"Well, good night," said Mrs. Perrin, "and thanks again for a marvelous evening." And before Chris could answer her, she was walking rapidly down the street.
For a moment, Chris watched her; and then closed the front door. A heavy lassitude overcame her. Quite a night, she thought; some night... some night...
She went to the living room and stood over Willie, who was kneeling by the urine stain. She was brushing up the nap of the rug.
"White vinegar I put on," muttered Willie. "Twice."
"Comin' out?"
"Maybe now," answered Willie. "I do not know. We will see."
"No, you can't really tell until the damned thing dries."
Yeah, that's brilliant there, punchy. That's really a brilliant observation. Judas priest, kid, go to bed!
"C'mon, leave it alone for now, Willie. Get to sleep."
"No, I finish."
"Okay, then. And thanks. Good night."
"Good night, madam."
Chris started up the stairs with weary steps. "Great curry, there, Willie. Everybody loved it."
"Yes, thank you, madam."
**********
Chris looked in on Regan and found her still asleep. Then she remembered the Ouija board.
Should she hide it? Throw it away? Boy, Perrin's really dingy when it comes to that stuff. Yet Chris was aware that the fantasy playmate was morbid and unhealthy. Yeah, maybe I should chuck it.
Still, Chris was hesitant. Standing by the bedside and looking at Regan, she remembered an incident when her daughter was only three: the night that Howard had decided she was much too old to continue to sleep with her baby bottle, on which she had grown dependent. He'd taken it away from her that night, and Regan had screamed until four in the morning, then acted hysterical for days. And now Chris feared a similar reaction. Better wait until I talk it all out with a shrink. Moreover, the Ritalin, she reflected, hadn't had a chance to take effect.
At the last, she decided to wait and see.
Chris retired to her room, settled wearily into bed, and almost instantly fell asleep. Then awakened to fearful, hysterical screaming at the rim of her consciousness.
"Mother, come here, come here, I'm afraid!"
"Yes, I'm coming, all right, hon, I'm coming!"
Chris raced down the hall to Regan's bedroom. Whimpering. Crying. Sounds like bedsprings.
"Oh, my baby, what's wrong?" Chris exclaimed as she reached out and flicked on the lights.
Good Christ almighty!
Regan lay taut on her back, face stained with tears and contorted with terror as she gripped at the sides of her narrow bed.
"Mother, why is it shaking?" she cried. "Make it stop! Oh, I'm scared! Make it stop! Mother, Please make it stop!"
The mattress of the bed was quivering violently back and forth.
(End of part one * Scanned and fully proofed by nihua)
II: The Edge
....In our sleep, pain, which cannot forget, falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.... ---Aeschylus CHAPTER ONE
They brought her to an ending in a crowded cemetery where the gravestones cried for breath.
The Mass had been lonely as her life. Her brothers from Brooklyn. The grocer on the corner who'd extended her credit. Watching them lower her into the dark of a world without windows, Damien Karras sobbed with a grief he had long misplaced.
"Ah, Dimmy, Dimmy..."
An uncle with an arm around his shoulder.
"Never mind, she's in heaven now, Dimmy, she's happy."
Oh, God, let it be! Ah, God! Ah, please! Oh, God please be!
They waited in the car while he lingered by the grave. He could not bear the thought of her being alone.
Driving to Pennsylvania Station, he listened to his uncles speak of their illnesses in broken, immigrant accents.
"...emphysema... gotta quit smokin'... I ohmos' died las' year, you know that?"
