The Resurrection of Allen Barnes

He turned back to the Wilsons and pointed an accusing finger. "She said she was your niece."

"We told you. We don't have a niece."

"She said she was house-sitting for you while you were gone."

"But we haven't gone anywhere. Why would we need someone to watch the house?"

"She knew my fucking name for Christ's sake!"

"All right, Barnes, that's enough." Dennis Wilson held up his hand like a traffic cop. "I think you'd better go now."

"Listen to me, Wilson!"

"I've heard enough. I want you off my property. Now!"

"She was here I tell you!" Allen looked pleadingly at his neighbors. "She was so beautiful."

"Go home, Barnes and sober up." Wilson made a face. "And for heaven's sake, take a shower. You smell like you've just run a marathon."

The door slammed in Allen's face. He stood for a full minute staring stupidly at the fish symbol stenciled on the glass pane before he turned and hurried back to his own house.

He dashed from room to room, searching for something, anything she might have left behind. A purse, a comb, an earring...Did Ruth have a purse? Was she wearing jewelry? Allen's mind raced. He couldn't even remember if the girl was wearing shoes!

He sagged against the table staring at the streaked glass of the patio door until his eyes stung and overflowed. He picked up the lank hand towel, pressed it to his face and sobbed. A wave of humiliation washed over him followed by a stab of guilt. He'd have to apologize to the Wilsons for scaring the shit out of them. But not today.

"Fool!" he wailed into the towel. "Pathetic fucking loser!"

Allen fought to gain control of his emotions. He took a deep breath, dabbed at his eyes and was about to blow his nose on the towel when he noticed how flat and neatly it was folded.

"What the hell?"

He stared at the cloth for a moment, then shook it out, expecting the pills he'd hidden there to tumble to the floor. Nothing.

"What the hell?" he said again.

Allen raced to the bathroom and flung open the door of the medicine chest. No pills, no bottles. He leaned over and peered into the wicker wastebasket. It was empty but for the dull, plastic razor he'd dropped there. When was that? Yesterday, right? He'd showered and shaved while Ruth waited...No! Ruth didn't exist. She was a hallucination. Wasn't she?

"Goddamn it, what the fuck is happening to me?"

Allen stared into the mirror and tried to think clearly. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen and eighteen hours worth of stubble speckled his face. Yes, he'd shaved yesterday. But then what? He turned to the open doorway. She'd been standing right there in the narrow hallway. Beautiful, naked, patient...She'd asked him something and then led him to the bedroom.

Slowly he retraced his footsteps and gently pushed open the bedroom door. The blanket was twisted in a knot and the sheets were mussed and wrinkled, but then his bed always looked like that. He pulled away the blanket. The lower sheet looked as though it hadn't been changed in months, which was nearly true. Near the center was a large, damp stain. A wet dream? What else could it be?

Allen tossed the tangled blanket back on the bed and then reached down to pick up the pillow that lay at his feet. As he raised it, a beam of light streaming through the window caught a single strand of pale blond hair that lay curled like an S on the pillowcase. He tilted the pillow back and forth, letting the sunbeam play over the white-gold of the hair.

He closed his eyes a moment, but when he opened them the hair was still on the pillow. He looked away and then quickly back. Still there. He tried this several times but the strand remained. Slowly, tentatively, Allen lowered his face to the pillow and breathed in. A whiff of lilac. A hint of cinnamon. "Oh," he whispered.

He carried the pillow from the room and down the hall, never letting his eye stray from the hair. It was his prize, his talisman, his salvation. He set the pillow down on the table and seated himself before it. He gazed lovingly at the golden strand and leaned down to inhale the wonderful fragrance. Was there a way to preserve this tiny piece of Ruth and the fragrance she left behind? He frowned.

No, he thought. Even if I could, I won't.

Allen stood and stripped off the pillowcase. With quick strides he walked to the bathroom and dropped it down the laundry chute, then returned to the table. He stared through the glass of the patio door for a long while, trying not to wonder. He didn't want to question and he didn't want to think. He watched a robin land in the tall grass of the backyard and struggle to free a worm from the thick soil. He smiled and reached for the phone.

"Hi, Bernie?...Yeah, this is Al...Yeah, I'm sorry about that and I really appreciate everything you...I know. Sure...Well, things have been pretty much up in the air and...Yeah. Thanks, buddy...But everything's getting back to normal now...Okay...Okay, sure...Tell him I'll be in first thing in the morning...No...No, I can't today. I've got some phone calls to make...Yeah. And then I have to cut the grass."

the end