The Witch (26 page)

Except that none of it had happened. It had all been inside her balloon head.

Those years of living at home with Father and Mother, and then just Mother, and life had gone along, gone along, and the pills turned the crazy down like a stove burner. Well, here it was on the boil again, and it couldn't be helped.

They spent most of the day snoozing, and when Prince woke up, he yawned and said he wouldn't mind a little yard time, if she knew what he meant. Ellen let him out and once he was back inside she said, “You have to tell me, are you lost? I mean, is there someplace you need to get back to?”

“I was in transition,” Prince said. He lowered his head and began licking at his private parts. Then he came up for air,
panting a little. “I was in a bad situation, I really don't want to talk about it, and I chose to leave. I was pretty sore and tired and hungry when you found me, and it's a good thing you took me in. I definitely owe you.”

“Quiet now, Sheila's home.”

“Mum's the word,” Prince said.

Sheila came in from the back door. Her footsteps thundered. Over time, Sheila had become, not fat, exactly, but big. She came into the living room and stopped. “Hi Sheil,” Ellen said.

“What's going on here?”

“Nothing. Just me and Prince hanging out.” Prince put his nose on his paws and kept his ears down and looked mournful.

“We talked about this. That dog does not belong here.”

“You talked about it. Not me.”

“Excuse me? Do we have a little attack of smart mouth going on? Ellen! You are not keeping that dog! He certainly does not belong in the living room!” Sheila talked about the living room like it was some fancy place.

“I'll take care of him. I'll take him to the vet, like I said, and get him his shots.”

“And how do you expect to get him there?” Sheila asked, a note of triumph in her voice. “Because I am not taking him.”

Ellen shrugged. “I guess I can drive, then. I can drive Mom's car.” It sat in the garage, right where their mother had left it. It was a good enough car.

“Now Ellen. You haven't driven in I don't know how long. You don't even have a license anymore.”

“Then I'll get one. Prince can get his dog license and I'll get my driver's license.”

“Driving is a whole separate issue. Please get this dog idea out of your head.”

“If you don't like it,” Ellen said, greatly daring, “you can go home to your own house.”

Sheila sat down hard on a leather armchair. It made a “foof” sound beneath her. “The only reason I'm here is to try and help you.” Her voice wobbled. “I know you think I'm a big pain in the rear, but I'm your own sister, and I worry about you, Ellen, I worry all the time. There are so many bad things that can happen to people who aren't—like everybody else. I pray for you, Ellen, go ahead and laugh at that if you want to, but I pray to do right by you, like Mom and Dad would want me to. If they were here this minute, they'd be saying, ‘Ellen, your sister loves you and wants what's best for you.'”

“I'm sorry,” Ellen said. She felt horrible. She looked at Prince, but he was sitting this one out and wouldn't meet her eyes. “I don't want you to worry.”

“All right,” Sheila said. Her big purse was in her lap and she opened it and found her pocket pack of Kleenex and blew her nose. “We'll get past it. We'll rise above it. How was work today?”

She'd forgotten all about work. “That's a whole nother situation.”

“Didn't you even go? Is that what you're saying? Oh, Ellen.”

“I don't think I want to go to work anymore.” It wasn't a thought she was thinking until right that minute, but once it came out of her mouth, she knew it for the truth.

“Lord give me strength,” Sheila said. “This really is not up for discussion. I know it's hard for you to get along with other people, but you have to make the effort. You can't just sit in the house feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I think it's more like it's hard for other people to get along with me.”

Sheila stared at her over the Kleenex, then she put it away in her purse and stood up. “You've given me a great deal to think about, Ellen. I don't want to be unpleasant, but it's my responsibility to think of your welfare. I'm going to go upstairs and change clothes and start supper. Why don't you do whatever it is you need to with this dog, so I don't have to look at him just now.”

“Uh-oh,” Prince said, once Sheila was out of the room.

“Shush. I'll feed you, then we can go for a walk. You have to watch out for Sheila when she's in this kind of a mood.”

“Is she ever not in this kind of a mood?” Prince wanted to know, but once his food bowl was filled, he quit talking and chowed down.

It was getting dark earlier and earlier now, and Ellen hurried to get Prince to the park and back home before the lonesome streetlights came on. Nobody was out on the sidewalks, so she let Prince's belt-leash trail, and he ranged from side to side, sniffing at hedges and windblown paper trash. She didn't see how she was going to get past Sheila about Prince. Once Sheila got a notion into her head, it pretty much set up housekeeping there and didn't budge. Maybe Ellen and Prince could run away together, and live like gypsies, which was something her mother used to say about shiftless, unprosperous people, well, that would be them.

Once they got to the park, Prince was quick about doing his business, and was just trotting back to Ellen when he snarled and looked around him at his hind end, then yelped.

“What is it, what's wrong?” Ellen asked, and then she felt something sting against her face, and another volley breaking against her coat sleeve, small and hard, like seeds or gravel. Prince
snarled again and barked in the direction of a stand of evergreens, dark and impenetrable, someone hiding there, a deeper shadow in the trees, throwing something? Shooting something? Horrible clawing nightmare panic, all the shapes her mind could make, the thing in the trees coming for them, and Prince standing his ground, barking, until Ellen grabbed at the belt and pulled him away and they ran and stumbled their way home.

They stopped just outside the back door to catch their breath. Inside the lighted kitchen, they saw Sheila moving from the stove to the sink and back, fixing dinner with her jaw set in a hard shape. “What was that?” Ellen asked. “Are you all right?”

“Stung like fury, but I'm okay. You?”

“Me too,” Ellen said, but she wasn't really, and she bent down so Prince could lick her face, which was another thing Sheila would have flipped out about, if she'd seen it.

They got through dinner without much conversation—Sheila had turned on the silent treatment—and she didn't object when Ellen made Prince a bed in the kitchen out of some old coats. “Good night,” Ellen told him. “You'll be fine here. I'll see you in the morning.”

“It's all good, don't worry about a thing,” Prince said. He turned around and around in the coats and settled down with his black kangaroo nose tucked beneath his tail. Really, he was so cute.

Ellen went upstairs and got into her own bed, where she'd slept every night of her life except for those times in the crazy hospital. She used to share a bedroom with Agnes and Sheila, but Agnes lived in Ohio with her husband and kids, and Sheila had taken over their parents' room. Ellen got halfway asleep, then jerked herself awake. She had been on the edge of a dream, and
in the dream an evil thing with an unspeakable demon face crept toward her, just waiting for her to fall asleep.

Ellen got out of bed and went down to the kitchen. “Prince. Hey, Prince?” He rolled over and yawned. “Would you come sleep with me?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Prince said, shaking himself and following Ellen up the stairs.

Fortunately Sheila was a heavy sleeper. She slept the sleep of the just, she used to joke. Still, Ellen shushed Prince and kept herself quiet. She patted the bed and Prince jumped up and stretched out beside her, his warm back to Ellen's front. Ellen rubbed his ears and then the groove under his nose and the fur of his chest. She said, “I bet they didn't let you sleep on the bed in your old place.”

“There's some out there in the world who are cruel and hateful for no reason.”

“Don't I know it,” Ellen said. They fell asleep like that, and very early in the morning, before Sheila was stirring, Ellen opened the bedroom door and Prince padded back down to the kitchen.

—

The garage had been shut for so long, it took some doing for Ellen to lift the board that latched the doors and pry them open. Her mother hadn't driven much at the end. The car was a Lincoln because Ellen's father had always driven American-made cars. It was brown and boat-shaped, draped in cobwebs and twigs. Ellen used an old dishrag held in a pair of tongs to dust it off. The tires had a fat, weary look. She wasn't sure about getting the thing to start, let alone driving it. “Here goes nothing,”
she said to Prince. He was in the back seat, sniffing all the gratifying smells, leather and rot and whatever kind of animal lived in old garages.

She pressed the accelerator down to give the engine gas, then turned the ignition key. The car made a waa waa waa sound and quit. She tried again, a couple more times with the accelerator feeding the engine again, and finally it turned over.

“Well Howdy Doody,” Ellen said. “I guess we're in business.”

Prince looked into the front seat. “Can you put the window down so I can do the head-out-the-window thing?”

Ellen's father had taught all his girls to drive, and Ellen remembered everything as if she'd never stopped. She'd always been a good driver. It was just a matter of putting the hand and feet things together at the right times. She backed out of the driveway and rolled into the street. “We're not going to push our luck,” she told Prince. “I don't want to run into anybody and get arrested.”

“You should probably take it into a car place and have them change the oil and stuff,” Prince advised.

“On the to-do list,” Ellen agreed. She drove them around the block a couple of times, getting used to the way the world looked from inside a car. It had been a while. It was pleasant to watch the streets unrolling as she passed, and she enjoyed the ease with which you could go one way, then change your mind and head off in another. She nudged the car out to the main road and drove until she found a pet supply store. Prince waited in the car while she went in and bought him a real collar and a leash and some cookies in the shape of mailmen, and a stuffed bunny with a squeaker that he pretended to take an interest in, but really, he was too old for toys.

“We could go on a trip sometime,” Ellen said.

“Like where?” Prince asked. He was biting the head off a mailman cookie.

“Anywhere with a road,” Ellen said grandly. Possibilities crowded in behind her eyes, all the places you saw on postcards. I mean, why not? Somebody must go there. She turned the car toward home. This driving thing, she had it all knocked.

“Sheila at ten o'clock,” Prince warned, as they came up to the house, and Ellen stomped on the brakes. Her heart shriveled. What was Sheila doing home early?

Sheila was standing in the driveway as Ellen drove up, looking into the empty garage. “I was about to call the police,” she said. “Stop the car and give me the keys.” Sheila's expression said: I take no prisoners.

“I can drive just fine,” Ellen told her. “It's no big deal.”

“Get out of there, and get that dog out too.” Sheila reached in and snatched the keys from Ellen's hand. “When you drive without a license or insurance, it is a big deal. Out.” She yanked Ellen's door open.

Ellen got out. Her legs were wobbly. Prince had scooted over to the far side of the back seat and wouldn't come closer. Sheila said, “Fine, he can stay there and I'll drive this car. I got some good news, Ellen. This dog has a home and I'm going to take him back to it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“A very nice lady and her husband and little boy who lost him and they've been looking for him everywhere. They were so excited when I told them we had him.”

“That's a big fat lie,” Ellen said.

“Excuse me?” Sheila was still in her work clothes and her work shoes with the heels. She was as big as a statue.

“They didn't want him. They were cruel to him. He ran away.”

Sheila let out her breath and put on her patient, grown-up face. “And how do you know this, Ellen?”

“Because he told me,” Ellen whispered. She couldn't look at Sheila. Prince's tongue was hanging out and he was panting. Ellen wanted to touch him but he'd shrunk into the corner.

“The dog talks to you.” The space between Sheila's eyebrows began to kindle.

“Yes.”

“All right, Ellen. That's very interesting. When I get back, I'm going to call Dr. Gaily, because I know he will want to hear all about these conversations.”

“No.” She knew what Dr. Gaily meant. He was the doctor from the hospital. “I won't.”

“Please don't be uncooperative, Ellen. It only makes everything so much harder, and it doesn't change the outcome.”

“You've never loved anything in your whole life,” Ellen told her.

Then a lot of things happened all at once. Sheila opened her mouth wide, either to say something or in outrage, and Prince in the back seat of the car barked and howled and shouted, “Ellen, watch out, watch out!” Ellen turned and saw the hedge behind them snapping and shaking and the red-haired boy stepped out of it, aiming a toy that looked like a rifle or a rifle that looked like a toy, and just at the last instant Ellen fell to the ground and the spray of shot hit Sheila right between the eyes.

—

Ellen was allowed to attend church for the funeral, packed between her two burliest brothers-in-law in case there were
problems. But she sat quietly all through the service, and listened as Father Harvey talked about our earthly loss and the rejoicing in Heaven. He said that agents of God's grace were everywhere among us, working His will, and Ellen guessed he was talking about Sheila, but maybe you could make a good case for the red-haired boy too. Father Harvey was old now, and his face had collapsed into flabby wrinkles, and Ellen asked herself what she'd ever seen in him, though she'd known all along it had been his loneliness.