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Home Sweet Home: The Novel (3,4)
By Carnotaur3
3
Moving into a New Life
When the movers came the next morning, earlier than expected, Mike began his tirade of ordering them around. Hollywood had really rubbed off on him, so it wasn’t surprise to Gabby when she came downstairs to hear his commands. There were
approximately five movers with the huge U-Haul truck in the middle of the front yard. All men smelled of dirty, wet laundry.
Gabby turned away from the stench many times, but Mike was too insistent with getting the job done today, so he was willing to give away his nose’s freedom.
It was more evident than ever that Mike’s constant and efficient mind setting would get in the way of these poor men. She knew that he would make their job harder, and that there was nothing she or anyone else could say to stop Mike from being… well, Mike.
“No, no, no! This drawer is crooked. Pull it another five degrees toward you,” Mike would say, shaking his head. Gabby thought it funny that he was telling these people how to do their job before they even finished with one item, like he thought they wouldn’t know what looked wrong before moving on.
But Gabby didn’t really care. She knew the job would get done eventually, and it was such a bore watching the people come in and out of the front door endlessly at a time. Actually, it was a little unnerving.
She wanted to do something constructive away from the cabin, and she couldn’t think about what she could do until one of the movers entered the kitchen with their burgundy refrigerator.
Shopping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This place is dead,
she thought.
Indeed, the store was devoid of human life like the moon. And when she thought she heard someone in an aisle, they’d be gone the next second she peeked around to it.
Against Mike’s wishes, Gabby had gone to get some food. Mike was upset at the time that while she was away, he wouldn’t know what to do with her belongings. But Gabby trusted Mike and retorted, “When are we going to shop anyway? This is the more efficient way to go about all this.”
Efficient. Mike gave in once he heard the word, probably not because he was wrong, but mainly just to hear her stop bitching.
Finally, a human being!
A young lady roughly the same age as Gabby, was strolling around setting cheese in the dairy aisle. She saw a tag on her, and perceived her to be one of the employees. She had long legs, beautify skin, and natural blond hair. Yep, to Gabby she looked sort of manufactured. She was the type of woman where her make-up was actually
make-up, and not enhancements.
Gabby got closer to the dairy aisle, and reached over for some milk, when a carton of Purity Boiled Custard fell from the top counter. The yellow liquid seeped all over the tiled floor. Gabby was shocked. She hadn’t even touched anything; how could it have fallen?
The young employee ran to assist, helping Gabby to her feet from her crouching position.
“Are you ok, hun?” the lady asked, a little southern twang in her accent.
Gabby was mortified. “I’m so, so sorry! I don’t know how I did that…”
“Well, that’s ok,” the woman said, getting a towel. “It happens everyday so it has to be someone.”
The woman laughed like it was no big deal. A joke. Gabby thought that this was the most action she’d probably seen all day.
“Where is everybody?” Gabby asked.
The woman shrugged while wiping the floor, “A lot of people take vacations around here. Tennessee isn’t known for their beeches.”
As the woman got up with the custard-soaked towel, Gabby read her name tag: Patricia Langston.
Patricia, now that’s a nice name. Sort of rolls off the tongue.
Patricia smiled. “New?”
Gabby nodded, “Arrived yesterday.”
“Did you take that cabin up on the hill?” Patricia asked, curiously.
“Yes, we did.”
“I didn’t think that thing would ever sell.”
“Yeah, I was told about the owners.”
“Did they tell you how they died?” Patricia asked. Gabby felt precautious about where this was leading to.
“Should I be worried about it?” Gabby finally asked.
Patricia shook her head, “No, I don’t think so. No need to worry you about such tragedies.” She held out her hand, putting the towel away. “I’m Patricia.”
Gabby shook her hand, smiling. “I’m Gabby. I just love your name.”
“Oh, thank you, honey, you’re so sweet,” Patricia said. “Gabby is a really nice name too. You know, if you ever want to do something or if you need someone to show you around town, I’m your girl.”
Gabby laughed a bit, nodding. “That sounds wonderful, thanks.”
Patricia began to leave, “Ok, honey, buh-bye; tell me if you need assistance.”
“Ok, buh-bye.”
Patricia disappeared seconds later into the soda aisle.
Wow, she was nice.
Gabby went to the aisle next door with her cart, which she almost forgot was beside her. She looked to her left and right to find them all freezers.
There was a chocolate chip brand ice cream that looked delicious a few feet from her, so she rolled the cart to it.
Gabby pulled open the foggy door. The coldness that swept through sent a certain chill down her spine. It wasn’t really the feeling but the remembering of a specific day. It was a day that had chilled her not from the outside, but the inside.
She recalled the faces of friends and family. Their antics trying to help her were unfounded. They couldn’t know about the feelings she felt. Nobody should have to bury their child into the deep, dark and lonely ground.
Reflecting on that, Gabby was now coveting them all. They probably wouldn’t go through life with the same feeling; you’re offspring dying before even getting a chance to live the life that a child could have led. She wanted to be them so badly. But, as fate, that cruel monster, would have it, Gabby was chosen to be one of the few.
If there was a God, it was most certainly not her friend.
The cold day she was referring to was the day her daughter was
lowered into the ground in the smallest casket she had ever laid
eyes upon. Mike was by her side, showing what seemed to be no emotion whatsoever. It was a guy thing… or at least a Mike thing.
It wouldn’t hurt him to show it, the bastard. It was his daughter, for Christ’s sake.
A flow of hate had swelled within her that day. A hate she never knew she had. What was the point? What was done was done, and what feelings were felt were justified. Beyond that was needless. But…
He should have been watching her! That fucking prick!
The people with the orange hard hats were now pushing the mud and dirt out of the back of the truck into the hole. How little they knew of the pain emitting inside the mind of her body. They go about their day in a job mentality. Nothing can affect them; though they should be affected. They should know the pain.
Instead, everything in the world just keeps moving on, as if nothing had happened. As if –
The last of the dirt was put on top of the grave. The two workers drove off with the pickup truck. The last friends of Gabby and Mike were now departing the scene, leaving the couple to think of absolutely nothing. They couldn’t think, though. They couldn’t even acknowledge each other.
After the funeral, Mike and Gabby headed home where their extended family and friends would join them for a lunch. This was not a celebration, but the couple felt trapped to do tradition, so they went through the day the best they could. The best they knew how.
When relatives and friends finally headed home, Mike cleaned up the rest of the paper plates and threw them in the black garbage bag. He suddenly became aware that Gabby was no where in sight, and his worries began to compound.
He calmed down a bit. She had to have been somewhere, most likely the bedroom or something. It hit him at the last second of thinking it that she had to have been sitting in Chelsea’s room.
He walked through the corridor, and then to Chelsea’s bedroom where he found her on the floor in front of the bed, clutching her baby girl’s pillow. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and there were two large wet spots on the pillow’s cover.
Her gaze was straight for the window, the trees swaying in the wind outside. A bird flew by, squawking.
Mike joined her, sitting on the end of the bed. For the longest time they didn’t talk. They just thought. Thought about things the had done the day she died. Thought about how the day felt like any other day until it happened. How were they supposed to know? Why didn’t they know? Should they have known?
Mike broke the silence, “Still have food left over. Whenever you’re ready for dinner, I’ll make us some sandwiches and we can eat some potato salad, and…”
“We’re not going to have a life.”
Rubbing his chin and then scratching his head, Mike sighed.
“I mean… she was my life.”
“What do you want me to say? I’m going through the same trauma here. I’m just as stunned as you. We just have to get by the best we can. I’ll be here every step of the way.”
She needed Mike’s hopeful optimism. She needed it desperately. It gave her some strength, and she cracked a brief off center smile, then, lowered her head into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
“We’ll get by, just you see, sweetie. We’ll get by. We just have to stay sane, I guess. Stay sane and just… learn to accept.”
Mike was dry. He wanted to let it all out but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. A force within himself was driving him to store it in the back of his head, while his mind wavered around on other such things.
He thought about how the incident would change Gabby, that maybe she’ll become distant from him. Maybe start seeing other men, having affairs. Maybe she’ll try to kill herself. The possibilities were endless.
But then for a brief moment his thoughts centered on himself. Maybe he would kill her.
What the hell are you talking about? Why would you do that?
She wasn’t there that day. She wasn’t paying attention to her daughter. Maybe she deserved it.
Stop it!
The horrible thoughts were cluttering his mind like a janitor’s closet. He began to clench onto Gabby’s body, embracing her, not wanting to let go. He didn’t want to become someone else if he let go of her. He didn’t want to become a monster.
He figured, if he clung to the only good in his life, the only thing keeping him from killing himself, that nothing bad would happen.
As strange as it was, Mike thought of Gabby at this present time as if she was his mother, the woman who brought him up, took care of him, and taught him right from wrong. Mike, with his eyes now watering, felt his father coming in him. Is it possible for something like that to be inherited?
The loser syndrome, he thought. I hope I’m not going mad.
But then, Mike remembered hope had left him many moons ago.
4
Memories of Then and Now
Gabby didn’t want to tell Mike with the off chance that he would throw a tantrum, maybe even storm out of the house. She’s usually a strong willed woman, and independent with her decisions without worrying about Mike’s concerns, but lately she had been feeling fragile around him, completely immobile to the fact that she had a voice in this marriage.
It came to her yesterday when she saw that young woman… and then she thought about it again as she opened up the cooler, only after remembering some painful memories.
Money is low. And with a husband who writes for a living, but without any success at the moment, she needs to work to support the two of them. It’s feasible and logical, but in order for Mike to understand it, and let him get passed his manly attributes, he must learn the reality of the situation.
Two days in the new cabin, Gabby was feeling okay about the place. Mike seemed to adjust just as soon as he entered in. Now the two were developing a routine together; breakfast on the porch at eight in the morning, walk the dog at nine, start writing at ten, break for lunch at around twelve, go back to writing from one to five, go out to eat at a restaurant, come back at around seven or eight, start back writing, let the dog out, and then finally retire to bed.
“Organization,” Mike would say. “Is the key to moving forward.”
Gabby had to agree with him. She hadn’t been thinking about Chelsea as much as she had. Hours had passed without any thought of her whatsoever. He was right. Keeping busy was a charm, but she knew the daily chores were going to be rearranged and configured if and when she got a job.
Gazing at all the furniture in the den, Gabby noticed a few chairs out of place, and scooted them to her liking. Eventually, she joined Mike on the porch, where he had a tray with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and biscuits laying for her next to a red rocking chair.
Mike was reading a book, entitled “Three Days of Tomorrow”, a futuristic book about an astronaut stuck in space after trying to come back from a mission trip to mars. Gabby remembered why he read books in the first place… he needed inspiration, and possibly something to adapt. She knew right away he had no idea what to write about.
“Glad to see you’re up!” Mike almost shouted, but lowered his voice. It was hard adjusting to the climate of country. It was so quiet and peaceful; he just didn’t know the volume of his voice. In a city like L.A., yelling wasn’t a problem, nor was it even known.
Of course, there was one thing Mike or Gabby never missed about the city… the smog. The place was truly a dump.
Mike began again, “Got breakfast made. I thought I’d do it this time, while you rested a little longer.”
“You’re a sweetie pie, thanks,” she said, leaning into the rocking chair, and grabbing a plate. She looked at her eggs, noticed they needed some spice.
Reluctantly, she said, “Do you bring any pepper?”
“Oh, no! I completely forgot. I’ll go get it,” Mike stated, getting up from his chair.
“No, no. I can get it, honey,” Gabby insisted.
But Mike had already ventured back into the house. Gabby sighed, watched Trevor play out in the front yard with a woman’s basketball. That was Trevor’s favorite play thing.
Back in 1997 when they first got Trevor, he was just a little rascal pup locking up in a kennel. It was Mike’s idea to get a dog. There was no real reason behind it; it was just an innocent thing. He loved dogs, and he knew Gabby did too, so they made a joint decision and purchased him.
When Mike returned with the bottle of pepper, and Gabby had finished her breakfast, she offered to go walk the dog. Mike waved her off, claiming he needed the exercise, and he grabbed the leash from the foyer’s coat rack. Hooking the leash to Trevor’s collar, Mike noticed an uneasy look in her eyes, as if she was holding back something from him. Something he shouldn’t know. He confronted her the next moment.
“What is it, Gabby?” Mike asked, trying to keep his calm. Sometimes he could blow a casket over speculation. So, he caught himself.
She sighed, drooped her head toward the wooden floorboards of the porch. Her hair glided down softly over her eyes. Mike hated it when he couldn’t see her eyes. They revealed truth.
“You remember the first time we met each other?” she asked in a very serious fashion.
Mike smiled in the corner of his mouth. “Of course I do.”
“Do you remember what we went through? We were both supporting each other. You were in the middle of a script on a movie deal too hot to pass up, and I was working at a diner in Chicago.”
“I remember.”
“Honey, we didn’t have it good, then. And now, we’re back to that. We’ve made a big move. We’re losing money.”
“What are you saying? You want to go back to working? You want to support me?”
“No, sweetie, I want to support us!”
“I promise you, Gab, that I’ll get this script complete. Production companies all over Hollywood won’t pass it up. They know my name. They know my style. That’s a selling point!”
“Mike…” She gets cut off.
“…And that’s… that’s going to get us somewhere. You speaking to me like this; it just makes me think you don’t have enough faith in me to get the job done.”
“That’s not it at all. And you know that! I’m trying to tell you, the reality of it… that’s probably not the case for us. You’re a writer. Writers need time. Time needs money.”
Mike doesn’t want to hear it anymore. He departs with Trevor to the graveled driveway.
“Mike, come on, now,” Gabby said at a last ditch effort to get through to him.
He blatantly ignored her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mike could feel and hear the crunching of the small pebbles and stones under his feet as he descended on the long winding driveway. The gravel, although sharp, harsh, and completely imbalanced below, also reminded him of the night he first met his wife.
It was actually the crushing of soft snow down Chicago’s cold sidewalks that brought the flashback. He had gone down to a store at midnight in the dead of winter. He knew the shopkeeper personally; keeping it open for him wasn’t a problem. Mike had run out of typing paper, and got a good bargain on it, so he went down there, paid the money, and picked it up without a hitch.
It was going back to his apartment that unusual things began for him. All his life he was told
love at first sight
was false hope. Girls came and went from him. Usually they thought he was too good of a guy and chose the tougher and edgier men over him. He never once got past the dating stage. But this night, was a different night. He didn’t know it, but the woman of his dreams was going to literally fall right into his lap.
Crossing the street, Mike happened to be at the right place at the right time when Gabby came out of the diner to lock it up. She turned to place her foot on the sidewalk when the traction between her sneaker gave way onto the ice, and she fell what seemed to be endless to the ground, banging her head up against the glass.
She fell silently, almost in a graceful manner. Mike was speechless to see it happen. He surely wasn’t expecting anything like that, but there she was, unconscious on the icy pavement, a bluish purple spot forming on her forehead.
“Oh, Jesus!” He cried under his breath.
He ran to her aide.
“Maim, are you ok?” She didn’t answer, but he already knew she wouldn’t.
Shit. It had to happen right when I wanted to actually get some writing done!
When Mike picked her up, she was light as a feather, and her limbs and head arched downward, totally motionless. He pushed her up to get a better grip on her. Leaning his face toward hers, he turned his head so that his left side was directly in front of her mouth. A light breeze of breath gently touched his cheek.
He decided to take her to his place. He was certain she just got a bad bump in the head, and he was really not looking at going to any hospital just to find that out. Mike had bad experiences in hospitals. The shit he didn’t want to tell anybody nor go through again.
This girl, whoever she was, he thought, is cute as a button. I hope she’s ok.
She was dressed in her diner clothing, now dirty and wet. The name tag read Gabby Thorne. That was certainly an interesting first name. She looked to be in her early twenties.
He just hoped he was right about her current condition. Regardless, she was going to have a horrible and long lasting headache when she woke up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gabby remembered locking her diner up and that was about it. Everything else was strangely forgotten, and waking up in a room you’ve never seen before in your life was about the most horrifying experience she’d ever had. When her eyes had opened and adjusted to the dark room, her body began to panic, and she thrust herself up off the coach only to fall back to the floor.
She landed on hardwood, her knees hitting so hard they were now bleeding. She began to cry. She didn’t know where she was or what happened to her. It was all a blur. Emotions ran high, and she began to think of the possibilities.
Kidnapping came to mind. Someone must have whacked her on the head, or chloroformed the hell out of her. If she was kidnapped, she knew no reason why.
Without even noticing at first, Gabby turned to her side to find a lit fireplace. Newspaper was suddenly flung into the burning blaze, making a spiral of small little fire spots in the air. They soon disintegrated, and her attention focused on the silhouette of a strange man.
This was him… her kidnapper.
It has to be!
“Are you ok?” The voice said, concerned. It was too sincere to be from someone of great threat.
Her cheeks were flush, and her head began to hurt like a migraine. She pressed her hand on the patched up part of her forehead.
“Ouch!” she let out. It was more like a gasp.
“Yeah I know,” Said the voice. “You hit your head pretty hard on that glass window.
“Huh?” Gabby asked.
“Yeah, you were locking up and you slipped on the ice. Hit your head on the glass window. It looked pretty bad.”
“I did?” She asked. He had to have been telling the truth though, right? She didn’t want to jump to anymore conclusions, and risk embarrassing herself.
He grinned, “Yeah, you certainly did. I don’t think you have a concussion or anything like that, but you sure bruised it up. Part of it bled a little, so I patched it up for you.”
Was this the nicest man she ever saw, or what? It had to have been luck that this person was there that late at night just in the time of her slip. Was it a coincidence?
She didn’t know. And quite frankly, she didn’t care. She was just so thankful of him, and that she was going to be okay.
“It could have been worse,” he said, almost like he was reading her mind.
She nodded. “Is it still snowing?”
The man moved toward her, the glow of the fire now revealing his facial features. He had a kind face with eyes that warmed her from first glance.
“My name is Mike Cohen,” he uttered, sitting down beside her on the hardwood floor. “And yes, it’s still snowing. I don’t think it’s going to ever quit. They say it’s going to do a few more inches before moving off at noon.”
Gabby twitched. She scratched her face, and then blew a sigh.
“I read your name tag. I like your name a lot. I’ve never known a Gabby before. I think I might put it in my story,” Mike stated.
She turned to him, eyes wide. “You’re a writer?”
“Screenwriter… well, wannabe screenwriter,” he laughed. “I’m involved with an independent film company here in Chicago. We’re hoping to get the short film done by the end of this year, and send it into some film festivals.”
“Who’s funding the money?” she asked, totally interested.
“A rich friend,” he said. “I wish!” He broke out into hysterical laughter.
She began to chuckle.
“No, it’s just me. It’s why I’m loosing more money than I can count,” he revealed.
“At least you know what you want to do in life… I can barely be a waitress,” Gabby stated, staring deep into the blaze.
Mike shook his head, “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Oh it is. It’s very bad,” she said, tears now swelling into her eyes. “I’ve got no place to stay. I’ve got no money. I’ve got a broken down car… that’s where I sleep!”
He’s taken aback. “What about your parents?”
“My father’s ill. He can’t help me.”
“Well…”
She began to sob uncontrollably. “I’ve got nobody!”
He leaned into her, placed his hand on her cheek and looked into her eyes. “You’ve got me! Do you hear me, Miss Thorne? You’ve got me. And I’ll make sure you get on your feet. I’ll make sure both of
us
do.”
He wiped a tear away from her cheek with his right thumb.
Suddenly, something unexpected happened. She kissed him straight on the lips. His eyes went wide with surprise.
“I’m sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t, and neither was Mike.
He kissed her back ever so gently… and through the night they
comforted each other with talk: their likes and dislikes, their interests and hobbies, their dreams and plans. The two became a couple that night, and within a month they became even more than that. It was something out of a fairy tale, but they never got married until a year and a half. It was actually a very smart decision. They had to be sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mike cherished that moment more than anything in the world. He thought about it often, and sometimes he stayed up late at night just thinking through it, and how it seemed like all a dream.
Gabby was right. They needed to both work to make it together again. If it wasn’t for her, his film would never have gotten finished and succeeded, making him known through Hollywood (in truth, his recognition didn’t come until the first full feature film, which was inspired by the short, but chickens make eggs, right?).They’re going to have to support each other, through thick or thin.
Mike saw the end of the drive way coming up as Trevor began to bark loudly and ferociously.
“Knock that shit off, Trevor!” He yelled. Trevor reacted with another bark at his owner.
The leash slipped from his hands the instant he took the next step. Trevor ran off into the woods full speed.
“Son of a bitch! Trevor, get back here!” He yelled off the top of his lungs.
And the pursuit began. Mike took a leap over a bush, and sped toward Trevor. His face smacked into some branches, scratching him up. He didn’t care. He had to get his dog back before he got lost. The chances of someone finding his Trevor in the country and returning him were remote.
As Mike rounded a huge rotting old tree, he halted. Near a brook, passed the large cliff faced rock, stood Trevor, unusually motionless with its rear turned to him. The tail did not wag.
Mike began to command, “Trevor, boy. Come back here.”
The dog turned around, unusually human-like. That was not Trevor. Whatever it was, it was
not
a dog. It couldn’t have been. Within moments, Trevor’s body began to shake violently, foam emitting from its jaws, and its eyes rolled back into its head. A shriek seared through the air, as if it was actually a woman screaming. The dog bent down, made unearthly sounds, and pounded its head against the rock thrice.
Blood began to streak from Trevor’s head like a water fountain, dripping on leaves, branches, and dirt. Mike coward away, his back brushing up against a tree, and his fist to his nervous opened mouth.
Trevor’s jaws slipped out of his mouth like an old mans dentures, hitting the ground with a thud as its stomach boiled open, revealing intestines. Mike turned his face away to spew vomit, missing the last few gruesome events. In his mind, Mike couldn’t explain what was happening. He had never seen anything like it before in his entire existence. Horrified, Mike left. Something was in the forest, and he felt its want. It was something elusive, cunning, unspeakably evil.
And he left the woods. He left his dog to die.
3/17/2006 4:30:07 PM
(Updated: 3/17/2006 6:00:48 PM)
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