Ritualistic Human Sacrifice Page 2

  “Will you say something?” she said.

  I finally looked at her. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. Anything. Anything would be better than nothing. Jesus . . . I’d rather you bitch me out right now than sit there like a lump.”

  I could have said I knew everything would be okay and pretended to be happy. But I wanted to be pissed. Maybe if I upset her enough she would kick me out. Then I wouldn’t be at fault. I wouldn’t have walked out on my pregnant wife; she would have thrown me out. I would still be an asshole but not as big of an asshole as some guy who left his wife after she told him she was having his child.

  “Okay,” I said. “How about I say thanks for making a major life decision for me without consulting me? How about I say, and you know it too, our marriage isn’t perfect and bringing a child into it isn’t going to fix it?”

  Eve’s happy demeanor collapsed and she stood up. “You’re an ass!” she hissed.

  She picked up my plate and dumped my food in the sink. She turned on the water and garbage disposal.

  I yelled over the noise, “Well, our kid is going to be half ass and half selfish control freak!”

  She turned the disposal off and faced me. Tears streamed down her face. She said, “Could you be a normal person and actually give a shit you’re going to be a father?”

  “I give a shit. It’s just not exactly how you want me to give a shit. How would you feel if I made a major life decision for the both of us without telling you until it was said and done?”

  She wiped the tears from her face. Her nose and eyes were red and her cheeks were blotchy. Eve was not a pretty crier.

  She said, “I wouldn’t care because I know you would make the right decision. Whatever you were deciding would be something for the better. It would be for the both of us and it would be an improvement.”

  “Do you really think having a child is going to improve our situation?”

  “I do.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll be a family.”

  “We’re a family now.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter. “No. Right now we’re a couple. There’s a difference. There’s a huge difference.”

  “Yeah, another human being. One that requires more money, more food, more healthcare, more attention.” I counted the list on my fingers as I spoke. “God knows how you’re going to shrivel up and die when half of my attention is redirected to another human being.”

  She glared at me and spoke through clenched teeth. “Please don’t make me say fuck you.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes she was calm. The blotchiness of her skin was replaced with a flush of anger. “There’s no sense in arguing about this all night. It is what it is.”

  I got up from the table and collected her plate. I took it to the sink and dumped the food in and switched on the disposal. Eve still leaned her butt against the counter beside the sink. She placed the heels of her palms on the counter to either side of her. She watched me as I did the dishes and put them in the drying rack. When I was finished I walked toward the living area.

  “Nick.”

  I stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and living room and turned to her. She stared at me as if she’d asked a question. I raised an eyebrow as if to ask what she wanted.

  “That’s it then?” she said.

  I shrugged. “There’s no sense in arguing about it all night, right? You’ve made up our minds for us.”

  She huffed as I turned to walk away. I stopped again and turned back to her.

  “By the way,” I said. “I’m going to pretend I’m happy about this around friends and family. I’m going to pretend everything is okay between us. I’m willing to wait and see if this is what we really need. On the inside I’m seething right now.” I spread the sarcasm on thick. “But, hey, maybe you’re right. Maybe this kid comes along and turns the lion into a lamb and all of a sudden everything is right in the world and the baby cleans the cobwebs out of our marriage. Hey, cleaning up baby shit at three A.M. might boost our sex life. But overall, I’m going to be the happiest father to be on the planet. I’m going to help out and buy ice cream late at night. I’ll go to whatever parties you throw for your stretch marked belly. I’ll do it all in exchange for one thing.”

  She appeared crestfallen and on the verge of tears. I’d wanted her to cry and succeeded in provoking the tears but I couldn’t stomach watching her bawl all night. Her blotchy and scrunched face was beginning to annoy me. She brought this upon herself and could cry all she wanted. But crying was not going to get her what she wanted. I wanted to walk away and drop the bargaining bit but knew she would follow me and interrogate me which was more annoying than watching her cry.

  She replied hesitantly, “In exchange for what?”

  “You can’t get pissed when I make huge decisions affecting both our lives without your consent.”

  “I won’t.” She replied without hesitation.

  I smiled at her jovially and walked into our tiny living room. I cringed when I sat on the possibly diseased sofa and picked up the television remote and clicked the power button.

  2

  My office was very modern. A glass wall separated me from the rest of the office. Sometimes I would stare at the others as they worked while I tried to envision a project. Today I was mesmerized by Sadie as she filed some paperwork in a row of stainless steel cabinets. I wasn’t staring at Sadie because she was attractive. It was the exact opposite. Her appearance was lumpy and repulsive and she was old enough to be my mother. It didn’t seem possible for a human body to be shaped like hers and I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to decipher how she’d managed to morph herself into her current state. She looked like Mrs. Santa Claus. Or what Mrs. Claus would look like if she wore shirts with photos of cats and quirky quotes printed on them with elastic banded jeans and sandals. I never could understand the sandals. They were the main focus of my attention. It didn’t matter what time of year it was, rain or snow, she always wore those damn busted down sandals without any socks. Our office didn’t have a dress code and some days I wished it did.

  Sadie’s feet were a sight to behold. They were dry and flaky and cracked. Horrendous elephant feet. I couldn’t stop staring at them whenever she was around. Someday I would stare at her feet and a large chunk of crusted skin would peel off and land on the floor. Or worse yet, someone would catch me staring at her feet and think I had some sort of crusty foot or granny fetish. If I was accused of either of those things I would quit.

  There were times when I fantasized about sneaking a Ped Egg into her cubicle and leaving it on her desk while she was at lunch. Maybe I would throw in a pair of tennis shoes. But she wasn’t competent enough to know you should wash your tennis shoes after every wear and they’d end up transforming into something funky like her feet. The shoes might even exacerbate her foot condition. The thought made me cringe.

  Eve thought I was insane for washing my tennis shoes after each wear. She said washing your shoes warped them and was weird. I kept several pairs and found if you washed them and let them air dry it didn’t destroy the integrity of the construction. Eve still refused to wash her filthy shoes. God only knew what her feet would end up looking like.

  Sadie moved to her cubicle where I couldn’t see her. I redirected my attention to my computer monitor. I’d spent most of the morning putting the final touches on a design for a client. My specialty was office buildings. They were a cinch. Most of the clients in the market for these types of buildings wanted approximately the same thing: vast, tall, clean lines, modern, stone, tile, and glass. These clients were my people. They understood a building could be a modern work of art. I hardly thought twice about the design as I drafted.

  When I was finished I emailed the files to Mr. Crutch for review. I checked the clock. It was fifteen minutes till lunch. Sam from Human Resources walked past my open office door. I called for him. In one flui
d motion he pivoted on his heel and poked his head through the doorway.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure,” he said cheerfully.

  “Could you close the door?” I said.

  He stepped in, shut the door, and took a seat across from me.

  Sam wore dress clothes even though he didn’t have to. Most of his outfits consisted of simple button down shirts and dress pants. His clothes were always a shade of dark gray or black. He never fussed with a tie. There was something about the simplicity of gray and black I found stylish. Sam was ten years younger than I and was enthusiastic and easygoing. I secretly wanted to copy his style but thought it would be too strange and Single White Female. I stuck to my black or gray T-shirts with no logos, designer jeans, and tennis shoes. I liked the idea of being a blank slate in case a client popped in with some last minute changes or questions. Clients rarely stopped in but it never hurt to keep the average guy appearance.

  Sam crossed his legs in an effeminate manner. “What’s up?”

  “I have a few questions and I wasn’t sure who to ask.”

  “Okay.” He pointed his finger at me as if his hand were a gun. “Fire away.”

  “What’s our policy on confidentiality?”

  Sam’s perpetual smile wavered and he appeared worried. “It’s that bad?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Anything you say stays with me unless it needs to be redirected to another department.” He uncrossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. “You’ve worked here long enough to know Mr. Crutch doesn’t like gossip.”

  “Fair enough.” I tried to relax. “What’s our policy on paternity leave?”

  Sam raised his eyebrows. He made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a hiccup and a gasp. “Oh my god!” he said a tad too loud.

  Through the window I spotted Sadie’s head peek from behind her cubicle wall. She stared in our direction.

  I motioned discretely with my hand for Sam to keep his voice down. “Sadie is watching.”

  Sam stared at me with a shocked expression. He covered his mouth and feigned a boisterous cough to insinuate any loud noises from our direction were a coughing jag on his part. He whispered, “Sorry.” He dropped his hand from his mouth.

  “You know the office people,” I said. “I don’t want them to know yet. They always want some reason to make cake. It’s too soon to celebrate.”

  “Not far along?”

  “No.”

  Sadie didn’t bother to hide her overt curiosity and continued to stare. I made eye contact with her and she dropped back behind her cubicle wall.

  Sam said, “I didn’t think you guys could have children. Not that it’s any of my business.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to him. We could’ve had a child at any time. Eve was the one who hadn’t held up her end of the bargain. I didn’t know how to explain it to Sam. He was a nice guy but we didn’t know each other beyond work. To tell him what happened was awkward. It was privy information you shared with a personal friend or family. Telling people you never wanted to have children was a touchy subject.

  An awkward silence enveloped the room. I panicked and racked my brain to find the proper way to answer him.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said, “you don’t have to go into details.” His cheeks flushed and he backpedaled. “Don’t listen to me. I’m an idiot.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You wanted to know about paternity leave?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s six weeks. You can choose to take it however you like. Most guys will take one to two weeks before the birth and the remainder after. The pay is sixty percent of your regular salary. Or you can choose to continue to work from home and receive a hundred percent.”

  “That’s another question . . . Do we have a policy for working at home full-time?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we do. Probably because it’s never come up.”

  “Ninety-nine percent of my job can be done from home. And all of my work is done on a computer and through email. It’s rare for me to actually meet a client. When I do it’s by appointment . . . which I could come in for.”

  Sam nodded his head while I listed the key points of my case. “I understand. William worked from home after his son was born. I don’t remember any major issues.”

  “Who would I ask about working from home full-time?”

  He leaned back in the chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and squinted at the ceiling as though the answer were printed there. “I guess Mr. Crutch.” He redirected his gaze to me. “The company’s a sole proprietorship. He pretty much makes whatever policies he wants as long as he sticks within the law. I could run it by him and see what he has to say.”

  “That would be great,” I said. “I’d still come in for the monthly meetings. And I’ll be here to meet with clients upon request. If he seems hesitant tell him I’m willing to take a ten percent pay cut.”

  “You want this pretty bad, huh?” He unlaced his fingers and rested his hands in his lap.

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” I smiled.

  “So, you’re gonna be a stay-at-home dad?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “That’s cool. You don’t see that as often as the moms.” He stared at my name plate for a second and smiled as if he’d thought of something. “Eve’s a lucky gal.”

  “I appreciate your help.”

  “Is there a certain date you’re looking to start?”

  The traffic of coworkers passing my office increased and I knew it was lunch time.

  “No. I’ve got a few months.”

  “Okay. Good. That gives me time to ease it on Mr. Crutch. Personally, I don’t see any problem. I’d let you do it in a heartbeat if it were up to me, but ultimately, it’s his decision.”

  He slapped the arms of the chair lightly and stood. I stood with him. He extended his hand and I shook it.

  “Congratulations,” he said.

  I pumped his hand a few times. “Thanks.”

  He released my hand and briskly left my office and headed toward his own. I sat down at my computer and stared at the monitor for a few seconds before I placed my hand on the mouse. I opened the internet search engine and typed in the word ‘Realtor’.

  3

  I drove through the small town. It appeared to have the basic essentials: a post office, a grocery store with a sign advertising the only pharmacy was inside, a gas station, a hardware store, a doctor’s office, a church, and a few dozen houses.

  The town had one stoplight and it was probably more of a nuisance for people passing through than anything else. It was obvious Edenville wasn’t a tourist destination. The only movement on the main street was a flag flapping lackadaisically in front of the post office. If the street light didn’t work, and the buildings were more worn, the town would appear abandoned.

  I followed the GPS’s instructions and turned down a country road on the edge of town. Within a quarter of a mile I was engulfed in trees. There were a few breaks in the tree line for driveways. One could drive right by them without noticing them if it wasn’t for the mailboxes. I peered down a few of the drives as I passed. I thought I could make out hints of houses hidden in the foliage.

  After a few miles the GPS announced my upcoming destination on the right. I knew from the realtor’s website most of the trees—with the exception of a few larger ones—were cleared from the front yard to give an unobstructed view of the road. I slowed the car when I spotted the gap in the trees and turned onto the gravel drive for the house.

  An older model Oldsmobile was parked beside the house. I rolled toward it.

  The pictures on the realtor’s website didn’t do the house justice. The structure was massive. Even after all my years of laying out floor plans and designing I couldn’t wrap my head around square footage. I knew forty-five hundred square feet of living space was more than Eve and I would ever need but it was a much welc
ome upgrade. Our apartment was only nine hundred square feet. This house would give me and Eve space. Not space to grow but space to be separate from one another.

  The house was three stories tall. Its appearance made me think a schizophrenic on acid designed and decorated it. The original structure must’ve been a modest two-story farmhouse but someone added a third floor and an addition on the opposite side of the drive. The addition was bigger than the house itself.

  The materials used for the outside were a hodgepodge of aluminum siding and wooden clapboard. None of the pieces matched in color. Someone used green corrugated plastic to cover a section toward the front of the house. And the addition looked as if they’d used parts of a boat to build it, including the helm. Random murals were painted on the house and most of them appeared to be Egyptian in nature.

  I parked beside the Oldsmobile. I didn’t see the realtor and assumed he was inside checking the house over before showing it. This was the best time to inspect the outside without someone leering over my shoulder.

  I exited the car and was bombarded with the constant sound of crickets. The temperature was warm but I could smell the arrival of fall. There was a slight odor of decayed foliage. The nights had become cool the last couple of weeks. It wouldn’t be long before the first frost and leaves began changing color. I surveyed the large yard and trees and imagined the area would be very colorful by the time we moved in.

  I headed toward the front of the house and looked for signs of an unstable foundation. There were no cracks and no major erosion. Everything was in great shape for the age of the house.

  A covered porch engulfed the front of the house. I climbed the stairs and bounced my weight to make sure the boards were sturdy. I approached the stained glass front door and was about to try the knob when I noticed markings on the doorframe. I leaned in for a closer inspection. The markings were symbols in faded brown paint along each side of the door. They also ran along the top and bottom of the jamb. It looked as if someone used their fingers to paint the characters.