Please?”
“Not now, Evvy.”
“Mae? Come on. My snare’s broken.”
Sometimes she couldn’t remember her sister Evelyn, and it scared her. She’d try to conjure her up, try to recall the way she talked and laughed before things went so bad, tried to remember the smell of her favorite perfume, remember the way she looked. Many times she couldn’t. Despite the photographs that remained, Mae could sit concentrating for an hour, and nothing would come, as if that part of her memory was lost forever.
But other times, like now, vibrant pieces would come rushing back and almost knock her over with their clarity. They’d come rushing back with the ferocity of a beat from Evelyn’s drum.
“How did you manage to do that?” Mae asks.
Evelyn holds up her drum, a present from her father. One side of the snare on the bottom has flopped off and hangs there like an entrail.
“I think Edna did it.”
“How do you know I didn’t do it?”
“Did you?”
Mae doesn’t answer.
“Did you?”
“Why would I care about your stupid drum?”
Maybe that’s what she was afraid of. With Andy here, the memories had started rolling in like an avalanche.
“Could you help me fix it?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Ask Dad.”
“He’s in his workshop.”
“So? Ask him anyway.”
“You know I don’t want to go down there,” Evelyn says.
“Why?” Mae is teasing her now.
“You know why.”
“Because you’re scared?”
Evelyn doesn’t answer.
“Because you’re a 'fraidy cat?”
“No.”
“'Fraidy cat.”
“Shut up.”
“'Fraidy cat. Furrrraidy cat.”
“Shut up!”
Mae shook the memory away and finished unloading the groceries. She went upstairs. The door to Edna’s old room was ajar. Mae kept it shut most of the time, and out of habit went to close the door. But when she saw Andy’s duffel bag on the floor and the sheets pulled back on the bed, she stopped in the doorway.
How much does he know?
Does he know anything?
Everything?
What has Edna told him?
She saw Tom Sawyer lying on the dresser, a piece of paper next to it.
It was the child’s drawing of a snarling face.
Look out for Big Ed , it said.
Look out for Big Ed.
Mae closed her eyes. Oh my God - poor Evelyn.
The drawing hovered behind her eyelids, it’s teeth growing and dripping.
Look out for Big Ed.
Mae heard the distant beating of a drum in her mind. The sharp violent crack of a striking stick.
Look out for Big Ed .
She shook her head. Opened her eyes. Clutched the edge of the dresser.
Jesus.
Why did I let him stay here?
She saw the dresses in the closet. The closet had always been shut before. Why was it open now? And the book. That had been in the attic. What was it doing here?
Andy must have been looking around. Snooping. Perhaps his mother sent him over here. What did she want? What was she trying to do?
Stop it, Mae. Stop being ridiculous. The poor guy had an accident. The sheriff brought him over here.
It’s just that the memories...
She had spent so long in therapy dealing with the memories, but now that she was faced with them again, not with Edna herself, but with her son -
It was going to be harder than she thought.
She stepped out of Edna’s old room and into her own room. Looked out her window. Her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth dropped open.
At first she wasn’t sure what it was she was looking at, but then it hit her.
Even from up here, she knew.
She took a step back from the window, her hand rising to her neck, her eyes growing wide, her gut feeling as if something was alive in there trying to get out.
“Uh – ”
There were no words, just pitiful sounds escaping her mouth.
“Uh – ”
She saw the picture in her mind again, the child’s drawing of the snarling face, the big dripping teeth, the words, scrawled by her dead sister -
Look out for Big Ed .
“Ah – ”
Her knees buckled under her, and she fell back onto her bed, then shot up off of it, ran into
“Not now, Evvy.”
“Mae? Come on. My snare’s broken.”
Sometimes she couldn’t remember her sister Evelyn, and it scared her. She’d try to conjure her up, try to recall the way she talked and laughed before things went so bad, tried to remember the smell of her favorite perfume, remember the way she looked. Many times she couldn’t. Despite the photographs that remained, Mae could sit concentrating for an hour, and nothing would come, as if that part of her memory was lost forever.
But other times, like now, vibrant pieces would come rushing back and almost knock her over with their clarity. They’d come rushing back with the ferocity of a beat from Evelyn’s drum.
“How did you manage to do that?” Mae asks.
Evelyn holds up her drum, a present from her father. One side of the snare on the bottom has flopped off and hangs there like an entrail.
“I think Edna did it.”
“How do you know I didn’t do it?”
“Did you?”
Mae doesn’t answer.
“Did you?”
“Why would I care about your stupid drum?”
Maybe that’s what she was afraid of. With Andy here, the memories had started rolling in like an avalanche.
“Could you help me fix it?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Ask Dad.”
“He’s in his workshop.”
“So? Ask him anyway.”
“You know I don’t want to go down there,” Evelyn says.
“Why?” Mae is teasing her now.
“You know why.”
“Because you’re scared?”
Evelyn doesn’t answer.
“Because you’re a 'fraidy cat?”
“No.”
“'Fraidy cat.”
“Shut up.”
“'Fraidy cat. Furrrraidy cat.”
“Shut up!”
Mae shook the memory away and finished unloading the groceries. She went upstairs. The door to Edna’s old room was ajar. Mae kept it shut most of the time, and out of habit went to close the door. But when she saw Andy’s duffel bag on the floor and the sheets pulled back on the bed, she stopped in the doorway.
How much does he know?
Does he know anything?
Everything?
What has Edna told him?
She saw Tom Sawyer lying on the dresser, a piece of paper next to it.
It was the child’s drawing of a snarling face.
Look out for Big Ed , it said.
Look out for Big Ed.
Mae closed her eyes. Oh my God - poor Evelyn.
The drawing hovered behind her eyelids, it’s teeth growing and dripping.
Look out for Big Ed.
Mae heard the distant beating of a drum in her mind. The sharp violent crack of a striking stick.
Look out for Big Ed .
She shook her head. Opened her eyes. Clutched the edge of the dresser.
Jesus.
Why did I let him stay here?
She saw the dresses in the closet. The closet had always been shut before. Why was it open now? And the book. That had been in the attic. What was it doing here?
Andy must have been looking around. Snooping. Perhaps his mother sent him over here. What did she want? What was she trying to do?
Stop it, Mae. Stop being ridiculous. The poor guy had an accident. The sheriff brought him over here.
It’s just that the memories...
She had spent so long in therapy dealing with the memories, but now that she was faced with them again, not with Edna herself, but with her son -
It was going to be harder than she thought.
She stepped out of Edna’s old room and into her own room. Looked out her window. Her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth dropped open.
At first she wasn’t sure what it was she was looking at, but then it hit her.
Even from up here, she knew.
She took a step back from the window, her hand rising to her neck, her eyes growing wide, her gut feeling as if something was alive in there trying to get out.
“Uh – ”
There were no words, just pitiful sounds escaping her mouth.
“Uh – ”
She saw the picture in her mind again, the child’s drawing of the snarling face, the big dripping teeth, the words, scrawled by her dead sister -
Look out for Big Ed .
“Ah – ”
Her knees buckled under her, and she fell back onto her bed, then shot up off of it, ran into
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