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Order this writing in the collection book Layers of Creation available for only 1795 |
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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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Harlequin
Melissa Sihan Műtlu
Kelly Van Hauser, a thirty-two-year-old, six months pregnant Essex, Pennsylvania trophy wife, loaded her seven-year-old son, Robbie, and five-year-old daughter, Bridget, into her most prized possession, her silver SUV. Robbie and Bridget reluctantly sat in the back seats, the girl clutching onto the long blond mane of her half-naked Fashion Allie doll.
“Okay you two,” Kelly said quietly. “This time try to behave.”
She closed the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. The rearview mirror was used for a quick check-up of what she liked to call “sunset blond” hair for any sign of dark roots. She straightened out her khaki pants and pink T-shirt and just as the ignition was about to be turned on, Bridget began to whine.
“Mom,” she complained, pulling on her pigtails and scrunching up her pudgy face. “I don’t want to go to Robbie’s soccer game.”
“Butt face!” her brother egged her on, checking his bright red soccer shorts for any grass stains. “Bridget smells like a dog’s butt!” He reached under his seat and grabbed an old and stale french fry, which he used as a projectile to throw at his sister. He watched with glee as it landed on her new pink strappy sundress.
“Stop it!” she cried, looking for her own piece of food to throw.
Kelly let out a sigh. She loved to complain about how “tired” she was all the time from raising two young kids and being pregnant with a third, but never once stopped to think that no one had forced her to have any kids. She always made it seem as though she was the “victim.”
“It’s enough!” she finally spoke out. “Please, would you two just stop it!”
“But I’m hungry,” Bridget continued to whine. “I want some ice cream.”
Bridget loved junk food. Cheese curls, ice cream, cream filled sugar cakes, chocolate bars, hamburgers, and it showed. Her entire body looked puffy, but she knew as long as she whined enough, she would get her meals of sugar and grease. Robbie threw another fry at her, which caused another uproar. He laughed when he saw her trying
to pick it out of her hair. Kelly rubbed her visibly pregnant belly, her index finger touching the protruding navel.
“Please let this one be good,” she told herself. “Dennis, come home soon.”
Dennis Van Hauser, her husband, was a fifty-four-year-old cardiac surgeon, whom she loved to brag about. They had met at a party, and as soon as she had been married, she quit her job as a paralegal, and started having babies. She was too overjoyed at the prospects of being married to a doctor, to even think about working. He was in Iowa, at a medical conference and was scheduled to come home late that evening.
Kelly looked down at her two and a half carat princess cut diamond wedding band and smiled. She started the SUV, ignoring the war in the backseat. The day was sunny and warm which warranted that the window be rolled down. She made sure that she hung her left hand out the window just enough, so that the passerby, or if she was stopped at a red light, the person next to her could get a good look at the diamond.
“The wheels on the bus go round and round,” she began to sing, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, hoping her children would follow suit.
“That’s dumb!” Robbie laughed, attempting to steal Fashion Allie away from his sister. “I’m seven not two.”
The SUV backed out of the Van Hauser driveway, which led up to the six-thousand square foot Van Hauser colonial, the largest home in the Country Lakes subdivision. Blooming red roses lined the front walkway, and apple trees filled in the front yard. As Kelly drove through the subdivision thinking how much nicer her house was than all the others, the sunlight caught the diamond perfectly, causing it to emit small beams of light. She turned left onto the main road, all the while paying more attention to the sparkling stone, rather than the road. Traffic was nearly non-existent, and she found it okay to let her guard down just a little bit.
“I’m hungry!” Bridget called out again. She smacked her brother with Fashion Allie’s hard plastic legs, letting out a surge of laughter when she saw his reaction.
“Butt face!” he screamed, checking his cheek with his fingers for any sign of bleeding.
Kelly continued to alternate her gaze from the diamond to the road and back to the diamond. As she continued to focus on the sparkling of the refracted light, a dark lump in the road caught her peripheral vision. She quickly looked up, but it was too late. Thump, thump, thump, thump, went the wheels of the SUV over a small raccoon who had tried to cross the street. The vehicle swayed back and forth, while Kelly tried to regain control.
“Cool!” Robbie exclaimed, looking out the back window.
The raccoon was now no more than a puddle of bloody road kill, with one stiff leg sticking into the air.
“Are you alright?” Kelly nervously asked her kids, giving no more thought to the raccoon, which she confirmed got into her way.
Both nodded, giggling at the thought of their mother running over an animal. “Oh, can you turn around so we can go look at it?” Robbie asked delighted, his squinty eyes lighting up.
Bridget clapped her hands at the idea, and she, too, kept glancing out the back window, looking at the now distant pile of liquid, innards, and appendages.
“No,” Kelly said, still jumpy from losing control of the SUV. “On the way back, I promise.”
The ride home was as irritating as the ride to the game. Bridget kept complaining about her hunger and how she was “starving.” Robbie was euphoric about being on the winning team and constantly bragged about it. As the SUV turned onto First State Boulevard, Robbie’s conversation went from the soccer game to the dead raccoon.
“Remember,” he said, almost sounding too jovial. “You said we could stop and see the pile of guts.”
Bridget’s face became one big fat smile at the thought. Her hands flew up into the air, Fashion Allie swaying wildly. Kelly slowed the SUV from fifty-five, to forty-five, which was the posted speed limit. She remembered there had been a row of evergreens at the location of the killing, which were coming up.
“Huh?” she asked herself. “I swear it was just right here.”
She pulled over to the side of the road, staring at a stain on the asphalt, which looked like it could have been blood at one point. Robbie and Bridget had their faces pressed against the window, wondering where the animal had run off to.
“I guess some birds must have taken it away,” she said, checking her face in the rearview mirror for any signs that her tanning bed tan was becoming blotchy. “Sorry kids, I’m sure we’ll see animals on the road again someday.”
The siblings let out disappointing moans, but dealt with it. Robbie still had his victorious soccer game to chat about. The SUV pulled up the driveway and came to a stop inside the garage. Kelly made sure to close the garage door before getting out.
The inside of the Van Hauser home was immaculate. The colours were neutral and conservative, just the way Kelly liked them. Robbie ran up the beige carpeted steps to his bedroom, announcing he was going to go play his video games. Bridget made a dash for the kitchen, reaching into the Dalmatian cookie jar and pulling out a handful of chocolate sandwich cookies.
“Don’t get into those cookies,” Kelly warned, hearing the clinging of the ceramic Dalmatian’s head against the torso. “You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“I’m not mom,” Bridget lied, even though her teeth had already been blackened by the chocolate crumbs. “I’m going outside on the swing.”
Kelly nodded, and said nothing more about the cookies, even though it was clearly evident her daughter had lied to her about eating them. Bridget climbed up the big yellow plastic slide, then slid down it before taking a seat on the swing. The play set had been built underneath a giant weeping willow, and a few of the low branches tickled her eyes. She picked at the long oval leaves, capturing one of the bright blue beetles that crawled all over them. She began to swing, pumping her legs back and forth, and when she felt like she was flying, she threw the beetle into the air. When she finally became dizzy, she slowed the swing back down until it stopped.
“Hey little one,” a soft voice said behind her.
She looked over her shoulder, but didn’t see anyone.
“No over here,” the voice said again.
She turned around and smiled at the sight of a raccoon, who wore a black and white diamond print clown outfit and a small jester’s hat with little gold and silver bells, which gave off a soft jingling.
“I’m Harlequin, the friendly dancing raccoon,” he kindly introduced himself, taking a bow, then doing a pirouette.
“I’m Bridget,” she said back, unafraid of the peculiar creature, since she had just watched Alice in Wonderland a few days ago. “Do you know Alice?”
Harlequin put his small hand up to his chin. “No, I don’t think so. Should I?”
Bridget liked the sound of his little bells, and tried to touch them, but he backed away. “Wait right here,” she told him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, little one.”
Bridget ran into the house raving about what she had just seen to Kelly, who was busy mixing up bright red ground beef for cheeseburgers.
“Bridget, what are you talking about?” she asked baffled by the girl’s nonsensical gibberish.
“But mom,” she pleaded. “You have to come see him, he’s so cute. He’s got these little bells that go jingle-jingle-jingle when he dances. He said his name was Harley Queen.”
Kelly humoured her daughter. Bridget pulled her mom by the hand and stopped dead when she came to the play set. She rubbed her tiny eyes, and put her hands up to her chubby cheeks.
“He was right here,” she said, stamping her foot on the ground. “Right here!”
“Okay,” Kelly said. “Maybe he had to go and play with the other raccoons.”
“I guess.”
During the greasy cheeseburger dinner, which Bridget inhaled, but Robbie picked at, she couldn’t stop talking about her new “friend.”
“You’re so dumb!” Robbie laughed. “A dancing raccoon? How many cartoons have you been watching?”
Kelly agreed with her son and thought that Bridget saw some animal, perhaps even a raccoon, and imagined him in a clown suit and jester hat with bells. Besides, it was getting late, and she could tell both kids were getting tired. After dinner, she picked up the plates and gave her husband a call. She learned that he would be home sometime between one and two that morning because his first flight had been delayed. She wanted to tell him to just get on another flight, but she didn’t want to compromise her status as a trophy wife by coming off as too domineering.
Robbie put himself to bed, and fell asleep quickly as most of his energy had been exhausted from the day’s soccer game. Kelly sat on Bridget’s twin bed, which had been adorned with pink sheets. Everything in her room was pink. The walls, the toys, and even most of her clothes were one shade of pink or another.
“Go to bed, okay.” Kelly cooed, kissing her daughter’s forehead.
The distant sound of thunder meant it was going to rain hard tonight, and Kelly knew she had to get downstairs and close the windows. Bridget laid on her back and made sure that the pink sheet went up to her chin. She blew her mother a kiss and closed her eyes.
Kelly sat on her own bed, dressed in her silk red robe. Only her bedside lamp was turned on, which provided enough light for her to flip through a maternity fashion magazine. She used a permanent marker to circle some shirts, not worrying about the cost. The thunder was growing louder and she was glad that she had closed the windows downstairs. Lightning soon followed and a storm erupted. She listened for any cries from her kids, but was relieved that they were still sleeping. The lighting lit up her room with an eerie blue glow, and the thunder made her jump. The wind picked up and branches slammed against the windows like angry fists. The sound of the front door opening and slamming shut sent her into a wave of worry.
She rushed downstairs supporting her belly with her hand and closed it, this time making sure to chain lock it as well.
“Damn it,” she said as the lights flickered then went out all together.
The lightning was the only source of light in the house at this point. The sound of the wind, and branches breaking was overwhelming. She just wanted to get some sleep, then she heard a soft sound. In between claps of thunder, she thought the sound sounded like the jingling of bells.
“Oh no,” she said. “I’m not going to let my daughter’s imagination get the best of me.”
Just as she tried to erase the thought from her mind, Robbie’s bedroom door slammed shut. Soon followed was the slamming of Bridget’s door. She ran upstairs and found her son’s bed empty.
“Robbie!” she called out. “Where are you?”
She found her children huddled together, crying violently on Bridget’s bed. Robbie held his sister close, trying to comfort her. Another clap of thunder sent the girl into a wail.
“Get out!” Robbie warned, gripping his sister tighter.
“Robbie? Bridget? What’s gotten into you?”
“Hey there,” she heard a voice she did not recognize, which was soon followed by the jingling of bells.
A flash of lightning revealed a creature on Bridget’s bed. It was a raccoon, with a black and white diamond print clown suit. On top of its small head was a jester hat.
“What is this?” she gasped.
“I’m Harlequin the friendly dancing raccoon,” he said.
Another flash of lightning lit up his eyes. They looked like orange discs. Kelly slapped herself a few times, instructing herself to wake up, but with each slap her cheek stung and she knew she wasn’t sleeping. Bridget let out another cry, this time irritating Harlequin.
“Shut up!” he screamed, waving his arms in the air. “You stupid, ugly, brat! Shut the fuck up!”
Bridget tried to hold in her fear, but let it out again. This time, Harlequin was not so kind. He jumped onto the girl clawing at her face. Robbie tried to beat him off, but received the same punishment. Kelly watched helplessly as this creature mauled her children to death. No more cries were heard, and the lightning lit up the room, revealing the blood stained pink bed sheets. The animal turned around to face Kelly. She just stared at him, bewildered, horrified, and well past the point of a breakdown. The police were not an option, who would believe a story about a talking and murderous animal. Harlequin jumped on top of the toy chest next to the bed, the horrible jingling of his little bells echoing in her ears.
“So pregnant mamma,” he began.
She listened to the demented words, and watched as the lips moved with them. A raccoon, was in fact, speaking to her. Kelly crawled back into a corner, and balled her knees up to her chest. She did not want the perverse animal staring at her pregnant belly.
“Whatcha gonna name that kid?” Harlequin asked, jumping off of the chest and walking up to her.
“Katie,” she sobbed. “I’m naming her Katie.”
“I don’t like that name,” he snarled.
He began to touch her legs, spreading them apart. “Hey Lady, my name is Harlequin, the friendly dancing raccoon. You people, you stupid fucking suburbanites, have no thoughts for anything other than yourselves. You and your Baby Culture, that is. That’s all you care about, how many kids you can pop out, what you drive, and how big your homes are. You ran me over today you bitch, and you know what, I bet you didn’t think twice, only about your own fucking little brats. Those kids weren’t cute and their certainly a lot less cute now. So pregnant mamma, whatcha gonna do about me?”
Kelly began to wail and tried to fend off the animal. He clawed at her stomach and untied her robe. Her protruding navel looked like candy, which he bit off. She screamed and stared at the blood running down her skin. A small fist hit her over the head. Harlequin was quite pleased that he had knocked her out. He quickly got to work and with surgeon like precision, used his sharp claws to cut open and remove the fetus, which he set on her chest. He found some thread and a needle and crudely sewed her back up. The branches continued to slam against the window, and he knew it was time to leave. The sound of his bells were overpowered by the thunder as he left the house.
Dennis came home after the storm had subsided. The power was back on and he assumed his wife and kids were fast asleep. He set his briefcase on the kitchen floor, and took a few bites out of a cold left over cheeseburger. He ran his hand through his short dark hair, which still had a few rain droplets in it. Upstairs he found what had been left behind and fell to his knees. His children had been murdered, and his wife was bloody and on her chest was their third child. He threw up at the sight of the underdeveloped fetus and tried to wake Kelly.
“Harlequin!” she screamed. She felt her belly and realized she was no longer pregnant. “It was a raccoon!” she said, clinging to her husband.
He pulled back her robe and saw the stitches, disgusted by what he thought she had done. “You’re sick!” he told her. “How dare you!”
Kelly was committed to the Loch Mental Facility, located thirty miles outside of Sussex. Dennis visited her once a week, at least until the divorce was final. On his last visit, as he sat in the white room with his wife strapped to the bed, he could not get over what in his mind, she had done. He turned his back to her, and caught a glimpse of her trying to reach out to him.
“It was Harlequin,” she said weakly.
He left her in her prison, and went home, not bothering to even think twice about his precious trophy wife, who once wore a two and a half princess cut diamond ring, and who once had lived in the largest home in the Country Lakes subdivision.
