How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9) (7 page)

Consumed,
reduced to ashes,

beautiful
grey

light
as angel wings.

Another
red light brings

the
rush of strong bodies

armored
in resistance.

Rushing
through an ambitious life

armored
in waiting dreams

the
fire must be extinguished.

Reduced
to light, white ashes

untouched
angel light

wishes
carried in silent waiting.

When
will the heroes arrive

to
stop the flames

the
burning, the waiting?

When
will the silent scream end

the
scent of burning dreams

dying
under the rush of water?

 
“How can you stay so calm?” Sharon asked,
standing over Claire. “If my husband told me he’d gambled three months of rent
away and we had to move, I’d kill him.”

 
Claire leaned back in the chair and ran
her hand through her short salt and pepper hair.

“We’ve had to move before, but
this time he didn’t tell me he was going to use our rent money. He’s always
told me before. I’ve never stopped him from gambling.”

“Maybe you should have,” Sharon
said, refilling their coffee cups.

“You don’t understand. I knew how
he was when I married him thirty years ago. Gambling seemed a small price to
pay to be with him. He makes me feel like I’m everything, like I’m special.”

“But it doesn’t last,” Sharon
said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “How many times have you told me he
disappears for days into a card game, and then comes home angry, owing more
money than before?”

“Sometimes he wins,” Claire said.
“He’s just had so much bad luck since he lost his job six months ago.”

“Some people make their own bad
luck. Thank goodness your three children are grown and out of the house. They
don’t have to go through this anymore. Listen, maybe we can lend you some money
and you could stay.”

“No, Ron wouldn’t let us take
money from you.”

“Too much pride.” Sharon said the
words as if they were a curse.

“Please, Sharon “

“I’m sorry. It’s just that nobody
listens to me like you do. You know what I mean even when I can’t explain. I’m
going to miss you.” She threw her arms around Claire and started to cry.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Claire
whispered, gently patting Sharon’s back. Tears filled her eyes. Sharon cried
with her whole body, like a child.

After a few minutes Claire pulled
away and stood at the sink with her back to Sharon. She felt more comfortable
in Sharon’s kitchen than in her own. Everything, from the white lace window
curtains that allowed sunlight to fill the room to the butcher block counters
and round oak table, relaxed Claire. Each item had been chosen with care.
Claire’s home was filled with a collage of second hand furniture.

“Harry will be sorry to see you
leave,” Sharon said. “I don’t talk him to death since we’ve been friends. There
aren’t many who could put up with me as much as you do.”

“You aren’t so hard to be
around.” Claire turned around to face Sharon. “It’s not as though we’re leaving
the country. When we get settled I’ll call you.”

“It’s not the same as having you
right down the street. I wish we could all get together for dinner before you
leave, but I know Ron doesn’t like us.” Claire opened her mouth to protest but
Sharon waved her hand. “I’ve known for a long time. All the excuses you’ve given
for not coming to our house for dinner were just to protect our feelings.”

“I’m sorry, Sharon.”

“Don’t apologize for him. I hate
the walls he builds around you. He doesn’t want you to have friends or work or
do anything, just wait for him.”

“It’s not all like that, he
— “

“I know I know. He can be
charming. I’ve seen him turn on that light when I was at your house. But it’s
not worth the price. You have your own light.”

Claire shook her head slowly. “I
wish things were as simple as you see them.”

“I wish they were, too. When are
you moving?”

“We have to be out by the end of
this week. Ron’s brother is letting us store our furniture in his garage. We’ll
stay in a hotel until we find an apartment. I’d better get back. Ron went to
get some boxes so we can start packing today.” Claire walked to the kitchen
door.

“Wait a minute.” Sharon went into
one of the cabinets. She stuffed some twenties and several singles into
Claire’s hand. “Don’t say anything. Just keep this for yourself.”

Claire hugged her and left,
knowing they would exchange Christmas cards and fewer and fewer phone calls
until time stretched between them, fading their friendship. She knew because it
had happened too many times before.

School children were on their way
home for lunch as Claire walked down the street.

She loved this neighborhood. It
was safe and comfortable, nothing like the rough, broken-down neighborhoods
they had lived in before. This was the kind of neighborhood she had always
dreamed of living in.

...through sickness and through health...

In the bright sunshine everything
looked whitewashed, except little islands of shaded coolness under the trees.
The heat coming off the sidewalk between the trees made it hard for her to
breathe through the tears she fought to keep in.

When Ron came home, Claire was
sitting in the dining room going through the box of papers and photos she had
collected over their life together.

Two high school diplomas in black
binders were piled on top of a folder of papers. Jenny’s spelling bee award,
Matt’s honor society award and their report cards from all the schools they had
attended over the years. A new school every couple of years as they moved from
one apartment to another.

...do you take this man...

They were happy in the beginning.
She hadn’t noticed how unhappy their three children seemed in the later
pictures with him. Not that it showed on their faces, but there was sadness in
their eyes. Sadness she hadn’t been aware of before today.

“I don’t think there’s room in
the hotel for that box,” he said, sitting at the table. “Besides, I don’t know
why you spend so much time with those old pictures.”

“There are a lot of memories in
here,” she said without looking up.

“Memories don’t pay the bills.”
He lit a cigarette.

“Memories are all I have,” she
said abruptly, looking at him. When did he get all that gray hair? Had it been
so long since she had looked at him, really looked at him? She thought only she
had aged. She didn’t remember his beer belly and double chin this morning.

“You’re still mad I didn’t tell
you about the rent money? It wouldn’t have made a difference, the money’s gone
now.” He stood suddenly, almost knocking over his chair.

“It makes a difference to me.
I’ve never stopped you when you wanted to gamble,” she said.

“I thought I’d surprise you.” Ron
raised his voice. “Money’s been so tight since I lost my job I didn’t want you
to worry. I was thinking about you!” He turned and left the room.

He slammed the front door shut
each time he went to the car to get the moving boxes and throw them on the
living room floor.

She wanted to yell at him, tell
him he was wrong, that there was no excuse he could use to make it right, but
she couldn’t move. Fear of the sudden anger building inside Claire held her in
the chair. Ron was the one that yelled and threw things when he got mad. Not
Claire.

She pushed the anger away,
clenching her fist to try to ignore the small seed of emptiness in her stomach
that replaced the anger.

...do you take this...

The front door slammed one last
time as he jumped into the car and drove away. Only after Ron was gone could
Claire move from the table.

She spent the afternoon carefully
packing what they would need at the hotel. Ron didn’t come home until late. She
reheated his dinner. He ate alone while she continued to pack.

They went through the next three
days packing and sleeping without saying much to each other. She tried to
ignore the emptiness. Claire was surprised each morning to find it still there,
a little bigger than the day before. Each day she ate less and less as the
emptiness filled her stomach.

...do you...

She walked through the house that
last day, checking closets and corners to make sure nothing had been left
behind. The emptiness didn’t care. It had grown into her throat, a thin,
hair-like wire she couldn’t cough out. It whispered when she tried to sleep. So
she slept less.

Ron moved the last box out to the
car. No matter what Ron said she insisted on taking that last box with them.

“Are you ready to go?” he called
impatiently from the driveway.

“Yes, I’m coming,” she said in a
tired voice.

...take this...

The setting sun threw a red
blanket of light across the rooftops as they drove down the street one last
time.

“I think we should sell some of
the furniture,” he said. “We don’t need all that stuff now that the kids are
gone.”

“Sure.” She laid her head back
and closed her eyes until they stopped in front of the Coronet Hotel.

The hotel was on a deserted
street lined with old office buildings. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors and
crumbling art deco fixtures in the lobby were faded reminders of the hotel’s
prosperous past. The dim lights and stale smell made Claire’s stomach turn. She
wanted to run back into the street.

They took the narrow elevator to
the fifth floor. Ron had brought the suitcases to their room that afternoon. He
placed her box on the dresser that ran almost the width of the small room.
There was just enough space for the bed and two small nightstands.

“We’re not supposed to have food
here, but I bought some stuff to snack on,” he said. “It’s in a shopping bag in
the closet.”

“I see,” she said, after looking
in the small closet. “Do you want something to eat now?”

“No, I have to go out. I’m going
to see if I can make some extra money tonight. I probably won’t get back until
late.”

“Okay,” she said. Claire wanted
to beg him not to leave her in this dingy little room, but knew he would go no
matter what she said. He always did.

Ron dropped the extra set of keys
on the bed and left.

...we are gathered here...

Claire sat on the edge of the
bed. The sound of people talking, laughing and arguing drifted through thin
walls.

She moved the box on the bed and
started going through it again. The dim ceiling light made everything in the
box look cheap and faded. Claire held each piece of paper, each ribbon, trying
to remember the joy on their face when they brought each item home.

Scott, her oldest son, had few
papers in the box. He joined the Navy as soon as they would take him. Despite
all the fighting between him and his father that was the one time they had agreed.
She had wanted Scott to finish high school.

“He’s always in trouble. He’d get
thrown out of school for good one day. At least he’ll be a man when the Navy
finishes with him,” Ron had said.

Matt left home as soon as he
finished high school. He sent an occasional postcard from Los Angeles, where he
worked odd jobs.

Only Jenny’s leaving really upset
Ron. She was the youngest and the only girl. There had been less fighting
between them. Their final fight came when she told him that she had found a job
and was going to share an apartment with two girls. The more he yelled the less
she said, until finally he stomped out of the house. Jenny left the next day.

Ron blamed Claire. She should
have more control over her children, he said. She had pretended to be surprised
about the whole thing, though Jenny had told her two weeks earlier. Claire had
asked her to wait until the summer was over, but Jenny told her that she
couldn’t stand to be in the same house with him any longer, live by rules that
didn’t allow her to have a social life, put up with his verbal abuse.

...to unite this man and woman...

Claire had tried to comfort them
with stories of how strict her father had been, but they had not inherited her
understanding. She didn’t tell them about her drunken father’s raving and
physical abuse; her mother’s endless patience. They wouldn’t have understood.

The emptiness spread to her arms
and legs. Each piece of paper became harder and harder to hold.

At the bottom of the box were
five picture albums. Pictures of her pregnant for the first time, Scott on his
first bike, Matt’s first birthday party. There had been happier times in the
beginning. As the years went by there were pictures of unsmiling children in
drab surroundings. In the few pictures of Ron and the children together, he
stood in the background like a prison guard. There were even fewer pictures of
Claire and him together.

She couldn’t open the last
picture album.

“Why?” she asked out loud. The
emptiness pierced her heart and sent chills through her arms and legs.

...speak now...

A vision of the rest of her life
uncoiled in her mind. She saw the emptiness continuing to feed on her day after
day. It would consume her from the inside until nothing was left except a dry
shell.

...or forever...

It took Claire three hours to go
through the pictures of Ron and her with the scissors.

A pile of little pieces of paper
collected on the bed. She smiled as each picture was transformed into a smaller
picture of her alone. The emptiness began to bubble away.

She stuffed the money from Sharon
in her blouse pocket and packed quickly, hoping for the first time Ron wouldn’t
return early. Claire took only things that belonged to her, leaving behind his
clothes and the little pieces of paper sprinkled throughout the room like
confetti.