WILLODEAN (THE CUPITOR CHRONICLES Book 1) (66 page)

“Waaaa--wwake up Caaaa--Caspperssssshhh--aaabbbcccshhsseeesss!!” She
word cried. 
Her voice was disharmonious and lost in a grief laden alphabet. Maggie Storm did not want to say goodbye. I didn’t either but unfortunately death doesn’t ask the living what it prefers. It just does what it does best. TAKE. I didn't know which was worse, the cat dying or Mag’s intense grief. She had those spirit eyes, too, like Brother Lester at the church when he prays for the sick. She went to motioning her hands, ground level to mid-air as if she expected him to lift up and come to life, rise up and strut a cat walk across the yard. When he didn’t budge, Mag would fall face first into the grass burrs. 
Faith shattered. Jesus busy
. The only thing I saw was Maw Sue’s bedroom and a no show God. 
Three lines, twelve words, empty promises.

…
the shadow of death.

…fear no evil.

…for you are with me.

Who is with me?
 
God? It doesn’t feel like it. Lies….all lies.

I blame Brother Lester’s for always telling those hopeful, rise from the dead stories in church. I mean, look at what it's doing to poor Mag. Sure, I had a little glimmer of hope that it would work too, but now that I look at Casper's grotesque and bloody corpse—there are worse things than being dead and having a flat head is one of them. If he did rise up, I’m positive he’d be like the lepers in Jesus’ day, a feline outcast from this point on and exiled.  

“Big dumb stupid cat!” I said spitting on the ground. Death was making me emotional. Sure I had my issues with Casper. It was no secret we had a love—hate relationship. But over time, that changed. He grew on me and I developed a generic fondness for his strange and eccentric ways.

“Get up Casper! Get upppppp!” Mag said in a squeal. Knife
to heart, twist, twist sort of way. 
I thought of Papa Hart’s words on the porch. “Straight up! Willodean. Straight
up!” and it got me to thinking and when I overthink, words just come out of my mouth.  

“Does Casper have an Escort?” I said looking up at Maw Sue who had been observing
in the background. 
“Papa Hart said everyone has an escort, an angel, you know, those Rectors that guide us to the other realm. Did Casper have one too?”

“Casper is dead.” She said a little too bluntly for my grieving heart. Maw Sue was known not to sugar coat. She said life was too brutal to be a candy coated anything and she sought to tell it like it was, as not to give the enemy any room for details ‘cau
se the devil was in the details, she always said. 
“Dead is dead.”

She gave us both a serious look. “Jesus said not to worry about the dead.” This bit of wisdom gave Mag no satisfaction whatsoever. She continued to bawl and squall relentlessly. “The dead are better off than us, that’s for sure.” Her voice was cynical.

She turned to spit her snuff and mumbled something I didn't
understand. 
I wanted to scream out, “How do I NOT worry about death? Dead people or dead animals. Death occupies my head all the time. I have a freaking house of death inside me people!” But I said nothing. I lost myself in the ridiculous mess of my sister's wail while she picked up hair burrs by the thousands. It was about to drive me nuts.

“Girls, Casper is up there.” Maw Sue said pointing her spindly finger to the sky. She reached to grab her necklace that wasn’t there. 
I gasped a last breathe. I took it. I stole it. 
But she didn't know that. She just thought she misplaced it during one of her spells.
It’s been over a week and she is still looking for it. 
I felt sorry for her and wanted to tell her, especially after watch
ing her rip her house to shreds.  And the bad thing is I help her look when all the time, I knew where it was. 
I am so bad.
 I could tell she felt oddly displaced as if her arm was gone. I was too much of
a coward to tell her the truth.  Fact is, I changed my mind
the first night I took it. I
t bled and thumped under my bed all night, reminding me of what I done.  I didn’t sleep and as soon as the sun came up, I jumped up and pulled the mirror bin out.  I tried to open the lid but something was terribly wrong. 
There was seeps of d
ried blood all around the edges that had dried to a waxy substance and it had sealed it shut. 
I tried everything to open it but it wouldn’t budge.  
I am doomed to hell. I am
sure of it.  I don’t know, but maybe this is how the curse is supposed to be removed.  I have to wait it out—I have no choice now.
 Poor Maw Sue. She'd never forgive me if she found out. Our relationship would never be the same. She already doesn’t pay me no mind anymore. It’s like she’s drifting away, slowly, as if something is taking her from me. Like the house inside her is swallowing her bit by bit until, until there won't be nothing of her left.

Mag brings me back to reality by a loud blubbering half word cry, “Maw Sue, awwwghhh, whine, whine, where is Casper, ahhaawww…now. Is he hurting, is he bleeedddinngg…ohmyaGawwwdddddeeeeeeeeee”

“Now Maggie…” Maw Sue bent down on her level
and patted her on the head.  She picked a few
sticker burrs
out and threw them on the ground. 
“Casper is in paradise where the lion lays down with the lamb and the whale doesn‘t eat Jonah 'cause there is
only good things there, nothing but good, a bonified animal kingdom. 
Didn’t they teach you this in vacation bible school?”

“But Casper won’t like lions.” Mag blurted out.

“And he’ll eat a lamb, that’s for sure.” I
said not able to help myself.  It was true.  He was mean as a hell cat and I’ve got
scars to prove it. Mag was partially right. It was ludicrous to think Casper could get along with other animals. He was a peculiar cat, anti-social, half domesticated and half wild. I just called him Capital C which was short for crazy.
He was basically a miniature lion because he was always pulling a sneak attack by jumping on my back while I was unaware.  Iro
nically, only in the last six months did he calm down, so I could actually pet him and listen to him purr. 
Dang it.
 Now he done went and got himself killed. “Stupid dumb Capital C.” I said ou
t of nowhere and feeling a tear well up. 
The only thing I was sure of right now—is that when people die—they don’t come back. Brother Lester has some explaining to do. 

“Now listen here girls.” Maw Sue said. “Everything is made from the dirt and goes back to the dirt. It’s the way of the universe. We all die. That is just a matter of fact. Animals and people die.
We’re given a certain time on this earth and that’s it.  Then God takes us back.  Sure, it’s sad.  We'll miss them
. The bible says there is a season for everything, to kill, to cry, to throw stones, laugh, to eat, to sleep, to die.”

When I heard that, something in me reacted. I jumped up mad as all get out,
saw a stone at my feet and threw it right mad like.  It hit the tree, bounced off and plunked to the ground.  That wasn’t good enough so I threw another, and another until I couldn’t throw no more and then
collapsed on the ground. Maw Sue and Mag paid me no mind, it was like the law of the land, me throwing stones and all. Maw Sue’s seasonal analogies were nothing new to us. She said there was a time for everything. A time to be born, a time to die, a time to plant, a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time for war and a time for peace. That was it in a nutshell. This seasonal stuff was part of the reason I stayed up late into the night, sleepless, tossing and turning trying to figure it all out.

“Life doesn’t give us head’s up rule book to know when it’s our time. Ya hear?”

Mag glanced at Maw Sue considering her words. As for me, I was making a list of questions to ask God.
How long do we have on earth?  What should we do while we’re here?  How will I die?
Maw Sue sat down in the grass between us.
Her boney legs popped and I wondered if it hurt or if she had a tic-tac so she didn’t have to feel? 
Casper’s corpse lay in front of us like a sacrificial offering slaughtered on an altar. I thought of man’s end and
how we go back to dirt, just like Capital C, laying up all stiff and lifeless.  T
hen as always, a horrible pressing panic settles on me, the one where I fear the world will crumble and end tomorrow and all I’ll have to look forward too is death, doom, gloom, lions, lambs, flattened heads, shit apocalypses and an unending relentless death wail from Mag. 
Jimminee freaking Christmas!
 Can’t a girl get some fluff? For God’s sakes, somebody give me hope. Fluff, lots of fluff,
just a crumb of hope and fluff is all I ask for.  I’m not sure how long we sat there in silence staring at Capital C but it was long enough for
uninvited guests
to arrive. 
The atmosphere was surreal, dreamlike, and then it morphed into
a reality of buzzing. 

“Okay girls.” Maw Sue said slapping her thighs. Her dress made a resounding poof as she got up. “Funeral time. Let’s get ‘em buried before the pesky flies take him away.” She swats the air a few times and her voice is joyful as if she’d just told us we were going to the carnival and could eat unlimited caramel apples. Mag and I stood up but we couldn’t pull our eyes from our beloved dead feline. Mag’s lips were puckered tight and she swatte
d at flies like she had a sword guarding her cat. 

“It’s time for you two to let go.” Maw Sue said brushing her hands together and walking towards the shed. 
What does she mean let go? I haven't touche
d that cat and don't plan on it so there ain’t gone be no letting go to it. 
She returned with a shovel. Mag took one glance and started boohooing. The grim reaper scooped up Casper like a starched white shirt. Mag looked faint so I grabbed her hand and held it tight. She returned a python squeeze and I grinned and
bared it. 
We followed closely behind the death shovel. Casper’s flat head bobbled and dangled off the metal tip in sync to the tune in my head, the morbid song of nameless horrors, the one they play on scary shows when the terrible awful has happened. 
Dah-dum-dum-dum, swish, shish, dah-dum-dum-dum, swish-swish
. The hairs on my neck were active and pulsated to its beat. It reminded me of every fear inside me, wanting access to the world I know and waiting for permission to destroy me.

We arrived on Calvary Catawba, a small mound of red clay underneath an old Catawba tree. The tree limbs wrapped in all directions making it a perfect tree for Mag and I to play in. We could climb higher than eye level and be out of
sight from everyone, so it became a hiding place for us. 
In Catawba season when the worms crawled across the leaves we’d sit for hours
eye to eye watching them as they chomped holes in leaves. 
They were the fattest, biggest worms you ever did
see. Dad used them as fish bait too. 
He’d stuff the worms with the leaves inside a paper sack and store them in the refrigerator until his fishing trip, that is, until Mag and I messed it up for him, real good like. We just wanted to see them, for a second or so, right after he put the sack inside, but we got distracted and Mag forgot to close the bag, although to hear it from her, she said I forgot to close the bag, but regardless,
we got dad in a heap of trouble and his fishing hasn’t been the same since. 
All we heard was Lena’s worm scream. It was worse than a bloody scream because the inside of the refrigerator was full of crawling worms. Lena went ballistic and we were in the doghouse for a full week, enduring the bent eyebrows and burnt cornbread. 

Casper was attra
cting more flies by the minute while Maw Sue found a good spot for burial. 
Mag and I stood glassy ey
ed staring into the two crosses on the hill. 
My hand was red and going numb from Mag’s grip. Maw Sue slipped away unnoticed and returned with a coffin. It was white shoebox marked with a red tag. 
Clearance
! 
Brooks Shoe Fit
, only $6.98, 
Keds
, size 8. Mag seen it, released her grip and flung herself over the edge of the cliff she’d been hanging over for the last half hour. I felt the blood rush back to my hands. Mag shifted side to side and then collapsed in the dirt. The Greek Goddess had finally cracked.

“Lah…lah…lah. Fly…fly…fly…lah…lah…lah.” She whimpered a dist
urbed ramble of distraught words. 
Her eyes were glazed and fixed. Maw Sue sat the box down, picked up the shovel and sliced the dirt with the blade. The sound made my skin pinch. Every slice was worse than the former. She picked up Capital C and put him in the coffin shoebox. She stuffed, crammed and scrunched as if she was arranging Christmas presents. I could hear all sorts of horrible noises, his bones bending, his organs squishing. I wanted to flee, run away. 
I will not say goodbye! I will not say goodbye!
 Maw Sue placed the box in the hole
and left the lid on the ground beside it. 
She stood up, sighed real loud and lit a cigarette. Her free hand reached for
the necklace that wasn’t there.  It wasn’t there
because I took it. I TOOK IT.
The guilt was eating me up inside. 
Since my eyes were accustomed to horrors, I turned them to Casper’s white mink body, all jacked up and curled into himself. His paws touching his hind feet and his tail swept up in a stiff arch towards his pink ears. His tiny sharp teeth and r
ed gums smiled awkwardly at me as if he knew I took the necklace too. 
The whole ceremony gave me the creeps and is precisely why I hate funerals, feline, bug and human. I understood Papa Hart sentiments 
now
, more than ever.