The Tale of Fred: Part 2- The Woman Who Wasn't There
Thinking about something over and
over again doesn’t make the memory clearer- it muddies it. It’s like playing an
old VHS tape again and again, corroding the picture, causing holes and spots to
appear that were never there before.
Sitting in my room at 3am, I couldn’t
make the black flash I saw in the building come into focus. The more I thought
about it, the more confused I felt. Was the flash of black a bird? A bat? Surely,
I’d been freaked out by an overgrown rat or something. I sighed. Did it matter
what the black flash was? Probably not. The real question was, why the hell was
there an abandoned building in a perfectly restored neighborhood? And why didn’t
I see it for so long?
My wife slumbered next to me, unaware of what
I’d seen or experienced, oblivious to my fears and the fact that I was up most
of the night, thinking crazy thoughts.
I walked to work the next day- to the
perfect building, that didn’t look quite so perfect anymore. The paint looked
faded in places. My office wasn’t my own that day. George was there. He sat at
the small desk in the corner, facing the wall. George was the father of the owner
of the company and the financer. He was in his 60’s and greying. He’d come in
from time to time to “look at the books.” Which really meant he’d come in to
see what his son had done with his most recent contributions. Kyle, my boss and
George’s son, had some radical ideas about shoelace sales that his dad didn’t
agree with. I guess I should have mentioned earlier, I worked for a Kickstarter
for recycled shoelaces. It was a short-lived job.
George didn’t bother to look up when
I entered the room. He barely ever acknowledged me. I threw up the blinds to my
window and started up the computer. I stared out the window. There it was, peeping
out from the corner of the converted school. The abandoned building stood where
I left it, looking larger than the day before- but that wasn’t possible.
Knowing it was there was just making it look bigger than it was. It was in my
head, surely. Even from this distance I could make out the crumbling brick and
the slanted roof, the autumn leaves making it look like it was on fire.
I was a terrible employee that morning.
I couldn’t focus. Every little move out my window made me edgy- the revolving
bank sign, the pedestrians on the street, the curtain in the funeral home’s
window swaying in a non-existent breeze.
“Coffee?” George said around noon. I
jumped out of my chair. I’d forgotten he was there.
I’d given a reply that I didn’t need
coffee. If George noticed my jump, he didn’t say anything. I left without another
word, headed down the staircase onto the smooth sidewalks among the lawyers and
realtors. Could they see the abandoned building a few blocks away?
I took off at a run, my anxiety
getting the best of me. I’d waited what seemed like an eternity to get back to
the building. If not for the wrought iron fence, I would have driven over at
3am. The former school and the surrounding lot were locked at night, for what
reason I couldn’t say. I crossed the meticulously manicured yard of the former school,
dodging a flower bed filled with orange blossoms. A group of old ladies were
gathered near the entrance, sipping cups of tea from tiny porcelain cups.
The Former School
A woman stood at the edge of the
lawn, somewhat removed from the group of ladies, though she was obviously with
them. She watched the group of chatting women intently, swirling her tea. Just
as I was passing behind her, she grabbed my wrist.
I yelped, but she shushed me. She
pulled me close; so close that our heads were almost touching. I protested, pulled away, but she griped harder.
“Shhhhhhhh . . .” she whispered. “I
know why you’re here,” she said in my ear, so quiet I could barely hear her, “you
found him. Beautiful, isn’t he?” She held out a hand to keep me from replying, “he was terrible, you know, but it wasn’t his fault.” She
looked at me, her dark eyes too big her for wrinkled face, “It was a prison, you know. Poor Fred.”
“Fred?” I asked, but she was gone,
and in my hand I held a cup of tea, black as the night sky.
_________________________________________________________________________
Stay tuned for Part 3!
Coming next week . . .
_________________________________________________________________________
Stay tuned for Part 3!
Coming next week . . .
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