The Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac (42 page)

“There is no right or wrong choice,” Ape Mom said. “That's the best way to think of it.”

Chicken Legs guffawed at this, and Gramma clapped a few of her tentacles together in amusement.

Acquaintances from Eli's life filed into the grange. They gathered before the punch bowl and the cheese plate and eyeballed the alcohol but seemed shy to drink it. One of them approached the silver frame and stood before it with a lowered face. Eli watched the man carefully. It was a colleague of his—a biologist with halitosis—a man who had always been quite amiable.

“He's faking it,” Eli said. He could sense the man's feelings as clearly as he could smell someone's perfume. “He doesn't give a damn about me.”

“Yeah, a lot of them fake it,” Ape Mom said. “Don't take it too hard. At least he's trying.”

Eli was angry. “I worked with him for over thirty years!”

Gramma's tentacles lashed out to make their terrible cutting motion.

Chicken Legs touched Eli's arm. “Do you want him dead? She'd love to do it for you. Consider it a freebie.”

“Dead? No, no. Nothing like that. No, forget about him.”

Gramma's many shoulders drooped. She gazed sourly at Eli's colleague. He was stroking the picture frame now, mouthing the word
goodbye.

“What a cocksucker, though,” Eli said.

“It's wise not to humor her,” Ape Mom said. “She kills off one dude and then a dozen more lie dead at her feet.”

The corners of Gramma's long mouth sloped upward at the thought.

“If we had any integrity,” Chicken Legs said ruefully, “we'd off the whole lot of 'em.”

Gramma nodded emphatically.

“Right,” Ape Mom said with a roll of her simian eyes, “and then we'd spend the rest of eternity lugging rocks up hillsides and being whipped by a grumpy Titan. No thank you.”

Gladys Roebuck entered then, dressed in a stylish black tweed jacket and knee-length dress with black leather trim, over which she wore her valuable stole.

Eli recognized the stole. “I bought that for our fourth wedding anniversary.” He sensed Gladys's thoughts as she stroked the soft fur. “Finest sable imaginable. She still loves it,” he noted. Then, squirming, he said, “God. She still loves
me
.”

“Poor thing,” said Ape Mom. “Look at her. Ugly as a plucked turkey. Her scalp's as bald and uneven as Gramma's.”

“A terrible accident,” he said.

“We remember,” Chicken Legs said. “It was no accident.”

At Gladys's side was a middle-aged woman, plumper and younger than Gladys, with a much friendlier face.

“That's her nurse,” Ape Mom said.

“Her nurse?”

“She's unwell, as you've often said. She needs the assistance. She has no one else, you know.”

“Gladys is the loneliest woman I've ever met,” he said. “Always has been. She's alienated from Amelia, even.”

“That might be to Amelia's benefit,” Chicken Legs joked, and Ape Mom elbowed her in the ribs.

To Eli, Ape Mom said, “So. Here's something you could fix: Gladys's loneliness. She would love to be haunted by you, for example.”

Chicken Legs stared at him eagerly, willing him to go ahead and be done with it.

“I don't think so,” Eli said.

He had seen enough of Gladys already. He pitied her, but he had decided long ago to no longer be her caretaker.

Vanessa entered from the grange's back door. She stalked around on her big clunky heels, both klutzy and graceful, like an egret. Her hair—uncombed, curly, and enormous—was filled with flakes of white snow. She wore a trim navy jacket—Eli's own, he recognized—over a flowing black dress. Even with her drawn, exhausted face, she radiated warmth and care.

“She is beautiful,” Eli said, close to tears. He felt that she brought him back to life.

Gramma motioned with a tentacle at his waistline. Eli covered himself with his hands, momentarily ashamed.

“She's right, you know,” Ape Mom said. “We could do that for you, if you wanted. I mean, we could arrange for you to do
it
with
her
.”

“Even just a hug,” he said wistfully. He almost tried to read his wife's thoughts but decided he could not—it was too painful. “A kiss,” he said.

“Whatever you want. But then, you know, it's vamoose. We're out of here after that.”

Eli shook his head. “It's tempting,” he said. “Doesn't seem very natural, though. Will we be alone?”

Chicken Legs hooted. “You're never alone. Not now. Not before, really, but at least you had the sense of it. But not now, no. Especially not now.”

“So you'll just, what, watch?”

Ape Mom nodded in confirmation. Chicken Legs grinned. Gramma made a hole with one tentacle and shoved another tentacle in and out of it lewdly.

“Gramma,” Chicken Legs said approvingly, “you're such a pervert.”

“Okay, then,” Eli said, making a face. “Definitely not.”

Other random acquaintances entered, dozens and dozens of them. Eli was pleased to witness his own popularity, but he felt compelled to ignore anyone who wasn't a major player in his life. The importance of the task at hand began to loom before him, and he worried that he wouldn't choose the correct resolution.

Ginger entered then. The girls were with her: the older child, Blythe, who sought out Vanessa and ran to her happily, and the younger girl, Ruby, who held a stuffed rabbit tightly to her chest. The girl's eyes were wide and searching. A thin scar trailed down one side of her face into the armpit of her dress.

Compared to Gladys's scarred head, Ruby's scar, however long, was delicate and faded, like a line of pretty pink thread.

“God,” Eli said. “Why would she bring the children here?”

“Why not?” said Ape Mom. “It's not like it's an open casket.”

He watched Ginger as she crossed the room to his photograph. She took off her jacket. She was wearing a blue short-sleeved dress.

“She looks well,” he said. “Pale, though. What is that tattoo on her arm? A fucking unicorn? What is she, thirteen?”

He peered closer and saw that she was fighting not to sob.

“She's still my little girl,” he said. “My baby.”

“I like the tattoo,” Chicken Legs said, and it was the first kind thing Eli had heard from her.

Eli felt Ginger's emotions surge through him, and he brought his hand to his chest. “She wonders if it's her fault.”

“What, the tattoo?” Chicken Legs asked.

Ape Mom hushed her.

“My death. My heart attack. My issues with Amelia. Even Ruby's scar. All of it.” He rifled through Ginger's brain. “She blames herself for everything.”

“That's a pretty self-important thing to do,” Chicken Legs said.

“No, it's not that,” Eli said. “She's hated herself for a long time.” Saying this aloud broke his heart. “But she knows better. I can tell she knows better now.”

“Ah,” Ape Mom said. “Here's a noble task for you, then. Give her a much-needed confidence boost! One short haunting from you and she'll be strong and guilt-free in a heartbeat.”

Eli considered this seriously. He groped through his daughter's thoughts one more time. “No. Like I said, she's doing better. And she has Vanessa, who is a good mom. I think she'll be okay.”

Just then an old woman swept into the room, energetic and ancient. She was sharp-eyed and liver-spotted and, Eli saw, anxious to pay her respects and then leave. She darted like a minnow up to Eli's photograph, lifted it, kissed it, set it back down. Then, nostrils expanding, she retreated to a corner, where she stood for a minute or so, eyeballing the crowd nervously. Then she hurried back outside to the Gertrude Elms van.

“Agnes,” Eli said darkly.

“She's practically immortal, isn't she?” Ape Mom said. “Anything you'd like to do for her? Forgive her, perhaps?”

“No,” he said firmly.

It was a comfort to him that the final abandonment would be his own.

Music kicked in on the stereo, a song Eli didn't like but that he tolerated because it was one of Vanessa's favorites. Vanessa, always selfless in such matters, spoke with the deejay.

“Not that CD,” she said. “The other one.”

A Beethoven string quartet began. “I'm glad I get to hear this one last time,” he said.

“You have a good wife,” Ape Mom observed.

“Had,” Chicken Legs corrected.

Eugene Ferm entered, and Eli was almost happy to see him.

“He's not a bad man,” Eli said to Ape Mom. “Quite a good man, in fact.”

“He liked you,” Ape Mom said. “He respects your work still.”

This pleased Eli. “I wish him well.”

“As you should,” Ape Mom said.

Eli's pleasure was disrupted, however, by the arrival of Amelia. She entered with her husband. Jim was respectfully sad, Eli noted, but Amelia was a million emotions: angry, bereft, confused, afraid, mournful, and even relieved. Eli gazed upon her emotions for a long, silent minute and then, for the first time, understood: Amelia, of the two daughters, was the more mortally affected by his life's choices. Ginger was distraught and weepy because she had lost a father who had loved her; Amelia was distraught and weepy because she had lost a father whom she had never truly known.

She really believed he loved her less than he did the others.

“Amelia,” he said. “It's not that. How could you think that? I loved you. Always, I did! I just—” He stopped here, thinking. “I just never loved your mother.”

He saw then how he had unwittingly let his hatred of Gladys spoil his emotions for Amelia, too. He felt the unjustness of it keenly now.

“Oh, Amelia. I'm sorry you felt this way for so long.”

He tried to go to her, to comfort her and embrace her, but it was as though his ankles were fettered. He looked down. Heavy iron chains encircled his legs.

“It's policy,” Ape Mom said. “Until you make your wish, you're rooted to the spot.”

“Amelia,” he said, tearing up. “My poor baby. Why does she think I never wanted her?”

All three Fates watched him. Even Chicken Legs and Gramma were touched.

Ape Mom said, “You once told her—maybe more than once—that you wished you'd never met her mother. Did you mean that?”

He said that he had meant it, yes. “But just because I wanted Gladys out of my life, that doesn't mean I wanted Amelia out of it, too.”

“I think,” Ape Mom said, “that you've happened upon your fix. Say the word, Eli, and we'll arrange a good haunting. This will do wonders for her, believe me. It will do wonders for everyone, really: Gladys, Ginger, even Vanessa. You can tell her, plainly, how glad you are that she's your kid. Why you never thought to communicate this to her while you were alive is beyond me. Anyway, that's why we do this, I guess. That's what makes our work so satisfying. Am I right, ladies?”

Gramma took up one of Chicken Legs' hands with an oily tentacle. There was love between these monsters, Eli saw, not unlike the love he felt for his daughters. Unconditional love. It was a love that Amelia believed her parents had never truly felt for her. But they did! Both of them! They had simply failed at communicating it, maybe at recognizing it, although Eli recognized it painfully now.

Eli turned to Ape Mom, about to make his official request.

Right as he opened his mouth to speak, an enormous, crude figure limped through the door. The man was both graceful and awkward, his long arms swinging down to his knees. He held a long cane in one hand.

“Mr. Krantz,” Eli said, and tried to move forward again, but the chains held him.

Mr. Krantz's wife quivered excitedly beside her gigantic husband, all smiles and boobs. She was downright plucky in her pink coat and high heels. She chattered inanely at anyone who made eye contact with her. Eli read annoyance on Vanessa's face, sheer horror on Gladys's.

Gladys leaned in to her companion. “What sort of harlot would wear pink to a
memorial service
?”

Ginger, standing with Amelia and Jim now, took a sip of boozy punch and said, “Who are those people?”

“They were friends with Dad,” Amelia said. “They were with him when he had his heart attack.”

The evening came rushing back to Eli: the misfired rifle, the scuffle, Mr. Krantz's astounding power and speed, the taste of Mr. Krantz's mouth against his own.

I meant to kill him,
Eli remembered,
and I failed.

“Can I kill someone if I wish?” he asked the Fates.

Ape Mom soured. “I guess. I mean, it's up to you.”

Gramma made her cutting motion again, eagerly, pleadingly. Chicken Legs, too, bobbed up and down in place, excited.

“But, you know, death is in the cards for him, anyway, so why worry about it?”

“I just…” He stopped here, thinking. “I want to prove who he is.”

“Your life's ambition, right?” Ape Mom said.

Eli said yes.

“So, ask yourself: Do you really think he's a monster? Or—I know—a hominid, as you call him? I mean, I know he looks that way. Sorta looks like me, huh?”

Eli looked at Mr. Krantz. He could still feel that breath circulating in his lungs. And as he groped through the file cabinet of Mr. Krantz's thoughts, he happened upon this discovery: Mr. Krantz would be a father soon. A father, like himself. He could sense in Mr. Krantz an eagerness about his impending role, as well as fear, expectation. He remembered all of that so well, the mingling worry and hope, the inability to relax until the baby was with them, out in the world, in his arms.

“Let him go,” Ape Mom said, and motioned at Ginger, then at Amelia. “Because there, in the flesh, are two women—your daughters—who could use the help of a good ghost.”

Eli scowled. It was vain, he knew, but he wanted credit for the discovery of the Sasquatch, even now.