Grandma

Grandma


"Billy, Billy Boy."

"Grandma, is that you?"

Something was wrong, but Billy couldn't put his finger on it.

"Come here Billy."

Billy smelled Chanel no. 5, Grandma's favorite perfume, but he couldn't see that well. He rubbed his eyes, but it didn't help. He was in a fog.

"Come here Billy, come and see Grandma."

In the distance he saw a silhouette, hazy and dreamy.

"Grandma" Billy's heart started beating faster. "Grandma." Something was wrong, but what was it? It was...what was it? It was...that was it. Grandma was dead.

"Grandma, no!"

She sounded stern. "Billy come here right now! Listen to your Grandma and get over here."

"No Grandma," Billy thought he should wake up now. "I'm not going over there, you're dead." Billy kept thinking he should wake up. Usually it's easy in a nightmare, just say, "wake up" and he'd do just that.

"Come here now, you little pest, get yourelf over here, now, you're coming with me." She had that sound in her voice, the one that scared Billy and made him cry.

"Grandma, where are we going?" Billy's voice sounded like a little kid. He sounded to himself like he did when Grandma was bringing him to the coal shed.

"To hell."

Billy cried out, "WAKE UP" and he sat up in bed, soaked with sweat, gasping. He tried to calm himself down, a cigarette would be good now, but the doctor made him quit smoking years ago. Billy took a a breath. Chanel no. 5. He pinched his nose and jumped out of bed. He could feel a crawling tingling feeling from the back of his scalp down his spine to his rectum which was squeezed tight. He tried running to the bathroom, but his legs were asleep and he fell against the night stand hitting his knee. Billy kept his nose pinched and stifled a yelp, then did a quick limp to the bathroom. Trying not to breathe through his nose, he ran the hot and cold water together until it was pee warm, he then cupped his hands under the water and brought it up to his face where he snorted at least an ounce into his nostrils. The water burned his sinuses and brought tears to his eyes, he sneezed it out and coughed from the bit that trickled down the back of his throat, then he pulled a few
sheets of toilet paper off the roll and blew the remainder into it.

Slowly and carefully, after turning on the light, Billy took a breath. No perfume.

He sat on the edge of his bed. His heart was pounding. Grandma. She used to do just that, take him to hell in the coal shed. That's where she kept the stick. Sometimes, especially when she'd been drinking Peppermint Schnapps, she'd bring him in there for no reason and make him take down his pants...underpants too. Then she'd go to work. Billy sat on the bed and started crying. "I thought she'd leave me alone" he laughed and cried at the same time. "I thought it was over." Silly thoughts. It was a nightmare, and now his heart was slowing down and he felt the effects of the evening's sleeping pill.

Reluctantly he settled back, leaving the bathroom light on. He closed his eyes and thought about his favorite movies, trying to recall the dialog. "Here's looking at you kid." "Luke, feel the force." "Life is like a box of chocolates." "Hello Clarisse." "Come here, Billy!" He knew it was wrong. But she sounded sweet this time. Like sweet Grandma, not like beating Grandma, like nice Grandma. "Grandma, be nice, Billy loves you." "And I love you my little pet"

"I love you except when you're being naughty."

"I'm not naughty, Grandma, I'm never naughty."

"Oh yes you are. You've been naughty."

"No, Grandma, I've been good, don't take me there, please."

"Billy...come with me."

"No Grandma, it's not good there. You'll hurt me. Please. Please."

"Billy, you're getting me angry. You don't want to get Grandma angry!"

Billy stepped into the fog. He could smell Chanel no. 5.

"Wake up!" he screamed to himself, but he couldn't hear his voice. I'm moving my lips but I've got to hear my voice, he thought. If only he could hear his voice he could wake up. "Wake up, he screamed" but he couldn't hear his voice.

"Take down your pants."

Noooo. Nooo. Not that, not the stick, please Grandma. He couldn't hear it.

"Take them DOWN."

Please no. Can't hear it. Billy tried to sit up, but he still felt like he was standing. Like he was drugged. It was the sleeping pill, why did he take it? If he only knew. Please.

"TAKE DOWN YOUR PANTS AND COME WITH ME TO HELL."

Billy fell out of bed. Chanel no. 5. He tried to crawl under the bed. He thought he heard a voice. "I'll get you." He couldn't hide under the bed. It didn't work when he was a kid. It wouldn't work now.

Now. Now, now...now. Calm down. Just a dream, just a nightmare. Billy started sobbing. "I need sleep" he said. The sound of his voice startled him. "I...just need...sleep."

He crawled into the bed and laid back spent and exhausted. "I'll face up to her. I'll confront her. Then, finally I'll have some peace." Billy had a strange feeling again. Like Deja Vu, only different. He exhaled, almost whistling through his lips and let himself drift to sleep.

"That's my sleepy baby. Come here and sit on Grandma's lap."

"Grandma, don't hurt me any more."

"I don't hurt good boys, have you been good?" Billy could smell the Chanel no. 5, stronger than before.

"Yes, Grandma, I've been good."

"Are you sure you've been good?"

"Yes, Grandma, I've been very good."

"No you haven't you little pest." Billy felt scared, but exhausted. He felt sad. Sad for himself. Sad for the little boy he was at one time. Sad for what he knew was coming.

"Please, please." he said, and began convulsing.

"Come with me, pull down your pants and come with me."

"Oh please, no, please no, I'll do anything."

"No you won't you little pest, you won't do anything. You're coming to hell."

Billy screamed, he screamed with everything in his power, but he couldn't hear it. His heart raced and he tried to wake up. But he couldn't. So he screamed more, and more, and more.

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"What time did you find him?" Doctor Finnerty asked.

"Oh, it was about seven fifteen this morning. I came in to wake him up and saw him like this."

The body was on the bed, pajama bottoms pulled down to it's knees and mouth frozen wide open.

"Looks like a heart attack." said the doctor. "We've had him here for quite a while. A troubled soul, sometimes incommunicative, other times just as affable a young gentleman as you could wish for. He would probably never leave here, extreme trauma. He'd killed his Grandmother for beating him. Stabbed her forty two times with a kitchen knife."

"How sad," said the nurse, "everyone here liked him."

"Say nurse," the doctor asked, "What kind of perfume is that you're wearing?"

"I don't wear perfume." she replied.