Bereavement Leave

Today started out relatively okay. I hadn’t seen it once. Not yet.

The smell of rain lingered in the air, a forgotten specter amongst thick heat waves. Sweat condensed on my brow, and I compulsively wiped it with my headband as I continued walking to Maxine’s. Her mother’s two-story house was only a few blocks away now, but it swayed like a distant mirage, simmering with the rising temperatures. I had walked from my house to get there, and at this point, I was regretting my decision.

It seemed like ages before I was standing at Max’s door. After knocking, I listened intently as her footsteps clacked closer and closer until finally, the latch clicked. The door flew open, and a cold breeze washed over me, a heavenly sensation.

“Aileen? Holy shit, I didn’t know you were back already!”

Immediately I was wrapped into a tight embrace. She was a hugger—always had been.

“Hey, Max.” When she let me go, I stepped back to look at her. Despite how little time had passed since we’d seen each other, it felt like a reunion of sorts. She was still the same, still slender and pretty, with the same glowing smile & crystal blue eyes. It seemed my best friend was the only thing that hadn’t changed as of late.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were home?! You could’ve texted or called, you know.” Max looked over my shoulder—into her driveway. “Where’s your car?”

“At the house. I walked here.”

“You walked? All the way here? Why the hell would you do that today, of ALL days?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Please come in, it’s hot as balls outside.”

Max pulled me inside and quickly kicked the door shut. The change in air quality was like stepping into another dimension. “Come on, let’s get you something to drink. You’ve got to be dying of thirst if you walked all the way here, seriously Aileen…”

Our footfalls were loud against the hardwood floors, clacking until we reached the kitchen. Max grabbed a two-liter of Cherry Coke from her fridge (our favorite drink) then snatched out two small tumblers, which she filled with ice before pouring them full. The cups sizzled with carbonation, and the ice inside crackled & buckled as it melted.

“Cheers, girl. It’s good to have you back.” Max grabbed a glass and clinked it against the other one, waving her hand in a ‘take a drink’ sort of motion. The Coke was cold against my lips but didn’t taste as good as I remembered.

“So, what’s been going on?” she asked me. “How was your grandparents’?”

“Fine, I guess.” I kept my lips over the cool glass in my hand. “You know them. They don’t talk much.”

“Shit, neither do you,” Max said with a soft laugh. “Runs in the family, I guess. Are you doing okay? Was your dad there?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. He was there, but we didn’t talk much either.” I swirled the cup, listening to the ice clink around inside.

Her eyes flickered. “Exactly how long have you been home?”

“About a week or so.”

“A week?! Why didn’t you say something? Have you just been at home alone all this time? I could’ve come by. What have you been doing?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, just reading. I drew a few pictures.”

For a few seconds, Max stared into my eyes, looking for something. She does this sometimes when I’m being “hard to read,” in her own words. I used to think her stare was harsh, like some punishing heat vision. But over the years I’ve learned that’s her way of showing concern.

“I think you should stay here with me, at least until classes start up again. We still have that guest room upstairs, or you could sleep in my room if you want. It’d be nice to spend some time together while we can…we rarely see each other during school.”

“I should stay at home. Someone’s gotta watch over the house.”

“Aileen, fuck the house. Seriously, come on. I don’t like the idea of you staying there alone, especially not with what you’re going through…I wanna be there for you.”

“It’s okay Max, I can handle myself.” I said that so unconvincingly that even I didn’t believe it, so I followed up with, “You don’t have to watch over me—we’re not kids anymore.”

“Even if I felt that way, I’d be a shitty friend if I didn’t watch over you right now. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

Max grabbed her glass of Coke and made for the living room, beckoning me with a gentle tug on my arm. I followed her through the hallway and into the massive space, our footsteps loud in my ears. Her mother’s home is a beautiful pastiche of prairie-style architecture; powerfully horizontal rooflines dominate the exterior, and inside is both spatially and visually open, with large rooms composed of concrete & dark-colored woodwork. The front façade of the house is almost completely made of glass windows, and since it faces south, the natural lighting is stellar. I knew I should’ve been awestruck, but that day, I was unsettled. I felt naked, watched, vulnerable in those open spaces…minimalist interior design is something I normally would’ve considered wonderfully functional, but at that moment it felt like walking through a giant skeleton.

When my mind stopped wandering, we were on the huge sectional in the living room, facing their regal fireplace. The room seemed to expand around us, reminding me how small we were. Max was staring at me again, searching for answers. I wondered how long she had been looking at me while I was spacing out. That’s when her eyes did something they rarely do: they softened.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna talk about anything? You’ve been so quiet lately, even for you.”

“Yeah, I’m alright. It’s just been weird, you know?”

“I mean, kinda. But I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through. I know that it sucks, and I know that you’ve got to feel hella lonely in that house. But I don’t know what’s going on inside you. And I want to. I want to help you.”

I didn’t say anything back. I wasn’t sure what to say.

Max goes on. “Do you still think about her a lot? I know I do.”

“Not so much anymore,” I lied. “At first I did, but it’s been a while since, you know.”

“Even so, it’d be totally normal if you thought about her still. I can’t miss her nearly as much as you do, but I still miss her.”

Again, I wasn’t sure what to say back, so I said nothing.

“I was thinking Aileen, maybe this semester, we could look for an apartment off-campus? I’ve needed a change of scene for a while now, and knowing you I’m sure you do too. We could maybe get a couple more roommates too if you want—maybe one of the girls in your architecture studio and one of the girls from my cohort? And I don’t mind helping you cover rent if that’s what it takes.”

“Sure, that sounds cool.”

Max smiled, but her eyes didn’t. “Perfect. Hey listen, I’ve got to go pick up my mom from the optometrist. She just got laser eye surgery, so she can’t drive. Wanna come with?”

“I kinda wanna stay here, if that’s okay. I’m tired, from walking.”

“Sure, I understand. I’ll be real quick, then we can figure out something to do, okay?”

Without waiting for a response, Max jumped up and snatched her keys from the mantle above the fireplace, then walked around the sectional to head outside.

“Help yourself to anything you want,” she called out before I heard the lock click again. I then heard the door shut, then the gentle sound of her electric car rolling down the driveway before fading into the echoes of silence. When it was quiet again, the room seemed to expand even more. Weak sunlight crawled across the floors, dying just before touching my feet. The hardwood appeared darker, and the concrete walls looked damp, like clammy flesh. Columns loomed tall like the ribs of a colossal creature, picked clean by scavengers and sun-bleached by time.

———

I’m not sure how long she was gone, but it was long enough for me to fall asleep for a bit. When I awoke, it was sudden and sharp, like I had been shocked by a cattle prod. Jolted up, I was compelled to look outside, so I shuffled towards the windows. The street was bare; not a single car was parked in any of the driveways. Once I saw that, I whipped around to peer into the kitchen, then the laundry room just past it. My eyes darted to the open door of the dark basement, then my head craned to get a view up the polished stairs. Everything was so quiet. I could feel my heart rate increasing.

(nothing. not now, anyway.)

I tried to sit back down, but couldn’t. I wanted to call Max, but couldn’t do that either. I don’t know why it always happens like this—why I get this way…I don’t know, and I wish I could tell you. I just…freeze up. And so I was just standing there.

(is anyone here? surely there’s someone in one of those houses. i can’t be alone. there’s no way.)

[thump.]

Apparently, I was alone.

I heard them before I saw them, which is usually how it goes…and there’s no mistaking that sound. It’s a wave of gelatinous movement—thick, syrupy slurping and smacking, pulses of sloshing slime. Their wet whispers echoed in the airwaves; they came from atop the staircase, from the kitchen, from beyond.

And above the cacophony, as always, I heard a voice.

My mother’s voice.

“Aileeeeeen.”

A tingling sensation washed across my face, draining into my skin. All I could think was “call Max;” it looped in my head, a warning siren flashing in my mind’s eye. But I didn’t call her. I just felt my inhales grow thick with mildew, watched the color slowly drain from the walls. It condensed on the surfaces, forming droplets heavy enough to roll down the stone and hardwood. My eyes were all I could move.

“Aileeeeeen. Aileeeeeeennn…”

Each exhale from her was a death rattle—a final gasp of life—and yet she kept talking, kept coming closer with those sounds, those awful sucking sounds. Then, like it always does, there came a visceral turn for the worse: the echoes from a most horrible torture chamber, a backdrop of breaking bones and tearing flesh, of ligaments snapping like piano wires.

(call Max call Max call Max)

Hues melted down the walls in thick globules, pooling into what once was the floor and leaving the room stripped of life, carrion made of stone and rotting wood. An invisible vise-grip clasped my skull, squeezing, compressing. I shut my eyes, praying this would end but knowing that it wouldn’t…and upon opening them, something was atop the stairs. It was something gray, something I’ve seen before, something that whipped violet streaks of luminescence through the air as it moved. It was faceless and long, and its underside housed countless appendages like the hairy legs of an ant, yet thick as my own arm.

“Aileeeeeen. Aileeeeeen. Help meeee…oh god please help meeeee…”

A second graying frond, now from the kitchen. A third wriggled in the dark shadows of the basement staircase, and behind it, dozens of much smaller ones, each thrashing about in its desperate attempt to inch forward. They’re like writhing innards, like the offal of some ancient cursed beast.

(fuck you gotta call Max call her do it right now fucking DO IT come on)

I knew this couldn’t be real. I knew it. None of this could actually be happening; I was just a scared girl alone in my best friend’s house, probably having a panic attack or some kind of nervous breakdown. But if it was just my imagination, how did it get closer every time I saw it? I could see it advance every time I blinked…and I could feel the rising heat, feel the air becoming harder to breathe. And if feelings are not real, then what is?

“Ohhhh my god help me! HELP ME, AILEEN! NOOOO!!”

My mother’s gut-wrenching screams finally kicked my somatic senses back on, and I stumbled backward, collapsing into the floor, which was now flooded ankle-deep in color. I flipped over prone and crawled through the color, away from the liquid limbs, away from my mother’s voice. My movements were wild thrashes, and when I accidentally splashed the color into my mouth, the taste was so foul I couldn’t stop the vomit from welling up in my throat. I instinctively scrambled for the glass front facade, not thinking about the fact that there was no exit out of this room besides through the kitchen, which led to the front door…never mind that there were dozens of writhing forms waiting for me in that exit. I guess I thought if I got to a window, I could see somebody. This…thing always stopped if somebody else was present, or if I could talk to someone on the phone.

When I finally made it to the glass, I looked across the street. My chest tightened, and a tingling sensation crawled up my legs.

It was her. It was my mom.

And yet, it was also something else—something far more…empty.

It looked a lot like her, but her body was gaunt and pale, like a thing barely alive. I couldn’t really see her face. The only reason I could tell she was alive was her movements, but even those seemed off–spastic, disjointed, uncontrolled. She was limping across the street in my direction, and though she was almost 20 yards away, I could hear her voice like she was whispering in my ear.

“I neeeeed you. Aileeeeen why won’t you look. Why won’t you loooook at me?”

I was frozen in place. Despite my shock, I couldn’t help but think to myself that maybe it’s really her.

“Aileeeeeen. Aileeeeeen. Please, help meeee…”

My lips quivered to life…and I dunno why, but I quietly called out, “Mom?”

“Aileen, pleeeeease…”

Reality melted away. Glass fizzled into the air, and the houses behind her crumbled to dust. There was only my mother and the road. Still, she came closer, and I could begin to see the emptiness in her eyes—rather, what was left of them.

“Please help me…I neeeeed you…”

A cold sensation gathered around my eyes, drawing icy veins down my jawline. “Mommy, I’m…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…”

VRmmmmmmm. VRmmmmmm.

I heard the vibration of my phone before I felt it. I gently stood up out of the color to see who was calling…Max. I turned away from the glass, looking at the interior of the house again. The fronds had overtaken everything, enveloping the whole space like some massive squid. They were still writhing, still slashing bands of violence in the air, but I couldn’t hear them anymore.

I turned back to the thing that was also my mother, a creature that was alive but did not seem alive, still jerking its way towards the house. I thought for a while about what I wanted to do…but as I thought, eventually the phone stopped ringing. Then, I put the phone back in my pocket and sat cross-legged in the color to watch my mother come closer.

“Aileeeeen...”

“I should have known something was wrong...it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” My mother continued her approach, a sluggish death walk. I could feel that icy feeling all over my face.

“Why…why did you leeeeave me…”

“I—I didn’t leave you. I would…I would never leave you.”

“Why don’t you loooove me…”

That is where I am now—in this moment, with her maybe ten feet away from me. Out of all the times I’ve seen her like this, she’s never gotten this close…close enough to see the grooves in her cheeks, and the fatigue in her bones. She never gets this close because someone has usually shown up before then, or because I’ve called for help. But this time, no one is coming.

I don’t think I’ll call for help.