Paul Cleave - The Laughterhouse

“Hello?”

“Adam?”

“Yeah? Who is this?”

“It’s Caleb.”

There is silence on the other end. Caleb waits it out, waiting for his brother-in-law to hang up, hoping he won’t-and he doesn’t. Instead he comes back with “Hang on, give me a minute.”

Caleb hears a door closing and then footsteps, and thirty seconds later Adam is back on the line. “Jesus, Caleb, how have you been?”

“I’ve had better days,” Caleb says.

“I’ll say. You’re all over the news. You’ve been doing some bad shit. You hurt those girls?”

“I would never do that.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling Marie,” he says, and Caleb wonders what his sister-in-law looks like these days, wonders how much money she is spending on still chasing the Barbie-doll looks she was chasing when he last saw her. “I kept saying as fucked up as Caleb must be, he’d never hurt any kids. So what do you want, Caleb?”

He stares out the windshield. The street is empty of people but he can count at least a dozen cats wandering about, some of them staring at each other, two of them looking as though they either want to fuck or fight. He’s aware that Katy is listening to every word he is saying. He will have to drug her again soon.

“I need some help.”

He imagines Adam the same way he was fifteen years ago. The current Adam may be bald, he may have put on a few extra pounds, but the look on his face right now will be the same, a look of pained confusion.

“Geez, Caleb, I can’t do that. Last time I helped you. . fuck, you remember.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen. Any of it.”

“No, because you were only thinking of yourself, and you’re doing the same thing again. I have my own family, Caleb. I can’t get into trouble for you. They’ve spoken to me by the way, the police. They want me to call if I hear from you.”

“Will you?”

“I should. I should hang up and call them right now.”

“But?”

“But it depends on what you have to say.”

The two cats are still stalking each other. They’ve decided on a fight. The other cats are all watching the show. They’re forming the kind of circle where money would start exchanging hands. Or paws.

“On?”

“On what you’re doing with the girls?”

“I’m not hurting them,” he says, staring at Katy who won’t look back at him. She’s also watching the cats, her hands on the window forming a seal between the glass and her face as she tries to get a closer look.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I’ve just let one of them go,” he says. “She’s safe and sound and the police will find her tomorrow. And I promise I’m not going to hurt the other one.”

Katy flinches at the remark but keeps looking out the window. She is starting to hum her cute little song, and he hopes the vocals don’t kick in.

“What about the doctor?”

“He’s going to pay for what he did.” One of the cats runs forward and the second one turns and runs. The first one chases it across a front lawn and up over the fence. The other cats look as though they don’t know what to do now. “Are you still in the furniture-moving business?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Though I don’t do the lifting anymore, my back is shot from too many years of it. But I’m not lending you the truck again. Everything else that happened was bad enough, but the final insult was the insurance company wouldn’t cover the damage. It was a write-off, Caleb. I lost my niece, my sister, then I nearly lost my job. It took me years to pay off that loss.”

“I don’t want your truck, Adam.”

“No? What then?”

“You still rent furniture to real estate agents to put in empty houses going on the market?”

There’s a few more seconds of silence. Some of the cats are wandering off and Caleb starts looking at the houses, looking for signs of life. He should be safe. Nobody called the police when his daughter was being abducted-why would they call the police for seeing a man sitting in a car?

“Adam?”

“Why?”

“I need somewhere to stay. I can’t go to a hotel. I need somewhere I can hole up for the night, maybe even two. Somewhere empty you’ve filled with furniture would be perfect.”

“Geez, Caleb, I don’t know.”

“I’m desperate.”

“I know, I know, but you’re also hurting people. I can’t be part of that.”

“I’m only hurting the same people that took away Jessica and Lara.”

“I know, I know that, okay?” Adam says, his voice taking on a whiney tone. “But the thing is, that’s not really what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You killed Whitby, man, wasn’t that enough?”

“No,” Caleb says, “no it wasn’t.” What the fuck is wrong with everybody?

“Shit, fifteen years ago when you killed that sack of shit, I was thrilled. You did what anybody would have wanted to do. The difference is you had the balls to do it. That’s why. . it’s why I can’t blame you for Lara killing herself. I can’t blame you because I’d have done the same thing. I hate you for it, but I don’t blame you for it.”

“Then help me now.”

“What you’re doing is wrong.”

“Help me and the last girl won’t have to be hurt. I promise, I’ll be letting her go soon,” he says, and even though Katy is still watching the cats he can tell she’s more focused on what he’s saying. If he’s not careful, she’ll make a run for it. “If the police find me first, there’ll be a fight. She could get hurt. If I have somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere safe, then she will be safe too.”

“You really let another one of them go?”

“Yes. She’s safe.”

“Then why not let the last one go too?”

“I’m going to-just not yet,” he says. Jesus, is he going to have to go through every detail with anybody he asks for help?

“And her father?”

“I’m going to let him go too.”

“You’re lying.”

“Actually, Adam, I’m not lying. I have no intention of hurting him.”

Katy turns to look at him.

“I don’t understand,” Adam says.

“You don’t need to. You just need to give me somewhere I can go so I can make sure the last girl will be safe. And you have to promise me you won’t call the police, because if you do people are going to be needlessly hurt.”

Adam goes quiet.

“Adam. .”

“Okay, okay. Let me think a second.”

“Adam. .”

“Just a second, Caleb, okay? You owe me the chance to think about it.”

Caleb looks at the cell phone, wondering if it can be traced, suddenly wondering if the police are at Adam’s house listening to the conversation. This was a mistake. He should hang up and throw the phone out the window and leave.

“There’s this house, I guess,” Adam says. “We put furniture in it yesterday. Real estate agent is away and won’t be back till the weekend. So that gives you a few days at the most. But if the neighbors get curious and call the police, you sure as hell can’t mention my name, you got that?”

“I appreciate it,” Caleb says, not feeling bad that soon he’ll want the police to find him there.

“No, you have to do more than appreciate it, Caleb. You have to promise me. With the recession, things are tight, okay? If I lose my job, then I lose my house. You’re in and out of there and any mess you leave we put down to a burglar. Okay? And promise me again you’re not going to hurt anybody.”

“I promise,” he says, and it’s a lie but it’s for the greater good. One day Adam will understand. “To both things.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Adam says, and gives him the address, then hangs up.

Caleb switches off the phone. He starts the car and all the cats scatter.