Michael Collings - The Slab

Ellen’s family spent that night at her father’s house. Not a word was spoken abut Jay or Elizabeth or Anna. Neither Thad nor Josh was punished in any way, but all three boys were unusually quiet for the rest of the day.

Thad slept alone on the rollaway in the back bedroom. Twice Ellen made her sleepy way down the dark hall to check on noises that had awakened her, coming from that direction. The first time, just before she opened the door, she thought she heard Thad-who never talked in his sleep, who always slept like a corpse, barely even shifting his body during the night-cry out. She thought he was speaking, rather than just groaning from too many turkey left-overs at dinner time. But by the time she opened the door, he was silent and still.

The second time came much later, just before the first glimmerings of dawn. This time, for some reason, she woke a few seconds before the sounds filtered through her closed door.

She was up and heading toward Thad’s room before the muffled cries stopped, and this time she was able to step inside just as he fell silent.

“No, leave me alone,” the boy muttered, his new-found bass crackling unpleasantly into a childish treble. “I don’t want to. No!”

When her hand grazed his, he fell silent.

She spent the rest of the night perched on the edge of the rollaway, her hand stroking his long hair. He did not move under her touch.

He did not cry out again.

Later, at breakfast, she asked, “Did you sleep all right, Thad.”

“Yeah,” he answered, almost sullenly. That, at any rate was normal. Thad was a hard waker.

“No bad dreams or anything?”

He stared long enough at her to make her slightly uncomfortable. The rest of the table fell silent, as if waiting for his answer.

“No, nothing like that,” the boy finally said. “It was just… It… Sorry Gramps, but, Mom, those stuffed birds are creepy.”

Everyone, including Grandpa Abe, laughed at the intensity in Thad’s voice. After a tense moment, during which it seemed as if he might lose his temper-not an unusual occurrence for the teenager-even Thad joined in.

“I mean, every time I opened my eyes, there they were, hanging there, looking like they were about to pounce on me or something. Totally, totally creepy!”

The Camerons left before noon. Ellen promised to call her father later that week. They would talk things over, she promised. Maybe he could come down to San Diego for a long visit. A real long visit.

“We’ll see,” Abe said quietly. “We’ll see.”

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, 2005, started out unseasonably warm, but by early afternoon the ocean-driven clouds had invaded the valleys, bringing high winds and the threat of rain. The air was damp, charged with heaviness.

Abe noted the cloud cover as he closed the front door. A car had just pulled out of his driveway, but right at the moment, he couldn’t quite remember whose. It was important to remember; he new that much, but the names, the faces just wouldn’t come.

He leaned against the door. His face was flushed and hot. He shuffled into the kitchen and drew a cooling drink of water from the tap. He crossed to the cupboard and carefully took down a small revolving stand that supported ten or twelve amber plastic medicine bottles, all imprinted with his name. His hand hovered over several as he tried to concentrate.

This one, for sure. He knew that he had to take the little white one. His hand dropped to another bottle. The six-sided red ones? Were they once a day? Or twice? He couldn’t remember for certain, and even when he squinted at the tiny print on the label, he couldn’t be sure. He took one anyway. He took four others as well, washing them down with the cool water. He opened the refrigerator and took a thin slice of turkey from a plastic-wrap-covered tray.

Turkey. It tasted good.

And it reminded him…reminded him…reminded him… Yes, he would have to get the turkey out of the freezer in the garage soon. Wouldn’t do to have the Thanksgiving turkey still cold and frozen and dead when the kids got there. Ellen should be pulling up any time now, and Jay, with their kids. I’m gonna cook them a dinner they won’t soon forget, Abe reminded himself.

Just to be on the safe side, he took a pad from the kitchen drawer and carefully wrote a note to himself: “Kids coming-Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

He slid the pad back into the drawer and closed it. He looked around. For a moment, he wasn’t sure where he was. He felt dizzy, and his breath was painful as he drew air into his lungs. His arm and shoulder ached. He would lie down.

He went down the hallway, but instead of turning into his bedroom, he continued on to the specimen room. The rollaway was open in the middle of the floor, sheets and covers rumpled at the foot. One pillow lay like something lost on the floor, mostly hidden by the metal framework of the bed. The rollaway. That surprised him. He didn’t remember putting it down, but then he didn’t remember many things nowadays. He sighed. He removed the sheets and pillows, folding them carefully and setting them momentarily on the top of the bookshelf near the door.

It was a chore for him to close the bed by himself, but he finally got the metal hasps on each side locked. After that, rolling the bed back into the closet was easy. He placed the sheets and pillows on top of the metal frame.

Finished, he turned and looked over the specimen room. He enjoyed the room. It brought back memories. Everything here was as it should be. Everything in place, just as always.

No, not quite everything.

A scrap of white cloth jutted out from beneath the desk opposite the closet.

Can’t have that, Abe thought. Got to get this place spick and span. I think I’ll have Ellen and…and…whatshisname…sleep in here this time. Let Jay and Linda have the good bed.

Still puzzled as to what the bit of cloth might be, Abe leaned over and picked it up. The movement made his ears buzz and a wave of dizziness made him stumble. He nearly struck his head against the sharp edge of the desk, but caught himself just in time.

He held the cloth out, studying it, turning it over and over in his hands until he finally recognized it-and felt embarrassed when he realized how puzzled he had been by something so simple as a pair of undershorts.

Probably one of the boys’ from last time they came.

But that was months ago. Abe was certain that he’d cleaned up since then. Why had he missed them all that time?

His hand closed over the material. It was oddly stiff in places, and for an instant Abe fluttered on the verge of remembering something more, something from his own youth so far back that he rarely ventured to visit there, even in memory.

He held the underwear in his hand and stared out the window for a long, long time.

Then he heard a sound. Two sounds, actually.

He turned toward the closet. The girls were sitting in there, sitting on the rollaway that he was sure he had closed up just moments before-but now their faces glowed with the vivid scarlet of a cloudy November sunset where the light poured through the window behind him.

Abe stiffened in horror.

The girls were naked. Sitting naked on the bed and crying, as if he had done something to them how could he have done anything he just came inhere to clean a minute ago then how come it’s dark outside old man, and how come they’re crying and cringing from you in terror in horror but he’d never even considered even thought of touching them not once not ever may God strike me dead this instant if I ever even thought but they were crying and the buzzing and the pain and the dizziness struck again with so much force that Abe stumbled backward, striking his back sharply against a filing cabinet. No no no no he wailed silently as the girls suddenly turned to face him, their eyes accusing and bright with hatred, their heads crowned with haloes of blood that ran slowly down their cheeks and dripped onto their bodies.