Edge of Reality

Edge of Reality Third Draft

2005

Leah lay on her back unable to move as she sobbed, hysterically. A uniformed officer blocked her view of the house behind him, but the gruesome scene inside was still visible to her,  burned into her retinas in flaming Technicolor.  She tried to haul in her rioting sobs even if only out of sympathy for the young officer, who; obviously a rookie, was almost unbearably uncomfortable. The fresh faced young man had thrown up in her pathetic rose bushes by the front door before he could take his superiors orders and take up his post at the open doors of the ambulance. Her heart went out to him fleetingly before she dissolved into tears again.

"How has this happened to me?" she thought, rolling her head lethargically, regarding the broad blue polyester-covered back of the cop assigned to her as she let her mind drift back in time…

Leah had developed a thick skin in response to entering third grade fully blessed with womanly assets. Her class mates responded by calling her Barbie. Not only because she was blond, flawless and sported a killer hour glass figure; even though those things were true. No it was more her perceived perfection that created the supposedly harmless moniker that cut like a knife. It hurt and confused her when she heard the girls, who were allegedly her friends, sneer the nickname like a curse. Her reaction was to read, work, study and pretend not to know that her classmates snickered behind her back. Only a few friends, a small tight knit group made up mostly of social misfits that didn’t fit into the “normal” school yard cliques, like Leah, called her Barbie with a mixture of admiration and humor that didn’t leave her dry heaving in disgust.

She had brought it up to her parents once. It was near the end of third grade when her mother was on bed rest while pregnant for the second time, "Why do they want to be so mean?" Leah asked.

“You’re smart, you’re pretty and yet you have the nerve to be polite, caring and articulate,” her mother had told her when Leah was 10 years old, “ You have to decide if you’re going to be beautiful on the inside as well as the outside, Leah.”

Her father said “The bitches are jealous. Tell them to kiss your pearly white ass.”

“John Pierce!”  Mom scolded gently, “That’s no way to talk to a girl her age.”

“Marina!” he mimicked his wife’s soft, sing song voice teasingly then swooped in and noisily kissed both wife and daughter playfully, smacking theatrically on top of their glorious naturally-golden haired heads.

It was actually the only time she had time to wonder about it. Her mother, who suffered from severe Bi-Polar disorder, had given up her medication in fear of harming her unborn child, so she suffered a deep depression that caused her to be hospitalized. When Leah's twin sisters, Chelle and Amy, were born, her mother died. Leah threw herself  into helping her father raise the girls. Her father, a doctor, hired a full time housekeeper for them. He did his best to see that his oldest daughter wasn’t burdened with more responsibility than she should have, but Leah considered her sisters a joy, not a burden. She dedicated herself to caring for them. The girl’s were Leah’s lifeline. The ten years between the sisters seemed to dwindle to nothing as they grew up together, closer than “normal” siblings because of, or in spite of, their circumstances.

Leah’s girlfriends; Casey Lever, Jenna Chaney, Loretta James and Celia “CeeCee” Coombs, loved to spend time at the Pierce’s house where they would literally “play house”, caring for the twins under the watchful eye of Mrs. Vickers.  Mrs. Vickers, a loveable, but scatterbrained woman, who had started the girls on their life long love affair with ABC soap opera’s, retired to the kitchen every day, noon to three o’clock, year round. She would watch All My Children, One Life to Live, and General Hospital while the girls played complex games of make believe.

Leah, who was on constant vigil to make sure her sisters had ample love and attention, naturally rose to the top of all situations, seeming to perpetuate her “Barbie” like status. Amy, the first born of the twins, struggled to be the best at everything she did, dedicating herself to achieving as much as she could, like being top of her class in all aspects of her life. It didn’t come easy to her the way it did to her big sister Leah, but she would not rest until she was at, or at the very least, near the top notch in everything she did. Chelle was happy to do her best, but never seemed to care for competition. She was easygoing to a fault and never cared if she was first or last as long as she was included. They fought, as all siblings do, Leah never wavering in her devotion to her sisters. Amy had more problems than Chelle did, growing up motherless, and she would sometimes fall into deep depressions from which she could always be roused by a good stiff competition, a game of skill or chance; especially if it pitted her against Leah.

Leah never considered that she would go to college, even though she scored a full ride to more than one university. This was right at the time her sisters were having some adjustment problems. Amy was at that time showing signs of anorexia-like behavior that only seemed to be exacerbated by Chelle’s cheerful and indifferent chubbiness. The twins were in second grade and Leah remembered her struggle with early development and she, along with her small group of girl friends, tried very hard to help the younger girls with their issues. Mrs. Vickers, who was beginning to show signs of early onset dementia, was more of a figurehead in the home; a token adult whose presence allowed the girls to carry on pretty much as they saw fit.

Their father, John, masked his soul-deep grief with dogged and joyous determination to provide a decent home for his three daughters, but he was never able to plug completely back “in” after he lost his wife. He did every thing except throw Leah out of the house when she refused to leave her 8 year old sisters to go to college. He never ceased urging Leah to go out with her friends. He even managed to convince her to do so quite often, but Leah was never completely happy when she was away from the cozy bungalow nestled near the center of their Southeast Missouri hometown of Camaran. It wasn’t a duty or a chore, it was part of her full and fulfilling life.

Empty nest syndrome nearly got her down when the girls unabashedly departed for colleges out of state, but she figured it out before it could become too over whelming. Amy headed to University of Missouri Pre-Med and Chelle went to Tulane to focus on a law degree. The twins, never much alike, took to their studies quite differently. Amy struggled more than usual, becoming unfocused, while Chelle blossomed out of the home and became a decent student after barely making the grades to pursue her dream of being a lawyer.

Leah traded in her safe and boring sales associate position at J. C. Penney’s for an assistants job at a trendy clothing store named “Get Some” at the Town Plaza Shopping Center in Cape Girardeau Missouri, which was nine miles north of their hometown. John joined the Eagles beginning a 40 year love affair with booze, charity booze and community service booze. Leah moved into her own apartment nestled in the turret of a Victorian two blocks from Main Street in Cape Girardeau. Her father sobered up for every holiday, school event, or necessary appointment. He retired from his medical practice at Midtown Family Clinic dedicating himself to social alcoholism by joining the VFW, Lions, Elks and every other worthy member-driven community group except the Salvation Army. Chelle finished college hardly pausing to date. Amy dropped out of college after an illicit affair with a dynamic English professor followed by a series of bad choices in men and jobs.

The close knit circle of girlfriends who had always helped keep Leah together went through some major drama, as all groups of close knit school friends will. Casey fell in love with her step-brother, Royce, worse than that he was also in love with her. Jenna fell away from the group in high school when she gained the reputation as the class tramp. Even when she was there she was turned inward, isolated. Her friends didn’t dump her, though; she withdrew from them. CeeCee married a rich man she met on one of her regular singles cruises, which the girls had called Gold Diggers Cruises, and left town. She rolled back through town regularly, but as any of the group would tell you, she was putting on the dog heavily; pretending to be something she was not. Loretta majored in English at Southeast Missouri State University and ended up with a double major; English and History.

Leah was jerked out of her reverie when the ambulance rocked as the rookie leaped to his feet, jarring Leah from the past to focus on what was happening now. The cop physically restrained Amy who had come hurtling through the yard, screeching; “No!” The cop and the tall, thin blond grappled briefly until Amy fought past him far enough to see Leah laying wide eyed on the gurney inside the ambulance, then Amy collapsed, weeping, into the cops arms, flailing her arms and continuing to scream. Leah’s heart constricted and her tears ceased as machines around her that she hadn’t noticed before began to wail. The EMT was right there over her and for a moment, Leah’s entire field of vision was a crisp white blur as she turned her mind back to the past. She remembered:

Leah fell in love for the first time once the girls were living away from home. She met him at a party Loretta threw when she was a sophomore at S.E.M.O.. Cliff Reynolds was divorced, 29, the English Professor at Southeast Missouri State University. Cliff was gorgeous and articulate, cocky and bohemian. He was as likely to get his utilities shut off because he forgot to mail the stamped payments as he was to enrage his colleagues wrath at his cavalier attitude. He traded in undergrads regularly until he met Leah and never expected to roam again. However, undergrads have tight bodies and air in their heads and Cliff tried to keep it in his jeans, he really did. Just after their third anniversary Leah found out about Cliff’s latest affair. She didn’t take it well, so when, in the course of having the blinders she had worn to prevent her from seeing his faults removed by finding out several hard truths about him, she had a complete breakdown, spending twenty one days at Southeast Hospital on the Psychiatric floor.

Amy, who had moved home suddenly right after Leah married Cliff, moved in with Leah while she recovered. Leah tried to move on but a funny thing happened. Cliff reformed. He quit womanizing and dedicated himself to Leah. It was the talk of campus, that the sexy hedonist was no longer on the prowl. After he was celibate for years Leah relented and took him back. Cliff bought the Victorian as Leah's second wedding gift and they spent several years returning it to its former glory. Casey, by then married to her former step-brother was learning how to live as the center of small town gossip, rallied around her friend. Jenna and CeeCee returned to town and the group less and less as the years passed, but they checked in whenever they were in town. Loretta graduated and took a job writing an extensive family history for the reclusive and eccentric Linden family who owned a 200 acre Artists Colony called Lindenwood south of Camaran. Amy rented the converted turret apartment and Chelle moved home with her new husband and infant….

Leah’s memories were interrupted by the EMT fussing over her, checking the straps that held her on the gurney.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Reynolds,” the burly technician assured her, smoothing her sweat slicked hair from her face, “We’re going to take good care of you.”

Leah blinked and tried to nod at the man, but she couldn’t pull herself into the present fully. She was recalling the past and had reviewed her life up to the last year. “Was it really just last year?” she asked herself as she closed her eyes, willing her mind to pick up the memories where she had left them when the EMT had disturbed her….

Leah started hearing her biological clock ticking.  The loud clanging in her head turned into a constant buzz that never stopped ringing between her ears. It was during that time, when doctors told Leah and Cliff that there was no physical reason for them to be unable to conceive a child, and yet that happy event did not occur, that Leah began to suspect Cliff might be cheating on her again.

The more Leah fussed with her ovulation and her obsession to conceive, the less she and Cliff enjoyed making love. This coincided with all the signs that Cliff was out “catting” with the undergrads again. He began to take trips to seminars, returned to taking some classes, was working harder than he had ever worked before; going in early and staying late. He lost weight. He bought new clothes. He bought a sports car. What’s more, she found makeup on his clothes and it was not in shades that she or her sister Amy used.

The only difference was that when confronted this time, Cliff denied any wrong doing. He denied knowing why a young woman called at all hours asking for him then hanging up before he came to the phone. He claimed he had no knowledge of how a strange pair of size 5 panties ended up in their laundry and when a 38 DD bra was found under the front seat of his car, he looked as shocked as Leah, but the evidence continued to pool.

Cliff came home one night about three months earlier without his shirt, claiming that he had taken it off while grading papers in his stuffy office and hadn’t been able to find it when it was time to go home. Leah became inconsolable when her things in her own home began to be moved, apparently used by anothers hand. Leah began to have trouble sleeping, dropped weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and drove Cliff away when she was unable to believe his cries of innocence.

“Baby, “ he pleaded with her, “there is no other woman but you. Not now. Not again. I swear to you.”

Leah couldn’t stop crying. “I don’t believe you.” she sobbed, inconsolably, “I know your bringing another woman into our home, into our bed. Don’t you think a woman can tell? A strange scent other than her own on the pillow, her toiletries rearranged in a way she knows she didn’t leave them?”

“Leah, I am not cheating on you.” Cliff assured her, but she only shook her head and continued to cry.

“Then what is it?” She demanded, “Give me another reason for these things. I’m not being irrational, I’m not having a breakdown! I am reacting to things that are happening to me, to us. So tell me what is going on here. Huh? You tell me.”

He hung his head, murmuring that he could not.

In the last three months leading up to this night it was an argument they repeated almost daily. As days turned to weeks they quit trying to get pregnant because they quit sleeping together at all. Cliff and Amy, who had always had an oddly uncomfortable, confrontational relationship began to argue quietly, but in depth. Leah turned inward, becoming quieter, more withdrawn until she found herself sitting up late one night while Cliff sought out the supposed comfort of his office over the cold comfort of their home, when Chelle and Amy finally convinced Leah to take a sleeping pill and she fell asleep nestled in her fuzzy robe in front of a glowing fire.

That had been earlier on this fateful evening. When Leah woke slowly to the twinkling sound of another woman’s smothered laughter coming from her bedroom she stumbled, bleary eyed toward that room. It was empty but rumpled as if someone, or a pair of some ones, had been rolling on top of the covers. In a fog which seemed disproportionate to the mild sedative she had taken, her mind as fuzzy as her big blue robe, Leah fumbled their handgun from its case and loaded it, only half aware that she was mumbling to herself.

“I’ve got you now…” she panted, sweating in droplets, “in my house…” she wiped her blurry eyes, her sweat making them sting,  “with my man…” Leah began to prowl through the house, pausing in the den as she smelled the cheap dollar store perfume that had come to haunt her, “where are you, bitch.” she whispered through her tears.

She was stumbling, falling through the rooms in the house, at times resorting to crawling and it occurred to her that she might be having an allergic reaction to the sleeping pills. Briefly it occurred to her that she might have taken the wrong dosage, but then she remembered Amy giving it to her while Chelle got her a big glass of well water.

“You’ve always been here," Amy had said, “so perfect. Every little thing coming so easy to you.”

“Not now, “ Leah said in an uncharacteristic whine, “not anymore.”

“No.” Amy cupped her big sisters hand around the three small pills, “not anymore.”

Her little sister had smiled at her, a big smile that reassured Leah. Chelle returned with her water and she downed the pills listening to them whisper as they sat with her until she fell asleep.

She fell to her hands and knees in the hallway, her hair in her face, sweat dripping down her arms and into her eyes. She could hear someone else in the house. She could feel the presence of another woman.

Leah tried to call out for her husband, “Cliff?” she reached for him miserably in her mind, searching for his presence, half crawling, half dragging herself through their home, but she didn’t get the feeling that he was there. She pulled herself to her feet and followed the smell of cheap perfume that led her on.

When the phone rang on the wall as she stepped through the kitchen door beside it she snatched it from the cradle as she hugged the small, deadly Beretta to her chest, “You don‘t have anything that I can‘t take from you” the woman’s voice was muffled, whispered, distorted. “You can’t hold him, why would you think he would stay with you when he left so many in the dirt before you?“ the voice chided.

“He’s my husband.” Leah said in a whisper.

“I took him from his first wife.” the voice said.

“You can’t have him.” Leah said more loudly.

The woman said, snarling, “I am better than you! I’m taking him back.”

Leah dropped the phone as the echo of the words came to her from not only the phone but from the deep shadows of the breakfast nook on the other side of the kitchen. She heard the soft metallic click of the door to the garage opening and crept stealthily toward it. She could hear her car, left safe in the closed garage earlier, running. She peered around the door frame, instinctively pulling her fancy key ring from its hook by the door, to see the drivers door of the silver Kia open, the ignition pinging its annoying sound, the soft glow of the interior light beckoning to her. She sidled down the steps and crossed to her beloved little car looking inside, her keys jingling loudly against the weapon.

The exhaust was pooling in the tiny space, making Leah’s eyes water as she slid into the seat intending to turn the ignition off, beginning to cough as she stared numbly at the lone key in the column switch. A noise caused her to look back toward the house, through a fog that could have been only in her furry head, to see the tall, thin woman in the doorway. The long black hair was gypsy wild in a riot of curls around the woman’s waist, an obvious wig even in the dim, hazy light. Leah gasped to note that the woman was wearing the fire red peignoir Leah had bought to wear for her husband the night she planned to tell him they had conceived their child. The child who was not on it’s way. The child she would never conceive with the cheating, lying man whose whore was taunting her from the door of Leah’s home, wearing Leah’s negligee, right down to the high heeled slippers with the red puff of feathers on the toes.

“Do yourself a favor.” the woman told her, “get in the car and close the door.”

The woman seemed familiar. For a second Leah thought she might recognize her before she felt herself becoming dizzy with the fumes of the exhaust, or the bitterness of her betrayal. Leah almost did it. Despair crawled up her spine like a chill. She almost gave in to the suggestion that she end it all.

When the woman closed the door with the audible snap of the lock, it would have been so easy to lay back her head in the drivers seat and close her eyes. To cease to hurt, to cease to fail, to cease to live, but anger spurred Leah from behind the wheel. The deadly gun in one hand and her key ring in the other, Leah threw herself at the door.

She didn’t remember getting the lock open or stumbling into the breakfast nook, falling up the step, racking her shin and falling face first onto the glossy stone floor, but she vaguely recalled hearing the front door. Leah crawled toward the sound.

Her eyes and nose streamed, her hair hanging in her face as she heaved dryly, pulling herself into a sitting position with her back against the kitchen wall, facing the swinging door into the formal dining room.

The small shining weapon passed shakily from hand to hand and Leah toggled off the safety, gripping the gun with her right hand, bracing her arms on her upraised knees as she gripped her right wrist with her left hand as she had been taught to do in her shooting classes at the range.

The lights snapped on in the house behind the swinging door, and Leah’s lungs went into spasm causing her to cough loudly. Loud footfalls pounded toward her and her head swam. The door slammed open, bounced off the wall and Leah fired the Beretta. The door swung shut, swooshing loudly in the sudden quiet of the house…..

Leah’s memories were as up to date as they could be. She didn’t remember passing out, slumping over on the floor, or anything else until she had opened her eyes in the ambulance. The white haze cleared from in front of Leah and she could see the roof of the ambulance, feel  the weight of broken and bruised ribs burning in her chest as the doors banged closed. Leah looked around the oxygen mask and out the window as the van shot away from her lovely, defiled Victorian home. She could see a covered gurney being carried toward a coroners van, and Amy screaming, crying, clinging to it. Around the siren Leah heard her sister calling, “Cliff! Cliff!” and Leah let her head fall back to the hard pillow, the siren filling it. She sought the solace of unconsciousness, but a small detail crept to the front of her mind and would not let go.

Leah struggled to recognize what was causing the pain that went deeper than her seared lungs, that rankled more harsh than her tortured ribs and fell into the black abyss with the image of her baby sister throwing herself atop the gurney that carried the body of her husband from their home, where Leah had shot him dead. In the last twinkling of her consciousness Leah saw the scene again and the last thing she saw before falling unconscious was the red high heeled slippers with the feathery puff on the toes that fell from her sisters feet as she launched herself through the air, kicking and screaming.

4164 words

“Edge of Reality is the second short story in the “Camaran” series which chronicles the lives of the residents of a cursed southeast Missouri community that must unravel a 300 year old mystery and unite the far flung descendants of the founding fathers in order to free themselves from a gypsy curse. The first short story is “My Sister’s Keeper”. A love story written for a Writer's Digest course I took years ago which tells the story of Casey and Royce Beauvais. The next story is a horror story that chroncles CeeCee's return to Camaran and a haunted house on the bluffs.