Simple (4 page)

“I don’t cry no more.  I used to a lot, but my tears stopped coming.”

“Mine too,” I said.

“I guess I’ll see you guys later, huh?”  I managed to push the elevator button and watched as Barbara and the little boy walked away hand in hand.  There wasn’t much sense in trying to continue the polite awkwardness.  Anyone who had managed to survive this far had their scars and fair helping of pain.  What good did it do to talk about it?  It felt somewhat comforting to know that there were other people in the building, but I didn’t want to form a commune.  Been there, done that.  My family is Italian, and we lived in a neighborhood that was referred to as Little Italy.  When things went bad, everyone pulled together.  It was kind of cool at first.  All of the men swore to protect the women and children, and the women cooked as if every day was a holiday.  It was one big happy family sharing food, arguing over the ingredients in the sauce, and everyone adding their own flavor to our false sense of security. 

We lulled ourselves into thinking we were safe and foolishly believed that we all knew one another well enough that it was impossible for a stranger (a simp) to infiltrate our little protected world.  Everyone knew each other, and had for many years.  As kids, we all played together, and our parents played together when they were young.  The older folks were like six generations of aunts and uncles, and all of them would tell you what to do.  It truly was one big happy family.  Unfortunately, our deep cultural commitments to family did us in.  Sophia Casciaiuoli and her husband Vince were older than dirt but deeply respected on our block, because they had deep ancestral roots to the old country and could trace them back umpteen generations.  Mamma Sophie, as we all called her may have been old but God help anyone who argued her memories.  When her niece and husband showed up, she and Vince pulled away from the rest of us.  They took their meals at their own home and we all just figured they wanted to have some time to catch up.  We never saw Mamma Sophie or her husband after that.  As it turns out, her niece wasn’t anyone at all.  She was a sack of electronics, and so was her husband.  Poor Mamma Sophie was suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer’s and didn’t want anyone to know it, and her husband would have believed anything that woman said — even though he knew better in his heart.  Simp niece and hubby held that poor old couple hostage for days while they mingled amongst us learning our weaknesses. 

Niece Mary looked like us, she talked like us, and her husband sucked down red wine and cigars like the rest of the men I’d known all my life.  Who would have thought the enemy could worm right in like that?  Those two simps came with Mamma Sophie’s blessing and, in turn, we accepted them as our own.  I remember so clearly the day I learned the truth.  It was the middle of August, and hot as hell.  My mother had made a fresh batch of vanilla panna cotta with a mixed berry compote and she sent me over to give some to Mamma Sophie and Vince.  I walked up to their house with the Tupperware in my hands and I was sweating like a pig when I rang their doorbell.  All I could think about was how badly I wanted to jump into the water that was spraying from the fire hydrant a block behind me.  My cousin Jimmy had opened it up and everyone was jumping in the water.

I rang the doorbell and wiped the sweat from my forehead.  After several long moments of frustration, I pulled the screen and dared to open their front door.  I called out to Mamma Sophie, but there was no reply.  Instead, I was assaulted by a putrid stench that threatened to make me puke right there. I set the Tupperware down on the entry table and put my hand over my nose and mouth.  I had to bat at the flies with the other because they were everywhere.  I grabbed the remote off the back of the couch and turned the television off.  An icy chill ran down my spine and I willed my body to move deeper into the small house.  The small kitchen seemed in order with the exception of the water running in the sink.  I pushed the lever down and turned to survey the space, calling out their names again.  The sickly sweet stench of something rotting threatened my gag reflex and I pulled my t-shirt up to cover my nose.  Everything in me screamed
run,
but my curiosity wouldn’t let me.

I inched down the hallway and immediately stepped on something.  Looking down, I realized it was teeth.  My gut knotted as I recognized them as Vince’s dentures.  He used to chase us kids, clicking them in and out of his mouth, so I knew they were his.  Warning bells went off in my head, and yet I couldn’t stop myself.  I passed the bathroom and jumped as I caught my own reflection in the mirrored shower doors.  The guest bedroom was just across the hall, and I could see that the bed was made.  A small clock on the dresser ticked loudly, and I noticed two suitcases were at the foot of the bed.  Nothing out of the ordinary, but it struck me as odd that the suitcases seemed untouched.  I backed out and noticed the door to the master bedroom was closed.  Out of respect, I knocked and called out their names softly.  After a few moments with no reply, I turned the knob.  A hoard of flies assaulted me as soon as the door was open and the scream that escaped me didn’t stop. 

That sweet old couple…their bodies bent and contorted in ways that will never make sense in my mind.  Mamma Sophie’s nightgown was pulled over her abdomen and her left leg was bent up over her shoulder, and Vince was sprawled out on his back sideways across the bed.  His mouth was wide open, but it was clear his jaw had been broken because it was open way too wide.  Then I remembered the teeth on the floor, and that’s when I ran.  I banged pictures off the walls and tripped on a ripple in the frayed carpet.  It was like running in a dream…I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.  It wasn’t until I hit the sidewalk that I realized I wasn’t the only one screaming.  My neighbors were running in scattered directions, and I fought to make sense of the scene.

My brain struggled to process the pair of strangers kicking one of my father’s friends in his driveway.  Tony was a big man, and seeing him on the ground like that was terrifying.  His head was a bloody mess, and he was obviously unconscious or dead because he wasn’t fighting back.  He looked like a giant rag-doll, and they just kept kicking, taking turns in a calm fashion.  His poor wife stood on the porch screaming and begging them to stop, until one of them walked over to her and casually twisted her neck.  She dropped like a sack of potatoes, and then I saw my father run out with a baseball bat.  He spotted me and waved his arms for me to get out of there.  I contemplated running to help him, but I had no weapon and I was conditioned to do what my father said.  He was the head of the house and had always been a firm disciplinarian. 

Instinctively, I ducked behind a row of bushes between the houses and tried to calm my erratic breathing.  It was registering that the simps were attacking us, and that they were winning.  I watched in horror as a simp police officer snatched the bat from my father’s hand.  My father was a big man, with massive shoulders and biceps that matched those of men half his age. That simp picked him up as if he weighed nothing at all, and impaled him on our picket fence. The simp female (the one we’d believed was Mamma Sophie’s niece) picked the bat up off the parkway, and marched straight through my front door as if she lived there.  I could hear my mother screaming for help and then her voice just simply stopped. I covered my mouth with both hands to keep from revealing myself.  The things I saw that day are forever etched in my memories. I can still see the pools of blood and the bodies scattered in various displays of horror, whenever I try to sleep.  Manicured front lawns littered with the bodies of little children like abandoned toys. I can still hear the flies buzzing, and the screams of every person I ever knew and loved.  Something died in me that day.  My compassion, my hope, and my willingness to allow anyone that close to my heart again.

With no other alternative, I ran back to Mamma Sophie’s and hid in the basement until night fell and the awful screaming stopped.  I don’t know how much time passed, but it felt like a lifetime before I climbed those stairs and walked away from the only life I had ever known.  I took nothing with me besides the clothes on my back.  There was no way I was going to allow myself to venture inside my childhood home.  I didn’t want to see my mother looking like Mamma Sophie, and I definitely didn’t want to walk past my father’s body hanging over the damn fence.  I kept my eyes on the asphalt and never looked back.

I tucked the frozen package of chicken under my arm and punched in the code to the basement.  I was vaguely aware of the fact that I had no place to store the food — or cook it for that matter — but I didn’t really care about that.  I just needed to be away from all them.  Jacob, Barbara, and Giz were all too close to my comfort zone and I just needed some time alone.  I slammed the items I’d taken from the freezer along with my backpack on the counter and flopped down on my bed.  My brain was buzzing with memories, and I just wanted to escape.  My natural instincts battled with my rationality, and for the first time in a long time I struggled with my own sense of humanity.

A part of me wanted to run, but another part of me knew that this little group would not survive if the simps came for them.  They just weren’t prepared to handle that.  I put my arm over my eyes and exhaled loudly.  I wanted to believe that Giz had some solution with his nerdy friend Fish.  I wanted to have hope.  In addition, I really liked the concept of hot showers, food, and a soft bed.  I was exhausted, and after two years of running, I needed a break.  I decided to give it a week and if it got too intense, I’d flee.  I just had to keep my guard up and not allow my emotions to connect with any of these people.

I guess I fell asleep because the next thing I knew Giz was gently shaking my shoulder.  “Hailey, wake up,” He said.

I sat up abruptly, “What is it?” I said, automatically searching for my slingshot.  Panic struck as I realized it wasn’t in my pocket. 

“Relax, everything’s okay.  It’s food,” he said laughing.  “Man, you really need to take it easy.  I told you, no simps get in here.”  He was still laughing to himself as he turned to grab a hospital tray laden with baked chicken, green beans, and a small bowl of peaches.  I sat up and accepted the tray from him.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No sweat.  You’ve been out for four hours and I figured you’d want this.”

I tore a chunk of the chicken with my fingers and shoveled it in my mouth.  “Did you make this?”  I asked, my mouth still full.

“No.  Barbara did.  She brought it down to the cafeteria where I was working, and said she’d made it for us.  I already ate mine.”

“It’s so good,” I said closing my eyes and chewing a bite slowly.”

“I know, right?  I haven’t had a meal that good in a long time.  I’m so stuffed,” he said patting his scrawny stomach.  “I think I gained five pounds,” he added with a belch, and straddled a folding chair backwards at the foot of the bed.

“You need it,” I said with a laugh.  His lanky frame could use at least another ten pounds. 

“Hey, I was always this thin, it’s in my genetics.”

“So what’s the news with your fishy friend?”  I asked.

Giz shrugged. “I don’t know.  I haven’t heard from him since last night.  I’ve been trying to reach him all day.”

I glanced up from my meal and caught his miserable expression.

“Do you think the simps got to him?”

Giz got to his feet, and began to pace.  “I don’t think so.  He’s a smart guy.”

“Smarter than you?”  I asked sarcastically.

“Way,” he said seriously.

“I didn’t think that was possible,” I muttered before polishing off the last bite of peaches.

Giz threw me a dirty look and then bent down to unzip a black zippered bag at the foot of his bed.  After rummaging through it and cursing under his breath, he finally kicked the bag across the linoleum floor and stomped out. 
Whatever,
I thought to myself.  I got up and set the tray down on the long counter, and then curled back up on my bed.  My body craved the rest, and there was no reason to deny myself the luxury as long as I had the chance.  The pillow felt amazing beneath my head, and the thought of sleeping with both eyes closed was just too delicious to pass up.

I dreamed I was in a simp factory and that I was being used as a model for a simp of myself.  I came face to face with my android doppelganger and she opened her mouth in a wide smile, revealing three rows of jagged, pointy teeth.  Her head twisted unnaturally, and she began to cackle.  I ran, but she was close behind me.  I took a sharp right down a dark corridor and collided with Mamma Sophie.  She was talking in a very casual tone and telling me that her niece was in town.  She wanted me and my parents to stop by and have some coffee and pie later. When I looked down at her, I noticed that her feet were bare and twisted backwards.  The front of her dress was hitched up revealing her doughy legs and stark white underpants.  My eyes traveled back to her face.  A single tear slid down her wrinkled cheek.  “It wasn’t my fault, Hailey.  Don’t you see?  She looked just like my niece.”  She nodded for emphasis.  “Indeed, just like her.  Just like that one behind you looks like you.”  I turned and came face to face again with shark-me and began to scream.

When I woke, the room was pitch dark and silent.  I allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath, and then sat up.  Sleep was over-rated.  I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face.  Staring at my reflection, I grinned and examined my normal teeth.  “Fucking simps,” I said to the mirror, and smoothed my short brown hair.  It had been long once.  Back when hair length and styling products mattered more to a woman than a fifty-cent can of tuna.  My crowning glory was now a blunt bob.  Compliments of the crappiest hairdresser in town – me.  I tucked it behind my ears and then examined the dark rings under my eyes.  My father had always told me I had my mother’s chocolate eyes.  I remember how radiant hers were, and if I’d ever favored her, I surely didn’t now.  Dead eyes starred back at me.  I clicked off the light and walked back to the main room to collect my backpack.  I needed to feel the night air on my face.