As Cold As The Dead Page 2

  “Oh, a couple light bulbs over her bed broke the other night. She asked me to change them for her.”

  I asked, “You want to change them now before she goes to sleep?”

  “Nah, we ran out of bulbs. We’re going to have to run into town tomorrow to get some. Rainey needs the light. She likes to paint.”

  I smiled, “I didn’t know she was an artist! That’s so cool! What does she paint?”

  “Landscapes, you know, shit like that. She said she had something to show you…or something she wanted to talk to you about, I guess. She didn’t say which.”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t know.” He stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “Ok.”

  Ben was four years older than the two of us. His side of the family had the height, the curly hair and the dimples. My side got the shortness, the flat dark hair, and the dark eyes.

  Other than being in the Army reserves, he worked as his Dad’s right hand man on the farm, doing the chores, running Bernie, manning the hay baler. He was very muscular. I was surprised to hear that he had never married. I knew he had at one time a steady girlfriend – or several; but I guess none of them ever stuck.

  He told me on some weekends he and some of his Reserve buddies went to St. Cloud to go bar hopping. He invited me to go with them this weekend telling me there was a girl he’d like me to meet, but I didn’t want to go. I really wanted to spend as much time as I could with Rainey.

  Ben asked, “Why don’t you head into the house and get settled in? I got a few last chores to take care of out here.”

  “Alright man.”

  “You know, you could just hang here with Rainey while I go to the store tomorrow. I mean, I can go into town myself, it’s no big deal.”

  “No man, I’ll go with you,” I said brushing off the seat of my pants.

  Ben jumped down off the wagon too. “Alright. You driving or me?”

  “I can,” I said. “I have unlimited miles.”

  He chuckled, “Sounds good.”

  The next morning after breakfast, Ben stuck his head into the living room where Aunt Brenda and Uncle Kent were watching The Weather Channel.

  Rainey still slept upstairs.

  Ben said, “We’re heading into town.”

  Uncle Kent said, “Alright.”

  “They’re saying this storm coming is the end of the fall, Jon,” Aunt Brenda said. “I hope you’ll be able to handle a little cold weather before you go back to sunny California.”

  I smiled, “I hope so, too. I’m not used to the cold.”

  “I know.” She snapped her fingers. “Oh that’s right, you’re one of those beach bums aren’t you?”

  I laughed. “I wish. Those guys don’t even work.”

  Kent laughed. His belly jiggled. He asked, “How is work? You work the dock, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s been busy. Lots of crates coming in from China. Security has been real tight about it.”

  “Oh?” He didn’t really care about me or the job. His attention turned back to the weather.

  Aunt Brenda’s attention had changed, too. Quickly she said, “You better pick up a coat or two or borrow some of Ben’s, Jon. Get some gloves too. This air will be really cold on your delicate skin.”

  Kent asked, “Hey Ben, if you get a chance, could you pick me up a belt?”

  “Sure, Dad.”

  Kent turned to his son. “You know the size, right?”

  “Yep.”

  We left. I gave Ben an odd look heading out to my rental car. “Your Dad wants you to buy him a belt?”

  He shrugged without saying anything.

  I thought it was weird but I really didn’t know these people. I mean, I was Ben and Rainey’s cousin and Kent and Brenda’s nephew, but really I didn’t know these people from strangers. I really didn’t know them at all.

  On the way to the store Ben and I talked about my job at the port but he didn’t seem interested in what I was saying. He was only making polite conversation to pass the time while driving to the store.

  He could have told me about his job in the reserves. Aunt Brenda told me he worked as a mechanic in the motor pool. I wanted to ask him if he had gone anywhere, seen any other countries, or if he was just a local reservist, but he didn’t tell me anything about his job. For some reason I got the feeling that he didn’t want me here on the farm. I didn’t know why I felt that way, it could have been just me. He could have easily turned the radio up in the car to drown out any conversation between us.

  Really, the only one in the family who genuinely seemed to care about me was Rainey.

  And sadly, it turned out, I was the only one who truly cared for her.

  That evening after an excellent chicken and dumpling dinner prepared by Aunt Brenda (our conversation was light during dinner – again I felt very out of place), Rainey said she wanted to show me her artwork.

  Her room was on the second floor. Every night one member of the family had to carry her up to bed and then bring her down the next morning. I imagined it was her Dad most of the time.

  This time Ben carried her up the steps. I followed. Ben and I changed out her broken light bulbs and then he left saying that he wanted to give us some privacy.

  Rainey’s art was quite unique. Most of her paintings were landscapes like Ben had said. Her brushwork was very professional, quite exquisite. She really had talent.

  In her room she had an antique four-poster bed sitting on a worn hard-wood floor. A small woven rug, off-center on the floor, was commandeered by a fat calico cat named Brisket. Each wall of the room also had antique furniture; a bureau with a gnarled framed mirror, a tall dresser with lion club feet for pedestals, and an old chest covered with black locks. Next to the chest, a rotted flat cork table sat covered with splashes of paint, paint brushes in jars of discolored water, and a painter’s palette.

  Several paintings sat on rickety easels set low to the floor. I walked over to them, my hands behind my back. I leaned down clearing my throat like an old butler. “Fine work, Miss,” I said in an old English voice. I acted like I took a puff from a pipe.

  Rainey giggled rolling over to me in her wheelchair. She showed me her work.

  The painting she was most proud of was a picture of the sun sitting over a weather-beaten farmhouse.

  I asked her if the farm was theirs. She said yes. The sun was fire dripping red. In the center, the red had changed over to blue. Long shadows stretched away from the farmhouse.

  “I like the color of the sun,” she said sitting next to me in her wheelchair, her elbow propped up on the wheelchair’s armrest, her chin resting on her balled fist. “It looks like it’s frozen.”

  It did look frozen. I thought it also looked hot, like it was melting. Long drips hung down from the edges of the sun. I didn’t know how she accomplished such a mix of colors. I asked her, “What are the long drips coming down out of the sun? Is it shadows…or is it melting or something?”

  “No, it’s blood. It’s bleeding.”

  “Oh, umm, that’s…interesting,” I said, somewhat shocked at this side of her personality.

  She said, “I paint my feelings.”

  The easels were low enough for her to paint on while sitting in her wheelchair. Around the bottoms of the easels drips of paint had spotted the floor.

  “Yeah, Dad gets mad sometimes,” Rainey said, following my gaze. “Mom has to clean it up. They don’t stay mad very long…”

  Her voice trailed off. She seemed lost in thought. Oddly she said, “All of this old furniture in here was my Great Aunt Claire’s.” And then she asked, “Jon, can cousins get married?”

  Did I hear her right? What?

  Without looking at her I asked, “Why? Was your Aunt Claire married to her cousin?”

  She laughed. “No...”

  I was stunned. Did she mean me and her? Get married? Was that what she wanted to talk to me about?

  “I want to leave here, Jon,” she said looking up at me,
her face serious. “I want to get away from Minnesota. I don’t want to be around my Dad anymore.”

  My brow crossed. “Why not?”

  “You remember I wanted to tell you something, right?”

  “Well, yea,” I said going down on my haunches next to her.

  “It’s in that old chest.”

  I asked, “Is it something I can hold?”

  “Yes.”

  I stood up and went over to the chest. Lifting the lid I saw a bunch of belts. Men’s belts. I looked at them stupidly. “What are these in here for?”

  “They’re my Dad’s.”

  Confused I asked, “Why do you have your Dad’s belts in your room?”

  Rainey closed her eyes. She bit softly on her lower lip. “Those are the belts he beats me with.”

  “What?”

  She grabbed the armrests on her wheelchair. “After he whips me with them, he puts them in the chest.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Will you marry me, Jon? Take me away with you?”

  I slowly shook my head no. “Rainey, I can’t marry you. I love you, believe me, but not that kind of love. You’re like a sister to me. We’re cousins.”

  “But if we were married, I could be with you,” she said, her voice hitching. “You could take care of me.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. She was shaking. “God, Rainey, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Please say you’ll take me back to California.”

  She was obviously very upset. I said, “I’d have to make arrangements for that, Rainey. I’d, um, have to quit my job or hire a caregiver for you.”

  “I hate to ask you this,” she said, now openly crying. “But I can’t do this anymore, Jon. Every night after he carries me up the steps, he beats my legs. He rips my blankets down and whips my legs with his belt.”

  Rainey pushed herself away from the table. Her wheelchair rolled backward on the hardwood floor. Brisket ran under her bed. She leaned down, grabbed the bottom of her sweatpants by the ankle, and pulled her sweats up showing me her bare legs. Deep red welts covered them. Some had split open. Blood and pus ran down her legs.

  “He whips me and yells at me,” she cried. “He says it’s my fault. I can’t feel it when he whips me, but…it’s what he says…” She broke down crying.

  I hunkered down in front of her again grabbing her hands in mine. “What does he say to you, Rainey?”

  “He says it’s all my fault that his legs hurt now. He says they wouldn’t hurt if he didn’t have to carry my crippled ass up here every goddamn night!”

  I knelt down next to her. I grabbed her and held her tight. She broke down crying.

  A while later she stopped sobbing. She had fallen asleep in my arms. I lifted her out of her wheelchair and gently laid her down on her bed.

  I stood looking down at her for the longest time.

  What can I do here?

  It was after 10 p.m. I would have to wait until morning to confront her Dad about this. I supposed I could go slamming into their room and demand an explanation, but I didn’t.

  I need to figure out what to do.

  I didn’t even know if it was my place to say anything. Can I really take Rainey away from this? I won’t be able to bring her back if I did. Her Dad would kill her when she got back.

  Minneapolis was a big city. I could have taken her to a hotel somewhere for a week just to give her a break, but then she would have to go right back into the nightmare.

  I couldn’t take her to California! I had a life there! I loved my job at the port! I couldn’t give that up.

  Can I even afford her?

  Probably, but I didn’t know what medication she was on, if any. If she was, could I afford it? Did she even have insurance?

  So many questions with no answers.

  I went to my room. It too was full of antique furniture, worn hardwood floors and drab colors. I fell down onto the bed worrying about Rainey.

  What can I do to help her? How can I take her away from all of this?

  My iPhone sat on the nightstand next to the bed. Grabbing it, I thumbed it on.

  Maybe there’s something going on in town I can take her to.

  Hitting Google search, I typed in “Art Shows.”

  Internet service wasn’t very good out here. The only thing that loaded in the search engine was something about a bazaar in the Mall of America. Local artists showing off their latest work in a relaxed setting in the mall. Space was limited.

  “This might be just the thing she needs,” I whispered. I turned my phone off, set it on the nightstand and laid down. I fluffed my pillow and turned off the light. It took me 2 hours to finally get to sleep.

  The next morning I knocked on Rainey’s bedroom door before anyone else woke up.

  She said quietly, “Come in.”

  I opened her door. She was sitting up in the bed petting Brisket. “Hi Jon.”

  “Hi.” I walked in. “Did you get any sleep?”

  Looking at the cat in her lap she said, “Yes.”

  “You want to get out of here?”

  “Can we, please?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go the Mall of America.” Grabbing Brisket out of her hands, I set him down on the floor. I carried Rainey downstairs, set her in a different wheelchair and rolled her out of the house. After I put her in the passenger seat of my rental car, I folded her wheelchair down into the trunk and got in behind the wheel.

  “Let’s go have some fun,” I said.

  “I’ve never been to the mall,” she said smiling.

  We headed for Minneapolis and the Mall of America in Bloomington.

  Arriving we spotted several open handicap parking places near the south entrance. Rainey didn’t want me to park in them.

  I told her, “I can’t park there, anyway. I don’t have a handicap sticker.”

  With a silly smirk she said, “Well, I want to park as far away as possible. I don’t care if we have to park all the way down in Shakopee.”

  I humored her. I parked as far away as I could from the entrance, even found a parking space without a curb. I pulled the car up into the grass past it.

  The whole time Rainey grinned from ear to ear. She loved it.

  Pushing her all the way back to the entrance would not be a problem. She wasn’t heavy at all. As a matter of fact, if she was really serious about going all the way to Shakopee (a town 16 miles away), I wouldn’t mind pushing her all the way there, either.

  Hell, I wouldn’t have minded wheeling her all the way down to Des Moines, Iowa.

  We had such a great connection! I loved being with her.

  Rainey was elated. She had never been inside the Mall of America.

  I pulled her wheelchair out of the trunk, unfolded it and sat her comfortably down in it. I asked, “What do you mean you’ve never been here? Doesn’t anyone take you anywhere?”

  “Yea,” she said with a quiet voice. “My Dad forced my Mom to take me to California once.”

  “You mean the last time you’ve been out of the house was when you and your Mom came to California?”

  “Well, I have to go to the doctor sometimes, and Ben takes me to the movies over in the little town of Buffalo, but no; no one really ever takes me out.”

  I slammed the car door shut. “Wow, that’s not fair. It’s not that hard to roll you around. You’re not heavy! And it’s not that hard finding a parking place. Damn, what’s the matter with your parents? And why the hell does your Dad beat you?”

  I was getting pissed but I didn’t want to take it out on her. It wasn’t her fault at all.

  She shook her head below me rolling across the bumpy parking lot. “I don’t know, Jon. He was the one who broke the light bulbs in my room. When he smacked me with his belt he hit one by accident.”

  “God that is so fucked up” I said.

  She covered her mouth. “I never heard you cuss before.”

  “Well it pisses me off, Rainey. You’re such a sweetheart. I don’t see how anyone could ever hu
rt you.”

  “Thank you, Jon.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  “You’re welcome.” I kissed the top of her head. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She added, “No one ever says they love each other in our house either, not even Mom.”

  “Does she know your Dad beats you?”

  “Yeah. She gives me a bath every day, right. She sees my legs. She never asks about the cuts or if they hurt or anything. She’s gentle with me.”

  I asked, “Do you think he beats your Mom, too?”

  “I never asked her,” Rainey said. “I don’t know how to.”

  “What about Ben?”

  “Yes he beats Ben. If he doesn’t do his chores or if he doesn’t do it just like Dad tells him to, he gets beat.”

  I said, “I’m surprised your Dad let Ben join the Army.”

  “Dad didn’t want him to. They fought over it a lot. Dad only let him join if he went into the reserves. He told Ben he needed him around after Jean left.”

  “Jean?” I asked.

  Rainey said, “She was my caretaker for a while. Dad hired her to take care of me when they got busy doing farm work.”

  “Why did Jean leave?” I asked.

  Rainey shrugged.

  I said, “Well, at least Ben got to join the reserves. That gets him out of the house at least once a month, right?”

  “Yeah. I guess so,” she said softly.

  We arrived at the entrance to the mall. Pushing Rainey through an automatic door, a cold breeze followed us inside.

  Her eyes lit up. “Wow! This place is huge!”

  “Yep,” I said looking around. “They say it’s the biggest mall in the world.”

  She turned to look at me. “I want to see the whole place!”

  “What are we waiting for?” I asked. “Come on, let’s go!”

  We had a great time.

  We went from store to store. Rainey wanted to see and touch everything. She drooled over every single item. When we rolled up to the art show her eyes lit up even more. She had me push her right up in front of the paintings. She looked them up and down, her eyes and mouth smiling. She asked the artists about their technique, what type of brushes they used, and all kinds of art questions.

  Rainey captivated everyone.