as hard as I can right in the balls. His mouth opens in shock, and a guttural, choking, almost inhuman sound comes out it. Then his knees give away and he drops to the ground. He curls himself in to a fetal position at my feet while clutching his groin. I step over him, go into the caravan and lock my door.

  “Oh Sam,” I whisper in the dark.

  Chapter 48

  Rocco

  His hands are still cupping his groin, his mouth is muttering curses, and his curled body is rocking gently to dull the pain when I step next to him. His eyes widen with astonishment when he sees the shiny leather of my shoes come out of nowhere and appear so close to his face. His gaze flies upwards to my face.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he blurts out incredulously, fearfully. My noiseless approach has, naturally, freaked him out.

  I say nothing, just stare down curiously at the pitiful creature that he is. Never in my life have I ever seen fit to mingle with or expend any energy on a creature such as him. A useless eater. I knew, of course, men such as him existed, and existed in vast numbers, but I’d never before come so close to one.

  Suddenly, he understands. He knows what I am here for. His eyes bulge with terror. He opens his mouth as if to scream, but to his shock no sound comes out of it. I continue to look at him. Tears fill his eyes and run down the sides of his face. Thinking I am the angel of death his eyes beg me silently for compassion. He makes silent promises to be better, to do better. Mutely, he apologizes feverishly for his past misdeeds. He pleads for forgiveness. Then he begins to call to God, the very God he had spurned in his miserable life.

  I bend down and grasp his neck. It snaps like a twig, and the annoying, begging light goes out of his lying eyes. I lift him easily and haul him over my shoulder. Dry twigs crunch under my feet as I carry him and his bottle of beer towards the fence surrounding the trailer park. At an appropriate part of the fence I hook one of his legs between the wooden slats, and let his body fall on the ground.

  Tomorrow someone will find him.

  They will assume he fell and broke his neck. I toss the beer bottle next to him and I look around. The hour is early
, but it’s Monday night, so there seems to be no one around. Without taking another look at the vermin, I sprint back to the edge of the forest directly opposite Autumn’s caravan. I slide behind a tree and from the shadows I return to my task of guarding her.

  Nothing and no one must harm her.

  Chapter 49

  Autumn

  I hear Joe move away as I’m sitting outside my cupboard and taking all my clothes and shoes out. Once everything is out, I climb into it, and close the doors. It is reassuringly dark inside. When I was very young, I used to sit in the cupboard all the time. I enjoyed being in the dark, enclosed space. It made me feel safe. My child’s mind had convinced myself no monsters could get inside.

  But it is a very strange thing to be doing when one is an adult. I hug my knees to my chest and gently sway backwards and forwards. Then a strange sound begins to come from my mouth. I have no control of the sound. I have never learned it, or practiced it, but it sounds a bit like one of those songs sung by the Celtics to call their sheep to them. I once heard it on a video on Facebook.

  I realize my body is calling. Not to sheep, but to Sam. I am calling her back to me. I call and call, my voice becomes hoarse, but she does not come. I climb out of the cupboard, my body cramped and my heart lost.

  Restlessly, I open the food cupboard. I have no appetite but I should eat something. The first thing I see is the organic cereal she bought for me. I reach out and touch the box. She touched this… while she was still alive. It seems impossible that she is gone never to return. I will never see her again. My hand recoils from the box as if bitten by a snake. A strangled cry of horror blows out of my mouth, then my knees give way, and I collapse to the ground in a heap.

  The pain of losing her is indescribable, terrible, unspeakable, unbelievable. I have never felt such pain. Nobody who has not lost someone they truly loved would understand. I didn’t. I knew it must feel horrible, but I could never understand the absolute horror. Sam was my best friend, my sister, my only source of love. The only family I had. We spoke every day. No matter what we found a moment to talk.