Now, today, it was Christmas Eve, and Pete would be home in less than 10 minutes. Norma was glad about that. Mamie was right about one thing: Norma often felt worried, out of sorts, after Pete had been gone for only a few hours. Lynda, Norma's best friend of 16 years, had a name for it: the lonelies. Norma thought that summed it up very nicely indeed. Mamie called it the megrims, and while that term described Norma's worries also, she didn't like it. Ever since her childhood, Norma had thought that the megrims must be some sort of nasty little creatures, possessed of long scaly tails and huge teeth like chunks of broken glass. As a little girl, she would lay stiffly under the covers, wide awake, the blanket thrown over her head; she would listen from the dubious safety of this dark hot cocoon and imagine that the megrims were coming to get her, all loathsome fur and snapping jaws and gnashing teeth, teeth stained with the blood of the children that the megrims had already gotten to; and young Norma would listen helplessly for the sound of their claws on the floor as they came to gobble her up and drink her blood --
| (The police chief is trying to lead her away, but she breaks free from his gentle hold and falls to her knees at the edge of the spreading pool of blood; her fists cram themselves into her mouth and she groans helplessly as the young lieutenant - Riley, she thinks distractedly, his name is Riley - turns over the body, turns it over to get a look at the face, wanting to ID the corpse, but she doesn't need to see the face to know who it is, and she stifles a scream as the dead eyes of the body seem to look into her own eyes; Lt. Riley closes those eyes but she can still see them, their mutely accusing gaze is burned into her mind; it will be a long time before she does not see them every time she closes her eyes; and as Lt. Riley backs away one of the body's eyes opens; now it is WINKING at her, its face is splattered with blood, but it doesn't seem to mind; it winks at her, seeming to ask her hey, just between you and me this party's a little STIFF, by which I mean it's pretty DEAD, ha-ha, get it? And then she cannot stifle her screams, they peal out of her like frightened bats escaping from the mouth of a cave; she screams until her throat is raw, she screams until she cannot hear herself over the pounding of her heart, and then for a little variety she screams again as the truth hits her with the force of a speeding train: the body on the floor is REAL, it's not a dummy or a scarecrow, it's REAL, and it is the body of -- ) |
"Norma? Norma, are you okay?"
She had blinked a couple of times, frantic questions racing through her mind: where she was, who was shaking her, whether Pete was okay -- then her head had seemed to clear, and she realized where she was: the Fullerville Outlet Store. Today was December 12, 1998, and she had come to do some last minute shopping for Pete. "Yes, I'm okay." She noticed the crowd that had gathered, and uttered an embarrassed little laugh. "What happened?"
Lynda's face was concerned. "You just about fainted, honey. You sure you're okay?"
Norma nodded. "Fine as paintfumes, I guess." She had thought the old joke would make Lynda laugh, but her best friend had still looked worried.
Lynda's eyes went to Norma's basket, which had been full of Norma's purchases; Lynda's face grew more worried still and her voice trembled slightly as she asked Norma, "Say, what is all this stuff?" She began pawing through Norma's basket, her hands shaking. "Handkerchiefs? A man's tie?" She stared at the cylindrical object in her hand for a moment before letting it drop. "A beer cozy? Norma, what -- "
Dull red anger rose inside her. She met Lynda's nervous gaze, her mouth pressed closed in an offended white line, until Lynda finally dropped her eyes. "Why," Norma had asked in a carefully controlled voice, "why does everyone insist on treating me like I'm going to break? I'm not a vase, I'm a person, and I'd appreciate being treated like one!"
To her satisfaction, Lynda had blushed, so fiercely that she looked sunburned. "I'm sorry, Norma. It's just that . . . well, since Pete -- "
Norma had groaned. "For that matter, why does everyone insist on talking to me about Peter?! First it's my mom, then Doc Donafax, and now my best friend? Pretty soon, they're going to have to call out the men with the butterfly nets, because you guys are all going to drive me crazy!"
Lynda had smiled a little. "I'm sorry, Norma. It's just... I was worried there for a second. I mean, when I caught you, you were this close to fainting." She held her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart.
Norma had laughed. "I wasn't THAT close, was I?"
Lynda stared into space for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay, so you were only this close," she amended, holding her palms three inches apart. Then they had both burst out laughing.
Norma picked up a jigsaw puzzle from the shelf on her left. "Oh, look at this! Pete loves puzzles!" She popped it into her basket with all the other gifts for Pete. Then she had glanced at her watch. "Oh, I'd better get home soon so I can hide these from him!" She had waved to Lynda as she hurried through the store to the checkout line.
Lynda, her face grave and troubled again, hadn't waved back.