Gary A. Braunbeck - Cages and Those Who Hold the Keys

Marian felt something expand in her throat. “God, Alan, I never felt that way. I always thought she was a good— a fine woman. She almost never complained about things and always managed to come up with some extra money whenever we wanted something special. I don’t think I ever saw her buy a thing for herself. How could she believe I thought so... little of her?”

“You never told her.” His voice was empty.

Then Jack spoke. “The last time you kissed her, you were nineteen years old.”

Alan took her hand. “Remember how we used to make fun of her getting tired so quickly? It never crossed our minds that she might be sick. That’s why we were so shocked when she

died.”

Marian looked at Mom’s favorite chair and remembered the way Dad had cried when he’d found her there, dead. “She never said anything.”

“It wasn’t her way,” said Alan. “But we were her family. If we’d cared a little more, we would’ve known.”

Marian hugged herself. She could feel the affliction and loss trapped within this house; the loneliness... God , the loneliness.

“It becomes easier, once you accept it,” said Alan. “Love it. Embrace it as you would a child. Hold it against you. Let it suckle your breast like a baby would. Let it draw the life from you. Love the pain. Love the emptiness. Love the guilt and remorse, cherish the loneliness, love it all and it will make you strong. It’s what makes us whole.”

“No. I can’t— I won’t feel bad about not knowing. They could have said something to me, could have talked to me, asked me things. It’s not my fault.”

“I never said it was.”

Marian rubbed her eyes, then held her hands against them for a moment. “Alan, please, I don’t know what to...what to say or do...I don’t understand how—”

“—how this started?”

Marian pulled her hands away from her face as Jack answered the call of more trick-or-treaters. “Yes.”

“It started a long, long time ago, before either of us were ever born, I guess. But I suppose, for us— you and me— it started with Grandpa...”

* * *

It was three weeks after Alan’s ninth birthday, about seven-thirty in the evening. Marian and her brother were settled in front of the television to watch the next hair-raising episode of Batman . The Green Hornet and his trusty aid Kato were making a special guest appearance tonight, so both were barely able to contain their excitement, stuffing popcorn into their mouths by the plentiful handful.

The opening credits were just starting when there came a knock at the front door; it was a timid, almost inaudible knock. Alan and Marian looked at each other.

“I’ll bet it’s that goony paper boy coming to collect,” said Marian.

“He’ll go away if we don’t answer,” said Alan. “That always works.”

The knocking persisted just as they were being told it was another normal day in Gotham City as Commissioner Gordon and Chief O’Hara were—

— Knocking again. Louder this time.

“Alan? Marian?” called Mom, “will one of you answer the door? I’m in the bathroom.”

When Alan looked at her and didn’t move, Marian angrily slammed down her popcorn and stomped over to the front door, really ready to chew that paper boy out. How could anyone come around when Batman was on? You did not knock on their front door on Batman nights, and you sure didn’t do it tonight of all nights, when the Green Hornet and Kato were going to be on! Whoever this was had better have a good reason, or Marian would...well...she’d sure do something, you could bet on that.

She had to fiddle with the deadbolt for a moment, and then with the stupid, stupid, stupid chain lock, but then it was off and dangling and the front door was wide open —

—and she was staring at Boris Karloff. She knew it wasn’t really Boris Karloff, but the man who stood on their front porch looked enough like him to make her shiver for a moment, wondering if she hadn’t woke up in the middle of a horror movie.

The man looked her up and down a couple of times, cleared his throat (it sounded like he really needed to hawk up a loogie), and spoke. “Would you be Marian?” “Yes sir.” “Your mom at home?” “Yes sir.”

“Would you mind gettin’ her for me?” His voice was like rusty nails being pulled out of old and warped wood. It gave Marian the creeps.

She turned to call and saw her Mom standing in the doorway to the kitchen, an expression on her face that told Marian not only did Mom know who this man was, but that he was a Big Deal. You Stuck Around for Big Deals. Marian’s mother wiped her hands on a small towel, but when she was done she didn’t put the towel over the back of a chair or lay it on the table; she just let it drop to the floor.

Marian walked over and picked it up, but Mom took no notice. By this time Alan was standing by the door, looking at Mr. Karloff.

He wore an old floppy brown hat, straight-legged grey pants, dusty boots, a collarless green shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was carrying a small suitcase. Mom said nothing for what seemed the longest time, and Marian found herself becoming afraid of this man, who looked at them through the reddest eyes she had ever seen, and even from where Marion was standing, the smell of tobacco and iodine was overpowering. His skin was all scratched and stained, like a piece of old leather left out in the sun too long. Marian looked at Alan, then to Mom, who was breathing very slowly, the strange expression on her face suddenly gone, replaced by nothing at all. “Glad I found you at home,” said Mr. Karloff. “I worked day shift at the plant now,” said Marian’s mother. “Days, huh? I’ll bet that makes it nice for the kids here.”

“I always have time for them,” said her mother, which seemed to hurt Mr. Karloff in the doorway; his eyes started blinking rapidly and the hand which held the suitcase shook a little. Marian was just plain scared now. She looked more closely at Mr. K. and noticed that one of his eyes was half-closed, a deep cut on its lid, covered in iodine. “I been in the V.A. hospital,” he said. “I suppose you know that?” “I heard about it,” said her Mom, shaking.

From the living room Robin exclaim, “ Holy hornet’s nest, Batman! ” Piss off, Boy Wonder. “You look good,” said Mr. K. to Mom. “You look like hell.” And that’s when it happened.

Marian had never seen anything like it before. Mr. K. took a deep breath, turned as if he was going to leave, but then he seemed to spot something outside of the house that scared him. A lot. Enough to make him not want to go outside, and for the first time Marian realized that she wasn’t alone in feeling this way; maybe everybody once in a while looked out their front doors or windows and saw something that scared them, things that maybe even weren’t there most of the time but you saw them anyway. Maybe this old man could see something out there, maybe in a tree or behind a bush or a parked car or even in the shape of a cloud, but he saw it out there, he sure did, and he didn’t want to walk out the door to face it, so he let his suitcase slip out of his hand and drop to the floor, turned back around, and without looking at Marian’s mother started to speak.

His voice came out in low wheezes, fizzling in and out like whispers do. “I only got about twenty dollars to my name right now and I was just wonderin’ if...if you would mind terribly loaning me a couple of bucks. I ain’t had me a thing to eat since about noon yesterday and I’m a bit hungry. I can’t use this money for food ‘cause it’s got to go for a room of some kind. I wouldn’t be bothering you otherwise honest. If it ain’t too much trouble would you let me sleep on your sofa, just for tonight, until I can find me a room at the ‘Y’ or something? I haven’t been feeling too good lately and don’t got the energy to go stompin’ around town tonight looking for a place. I’d much appreciate if you’d lend me a hand for the night. Whatta you say?”