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“I don’t know anything else. That’s about as bad as I can imagine. Not loving my wife anymore? What could be worse than not loving Rae?”
I climbed through the window of Eric Dickey’s house back out into my world and my life. The first thing I smelled there was big thick smoke. It took only a second to remember I’d gone in there in the first place to save Eric and his wife from burning up in the caveman’s fire. Jumping off the porch, I ran around to the back of the house. There was a high pile of wood and other things burning in the middle of their yard. Firemen had a hose turned on it, trying to get it under control. Both of the Dickeys were off to one side on their knees, taking oxygen. There was so much tussle and turmoil out there-people ru
“Brother Bill?”
Brooks came up on one side of me, Zin Zan on the other. Neither of them was smiling and neither was I.
“Are you all right?”
A fireman rushed by us and knocked into me hard as he passed but I didn’t react.
“Now I’m your Brother? Is that what you call me from now on? Brother Bill?”
“We don’t have to call you anything if that’s what you’d prefer. Are you all right?”
“You know where I just was, don’t you?”
They both nodded.
“And you both went there once and saw the Devil?”
Again, slow nods.
In the smoke and the fire and the confusion and the ru
“My God, you’re Brooks Collins!”
Half a smile crossed Brother Brooks’s face and then died. He nodded again.
“I have all your albums.”
“Better take care of them-there won’t be any more.”
“You gave that up?” A few beats passed until I understood. “That’s what you gave the Devil? Your talent?
“And the fame. He wasn’t going to let me go just giving up the one. The world today is full of people who have no talent but are famous. No one recognizes me anymore. Only you, but that’s because you’ve been to Hell. You perceive things other people don’t.”
“I guess we’d better get going.”
It was not a far walk to my place but long enough to look around and appreciate things like I never had before. Now and then we’d pass a house and from just a glimpse, we knew if it had been taken over or not. But once I wasn’t sure and crept to a window to look. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see a normal family inside watching TV and eating popcorn.
“How come Mel Shaveetz and his dog were on fire when they left their house, but the caveman wasn’t? All of them were dead.”
“Because the Devil keeps changing the rules all the time. That’s the reason why so many people are unhappy in life-the rules keep changing. There’s really no way of knowing what will happen from one day to the next with this. That’s why it’s so hard for us to convince people of what’s going on. And because it’s happening so much faster now, that’s why Beeflow has become more directly involved.”
“Why doesn’t the Devil stop him?”
“Arrogance. He doesn’t see Beeflow or us as a threat. There’s your house. Do you know what you’re go
“Stay here. I’ve got to see something.”
They stood by a light pole while I went and opened the front door. Closing it quietly behind me as if someone nearby was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake them, I just stood in the hallway a minute, being home, breathing home. My mother used to say after we’d come back from a trip, “At home, even the walls heal you.” And that’s just how I felt standing there, smelling my life in those near rooms, my eyes ru
Then I heard it-the zhunk of furniture being shoved hard across a floor. Someone else was in my house. Someone upstairs from the sound of it. The back of my neck prickled and my eyes opened wide of their own doing. I wore sneakers so I was able to cross the floor and climb the stairs with very little sound. While climbing I heard that same sound a few more times, sometimes louder and longer, sometimes short and sharp. Zhunk-silence-zhuuunk. Like that. I couldn’t figure out what it was but it was definitely real and I needed to find out about it.
At the top of the stairs I stood still and waited till the next time it came.
It was down the hall in our bedroom. Zhunk. From where I stood I could see that door was open about a third and something white was on the floor just inside the bedroom. I couldn’t make out what it was. Tiptoeing down the hall, I kept trying to focus in on what that white thing was. It came to me in stages. A piece of clothing-a shirt-a white T-shirt. And just when I realized that’s what it was, I heard the other sounds. Sex. A woman having sex and liking it a lot.
Rae doesn’t like sex. That’s been the major problem in our marriage. Once in a while she’s sort of in the mood, but it’s like when you’re sort of in the mood for pizza but can easily do without it if there’s none around. I always got the feeling she’s doing me a favor when she said yes and I can’t tell you how dry and lonely that made me feel. She’s a woman I have always wanted to touch but is more than clear she doesn’t want that.
A T-shirt was on the floor and when I looked I saw writing on it and knew it said “Hard Rock Café.” It was my shirt but it was very big and Rae liked that so she often slept in it. Her sounds kept up and they would have made any man hot. I’d known them once but not for a long time. Still, I recognized them instantly. I walked as close to the door as I could and looked in.
My wife was on our bed naked, straddling a guy whose face I couldn’t see. She was working him so hard that their banging bodies made the bed slide on the floor. Zhunk.
Even when we did have sex, she’d never do it like that with me because she didn’t like me seeing her entirely naked. It was always in the dark and she’d wear some kind of clothes-a shirt or sweatshirt so she’d never be completely stripped. As if wearing something meant she was still distant from me and this act even when it was going on.
Did I watch? Yes. Did it make me hot? It sure did. I stood off to the side and watched her do whoever it was beneath her all the things I’d dreamt of her doing with me for as long as I could remember.
What had I given the Devil to come back here? Rae’s love for me. My love for her wasn’t enough, or so he’d said. So I said take hers then.
Our relationship wasn’t the best. We never had sex anymore, and we seemed to fight more than we should have. Still, I knew she loved me in her scared, mysterious way. I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me.
Sometimes. Plus there were other things she did that overall made up for what was missing. You get along and sometimes you get along so well that you don’t think about what you’re missing because you just love them there in your life, whatever way they’ve chosen to be.
As I stood there watching my wife fuck another man, I knew the Devil had changed the rules again: no dead people had moved into my house. No Casablanca backgrounds or jungles were needed here. Everything was the same except for the fact that my wife’s love for me was dead. What more proof did I need than what was right in front of me?