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Home Sweet Home: The Novel (1,2)
By Carnotaur3
1
Traveling
It was July 25, 1999 on a back road in middle Tennessee. Mike Cohen and his wife Gabby were traveling to their new home of Goodlettsville in their junky-looking pick up truck that would have made a homeless man cringe. It was a hot day, and Mike decided to bring down the windows to get some air. Both had recently suffered a tragedy of the family.
About four months prior at a birthday party for one of their cousin’s kids, their daughter Chelsea, who was five years old at the time, and was a brilliant lovely child who radiated the room whenever she ran into one, had gotten out of the sight of Mike and Gabby’s eyes. The result was devastating. A white van was coming up the curb of the birthday boy’s house when Chelsea ran out to the street. The van swerved, but by then it was too late for the poor girl. She was run over violently. The doctors said she died instantly because her cranium was smashed at first contact with the right front tire. Needless to say, the visitation and funeral were performed without an open casket.
Sometimes these types of events are so evidently horrendous and surprising that they can leave their victims in a stupor. This was exactly what happened to Mike and Gabby. But what’s more tragic about it is the fact that it could have been prevented had the two been paying attention to their daughter. Guilt can be a burden you can not get rid of, and can quite possibly take over your life in more ways than one. Mike and Gabby bore the guilt in their hearts deep down and the realization that it was in there, harboring on the back of their soul like a heavy tree branch, was not on their minds.
In order to forget the past, they made plans to move across country from the urban streets of Los Angeles to the rural country of Tennessee. Going from a noisy residence to a quite peaceful wildlife setting is a big step, and not to be taken lightly. But the loving married couple knew the sounds of the city reminded them of their past, and with each loud noise an annoyance grew. Mike called those noises, “fucking irritating.” And he once lost his job as a writer when they got in the way. It was good for him that he had set his mind on a place where his writing skills could be perfected without a hesitation or a noise of distraction to be had.
Goodlettsville was a town above Nashville. There are numerous neighborhoods but in the back country are private cabins. These cabins were the ones being sought for by Mike and Gabby, and they settled on one of them that had a deal too good to be passed up. Apparently, the owners of the place died. How and why wasn’t said and as far as the couple was concerned, it didn’t matter one bit. But the cabin’s price fell dramatically for the realtors, and the Cohens took the place out of their hands.
Mike Cohen was in his late twenties. He had nice facial features with a stubble of growth forming on his upper lip and chin, and brown eyes with dark brown hair. He wore glasses that seemed to dip down toward the edge of his nose at any given time. This annoyed him to no end, but he didn’t care. He’d rather have glasses than to try to put pieces of plastic into his eyeballs. He used to be harassed on and on by Gabby to get contacts. He took offence, thinking she thought he looked like a dork. She told him the advantages of them and he was half way convinced, until he was told to try them on at Lense Crafters. It took him two hours to get one to suck on the eyeball and relieve him of any pain. After the that, he just gave up, went back on his deal, and decided to stick with the regular old glasses instead.
Gabby Cohen was in her middle twenties. She also had nice facial features, but her complexion was not dark, but a near milky white. She was a natural beauty with loving deep blue eyes, and dark brown hair, which was fluttering in the wind from her open window. Growing up, she was always considered daddy’s little girl. She was spoiled to no end, though she never took anything for granted. Her father passed away four years ago from a heart attack, the likes of which she thought she’d never get over. But she eventually did, accepting his death as part of life’s unwavering realities.
Mike was trying hard to forget the dry heat while he was driving the truck up the rocky road. He began to think about what he was going to do with his novel, what sort of preparations he’d go through in order to start on it, and what exactly he wanted it to be about. Back in Los Angeles, his friends were clamoring for him to take on a horror story. After the death of their daughter, they’ve since just stopped talking about it.
Yes… let’s talk premise, Mike. And a new subject at that!
He decided any story involving death would be discarded. He had a feeling that almost anything he wrote would ironically reconnect to Chelsea in some way or another, but he understood that.
Something funny. I need to write a comedy, but about what? Son of a bitch, it’s hot!
He couldn’t take it anymore. Adding to the open windows, Mike switched the dial of the air conditioner to maximum high. Gabby noticed, laughing a bit at his discomfort.
“We have some bottled water in the back. You want me to get one for you?” she asked, eyes so gentle looking it literally made Mike feel better.
Why is she still with me?
“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” he said, pushing his back to the seat.
Gabby unlocked her belt, turned and leaned over on the seat, and began to search in the back for the water cooler.
Mike began a rant, “I come right back from L.A. and it’s still a scorcher. You remember that time in Sacramento? We visited Jeff and Cindy. I think it was a Fourth of July party, and Jeff had some left over steaks to cook so he decided to just get a few people together. Well, the whole day was completely clouded over, and there was some scattered rain from time to time. Jeff said that it was going to get sunny again in a matter of minutes. Well, it did…”
Gabby passed the water bottle to him, cutting him off.
“Oh, thanks honey… and Jeff’s air conditioner just went caput. I mean it was out like that,” he said snapping his fingers. “He called everyone, but could barely get someone to come by and fix it that day. He said he knew God hated him from that day on.”
Mike took a sip of water, smacked it against his lips to wet them.
“Cindy isn’t with Jeff anymore,” she uttered.
“What? When did this…”
Gabby cut him off, “Jeff was cheating on her for three months. Do you not remember how many nights he said Cindy was still at her mothers?”
Mike took another sip, putting it down to his side in the cup holder, “Wow. I thought they’d be together for at least longer than that.”
“He deserved it. He had an affair with his script supervisor. No amount of gossip escapes Hollywood. But let’s forget California for right now,” Gabby commented.
“I agree,” Mike stated quickly, licking his lips. “I’ve had it up to hear with the execs. They want a script but won’t give me the right amount of time to provide it. It is worse when they don’t even give you an idea on what the story is, so they wait until it’s almost time to turn it in before telling me. Short time periods! I don’t do well with getting something together that’s actually worth while in a period of - let’s say two months, you know?”
Gabby laid her head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry now. You’ve got an original screenplay to work on, correct? And no deadlines? You’re all set. We can have our peace and quiet, and you can have your time to get things right.”
He nodded and smiled. She clutched his right arm. He felt the pressure of it; something small like that always brought joy to him. It just confirmed the magic was still there. Gabby was always an affectionate person, and Mike loved that about her. Actually, he loved everything about her.
God, what would I do without you, Gabby? You’re the love of my damned life.
What was this new life going to be like for Mike? Would he make new friends? Perhaps, but at the time, he didn’t feel like starting any other kinds of relationships. They were too embracive and suffocating. No, Gabby was the only one he wanted to be around right now.
“What about neighbors?” Mike asked, almost hesitatingly, wondering maybe she didn’t have the same idea he had about them.
“What about them? You worried about having some? The closest neighbor is a mile or two down the road.”
“It’s not that, it’s just… you know how you want to not be bothered for… at least a while? I don’t know how to explain it. I just…”
He turned his eyes toward her, but she didn’t say anything. She was gazing out of the window, watching the trees pass by. She didn’t want to listen to Mike’s rants about wanting to be isolated from life. Sure, she was irritated by countless people all the time, but it was against her nature to live under a rock and be unsociable. Maybe Mike did it as a kid, but she would never consider living like that.
Her mother had that same philosophy growing up, which is why she hung around daddy so much. Mother would hide from Gabby’s friends whenever she could. She never made plans to go anywhere, and when daddy did, mother would avoid him like the plague, maybe even giving excuses like she had fallen extremely ill, and needed to take leave. This added onto the fact that she could not reach her mom emotionally…or even in a loving manner. The truth was, to this day, Gabby had no idea how to feel about her.
The green blur of trees fixated Gabby’s eyes. She caught herself daydreaming about Chelsea, running into her arms, that lovely dimpled smile, and the red-ish curly hair flowing in the afternoon breeze. She could picture her and Mike running around in the sand of the California beach, maybe guiding a kite through the air, as if little things like that meant more than they should. Gabby then began to realize… that story was too perfect.
“How’s Trevor back there?” Mike asked. They had a golden retriever canine jumping up in the back, jaws gaped open, tongue hanging out. From the right corner of the dog’s mouth, saliva streamed out into the wind.
Gabby turned back, seeing the joy Trevor evoked.
“Doing better than us,” she said.
A few minutes later, Mike began to make more noise in his seat, and Gabby was awakened after dozing off in a slight nap.
“I think this is it. Yeah, this is definitely the road,” Mike said, leaning his head forward, his eyes squinting at the narrow path to his right.
He turned the truck.
2
A New Home
“Finally!” Mike exclaimed, getting a glimpse of the red-roofed two story cabin between some tree branches. “I see it.”
Gabby began to rock around in her seat, unbuckling her belt yet again to find the cabin in her sight, but the trees had blocked it for the second time. She would have to wait for the pebbled driveway to swing back around and go into a clearing to see it fully.
When that had happened, Gabby smiled with joy, touching Mike’s right hand which was guiding the steering wheel. Mike returned a Chester Cat grin.
“What’d I say, huh? Look better up close, right?” He asked, eager to hear her thoughts.
Gabby shot back quickly, “Oh, it sure does. It’s beautiful, Mike. Just gorgeous.”
The cabin, along with the red roof, was roughly … (tell size here and dimensions).
“Well,” he began again. “I told you I would do well, and I did. I kept my end of the bargain.”
Turning back in surprise, but in a jokingly manner, Gabby pushed him, then, retreated back into his arms, whispering in his ear, “What bargain?” It was a cute way to express it, but Mike was hoping she wasn’t seriously asking.
Gabby jumped away, running toward the new home like a cheetah hunting prey. Mike took his time. He wasn’t about to speed things up, it would ruin the experience. Mike turned back to the truck, making a dog whistle sound with his lips. Trevor, gazing in a different direction, was growling nervously at the forest.
Mike stopped dead in his tracks; Gabby did the same. What was Trevor growling at? They both turned their attention to the trees in the back of the cabin. Something was definitely off. It seemed most of the vegetation from the forest was just gone. How was that possible?
Did a tornado come through this place?
“That’s just weird,” Gabby pointed out, and then went on her merry way to the porch of the cabin.
She leaped up three stairs to the porch, while Mike urged Trevor to come off the truck bed. Turning back around to see Mike walking coolly up, Gabby shook her head at his slow pace. He winked.
“You’re simply too slow, Mr. Cohen,” Gabby teased.
“You’re too fast,” he muttered.
When they both were finally able to come together on the porch, they kissed in a loving passionate way. Mike couldn’t get over the scent of her perfume’. It was like…
Blossoming flowers of various kinds.
It radiated off her like the sun’s solar flares.
Travor whaled behind them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The movers were set to come by at noon tomorrow, and that was originally around the time Gabby and Mike were supposed to first arrive at the cabin, but their cross country trip had proved to be more productive, thus they arrived a day early at five thirty-six P.M. On the road over there, the two of them had much to think about and discuss. They talked about the risks involved, how they depended on the money from this up and coming screenplay to help pay off most of the place.
It was a weird time for the couple. They had been well off before, but things were changing, and money was getting tighter because of Mike’s continuous rejected work. But he was not dissuaded. And neither was Gabby. She knew there was some great potential lying in that head of his, and all he needed was some time for himself to bring it out onto a page.
Even so, time was beginning to seem like a concept of torture to them. Each day turned into a struggle to forget the death of Chelsea and how it had effected the both of them psychologically. A friend directed them to a Doctor Howard King, who was a local psychiatrist for the San Bernadino Medical Treatment facility.
During a session in May, the couple told him their troubles and why they were so depressed. Mike couldn’t stop staring at King’s constant thumbing against the notepad as he wrote. By this time, any noise or movement was a great distraction to Mike to the point of insanity. He was sensitive to almost everything and anything that came in contact with him, though he’d never tell Dr. King those sorts of problems. They were irrelevant… or at least he thought they were.
“And is there guilt inside you, Mr. Cohen?” The doc said, rolling his pencil up and down the pad, and then back to thumbing.
Mike’s teeth began to grit, “I don’t know.”
But if you do that one more time, I might ring your throat.
“In some cases like this, people suffering as long and unbearable as you two have, begin to go into shock about the incident. It is at this state that people become unaware that they are still suffering, that they can’t move on.”
Mike studied the environment around him, then focused onto Dr. King’s eyes. He asked, trying to avoid answering, “You think I might go crazy or something?”
Dr. King stopped his thumbing, and put his pad down.
Oh, thank God!
“In some instances, people have gone mad. It’s not really something to be taken lightly.”
Lightly? Why, you son of a bitch! What’s next? Are you going to blame my father for my upbringing?
Though Mike knew that his father was a loser. He left him when he was twelve years old for some floozy he met in the back of a strip joint in L.A. He guess the two hit it off quite quick because the first sign of unfaithfulness came just two weeks later from their get-together, and he packed up and left.
Mike didn’t know exactly what was going on, but he did know that his father was an imbecile. He was a man born to put himself first than to his family. There wasn’t love anywhere in him, that’s why mom was always his best friend.
But as he grew up, his mother would urge him to go to church each Sunday morning. It worked when he was a kid, but now at the age of 16, Mike didn’t want any of it. It was pointless to him. He wasn’t ever going to believe. As much as he loved his mother, he wasn’t about to get force fed by her radical belief.
The doc began again, seeing the defensiveness come into Mike’s eyes like a firestorm, “Some people in your condition make it far enough that they do experience a different kind of psychosis. Their grief enters their life but does not leave, and after a while they commence to search for their loved one. Some have dreams of them visiting their bed in the dead of night, kissing them, loving them. Various hallucinations can come and go through these people - sounds they might have heard before, maybe they can smell familiar scents that they remember whenever their loved one had entered a room, something to that effect.
“These things might seem a bit unnerving, but it’s actually a way many people cope and start to adjust to the loss. The only thing about it is – these emotions and hallucinations can be an advantage or a disadvantage, depending on who you are. But for the most part, they work. They’re just ways of making people let go. To accept what life has given them. Have you had a very strong emotional cry or episode, Mike? May I call you Mike?
Mike was trying not to pay attention to him. He didn’t want to be here subjected to telling his feelings to someone he did not know or care anything about.
But for Gabby, she was a lot more open to discussion than Mike was. She was always willing to let her pride go for the good of the family. So, it didn’t come to such a surprise to her husband or the doctor when she began to speak out of turn and straightforward.
“Mike hasn’t gone through anything yet. I think he’s more shocked, than anything else,” Gabby said.
Dr. King relaxed in his chair, folding his hands together, “What for you, then?”
“For me? For me it’s grief twenty-four seven. You see, I’m calm now, but I might not be ten minutes from now… or, well you know. The episodes just come randomly. I don’t know if that’s normal or what.”
“They might seem random, but they are most likely not. Something familiar might have been heard or seen. Whatever the preference for your brain to identify Chelsea with, there is some connection in your daily life, and this is just how we cope, like I’ve said before. I wish I could help Mike more, but he seems to not want to be bothered with it.”
Mike looked up, eyed him.
Whatever, doc!
“Now,” Dr. King uttered as he rose from his chair. “Come back in a few months if you are still having these problems. I still think we need more time to understand whether we are getting over this and accepting it, or if we’re drawing it out to the point of something much more.”
Mike and Gabby lifted themselves from their chairs.
“I’m in my office everyday, except for Sunday. Nine to twelve. My lunch breaks are usually around noon; if not, you’ll know anyway because I leave a note on the door. And you’ve got…”
Mike said hastily, “The number. Yes!”
That was two months ago. They would never return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gabby set her luggage down onto the hardwood floor. The stairs were right in front of her in the middle of the small foyer. They went up at least twenty steps to the bathroom upstairs and to two halls, which of course led to two rooms on the right and two empty rooms to the left.
Downstairs, Gabby looked to her right to see the dinning area that seamlessly went into the kitchen. Now to her right, she saw the den area. On both sides, the rooms led into a single huge bonus room.
They all had something in common. They were empty.
Mike entered the foyer right behind Gabby, placing his hands on her waist. Gabby liked to be embraced by her husband. It brought a sense of security to her that she had nothing to fear or worry about as long as he was there. To protect her.
“Well, it’s a start,” Mike said pulling her back in contact with him.
Gabby could feel his heaving chest move up and down. It comforted her; she closed her eyes.
“Yep,” she replied. Nothing much was there to say.
Mike set his bag down now, making his way up the stairs. “You wanna see the bedroom?” he asked.
She nodded, and as Mike placed his foot on the first step, a slight creaking noise crept up into their ears. Gabby’s mouth straightened, showing her teeth in a displeasing manner. She didn’t like the sound of it either. It was as if another step could mean the entire staircase would pummel to the basement. Mike laughed and took another step, this time the creaking almost nonexistent. Nothing was going to happen. Gabby’s mind began to race as to what she might find up there. She had never really been into the house; she instead trusted Mike that his searching was not in vein.
Now upstairs, the two quickly gazed into the kitchen and
the spare rooms. Finally, they entered their soon to be master bedroom.
It was exactly how she thought it would be; very spacious, with a fine view of the back and front yard. It wasn’t breathtaking, but it would do.
“Oh, Mike it’s wonderful,” she said, batting her eyes at him. He thought that was cheesy as hell.
“Look…” he said, trailing away from her to point out a few things. “Bed is going to be here.” He pointed to the right side of the wall, forming his hands into a measurement. He slides them from the wall and back. “We’ll be right in the middle here, and we can wake up, and see both side views. Wouldn’t that be right, huh?”
Gabby found that an encouraging idea.
The situation reminded her of her great aunt’s cabin by the lake up in up in Washington. They used to spend so many winters there. And when it started to snow at night, they’d all go outside in their heavy coats and recover some wood to put into the fireplace. Usually, there were pieces of them in a pile at the backside of the house, but Gabby recalled a few times when she actually had to go away with her uncle deep into the white blanket of the forest and chop some up.
Those were some fun moments for sure. And this place definitely withheld the nostalgia of better times, which was all she really needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night, Gabby and Mike ordered pizza delivery. Reason being was that they were too exhausted to go out and eat, as well as heading to the store for groceries. It didn’t matter much anyway, as they would have had to purchase milk and other such products to put into a fridge, and the only type of fridge they had at the moment was the little cooler that carried the drinks in as they traveled.
As they waited, Gabby set out to the car to find her china dishes and bowls, as well as the eating utensils. After setting a mattress and blanket upstairs, Mike went downstairs to help her set them up on the table, which was the only item left in the house by the original owners. It seems nobody wanted it when it went up for auction, and the two of them couldn’t figure why.
The pizza ended up coming ten minutes late, and Mike was in no mood to leave a decent tip. The delivery guy paid his thank yous, and the couple took the food into the dining room, where they would only eat a slice or two each. Afterwards, they felt a little bad that they were no wasting food. They had no place to put the remainder of the pizza. They could try the cooler, but they didn’t have any foil to wrap it with, so they gave up, kept the pizza on the table, and headed to bed. Gabby plugged in the little alarm clock she got for her birthday last year, and set the time for eight o’ clock. It was now eleven thirty at night.
Mike’s troubles started at two fifteen A.M. He awoke from a soft sound of a voice in his ear. You know how when you’re asleep, you think you dreamed up something? Mike was having the same experience. He couldn’t remember what he dreamt, but all he could think of was the low whisper of a voice of which he could not make out what was said.
When his eyes first opened, he was sort of in a daze. His body couldn’t move, and he felt stiff as a tree on the mattress. He couldn’t even turn his head to see if Gabby was there laying beside him. All he could see was the nine-foot high ceiling, of which seemed gigantic from the perspective of the floor, and the surrounding covers that seemed to wrinkle up around his eyes.
He was in a panic at first, because he didn’t recognize anything at all. It seemed very alien to him. Seconds later, though, he began to remember the trip to the cabin, and the setting up of the mattress and blanket. He blew a sigh of relief.
I’m going to be ok.
When he was finally able to rotate his foot around, he worked up the strength to turn his head over to his right. In doing so, he found Gabby staring at him, eyes closed, and breathing lightly. She was fast asleep for sure. He noticed her cute nose twitching.
With his mind on something else, he was surprised to hear the same soft whisper, only a bit louder this time and more distinct; it sounded like it had come from the stairs.
“I love my train,” a child’s voice said.
Mike stopped moving, still as a rock. His heart skipped a beat, and he stared blankly at Gabby, though his thoughts were now on the whisper.
There’s no way I could have heard that. Just no way that’s possible.
His ears began to be more sensitive this time, and he could now hear sounds he never paid much attention to before. He could hear the ambient sound of the room, that constant hum that was now driving him insane to listen to; it made him wonder how could stand it before.
He also heard the steady breeze outside, and the rustle of the trees. The wind made the window sill creak.
Mike then remembered that Trevor was downstairs asleep in his doggie bed.
Maybe Trevor got up and made a yelp that just sounded human. Maybe that was it.
Again, Mike’s attention for explaining the phenomenon took his mind off of listening, and this time the voice came again, repeating the same phrase, but adding a word.
“I love my train, daddy.”
Mike set up this time, his heart now leaping off his chest like a jumping bean. He stopped breathing, mouth closed, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth tightly.
The voice had sounded like Chelsea.
But that’s not possible.
And neither was the voice by itself. Mike stared at the closed door.
The sound came from behind the door, muffled, so it could have been anything.
Following this thought, the door creaked open a notch and stopped. Again, he was dumbfounded and frightened, and his body commenced stiffening again.
For the next ten minutes, Mike would be watching the door, listening for the sound again, but it did not come. He finally gave up, lay back on the mattress underneath the covers, and stared at Gabby’s sleeping face. He concluded that it was actually nothing. It was either tricks of the mind, or a sound that resembled what he thought it was at first.
Besides, Mike wasn’t about to dwell on such things all night long. He was tired from the trip, and he needed the sleep.
In no time, Mike drifted back into the other world, where he dreamt of pushing Chelsea on a tire swing, while Gabby watched in the kitchen pealing potatoes.
Coming soon: Chapters 3 and 4
1/8/2006 12:00:33 AM
(Updated: 1/8/2006 12:43:10 AM)
(Updated: 1/8/2006 11:26:33 AM)
(Updated: 1/8/2006 7:04:00 PM)
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