The Animal Hour (39 page)

And where was Oliver? Zach thought. Where the hell was he? He rubbed his forehead. He couldn't think. His brain was so cluttered … The burnt wood letters on the café sign … The lampblack under a vampire's eyes … The white web netting in the part of the blonde wig …

He shook his head. Turned away. Caught the woman in the chair sneaking a glance at him. He saw the blackheads at her nostrils. The pink splotches on her cheeks from crying. It was driving him crazy.

“Look,” he said, getting off the windowsill. “Look. Look. Just face front, okay? I can't stand it anymore. Just face front.”

She turned around. She let out a sob. Her shoulders sagged. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm just afraid. Are you going to hurt me?”

He looked at her. Flyaway strands of her yellow hair caught the light. Her head was bent forward and her fragile neck was bared. The slope of her shoulders struck him as particularly womanish …

“Do you fuck Oliver?” he asked her. The words came out before he could stop them. He didn't even think them, he just said them.

The woman's head came up. “What?”

“Never mind,” said Zachary quickly. He waved his gun hand in front of him, as if to erase the thought. “Nothing, I … It was stupid … I mean, everybody fucks him, right? All the girls just love old Ol.”

“No …” she said. “No. I never … I wouldn't … Really. I'm serious.”

“Ssh,” he said. He knew she did. They all did. He slipped the pistol into his belt again. He put the knife in his right hand. All the girls just loved that crazy old Oliver. He started walking toward her.

He might as well get it over with, he thought. He might as well do it now. He couldn't stand that face of hers anymore. And the suspense, the anticipation of what would happen when he cut her throat. All right, he thought. All right. It was his punishment. It was his fate. He sighed with resignation as he moved toward her. His stomach was churning. How could you tell, he thought, what was fate and what was your own decision? How could you know the difference between what God demanded and what you wanted? And who was going to clean up all that omelette shit downstairs?

Christ, what if Ollie is back already?

He couldn't think. He couldn't think of anything. There was too much clutter. Too much of her stray hairs. The crescent glimpses of her cheek as she tried to steal a glance at him. And now: He saw his own hand. He was reaching out to grab her. He had never noticed before how the blue veins on the back of his hand looked like rivers running from the mountains of his knuckles …

Avis turned in her chair. He saw the lavender frames of glasses. He saw one brown eye. The almond shape.

And then the eye went wide, circular with terror. She had seen the knife.

She gasped. Her hand came up.

“Face front!” he hissed.

“Please!”

“Now! Or I'll kill you. Face front!”

She did it. She had to. Reluctantly, she turned her back on him. That was better. Much better. He breathed a little easier, although he could still hear her sobby little voice.

“Are you going to kill me now? Are you going to cut me with that? Please don't, okay? I won't tell anybody anything. I swear. I swear I won't.”

He reached out. He felt her hair soft on his fingertips. He was going to grab her hair, pull her head back and plunge the knife into her throat. He could do that. He knew he could do that. His fingers curled around the hair to grab it …

And then something … a noise … somewhere.

Zach looked up. Across the room. The door. Behind that door, there'd been a noise. It sounded like a voice almost. Like a human voice.

Zach stood still, bent over, reaching out. He listened. The sound didn't come again. But he had heard it. He was sure of it.

Someone was in there!

The baby! Avis felt the strength flow out of her like blood. The baby was waking up! That was his first soft sound. His little head turning on the mattress. His tiny fist rubbing at his eye. The noise went through her like a lance. Pierced her through. All the strength flooded out of her.

Go to sleep, baby! Stay asleep!

By some powerful act of mind, she managed not to turn in her chair. She forced herself not to look at the door.

Stay asleep!

She forced herself not to gasp. She held herself rigid. She faced front, the way he wanted her. She kept her hands down on her knees. Maybe he hadn't heard …

“What was that?” he said behind her.

“What?” Avis said—she felt as if someone were inside her, doing the talking for her. All she did was move her lips. “Wh-Wh-What was what?”

“That noise. That sound. Didn't you hear it?”

She allowed herself to turn slightly, to look up at him. He was crouched behind her, the knife in his hand. His eyes, hot and white, were fixed on the nursery door.

“I didn't hear anything,” Avis whispered.

“Someone's in there.” He turned on her angrily, his teeth showing. “Is someone in there?”

Avis shook her head.
Think!
But she couldn't think. She spoke automatically. “No. In there? That's my bedroom. I live alone.”

“Damn it!” said Zach. And he started marching to the door.

He went with long strides, his hand reaching for the doorknob even as he moved. The seconds it took him to cross the room seemed longer than forever. Avis stared at him.

Scream. The baby! Scream.

But she opened her mouth and the scream stuck in her throat. If she screamed she would wake him up for sure. That would be the end of it. He would kill them both. She knew it. She had to stop him and she couldn't think and now he was there. He was at the door. He was reaching for the knob in the long, long quarter-seconds. His hand was on the knob.

Do you fuck Ollie?
she thought.

The seconds were almost frozen now, so slow they were almost still. And yet he was turning the knob. She heard the latch clicking. The nursery door was coming open.

All the girls just love him.

“Don't go in there,” she said. “I do fuck Ollie. I do fuck him.”

“What?” Zachary's head came around toward her. The moments broke into full speed. It was as if time, like a carny ride, had reached the top of the loop, stopped for an instant, and now swooped down. The nursery door opened a crack. She could see the shapes of a Muppets mobile. Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy. Just their dangling silhouettes through the opening, in the dark.

But Zachary had turned away from them. He was looking back at her with a sidelong glance. His eyes were so white, so wide. His hand, his left hand, slipped from the doorknob. In his right hand, he held the knife. He pointed the knife at her. Its blade glinted in the top light.

Stay asleep, baby
, Avis thought.
Just stay asleep.

“What did you say?” said Zachary.

“That's my bedroom,” she blurted out, thinking
Stay …
“I fuck Ollie in there. Don't go in there. He says things in there. You shouldn't go in. He says things about … about you … about, uh … about your penis.”

“What?”
He looked at her as if she were crazy.

Avis thought she was crazy too. She didn't even know what she was saying. She was blabbering without thought, going on instinct. She was thinking,
Don't wake up now, baby. Lull-a-by. Lull-a-by and good night, little baby.
And she said, “That's right. He always says these things, he tells me things about your penis and he fucks me. He fucks me and we laugh about your limp dick, what a girl, he says, what a girl you are in bed …”

The words tasted like dirt in her mouth but she ignored it. She kept talking and she kept thinking,
Lull-a-by and good night, little ba-by, sleep ti-ight …

“What a limp dick and he fucks me,” she babbled.

Zach took a step closer to her. He cocked his head. “Are you shitting me? Are you …? What else did he say? Really. I'm just curious. Is this for real?”

“Real?” Avis's eyes darted to the open nursery door. Kermit and Miss Piggy and Gonzo bear turned softly in a cool breeze in the dark. “Real. Yes. Every day and he fucks me. And we laugh.”
Bright angels up above will send you down their love
, she thought.

Zachary frowned. He looked like a little boy about to cry. “Goddamn it,” he said. “I knew it. I
knew
it.” He took another step toward her. “What did he tell you? What else? Did he say anything about Tiffany, about me and Tiffany?”

Avis clung to the wooden frame of her chair. She leaned back, away from him as he came closer. “Tiffany?” she said, her voice cracking. “Tiffany yeah. He told me about her and that was, yeah, we really laughed and he fucked me a lot …”

Zach took another step and he was standing right over her. He was hanging over her like a vulture and yet she was hardly aware of him. Her eyes, fixed on the nursery door, had glazed over. The whole force of her mind was concentrated on keeping her baby asleep.
Lull-a-by …
The whory words kept pouring out of her.

“I fucked him and his big dick, his big hard dick, you can't even with that knife but he laughed about Tiffany …”

“All right!” Zach barked suddenly. “Shut up!”

Go to sleep, go to sleep … Little baby, good night …
“You can't even get it up but he fucks me and he laughs …”

“You bitch! I can't believe this! Goddamned Oliver! I didn't ask to live, you know. I didn't ask him to save me! I'm the one who suffers with it …”

“Laughing fucking dick …”

“Stop it!”

“Laughing at you, girl, girl …”

“Stop!”

“Laughing.”

“Stop!”

He gave a wild cry and leapt at her. The movement brought her from her trance. At the last second, she tried to roll away from him, to roll off the chair. But he got her. He grabbed her hair in his fist. She fell to the floor, her knees cracking on the wood. He ripped her backward, ripped her head back over the chair arm, baring her throat.

Avis bit back her scream. She saw his face looming above her, filling her vision, his eyes black. She heard his hoarse panting and saw the flash of the knife as he lifted it in the air. She clutched at his arm, staring up at him.

Lull-a-by, lull-a-by
…

Zach, holding her hair in his fist, hissed down at her in triumph. Just as he had hissed at the woman last night. Just as he had hissed into the glazed eyes of her severed head when finally in his rage he had stuffed it into the toilet. It was the same sound of triumph. They were the same words.

“You're not alive!” he told her.

Bright angels up above
, she thought,
will send you down their love!

“The soul shrinks from all that
it is about to remember …”

—Richard Wilbur

P
erkins was scared. It wasn't just dread now. It was real fear, beating in his throat like a trapped butterfly. He had left Zach alone too long. He had lost track of Tiffany outside Nana's apartment. And now …

He hurried down the hall to Nana's door. He was thinking:
If Tiffany's here, if she's brought Nana into this
… He was thinking about Nana, about her weak heart. He was thinking:
She won't be able to stand it.

He pounded on the door with his fist.

“Nana?” he called loudly. “It's me.” He was already fumbling for the keys in his jeans. “Nana?” He had the key. He fit it into the lock. Took hold of the knob.

But the knob turned in his hand. It was pulled away from him. The door swung in. Swung open.

She stood before him in the doorway, peering out at him with frightened eyes.

“Hello, Oliver,” she said.

His own fear beat harder at his throat. He spat her name out between his teeth. “Tiffany.”

Tiffany pushed her black and silver hair away from her face. She braced herself, took a breath. Then she pulled the door all the way open. Perkins could see his grandmother now. There by the coffee table near the windows. Her shapeless old self was slumped comfortably in the satin bergère, propped by her hand-embroidered pillows. She looked up when he came in. Her sagging, melted face lifted in a smile.