Page 58 of Eldritch

“Okay.” Sybil sighed. “It’s late, and I need sleep.”

Her mother cleared her throat. “Sybil, you could check for me, right? I mean, talk to the authorities there and ask them to let me in to see him. I mean, you could even come with me. You could take care of it, Sybil.” Her mother’s voice took on a tone of almost excitement. Encouraging a child to make that next step. “You were always so good at making things work. Those prison officials are so hard sometimes. Sometimes they act like they don’t understand why I’m there--”

Her mother cut herself off. Sybil’s throat tightened as an undeniable anger rose. She drew in a deep breath and exhaled gradually. So slowly she figured her mother would start talking again. But she didn’t.

“Where, Mom? Prison? When did you first go see him?”

Silence. Then the popping sound again. Sybil didn’t pay attention to it.

“You went because that church said you should, right?” Sybil leaned back into her pillows and stared at the ornately carved tray ceiling. The cherubs and even an angel or two.

“Well, yes. I know what you think of them, but I love going there, and I think I’ve found some sort of home in them.”

Sybil had many thoughts about it, but as she so often did, she didn’t express precisely what she thought. Her words formed an approximation, but rarely filled with the true anger she wanted to express. “We all find our way through it. Or we don’t.”

Oh Sybil. You still sound rational and calm right now, don’t you? Still reasonable. Still the one to say the right thing at the right time. Always searching for it. Always hoping the next time the right words will come out. But you never quite get it right, do you?

“Oh, Sybil.” That sigh again.

The burn rose inside Sybil, refusing to be reasonable, calm and rational. Just this one time. This one time at least she’d say what she thought. “I’ve always wondered about that.”

“About what?” her mother asked.

The burn went even higher. “That sigh and the oh Sybil. What does that even mean?”

“What? It doesn’t mean anything.”

The popping sound came again.

“Sure it does,” Sybil said. “It means you’re exasperated and wish I was someone else. That I didn’t have the reactions I have and would simply comply and do whatever you think is rational.”

Oh, Sybil. You’ve done it now, haven’t you? The fear rose higher. Sybil, say what mommy wants. What daddy wants. Anything less…they’ll hurt you won’t they?

Silence greeted Sybil’s statement. Nothing surprising there, either. She could almost see her mother’s face. The cool, hard demeanor that would transform her expression from mild to angry. Disapproval would show in her mother as the cold shoulder would begin. The silences that had carved a hole in Sybil’s heart and hollowed it out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother said.

There. Her mother’s signature statement.

Sybil’s antagonism rose even higher. She wanted to rage. To hang up. “I won’t be talking to the prison authorities for you. I won’t be visiting him in prison. I never have, and I never will.”

A creaking. Another pop.

“But my church says--”

“He didn’t give a shit about any of those women he killed. Just the way he didn’t care about his own family. The only thing I’m thankful for is that something kept him from killing us. When I was a little kid, I was scared shitless of him. Down deep, I was sure he was going to do something to me. That he was going to kill me. You know what that does to a kid? That fear of death around every corner? Of humiliation and name calling and the fact that your own mother won’t do a damned thing to stop it?” She was on a roll now and didn’t plan on stopping. “I figured he’d do whatever it was to you, too. But I knew if I said anything that you’d blow it off. You wouldn’t believe it. Because he had everyone fooled, didn’t he? Except for me. I knew we were on a knife’s edge and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. I--”

“Oh, Sybil. Stop it. That’s all water under the bridge. You had a good childhood otherwise and?—”

“No, I didn’t. But you know what...let’s pretend. You do you. I’ve got work tomorrow, and I need my sleep.”

That sigh. That ever-weary sigh. “All right, Sybil. Goodnight.”

Sybil hung up. She gingerly placed the cell phone on the bedstand when she wanted to slam it. She drew in one breath. Another. Her jaw went tight, and that lump in her throat enlarged. Tears threatened again.

Pop. Crack.

A quick movement caught her eye.

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