Posts by Laurel L. Russwurm

119

feet wearing running shoes dangle off the end of the sofa

Jake is sprawled on the sofa watching the TV on low, but the sound of the lock turning gets his attention. Glancing at the opening hall door he sees Amelia and Eric come in.

“I didn’t say he was a crappy actor,” Amelia says, “I just said his Hamlet wasn’t as good as Gibson’s.”

“But Branagh is awesome.” insists Eric.

“Yeah, he is, but my problem was the production. He didn’t follow the text, Eric. At least Zeffirelli follows the text. Sure, he’ll drop bits here and there for pacing, but they do that in the theatre, what ever they need to make it work.”

“I thought it did work.”

“Not for me.” Amelia shrugs. “What can I say, I’m a purist. If you wanna mess with Shakespeare do a remix and call it something else. You know, like West Side Story. Just don’t pretend it’s Romeo and Juliet.”

“But it was Hamlet.”

Jake says, “Wanna keep it down? People are sleeping.”

Amelia flushes with embarrassment. “Sorry.” Her gaze lights on the TV screen. “Is that … oh, wow, Rear Window.”

Eric says, “What?”

Jake grins and points to the television. “The movie.”

“Classic noir,” Amelia says, “I love Cornell Woolrich almost as much as I love Dash Hammet. That is such a great movie, I think it’s Hitchcock’s best, too. You know, if I wasn’t so pooched I’d join you. Oh well, enjoy. G’night, guys,” as she heads upstairs.

Eric drops into the bean bag chair. He glances up the stairs to make sure Amelia is really gone before admitting, “You know, I thought ‘film noir’ meant ‘black and white’.”

“A lot of the movies are black and white, but it’s a genre.” Jake laughs. “Hard boiled detectives, femme fatales, gritty cynicism.” Seeing Eric has no idea, Jake smiles big. “Rear Window is a Hitchcock classic. You’ll like it. This one has serious suspense.”

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120

exit sign against a burgundy wall above an oak door froma housing an instritutional door (at Wilfred Laurier University)

Amelia opens the door and smiles at the sight of Liz snoring with a book collapsed on her chest. She pries the book from Liz’s hands and lays it on the night table next to the charging cellphone.

Draping her jacket on the back of her chair, Amelia changes into her neon green nightgown, slides into her fuzzy green slippers, pulls on her purple robe and grabs the bathroom bag before switching Liz’s bed lamp off. She leaves on a night light that will allow her to get back to bed without disturbing Liz.

Pulling the room door closed, she turns down the dimly lit hallway toward the bathroom. Amelia has decided to settle for a pirate bath, saving a real shower until morning. And she just has to get the fur off her teeth or she’ll never be able to sleep. As she rounds the corner she runs into a strange man. Amelia’s blood curdling shriek would put many a Hitchcock heroine to shame, and is more than enough to trigger the man’s shriek in response.

The hall light comes on full, throwing the tableau into sharp relief. Amelia stares at the man she’s never seen before as doors open and resident female students step into the hall or peer through cracked doorways. The sound of pounding feet from downstairs announces the arrival of reinforcements.

Maggie glares at the man, who is wearing only a woman’s pink chenille robe stretched rather tautly across his weight lifter form. She plants her hands on her hips and says, “Think we need to call the cops on you pal?”

“Hey, lady, I’m visiting with Elsie. Just using the bathroom,” he says.

“It’s like this,” Maggie tells him, “This is private property and you are not authorized to be here.” Seeing Amelia is shaking, Maggie throws a protective arm around her shoulder just as Eric and Jake burst into the scene.

“Are you okay?” Eric asks, and Amelia nods.

Jake is overwhelmed at being surrounded by a universe of scantily clad young women, so he averts his eyes and drops into a crouch, busily gathering up all the things that Amelia’s bag has spilled over the floor. Eric joins Maggie in glaring at the interloper; he has never seen the guy before, but he damned well recognizes that robe.

Maggie says to the guy, “Aren’t you leaving?”

“Okay, okay, I just have to go get dressed, then I’m outta this nuthouse.” He pushes past and around the corner.

Joining the confab Liz asks, “What on earth is going on?”

Amelia squeezes Maggie’s hand and says, “Thanks”, then tells Liz. “I was just going to brush my teeth and I ran into that guy. It… um… he startled me, that’s all.   But maybe I over reacted.”

Maggie folds her arms.”This has to stop.” Amelia nods.

Jake hands the bag back to Amelia, still feeling somewhat embarrassed, “Uh, everything is under control here, time to go Eric.” Jake flees down the hall. Eric looks to Amelia, “So everything is okay then?”

“Yeah, fine. Under control anyway. Go.”

Eric wants to give her a reassuring hug, but isn’t sure that it’s allowed, so he just says, “Okay,” and follows Jake.

Amelia calls after him, “Thanks, Eric.”

Eric waves and heads out. As he rounds the bend to catch up with Jake, Elsie’s door swings open and the strange man steps out, still tucking in his shirt, clearly in a rush to be gone. Now wrapped in the chenille robe, Elsie leans against the door frame, narrowing her eyes as Eric passes, pointedly ignoring her.

The guy follows Eric, calling, “Hey guy, wait up.”

Eric doesn’t slow down but the guy hurries to catch up. “No, really, bro. How the hell do I get out of here?”

Eric sighs. “Follow me.” Eric starts down the central stairs into the common area. Having just turned off the television, Jake watches Eric lead the stranger to the exit.   Opening the door, the guy asks, “What’s the big deal?”

“We’re all on on edge here because one of our roommates was raped.”

“Oh, Jesus, man, I had no idea. I’m really sorry.”

Eric shakes his head as the guy heads out. “Not your fault. Elsie isn’t exactly the soul of tact.”

Back in the upstairs hall the roused students mill around, discussing the general discomfiture they have all been feeling. It’s quickly agreed that Maggie can lead the delegation. So the company follows Maggie to Elsie’s firmly closed door. It opens immediately on Maggie’s knock, and Elsie surveys the crowd.

“Ah. Maggie. Can I help you with something?”

Amelia says, “We’ve decided that there aren’t going to be any more nocturnal guests.”

“That was you who screamed?” Elsie asks. “You scared the poor guy half to death.”

Maggie interrupts, “No more, Elsie. That’s part of the deal when you live in residence.”

“Nobody said anything when it was Eric.” says Elsie.

“No, but we all know who he is. He’s a housemate.”

Amelia adds, “I never ran into him up here.”

“That’s bullshit, Amelia. What’s your problem anyway? You were screwing around with Eric in the common room the other night.”

Amelia is momentarily shocked at the accusation, but then grins at Elsie, “You’re jealous.”

Liz shakes her head. “It isn’t going to happen again, Elsie. Natasha was just beaten to a pulp and raped. I’m sure she wouldn’t like running into strange men in the dark, and she shouldn’t have to. Have some compassion.”

Elsie glares up at Liz. “And your point?”

Faces inches apart, Liz doesn’t flinch, she shakes her head. “You’re living in residence. The community is on edge. There will be no more strangers on this floor. Period.”

Folding her arms, defiant, “And what if I say no?”

“Then I get you bounced out of residence quick as I can.”

“I’ve been here longer than you have.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re breaking residence rules. Who knows, maybe it could even get you expelled.”

The colour drains from Elsie’s face as she stares in horror at this woman who has never even made it to her radar before.

“What have I ever done to you?” Petulant in the face of Liz’s implacable calm.

“Nothing, until tonight when your lack of consideration caused harm to my friend.”

Glaring at Amelia, Elsie says, “She looks fine to me.”

“This is not negotiable.”

“I’ll think about it.” Elsie retreats to her room, slamming the door. There are snickers and whispers as everyone disperses.

Amelia tells Liz, “That was awesome.”

“I just said what we were all thinking.”

Amelia nods, “That’s right. But you said it.”

§

In the dark, Natasha is pressed up against the head board, clutching a pillow, heart pounding, eyes wide in terror. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu–

She holds her breath as there is a knock on the door. Then she hears Maggie say, “Natasha? Can I come in?”

Breathing again in relief, Natasha says, “Just a minute.”
She tries to get her breathing under control as she crosses to the door and unlocks it to let Maggie in.

§

Inside her room, Elsie leans against her door. They’re all stupid and jealous. She doesn’t have time to find an apartment before Christmas. It’s gonna be more expensive too. Just because they can’t get laid enough, they want to make her conform. Maybe she could cut back a little, but it isn’t fair though. She isn’t hurting anybody. And it isn’t any of their god damned business.

If anybody is hurting anybody it’s that loser Amelia. Seems fucking Eric isn’t enough for her. Elsie is not giving up sex. No way, no matter what those jealous bitches want. It’s her release. It’s therapeutic. As necessary as breathing. The physicality and the endorphins make it possible for her to stay on an even keel. With her course load she needs the release, damn it. It’s healthy.

Okay, she can understand Natasha probably doesn’t … damn it anyway. The problem is, she knows Liz is right.

Until she finds an apartment, sex will have to happen elsewhere. It’s so unfair. She hasn’t done anything wrong. Given a chance, she’d stake the fucking rapist down on an ant hill for messing up her life.

But getting turfed is not an option.

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121

the popular computer game played on a cell phone

saturday

Wolfrom stares miserably out the passenger window of the unmarked car as Lewis navigates the cul de sacs of the suburbs. Wolfrom shakes his head, “How do people live like this. Everything looks the same.”

Lewis laughs. “Not exactly. The plans are the same, and the streets may be cookie cutter, but if you look closer you’ll see signs of individualism.”

“I don’t see it.” he stops as Lewis slows the car then turns into a driveway. This bungalow does look different. The lawn is overgrown, the paint is peeling and a general air of decay rests over the lot.

“This one looks like a crack house or something.”

Lewis nods. “Good guess. Maybe a year ago we busted this one. Didn’t recognize the address at first.” Lewis winks at Wolfrom, “Crack houses are cheap. They all look alike.”

Wolfrom rolls his eyes. “So what are we doing here?”

Lewis shrugs. “It’s gotta have something to do with junior perv ’cause it’s the address that woman slipped me.”

As they get out of the car they are assailed by the cacophony of power lawnmowers throughout the neighborhood. Mowers all through the subdivision are mowing lawns far shorter than the long bedraggled grass that Lewis and Wolfrom have to cross on this lawn in order to to reach the front door.

Lewis knocks.

Immediately the door opens a couple of inches before the chain catches it.

“Yes?” It’s a young woman’s voice, but it’s dark inside so they can’t see her.

“Police.” says Lewis, fanning her badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions, Miss Brooks.”

There’s no response so she adds, “Routine investigation. Can we come in?”

The voice says, “Can you pass me your badge officer? Waving it around like that it’s awfully hard to see.”

Lewis shrugs and passes it through the crack where it disappears. Wolfrom reaches into his breast pocket when the voice tells him, “Not you. Even if your badge looks legitimate you won’t be coming inside.”

Wolfrom frowns. “What?”

Lewis’s badge is extended through the crack. “I’ll allow you in by yourself Detective Lewis.”

Lewis nods as she pockets her badge. “You’ll have to wait in the car Wolfie.”

Disconcerted, Wolfrom says, “What did I…?”

The voice says, “It’s nothing you did. Just you’re a man.”

“But …”

Lewis shoots him a look. “Just go.”

Wolfrom stomps back to the car. He watches the front door close then reopen without the chain. The woman glimpsed in the shadows might be pretty if she cleaned herself up. Dressed nicer. Wolfrom wonders if he’ll ever understand women. This is ridiculous. This is … this is … it’s discrimination is what it is. He watches Lewis disappear inside.

Not for the first time, Wolfrom regrets having quit smoking. He opens his phone to play some Tetris.

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122

bolts and LEDs combine to make the eyes

The speakers project Pablo Lentini Riv’s masterful Bach classical guitar renditions while Adam and Dave work side by side at the workbench in Adam’s basement.     Bits of metal and wire are scattered everywhere.   Dave carefully solders a cellphone sized motherboard while Adam wires yellow LEDs into the metal face of the robot they are building.

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123

a mug of coffee sits beside a cream pitcher and spoon perched on a saucer

The young woman stirs her coffee, looking deep into the mug, as if she’ll find her fortune there. It helps avoid eye contact with the cop sitting across the table.

Quietly taking a sip, Lewis waits, patiently. She’s seen this before, knows not to push. “This is good, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” the young woman shrugs. “Sorry about your partner. It’s just, just …”

Lewis nods. “That he’s a man.”

“Yes.” Eve Brooks looks at Lewis gratefully. “I can’t have any men here. It’s just too dangerous in this rape culture. Safer.” She looks at Lewis. “You’re here about that pig Neil, aren’t you?”

This time it’s Lewis who looks away. “We’re conducting an investigation. If there’s anything you can tell me, it will be appreciated.”

“You won’t do anything.” Miss Brooks shakes her head. “Nobody ever does.”

“Look, I can’t help you unless you talk to me.”

Brooks laughs mirthlessly. “Even if I tell you everything you won’t be able to help. Not in this world. This culture.”

Lewis says, “I’ll do what I can. That’s all I can promise.”

Brooks shakes her head again. “People say it’s stupid and I’m over reacting. It was in an elevator full of people. He … he … was rubbing against me …”

Lewis is startled as Eve Brooks abruptly pushes her chair back with such force it overturns. Even so the woman barely makes it to the sink in time to heaves up the contents of her stomach. Lewis rights the chair, then returns to her own, carefully looking away, trying to offer what little privacy she can. Eve Brooks finishes, then washes everything down the drain before rinsing her mouth out with the clean running tap water. She remains at the counter, leaning over the sink.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” says Lewis, looking at the witness, she sees white knuckles gripping the lip of the sink for support.

“I’d better stay here.”

“Whatever you want.”

“Um. Look, I tell you, and then you go. Okay?”

Detective Lewis nods. “Alright. Can I call you later?”

“If you want. Just you won’t want. What happened. Well. We were packed in the elevator like sardines, and I didn’t realize. I mean I didn’t notice him at first, and I didn’t realize what was happening. I thought it was just so crowded. People couldn’t really help it we were all so close together. I thought we were just pushed against each other.
“But then … then I could feel his breath on my neck, hear him grunting.

“And I knew. But … but I was trapped in the back. And I could feel him rubbing … rubbing his penis against me, and I started having a panic attack but I was trapped. The elevator kept going and he kept pushing into me and … and … there was no air.”

She stops to throw up some more and Lewis feels a cold chill as she realizes the young woman is right. No prosecutor will ever bring charges over a “she says he says” in an elevator.

Even if they believe her, the bastard will walk because she didn’t say anything to stop him at the time. But the signs are there; Lewis knows. Eve Brooks was already a rape victim before that pig Neil Molony dry raped her in an elevator full of people.

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