Chương 5: Chapter Five

Whenever she brushed her hair, he could see the demon in the mirror. They'd shared the apartment for as long as he could remember. The first time he'd seen the demon standing behind her had been…Christ, he couldn't remember how long ago it'd been. But it'd been standing right behind her shoulder. She hadn't seen it.

"Somethin's behind you." She'd stared in the mirror.

"Lou, there's nothing." He'd looked again. Nothing. There wasn't anything to see. Just his toothbrush. He'd kissed the back of her neck.

"I love you," she'd whispered, turning.

"Get your teeth brushed." He'd taken another good look at her face in the mirror. Her upper lip was dented.

"Hello, this is Lou," said Lou. He sat in his chair while the news blared at him. Someone had shot someone else in Chicago. He'd grown up in Chicago. Sears Tower, the river going green on Saint Patrick's Day, and the Navy Pier. He hadn't been back in a while. Some country in Europe had offended the Muslims. And, of course, the president was giving another speech about the economy.

"This is Cynthia. Are you two coming to the park?"

"Well, young lady, I have no idea. Were we supposed to go to the park?" The voice reminded him of someone he'd known when he was younger. He muted the TV to listen. His wife…his beautiful, lovely wife, stepped out of the bathroom. She finished putting an earring in.

"Who's on the phone, Lou?"

"Uh, Cynthia? She says we're supposed to go to the park."

"Is that Mom? Hand the phone over to her, Dad," the phone squawked. Oh. Oh right. Cynthia was his…daughter? That'd make sense.

"Sorry, Cynthia. I didn't recognize your voice for a bit there. So, how have you been?"

"I've been good, Dad. Daniel—my husband—is out on a business trip to Seattle. I made plans with you and Mom and the kids. We're meeting at the park. Is she there? Could I talk to her for a bit? I'll have her hand me back when we're done."

"Hold on a minute, now. Anything you need to say to her, you can say to me. I deserve to be as involved in the planning as anyone else."

"Dad, Mom told you about it already. I was listening the last time I called."

"Don't lie to me. No one tells me anything. God dammit!" Nobody talked to him anymore. He hadn't even gone down to play cards with…the guys…in forever.

"My friends don't talk to me, the folks here don't talk to me, and you don't talk to me either, woman!" His wife held out her hand, grimacing.

"Lou, hand me the phone. I promise I'll tell you all about it when Cynthia and I finish up. It's just a quick chat, and I'll be right in, okay?" Lou breathed deep and clenched his fist. Then he threw the phone at his wife. She picked it up off the floor, breathing deeply herself.

"Thank you, Lou." Then she stepped out into the hall outside of their little apartment. As the door shut, Lou slumped back into his chair. The TV screen rambled silently on and on. Some disease was running rampant in Africa… the Congo. Where in Africa was the Congo? The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. And why wouldn't… his wife let him talk to Cynthia? She'd seemed like a nice enough girl, even if she'd been rude about not wanting to talk to him.

His throat got tight. It had to be because she thought he was an asshole. And he'd proved it by throwing the phone. Well, if everyone thought he was an asshole, he'd show them what one really was. He opened his mouth and started bellowing a song.

"I'm an asshole, I'm an asshole! I'm an asshole 'till I die! Until I die, I'm an asshole! I'm an asshole 'till I die!" The door clicked open again, and…his wife—fuck, why couldn't he think of her name? His wife came in, glaring and covering up the phone's mouthpiece.

"What are you doing, Lou? Please, just calm down."

"Calm down? Everyone thinks I'm an asshole!" He tried to push himself up out of his chair, but his damn arms were too tight.

"The woman on the phone thinks I'm an asshole, the neighbors think I'm an asshole, and so do you!" His wife sighed.

"Lou, the neighbors only think that because you sing that song. And Cynthia and I don't think it at all. Here, I'll get you a piece of chocolate. That makes things better, right?" Lou thought about it while his wife headed to the kitchen. Yeah, those chocolates did help, even though they tasted funny. He adjusted his ass in the chair and waited for the chocolate… and the water. He'd seen the green leaf on the chocolate bag once, but after that, he had no idea where she'd hidden them.

He just knew that the damn chocolates tasted funny. Lou lay back in the passenger seat and relaxed. The frigid wind blew through his strands of white hair. Something on the breeze burned his nose—not like chemicals or smoke, but like cold. The brown grass at the park poked through the thin, crusty layer of snow as his wife—"Honey, what's your name?" He asked suddenly. For just a second, he could see how much the question hurt her. But then the woman smiled—a brittle smile, not really happy, but faking it.

She parked the car.

"I'm Abby. I'm your wife."

"Well, I know that! Lou giggled, then started laughing. He slowly exited the car, and as he shut the door, something red glinted in the mirror. He stared for a minute, but his wife—Abby—came around the front with his walker. Why was there a red thing in the mirror, anyways? He scooched his way over to the playground. The wind whipped at his coat, and he stopped to button its buttons. There wasn't any reason to be at the park today. Not in February. The playground sat empty except for two kids.

The boy—at least, he was taller, and his puffy coat was blue to the other's pink—was a bit older than the girl, and they ran back and forth, dashing up the stairs and throwing themselves down the slides. Lou recognized the game as tag, though with only two, it couldn't possibly be as exciting as the kids had hoped. The woman on the bench stood up as he and Abby arrived. She hugged Abby, then opened her arms to give Lou a hug. He hesitated long enough for her arms to start slumping.

"Hi, Cynthia! It's good to see you again. Your dad's happy to see you, too," Abby said. Ah. Cynthia…that'd be his daughter. Why the hell couldn't he remember his own daughter.

"Sorry, it's good to see you, Cynthia. How have you been?" he mumbled. His brain felt foggy, and he sat down on the bench.

"I've been good. Jeremy's in fifth grade now, and Carly's in kindergarten. It's been a few years, but Daniel and I are going on vacation to celebrate two years of marriage. It'll be really exciting. It's my first time away from the kids in over a year."

"Yeah, they seem…high energy," Lou hedged as he watched the little girl sprint after her jogging older brother. His hood flew off, revealing brown hair that matched Cynthia's.

"That trip's coming up in a couple of weeks. Are you two still okay with watching the place?" Cynthia asked.

"We're going to have to cancel on that," Abby said.

"Things at the apartment aren't great, and I…we can't leave right now. I'm sorry." Something flashed across Cynthia's face. He couldn't quite see what it was, though.

"I understand, Mom. We'll find someone else." Lou stopped paying attention. His brain felt foggier than usual, and even though Abby wasn't telling him everything, he just didn't care. He just sat and watched his… grandkids? Yeah, he watched his grandkids play until the first snowflakes started to fall. Lou's arms were stiff. His legs were stiff. Even his neck was stiff. He sat in bed listening as his… wife… finished her shower and got ready for another day. Soon it'd be his turn. The news wasn't good.

It never had been for as long as Lou could remember. Something about going to war in the Middle East. Weren't they always going to war in the Middle East? He slowly, painfully moved to the bed's edge and stood up. Then he hobbled toward the bathroom. Something felt wrong, and he knew what it was the moment he saw her reflection in the uncovered mirror. He screamed in anguish. In confusion. In terror.