Ephemeral creatures, p.11
Ephemeral Creatures, page 11
I was too busy focusing on Tara, getting drunk off my ass, and then putting us in the position for her to be murdered. She survived the goddamn crash only to have that sick asshole murder her!
He still couldn’t get over the revelation that she hadn’t been meant to die that night. Instead, some psycho had stolen from her that which was most precious: a future. He robbed from not only Lidia herself, but from her mom and Kevin and her extended family and friends—everyone who loved her—along with countless others whom she would have influenced throughout her life.
That was one hell of a realization.
Lidia had meant for the knowledge of the truth to free Kevin from his guilt. It was too early to determine if that would eventually transpire, but for the time being, it simply refocused his hurt and anger toward the one responsible.
Wish I knew why Liddy’s back. For some reason, she can’t cross over. I won’t let her down again—I swear it. Whatever she needs, I’ll do it.
He wondered if she could discern Chad’s whereabouts. Through the use of the metaphysical connection she called her palantir, she could look in on people and even reach out, apparently. But as for actually pinpointing a location, he doubted that. By his ghostly friend’s own admission, she seemed to not have much concept of time, and he suspected physical location was the same. Her supernatural version of a smartphone allowed her to do things that seemed incredible, but she understood her power as much as Kevin did the device sitting on the desk in front of him.
He drummed his fingers as he debated his next move. Liddy was pretty insistent I get back in touch with both Chad and Tara. But how best to contact them?
For Chad, he realized he was going to have to go through Chad’s parents. Kevin had already looked them up in the phone book, so making the call would be easy enough. The conversation that followed, on the other hand, wouldn’t be. He actually had his cell phone in hand, but before he could dial the number he’d jotted down, he set the phone back down.
In typical indecisive Kevin Bradley fashion, he didn’t act. Instead, he ended up back on Tara’s Instagram page. She had posted a couple of new photos since he’d last looked a few days earlier.
The first new posting was a side-by-side comparison of herself in similar Trojan-colored swimsuits. “Then & Now: Wouldn’t you say some things are better with age?” her comment asked. Kevin found himself contemplating the question much longer than would be considered rational—bordering on obsessed, probably. But then again, he was trying to get a read on this older Tara. On the left was the college girl he’d had a massive crush on: a fit, natural beauty with a sultry smile that could send a shiver down his spine. To the right was the new Tara: older, curvier, but just as gorgeous, though in a carefully staged fashion, like other Instagram models of her ilk whom Kevin had briefly perused. Every hair was in place, every dab of makeup just so, every blemish carefully photoshopped away. In truth, he much preferred the natural version, the Tara he remembered.
Most of the comments, several hundred already, were surprisingly negative, with the consensus seeming to favor Kevin’s opinion. He suspected Tara neither expected nor appreciated that feedback. They ranged from “Sexxxy momma! Bet u could work dat stripper pole lol” to “Damn, lay off the plastic surgery and shit beotch.”
Kevin clicked on Tara’s most recent picture, a somewhat dark selfie taken without a flash, nearly black-and-white. In it, she wore pajama bottoms and an undershirt that showed some serious cleavage. Her hair looked brushed out like she was about to go to bed, and she wore no makeup.
Tara’s caption read, “Me after a crappy birthday.” Her sad smile struck him—a glimpse of the girl he’d once fallen hard for. Without all the photoshopping and other bullshit, she seemed much more human, a woman who’d let her public facade slip, revealing that behind it, she was troubled and insecure and possibly hurting inside. She looked like someone in need of a kind word or a hug—or maybe even a friend.
Kevin scoffed at himself. Nice, trying to rationalize it like that. I don’t even know this woman anymore.
Comments on that pic were more positive than for the swimsuit one, mostly to the effect of “Awww so cute—luv the natural look.” Though some asshole did call her horse-faced without her makeup and photoshopping, which Kevin didn’t agree with at all.
Her expression haunted him. Lidia said all of us are troubled. But Tara’s the only one who came out of the accident and landed on her feet. She’s got it all. What’s there to be unhappy about in her life?
He clicked the comment button before he knew what he was doing. A prompt popped up, telling him to either Log In or Sign Up. He moused over to the X to close the browser window but then considered for a long moment, finger hovering over the mouse button. With a sigh, he moved the cursor back and clicked the Sign Up link.
***
Tara pulled into the Mayo Clinic parking lot just before eleven in the morning. She made sure to park in Bum Fuck, Egypt so that David wouldn’t spot her if he came out to his car or happened to look out a window. She left the engine running and AC blasting. These meetings always required an extra Oxy beforehand, but unfortunately, that was impossible today. The meds helped with the shakes and panic attacks but did little for the self-loathing.
I could use an Oxy right fucking now. She was still pissed at herself for dropping the bottle the other night and losing a month’s worth of the pills. Naturally, with her luck, she was out of refills too. And stretching those three Oxys to last through the day before, when she ran out, had been tough. She could already feel withdrawal coming on hard with jitters, a queasy stomach, and a low-grade headache.
The solution to her problem had required an urgent text to her contact so she could get a new scrip.
As she waited, Tara thought back to her meltdown three nights prior. In particular, the incident in her bathroom haunted her. It had been so bizarre, her freaking out like that when she was sure David or someone had walked in on her. But of course, it was just a bad trip, probably the wine and Oxy interacting weirdly, brought on by stress, especially from that insufferable bitch at the dinner party who made Tara want to claw her eyes out of her plastic, over-Botoxed face. Leann Eastlake had the distinction of topping Tara’s Shit List.
Her iPhone shuffled to “Rock You Like a Hurricane.” She cranked the stereo up, hoping the old song would make her feel better. The Escalade’s top-of-the-line Bose system made it sound as though she was at a Scorpions concert.
She watched the clinic as she waited, drumming her fingers impatiently. Wonder what David would do if he caught me out here blowing his colleague for a scrip? He’d bitched at her to give up her OxyContin when her prescription to treat her back pain had run out the previous year. But David was her husband, not her physician, so screw him. Unfortunately, her physician was in agreement with David, or she wouldn’t have been in her current predicament.
Tara spotted Elliot making his way through the parking lot. She closed her eyes and took a few long breaths to steel herself for what needed to be done. This shouldn’t take long. Never does, thank God. It’s nothing but a business transaction. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her small bottle of mouthwash and set it in one of the cupholders.
Elliot had that creepy little smile on his face as he approached. Even though he wore a wedding band, she imagined him as a regular at one of the sleazy strip clubs in town, leering at the girls all night and trying to cop a feel whenever one gave him a lap dance—or, worse, that creepy dad attending his daughter’s soccer games who ogled the underage girls. She wouldn’t put that past Elliot. He was around David’s age, early fifties, short and portly with Coke-bottle eyeglasses. His graying hair always looked greasy and in need of a good shampooing.
As he walked up, Tara turned down the music. She got out and moved into the back seat.
“Park far enough away?” Elliot griped. He mopped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief as he went around to the passenger side and climbed into the back of the Escalade.
“Don’t want to chance David seeing us,” Tara replied coolly.
“That would be mighty awkward if he did, wouldn’t it?” Elliot leered at her as his gaze slowly traced up and down her body. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, Tara,” he said reproachfully. “You’ve got to take it easy on the OxyContin.”
“Yeah, well, I spilled half a bottle down the fucking drain,” she snapped. “Can we get on with this already?”
“Mmm, I like it when you’re so eager.” Elliot reached out and ran a lock of her hair through his fingers. “I’ve only got a short lunch today anyway—have to get ready for a big staff meeting this afternoon. Doesn’t leave much time to enjoy your charming company.”
His hand ran down along her cheek as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a shudder. It continued down to fondle one breast then slid across her thigh and between her legs. She was glad she was wearing jeans and not a skirt.
“Well, then. Shall we get down to business, hon?” Elliot unbuckled his chinos and shimmied out of them until they were bunched around his ankles. Next went the tighty-whities. Tara made a mental note to Lysol the hell out of that seat after his sweaty ass vacated it.
Hating herself the whole while, Tara knelt on the carpet and got down to business.
-15-
The Flores home looked nearly identical to how it had all those years before. It was a small brick ranch-style house in an older neighborhood, with mature landscaping. Mrs. Flores’s decision years before to move to another neighborhood within the same school district, which allowed Lidia and Kevin to attend high school together, turned out to be most fortunate.
Kevin parked on the street and kept the engine running as he took a moment to gather his nerve. A small white SUV was parked in the carport. He almost expected to see Lidia’s faded yellow ’77 VW Beetle parked out front, with its “My Other Car Runs on a Flux Capacitor” bumper sticker, but that car was long gone, of course. He smiled at the memory of how excited she’d been after dropping $850 of her hard-earned theater earnings on the car. Her first stop after leaving the used-car lot had been to pick Kevin up for a joyride, one that ended up being a roughly fifty-mile, hours-long grand circuit around Tucson.
His smile at the memory faded as it was replaced by another that came rushing back—that awful day in April of 2003.
***
Kevin had been prepared to return Lidia’s Donnie Darko DVD in fourth-period physics, but she was absent. That came as a surprise since he’d seen her in the hall earlier that day. She’d looked upset about something, but he didn’t have a chance to talk to her as he was in a hurry to meet Chad and two other guys for their off-campus McDonald’s lunch run. He hadn’t talked to Lidia much in the past few days as she’d been making herself scarce after a recent incident at school. She must have cut physics since she hated the class. When he didn’t see her the rest of the day, he assumed she wasn’t feeling well and had decided to leave early and skip all her afternoon classes.
Once school let out, he decided to swing by her place to drop off the DVD in person and to check on how she was doing. Ever since the word “lesbian” had been scrawled in lipstick across her locker a week earlier, Lidia had been uncharacteristically sullen and withdrawn. That was typical high school drama, but he was still a little worried about her. Whoever was spreading such rumors really pissed Kevin off. As far as he knew, they were totally untrue though, to his knowledge, Lidia hadn’t seriously dated any guys before. But even if it had been true, he wouldn’t have cared. He supported his friend, and there was no call for such bullying.
Lidia hadn’t answered his texts. In the first, he’d just asked if she was doing all right. The second was a heads-up that he was going to swing by and drop off her movie. Such a casual visit had never been a big deal in the past.
Lidia’s yellow bug was parked on the street when he pulled up to the small house she lived in with her mother. Nobody answered when he rang the doorbell. Around the side of the house, he could see her desk lamp turned on through the slats in the blinds. Her bedroom got dark even during the daytime because a palm tree and some overgrown shrubs blocked much of the sunlight.
She’s probably got her earbuds in and can’t hear the doorbell—no big deal. He still hadn’t received any reply to his texts, though, which was a bit odd. Suddenly uneasy for no reason he could identify, he tried the handle, but the front door was locked. The gate was open, so he went around and knocked on Lidia’s bedroom window. The blinds were slanted, so he couldn’t see inside. After getting no answer there either, he walked to the back of the house and tried the sliding glass patio door. Finding it unlocked, he slid it open far enough to stick his head through.
“Hey, Liddy?” he called loudly. “It’s Kevin—just wanted to drop off Donnie Darko and say hey.”
He received no answer, though he could hear the faint sound of water running through the pipes. Shit, she’s probably in the shower or something, and here I am creeping around her house.
He was about to just leave the movie on the kitchen table and take off, but some sixth sense stopped him. Something isn’t right. An abrupt certainty took root.
He slid the door open, entered the dining room, and crossed the small kitchen so that he could see down the hall. The doors to both Lidia’s bedroom and bathroom were closed. He noticed the glimmer of water pooling in the tiled hallway—quite a bit of water. From the look of it, a pipe might have broken. That would explain the sound of running water.
“Liddy?”
Kevin started down the hallway, a sudden creeping dread tightening around his chest like a band. Other than the sound of running water—not a full blast but a steady trickle—a heavy silence greeted him. The puddle was steadily expanding across the floor.
Hope she didn’t slip and hit her head or something.
He knocked on the bathroom door, loud enough she would be able to hear it with her earbuds in. “Hey Lid, it’s Kevin. Uh, not trying to creep you out or anything, but are you all right in there?”
Still no response.
“Damn it.” He hated to barge in on her, but a stark fear outweighed his caution. The handle wouldn’t turn—locked.
Shit, now what do I do? He went to her bedroom door, a few yards down the hall. The door was unlocked, but she wasn’t inside. What he did see turned his gut to ice, a poem on the desk in Lidia’s handwriting:
As daylight wanes
Darkness covers all
In the twilight gloaming,
My cries go unheeded.
Leaves fall in silence, unnoticed
And so my life evanesces.
It had another stanza, but Kevin couldn’t read it through the sudden tears filling his eyes. With panic fueling his limbs, he raced into the hallway and threw his shoulder against the bathroom door without hesitation. After two tries, the frame splintered, and the door flew open, smashing against the counter with a loud crack. He slipped in the puddled water and nearly fell.
A horrific scene greeted his eyes.
Lidia lay in the bathtub, the water a lurid crimson. Her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful, head resting against the tub’s rim, water to her chin. One of her arms draped over the side, blood dripping from her slit wrist. The other arm must’ve fallen back inside, judging by the amount of blood. A trickle still came from the tap, overflowing the tub and flooding the floor.
“Oh my God—Liddy!”
Kevin dropped to his knees on the sodden rug beside the tub. He shook her by the shoulders but got no response. He checked her neck for a pulse—it was there but very weak. “Liddy, you gotta wake up!” He smacked her cheeks lightly, but that didn’t elicit a response either.
What do I do? Frantic thoughts scattered like wisps of smoke. What felt like agonizingly long seconds passed before he could think straight. Phone—call 911!
He fumbled his flip phone out of his pocket and dropped it. Luckily, he caught it when it bounced off his thigh before landing in the water on the floor. He opened the phone and after three tries managed to dial 911. Once he did, he grabbed a bath towel and cinched it tightly around Lidia’s exposed wrist. With phone pinned to his shoulder, he fished around in the water until he found her submerged arm. He lifted it clear of the water and tied the other end of the towel around those awful wounds, much deeper than on her left wrist. She must have cut the right one first.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Um yeah, I need an ambulance right away! My friend, sh-she cut her wrists!”
During a short pause, he could hear tapping at a keyboard. “Okay, I’m going to dispatch an ambulance. I see you are calling from a cell phone. It would help speed up the response time if you could give me your location.”
Miraculously, he remembered Lidia’s address and rattled it off.
“Thank you. And is your friend responsive?”
“No, she’s not. She’s unconscious.”
“Is she still bleeding?”
“Um, no… I wrapped a towel around her wrists and am applying pressure to try and stop the bleeding, but there’s blood everywhere. Please hurry!”
He didn’t remember much of the rest of the call. At some point, he had enough presence of mind to shut off the water. He also lifted Lidia out of the tub and carried her into the front foyer. In his arms, she felt as light and fragile as a child. She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He knew she would have been mortified at the thought of being naked when she was eventually discovered and handled by strangers.
Gently, he set her down on the floor then opened the front door so the paramedics could get inside as quickly as possible. He checked and tightened the towel knotted around both her wrists. After he did so, he leaned in to check her breathing and pulse. His own heart nearly stopped when he realized she’d stopped breathing and he could no longer detect a heartbeat.
