Sally.

She stepped into the empty room. A shaft of light from a late afternoon sun slid into the far window, painting the floor with golden stripes. Sally pushed her heavy black hair from her face and surveyed her summer cabin. She had made an unexpected visit to the summer home the previous morning. Sally strolled around the room, sliding her right hand on the finely lacquered logs that made up the walls. She peeked into her bedroom as she passed it, and continued to the far left corner of the cabin, which housed a small laundry room. She stopped at the locked laundry room door and jiggled it. Satisfied, she walked into her kitchen on the left side of the cabin to get a cup of coffee.

Sally sat outside of her cabin in a beach chair, next to her small flowerbed. The sun’s rays filtered through the trees, spotting the ground with glowing eyes. Sally watched the spots migrate through her flowerbed, mingling with the insects.

"Feed my babies, don’t let those tall bullies steal all the sunlight." Sally muttered to herself, or perhaps to the sun. Removing her sunglasses she stared to the end of her driveway, where a gray Chevy pick up truck had stopped. As she rose from her chair, the truck started to ease its way down the driveway, closer to Sally. She could see a skinny man inside. He stopped the truck next to her flowerbed, and hopped out. He waved to Sally-she did nothing. Removing his sunglasses, he strode over, smiling and squinting at the sun.

"Hi," he said extending his hand towards Sally, "My name is Dave Weaver." He paused a moment, waiting for an introduction, but none followed. He withdrew his unshaken hand, "I wanted to come say hi, I just moved in down the road." Another pause, filled with only silence.

"So…you are?" He said, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"I’m Sally." She said, without changing her expression.

"Ah, Sally…well-nice to meet you Sally." More silence followed. Dave looked around her property for a moment, possibly waiting for Sally to do or say something. After a few moments had arrived and passed, Dave politely nodded as if to say goodbye, and turned to go back to his car.

"Hey," Sally called out, "do you have any grass?" Dave did not turn right away; he simply stopped moving towards his car, planting his feet where he stood. Finally, he turned to look at Sally.

"Grass as in a lawn?" He smiled, and waited patiently for her reply.

"No, grass as in weed, as in something you roll in a joint to smoke, to get high." Her expression didn’t change, but her attitude did.

Dave said, "Really…tell me more about this magical herb." She wasn’t amused. She continued staring at him until he broke

.

"Okay, are you a cop or something? Because I really don’t need the hassle right now, okay.

"No, are you?"

"No."

"Okay," She said, "So neither of us are cops, at least we got that going for us." Dave smiled and inched closer to Sally. Finally, she smiled at him.

"Is this a yes?" She asked.

"Indeed," Dave replied as he pulled a pack of Marlboro Reds from his pocket. He flipped the lid open and took out a joint, which he pushed between his lips.

"Hold on Marlboro man," Sally said, "I just wanted to buy some, not bond with you."

Dave’s eyes fell to the ground for a moment, and then he plucked the joint from his mouth and tossed it back into the cigarette box.

Dave said, "Oh." He thought a moment then continued, "Listen I’m not really in the trade, I just have my own tiny stash, not enough to sell-you know?" He paused to wait for a response, when none came, he continued, "I don’t mind smokin’ with you, if you want to, but I can’t sell you any, sorry."

Sally said, "Oh," turned, and walked into her cabin.

Sally crouched in the far corner of her cabin. Darkness enveloped the inside of the small cabin. Her knees were pulled to her chin, and she stared blankly at the front door. Occasionally a loud creak would sound, making her jump. Otherwise, she remained motionless. She continued to wait for her visitor, though late, she knew he would arrive soon.

At 2:13 AM. the cabin’s door crept open. She watched as the door creaked, moving slowly, not to frighten her. Her husband stood on the other side of the door. The door halfway open, Sally began to smile. She lifted herself off the floor, and walked toward her love.

"Honey, you’re late." She said to Bob, who stood directly in front of her. Some days she could see him with the clarity of a thousand unforgotten nights, and other days he appeared as a smeared pallet of colors and smells. That night her vision was particularly clear, and she could almost make out the contours of his skin.

"I’m sorry," Bob said to her, holding out his impasto arms. She could even smell Bob’s cologne when she hugged him; taste his lips when she kissed him.

"I miss you so much Bob, so much." Sally began to cry.

"I know Sally, I miss you too." She looked up, but her husband was gone.

Sally paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, screaming, pulling at her hair. She wore only a white tank top, and a pair of blue panties. Her face had become red and swollen from rubbing away tears.

"Why are you still here!" Screamed Sally, "Get out of my house, this is my house!"

"It’s my house." Kristen replied smugly.

"No!" Sally argued, "Why are you here? He’s dead and you can’t have him, so go away-this is my house!"

"I’m not leaving Sally."

Sally collapsed on the wood floor, panting, exhausted. Kristen’s impressionist figure glided around the room, coloring the walls as she moved.

"Can’t you just leave me be, leave us be."

"No Sally, you’ll never be free of me. Never."

Sally began to bang her head on the floor, when knocking on the door mingled with her head’s symphony. She registered the new instrument in her orchestra and lifted her head to look at the door; it flew open, and Dave was standing there.

"Sally? Are you okay?" He looked around the room for a moment, possibly for an intruder, then back at Sally. "What’s wrong Sally?"

She didn’t answer, though she had ceased her tantrum. She dreamily lifted herself off the floor, and walked into the kitchen, leaving Dave alone in the torn apart living room.

Dave called out, "So is everything okay, I was just coming by to say hi when I looked through the window and saw you collapse."

Sally poked her head in and said, "Just a bad day, nothing to worry about. I’ll be right back." Before she went back into the kitchen Sally glimpsed two familiar figures in the room with Dave.

Dave bellowed, "You sure your alright?"

Sally called in, "I’m fine."

Sally walked to her kitchen drawer and opened it slowly, looking inside of it. She removed the shiny weapon from the drawer, and then reentered the living room. Sally stared at Bob and Kristen who stood directly behind Dave. He wrinkled his face and turned toward the back of the room.

"Sally-what is that God awful smell?"

She cackled, and pushed her hair back from her face. She started to walk over to Dave, but was focusing her attention behind him, at Bob and Kristen.

"You had no right Bob, we were married!" Sally screamed suddenly. She circled to the left of her armchair as Dave backed away.

Startled, Dave said, "Sally, my name is Dave, not Bob-" He glanced down at Sally’s hand.

Seemingly unaware of Dave’s presence she continued to address Bob, who still stood behind Dave.

"Why did you have to take it up with that slut? Do you have any idea how that felt! Finding you with her." Sally motioned towards Kristen, who stood next to Bob, behind Dave.

Dave shook his head, and started to move closer to the front door. Once Dave was a few feet away from the front door, Bob’s painted body moved forward to stand in front of him.

Dave pointed to the door and said, "I’m going to leave now Sally."

Simultaneously Bob said, "I’m going to leave you Sally."

Sally screamed, "You can never leave me!" and lunged at Bob, grabbing his neck while she plunged a large knife into his chest.

A painful sob escaped as she let go of Bob and the knife. She turned around for a moment, wiping the tears from her eyes. When she turned back, Bob was no longer there, only Dave. He lay on the floor with the knife sticking out of his chest, and Kristen standing over him shaking her blurred head.

Sally stared through Dave’s body, which still had life in it. She continued to stare as Dave struggled to free the knife from his chest. Blood gushed from the hole, pooling on the wood floor. Dave’s eyes jerked upward at Sally as he convulsed. Calmly Sally crouched at Dave’s feet and grabbed his ankles. Dave gurgled in protest as she began dragging him toward the back laundry room, to store with Bob and Kristen’s bodies. As Dave’s life faded, his new form seeded itself in Sally’s brain, a thick and colorful presence that would soon join Bob and Kristen with Sally, in the cabin.

©2002 Anthony J. Rapino