After Life (8 page)

accepted all this. Up until last year he was still talking about

getting a job closer to the city, she whispered, as though it were one

of their personal secrets.

What changed his mind?

I don't know. Oh, I suppose it had something to do with his heart

problem. His life changed radically after that.

What actually happened?

He kept ignoring the symptoms and refusing to see Dr. Beezly. Finally

one day he collapsed and we had to rush him to the hospital. Dr. Beezly

said he had been a walking time bomb for weeks. Just like Bob to have

been stubborn and cause himself greater problems.

After that, security, comfort, and all that went along with it was more

important to him than anything else. He and Dr. Beezly have grown

especially close. They even have some business dealings together. My

husband, she said, not hiding her own surprise, has become some thing of

an entrepreneur. Far cry from an actor, huh?

You don't sound very happy about it, Tracy, Jessie said.

Well, I don't love him any less, but you already sensed from your first

encounter with him how cynical he can be. Funny . . . she said, her

voice drifting off.

What is? Jessie asked when the silence lingered.

How we lose our dreams and ambitions. They're like balloons, firm and

full when we're young and optimistic.

As time goes by, they lose air, soften; and then one day we wake up and

discover some strong wind has taken them off. You're left with a limp

string in your fingers and the vague memory of what it was supposed to

be.

I'm sorry, Jessie said softly, reaching for Tracy's hand again.

Oh no, please. I didn't mean to put a damper on our day. Really, I

exaggerate anyway. You mustn't take me seriously. If I ever sound off

this self-pity again, shut me right up. Bob gets furious at me when I

do that. We do have a lot more than I ever dreamed we would.

Besides, I'm feeling very stupid moaning and bitching to someone like

you. With all you've been through, you should be the one moaning and

bitching.

Jessie smiled.

You should hear me when I get started. She patted Tracy's hand. I'm

looking forward to your dinner I'll phone you tomorrow, Tracy said. Just

in case you need any errands run or want to run some your self.

Thank you. Bye, Jessie said, and started down the walk, moving with the

self-assurance of someone who had been living there for years and years.

Tracy shook her head in admiration and then got back into her car and

drove off as soon as she saw Jessie step onto the porch and approach the

front door.

But Jessie didn't open it and enter the hallway. She paused because she

heard the sound of digging far off to her left. It was coming from the

cemetery. Her first thought, of course, was that someone had died and a

grave was being prepared. She stood there for a few moments, mesmerized

by the rhythmic thud of a shovel stabbing at the earth.

As she listened a horrifying vision began to take form.

It was like having a waking nightmare. In it the digging was being

carried out by a skeleton who was trying to return to its coffin. Shreds

of rotted clothing hung from its shoulders and arms. As it worked,

shavings of bone began to peel away from its hands. It fell like

dandruff all about it and made it work with more fury. Finally it

struck the lid of the coffin and fell to its knees to brush away the

remaining soil. It worked its bony fingers under the lid and pulled up

with all its might, but the coffin wouldn't open.

The skeleton threw back its skull and opened its jaw.

A death rattle emerged. Seconds later the spine snapped followed by all

of its appendages. It fell in a pile of bones on the top of the coffin,

and the dirt that had been removed began to fall in over it again.

The grotesque imagery sent her scurrying through her purse for her key.

She entered the house quickly and inserted the key into her front door.

Not until she had closed and locked it behind her did she feel any sense

of relief and security. Then, with her heart still pounding, she made

her way to the bedroom to lie down. Lee's phone call from school woke

her.

Are you all right? he asked.

Yes. I fell asleep for a little while.

Oh, sorry.

No, that's all right, she said. I'm sure I should be getting up and

preparing supper. How are things going today?

Better, he said. How was your day with Tracy?

Very nice. We had a wonderful lunch in the village diner.

I'm glad. I guess you heard them come to take that truck away this

morning, huh?

Yes, there was the sound of a tow truck. Have you heard anything more

about it?

No. I see the Benson kid is present, though. Okay, I'll be home on

time tonight, he promised.

Have a good practice, she said, and cradled the phone. She got out of

bed and went to the bathroom to dab her face with some cold water.

Afterward, feeling somewhat revived, she headed for the kitchen. But as

soon as she entered it she heard something that took her to the side

window, the one facing the cemetery.

She worked it open to hear better and listened.

There was more digging going on, but now it was much closer to the

house. How many people could have passed away? she wondered. It was

creepy living right beside a cemetery like this, she thought. Perhaps

it would be better to talk to Lee about finding them someplace else. She

closed the window and went to prepare the dinner.

After she set the table, she went into the living room to listen to the

news, but before she turned it on, she heard the patter of footsteps on

the patio and then the porch. From the pace of the gait, she knew it

was old man Carter. Although they had hardly spoken up to now, she

thought it would be nice to have a friendly relationship with their

upstairs neighbor. She went to the apartment front door and opened it

just as he entered the house.

Mr. Carter? she said from her doorway. She could smell the scent of

freshly dug earth.

Hello, he said. He closed the heavy, oak door behind him.

You had a lot of work to do today? she asked, smiling. Even though he

was only a few feet from her she couldn't get a sense of him the way she

usually could get a sense of someone. It was as if she were speaking to

a voice with no body. It unnerved her and she embraced herself quickly,

for the pause between her question and his reply seemed endless.

No more than usual, he finally said. Some prunin'

some trimmin'.

Oh? I thought. . . I mean, I just assumed you were preparing some

new graves today. All that digging, she added.

Diggin'? I didn't do any diggin' today, Mrs. Over street. Nobody new

died. Yet, he added.

But I could have sworn . . .

Got enough hot water? he asked.

What? Oh, yes.

Sometimes that damn hot-water heater don't kick in and I gotta go down

to the basement and hit the restart button. No sense callin' Charley

DeGroot if you don't have hot water. Just call me. He'll only call me

anyway, Carter added. She heard him take the first step.

Oh, thank you. I bet you were wondering what all that commotion was

late last night, she said quickly.

He stopped on the stairway.

Commotion?

Someone got drunk and fell out of his truck right out in front here. We

had to phone the police.

Never heard a thing, he said. I sleep better than the dead, he added,

and laughed. I know. I hear them tossin' and turnin' all night out

there.

He continued up the stairway. She started to close the door when she

caught a whiff of that horrendous stench again. It seemed to move past

her, following the old man. In seconds it was gone and all that

remained was the lingering scent of freshly dug earth.

Why did he say he wasn't doing any digging? She distinctly heard it. If

he wasn't digging in the cemetery, who was?

After she closed the door, she stood there listening to the sound of the

old man's footsteps now above her. Yes, she said to herself, there it

was again. His footsteps and then that shuffling. There's definitely

someone up there with him, someone who could use a bath.

She went into the living room and tried listening to the news, but her

mind kept drifting. She replayed some of her conversation with Tracy

Baker. She had heard something in Tracy's voice, something more than

disappointment or depression, something that had suggested fear. The

Bakers had been married nearly fifteen years and they had no children.

Jessie had been wanting to ask her about that, but since Tracy hadn't

brought up the subject, she thought she would wait until she became

better acquainted. Her experience was that people volunteered

information about their personal lives freely these days.

They didn't need much encouragement. It was the age of exposure and

confession.

Jessie was so lost in her thoughts about Tracy and about the things she

had heard in the afternoon that she didn't hear Lee enter.

Well, this is a first, he declared. You, not hearing me?

Oh Lee. She rose and went to him.

What's wrong? he asked when he felt how she was trembling. Something

happen since I spoke with you on the phone?

She told him about the sound of the digging and her conversation with

old man Carter.

Lee laughed.

Jess, I'm sure the old guy is starting to lose it.

He probably doesn't remember what he does from one moment to the next.

Besides, what would be his reason for Lying to you about something like

that?

I don't know, she said.

So? Don't worry about it. I'm starving. Let's eat.

You had a good practice?

It was better than yesterday. There was less fouling and other

shenanigans and no one complained about my fitness program. Oh, and the

Benson kid . . .

Yes?

He played very well. If his father's behavior is bothering him, he's

sure good at hiding it. He behaved as if nothing had happened and his

father wasn't in jail.

He couldn't have been in better spirits.

Maybe he just doesn't care about him, Lee.

Yeah, I suppose that happens. So, tell me about your day with Tracy

Baker. I'm sure you have plenty of gossip to relate.

Now, Lee, you know we don't gossip. We discuss, she said, and he

laughed. You don't have to shower and change for dinner?

Naw, I did it at school.

I guess you're getting into it then, she said happy I guess so. It just

takes time. Like anything else, it just takes time, he repeated, and

followed her to the kitchen to help get their dinner.

It wasn't until after they had sat down at the table and had begun

eating that he noticed the oddest thing.

Well, I'll be damned, he said suddenly, interrupting her description of

the Gardner Town diner.

What?

I just noticed the craziest thing.

What?

After I showered and got dressed in my office . . .

Yes?

I put on the wrong sneakers.

What? How could you do that?

They were just there in my locker, one of Kurt Andersen's extra pairs. I

guess I just grabbed them with out thinking and put them on.

But the oddest thing is they fit . . . perfectly, and I had gotten

the impression from his description and from some of the pictures of him

in the office that he was a much bigger man than I am.

He could be taller and heavier and still have the same foot size as you,

Lee.

Yeah, I suppose so. I tell you, honey, I was reading through some of

his old correspondence today, and at times I must have been just as

angry and frustrated as he had been.

You pick up where a guy left off, he continued almost as if he just

passed you the ball, and you continue down the court, even wearing his

shoes.

Just as long as you don't end up the same way, Yeah, he said. Right.

The long moment of silence between them was unnerving. He was happy

when she began to talk about her day with Tracy Baker again. But he

couldn't stop wondering what the hell he was thinking of when he put on