Maple Street Part 1

 Rachel sat on the front steps of her Father’s house. She was not prepared for this kind of meeting; in fact, she’d been dreading it all week. But it was time. She had to do this. She looked at the street lamp at the end of the block. It would be going out soon. The light from the sun was just starting to peek up over the hills.

“Excuse me? May I help you?” Rachel heard a voice behind her, she quickly rose to her feet and turned around in one swift motion. There was a woman, about 40-ish, in a terry cloth bathrobe, standing in the door frame.

“Hi! I’m here to see Sam?” Rachel did her very best to sound non threatening. Soothing.

“May I ask what this is in regards to?” The woman tugged at her robe, as if it would protect her from Rachel’s response.

“I’m Rachel” The woman stared into Rachel’s eyes, but her expression remained unchanged.

“I’m sorry dear, you’re going to have to give me a little bit more than that”

“I’m Rachel! Rachel Maringold? I’m Sam’s daughter!” The woman almost seemed to recoil at this response.

“Well dear, there’s no Sam Maringold at this-”

“NO, his name wouldn’t be Maringold his name would be Woodacre! Samuel David Woodacre. He lives here in this house. Ma’am, I know that you don’t know me and I’m just some girl sitting on your porch at 5:30 in the morning, but I’m telling you. I’m Rachel, I’m his daughter” The woman backed further into the house. Her left hand tightly gripping her robe, so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Well, Rachel, he’s not here” With that, the woman slammed the door. Rachel could hear the sound of the latch being forced into place.

That went well. She knew she should have borrowed some different clothes at the women’s shelter. She’d considered it, briefly. But she’d gone with her regular fish nets shorts and hoodie. She was a little unnerving for sleepy suburbia. Rachel gripped up her backpack from the steps and started walking. She’d have to come back later.

Or wait....she could go to his job....He was probably still working at the hospital….

But then again, that’s another place you can’t just waltz into and demand to see people unannounced.

Rachel walked to the end of the block and looked up into the street lamp right as it was about to go out.

She began to wonder who that woman was. His new wife perhaps? It’s completely reasonable that he would get married. He’d been married to her mother once.

Rachel heard the sound of a door opening. She turned slightly to see a man booking it to a car in the driveway, from the house she’d just approached. This was it. This was her shot. Her one shot. If she was going to talk to him, this was it.

“Dad” Rachel whispered quietly to herself as the car pulled out of the driveway. She had no other option. This was it. This is what needed to happen. This….

It was as if an outer force had taken over her body. As if God or the spirit of her mother was urging her towards the answer. It all happened so fast. As the car approached….Rachel made her move.

She memorized every detail in that moment. The teal color of the car.

One step

The Toyota emblem in the front.

Two step

the sound of the wheels moving on the pavement

Three step

And finally, the look of terror in the drivers eyes

Impact.

It was so fast. Rachel could feel every bone in her body. Every molecule of what made her human seemed to shift. It was nothing like in the movies. She didn’t go flying into the air….there was no rolling on top of the car. He could only have been going about 15 miles an hour. It was more like….Like running into a table. But if the table was 1500 lbs and being thrown at you. Just kind of “thunk” and she went down. The car pulled to a screeching halt, and then there was a distant ringing.

“He can’t run from me” she thought

The pavement was cold. Like ice. Rachel thought about a time when she’d gone ice skating with her Mom, falling onto the ice....how cold it was. She heard a voice in the distance; but she couldn’t see him. He was so close.

“MISS? MISS? Oh my God, are you okay? Don’t move, don’t move….I’ll….Maryanne! Maryanne!! Call an Ambulance! MARYANNE! I HIT HER, PLEASE CALL THE POLICE”

He’d gotten out of the car. She’d succeeded. He couldn’t ignore her now.

“Daddy” Rachel whispered. There was a hot metallic taste in her mouth

“Daddy it’s me. It’s Rachel” She closed her eyes.

Rachel opened her eyes again to the sound of beeping and a low hum. She took in her surroundings…..slowly at first.

There was a woman in blue pajamas standing by her feet with a clipboard. No wait, not pajamas….nursing scrubs.

Rachel was in a bed.

She smiled to herself. She was in a hospital.

“Hey you” She heard a soft deep voice from her left. Turning her head ever so slightly, it felt like her skull was made out of bricks.

It was him. Sitting there in a gray suit. He had brown eyes, Just like Rachel’s.

“Daddy” she whispered. “Daddy you came”

“How are you feeling?”

“Daddy” Rachel said, ignoring his question “I have to tell you something. I have to tell you about what’s happened. Daddy, Mama died. Mama died about a year and a half ago. I know that you said that if we left the house we could never come back. I know you said that, I know what you said. And I understand why, I understand why you would feel that way. But Daddy, Mama was sick. She was sick and I was just a little girl, I didn’t know any better. If I’d had the choice I would have stayed in the house with you. I would have stayed on Maple Street. I wouldn’t have let her take me. Daddy I know it’s been years. I know you haven’t seen me in forever and ever. But I’m still your little girl. It’s still me, Rachel. I want to come home. Please. I know that you’re married to that bathrobe woman. And it might take some getting used to….but I have nowhere else to go. I want to start over. Daddy I’m so sorry we left you. I love you so much Daddy”

Rachel closed her eyes again. She’d practiced what she’d say for hours before approaching the house on Maple street. But now, in her fragile state, she had thrown out her mental notes. She was exhausted.

“Get some rest.” The man stood up gently, trying not to disturb her. He walked out of the room and to the attending Doctor who had been watching from the window.

“Will she be ok?”

“Mr-?”

“Forester.”

“Mr. Forester, her vitals appear to be good. She is doing surprisingly well for someone who’s been hit by a moving vehicle. You’ll be able to take your daughter home in a few days.” Mr. Forester looked in on Rachel, then back at the Doctor.

“I feel terrible about what’s happened, but I have to tell you, that’s not my daughter.”

“Oh! I...just assumed because of the whole...the Daddy speech.”

“No. I’ve never been married before Maryanne. I’ve never had children. And, well, we’ve only lived in that house for about five years. I feel terrible. Maybe she was the daughter of the previous owner?”

The Doctor furrowed his brow.

“This changes things a bit. I’m so sorry, but if you’re not her father I can’t release anymore information to you. I should have been more thorough and not assumed…. but then again when a patient tells me that the visitor is a relative, I tend to believe them”

“Did she speak to you? Did she say that I was her father?” Mr. Forester had a shake to his voice. He couldn’t recognize if it was due to worry, or fear.

“The EMT said that-” The Doctor stopped himself “I’m sorry, I can’t relay anymore information to you if you’re not a blood relative. I apologize if you feel we’ve wasted your time”

Mr. Forester took a step back. The Doctor’s tone implied that he felt the reverse.

Mr. Forester turned his head to the window of the hospital room. He looked at that poor injured girl in the bed. Maybe he didn’t have to tell her that he wasn’t who she thought he was? Maybe….maybe Maryanne would be okay with having this young lady stay with them for awhile.

“Doctor, what if, what if we just held off on telling her? Just a day or two, until she gets her strength back. I don’t want to traumatize the poor girl. She’s been through so much” The Doctor Rolled his eyes, so harshly that Forester was concerned that he might pop a blood vessel.

“Mr. Foster-”

“Forester”

“Forester, I’m really not in the business of convincing my patients that the strangers who put them in the hospital are blood relatives. I’m sorry sir, doesn’t that sound insane to you? Lying to a poor injured girl? Letting her believe in a fantasy just to take it away?” The Doctor placed the chart in his hand down on the nurses station.

“And I’m ASSUMING Mr. Forester, that you would eventually mean to tell her the truth? I mean. What kind of a monster would-”

“What if I didn’t?” Forester raised his voice slightly above the Doctor’s

“What if I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t her father? Ever, I mean? It’s clear that this young woman has had a VERY hard life! And, who knows if she’ll ever be able to locate her actual father? Or, if he’ll even want to see her or speak to her when she does find him? Sir, this young lady was so eager to make contact that she threw herself in front of my car. She deserves validation. Even if it’s not from who she intended.” The Doctor locked eyes with Forester. He somehow seemed more agitated than when they began speaking.

“It is my job to treat this patient. To help her. To tell her the truth. I won’t lie to her. I suggest you say your goodbyes. I’m sure you have a lot of explaining to do to the police.” Forester took two steps back. The Doctor turned and walked away.

Rachel sat on her bed watching her Father speak to the man in the white coat. He had such a concern in is eyes. Rachel let out a sigh that hurt in her chest. Things would be different now. Things would be better. She had her Dad, and a new mom. Maryanne.

Rachel closed her eyes and imagined a life on Maple street. A life where she was raised by Her Father and Maryanne. Maybe they’d do some baking together, go shopping or maybe get their nails done.

Rachel sunk into her hospital bed and imagined her first day of college; because she’d of course go to college in a world where Dad and Maryanne were her parents. Dad would load up her car, probably the Toyota- he’d hand it down to her. Maryanne would make a fuss over whether Rachel had enough money to get food.

“Don’t forget to stop for gas” Maryanne would say

“Oh mom, you’re always looking out for me” Rachel would say

“Excuse me” Rachel snapped out of her fantasy “I’m Doctor Connor I’m a resident here at St Christophers. I just have to ask you a few questions.

Rachel opened her eyes to see a young woman. She had milky white skin and red hair, but Rachel could see her brown roots. Her smile revealed teeth that had most definitely been paid a great amount of attention.

“I bet you have a family that loves you.” Rachel croaked. Connor’s smile faded, revealing lines on her face that implied smiling was her default setting.

“I’m sorry I don’t-”

“ You know, a mom a dad. Giving you encouragement. Taking you to ballet, buying you a dress for prom. The works. I bet you lived in a really nice neighborhood” Connor delicately cleared her throat and looked down at the clipboard in her hands.

“Can you tell me your name please” Rachel rolled her eyes

“I told the EMT all of that”

“OK, but we just need to confirm with you now that you’re stable”

“Rachel Elizabeth with a ‘z’ Maringold M-A-R-I-N-G-O-L-D”

“And do you have any next of kin, I mean any-”

“I know what next of kin means” Rachel barked.

“I’m sorry Miss Maringold. Do you have-”

“He was just here Doctor Connor. His name is Sam Woodacre. He has a wife named Maryanne Woodacre. They’ll be back to pick me up when I’m well.”

“Oh wonderful!” Connor frantically scribbled on her papers. Rachel noticed that her pen had a bunny on the top.

“I need a home address and phone number”

“I don’t have a phone number. But I live at 114 Maple Street. Or I will. I will when my parents come back for me.”

“Maple street what?” Connor looked at Rachel, with her big stupid greed eyes

“Are you asking me a question?” Seriously, Rachel wondered how this Red headed bimbo could have become a doctor at all.

“I need a city, state and zip code” Rachel blinked. City State and Zip code. Of course, they of course needed a city….state…..and zip code. ‘Well’ She thought ‘I started out sassy might as well end sassy’

Rachel rolled her eyes. She tried to make it enough of a spectacle for Connor to catch on to it

“What City are we in Doctor Connor?”

“Jackson”

“And what’s the State that we’re in?”

“Minnesota”

“Good! Oh you’re so good. Now one more….look down at your little papey papers and tell me the zip code from where I had my accident”

“56143”

“THERE YOU GO! GOOD GIRL!” Connor looked as though she was about to cry.

“OK….well…. Thank you” Connor’s eyes welled up. Rachel felt a sting of guilt. She opened her mouth to apologize but Connor cut her off

“I’m going to give your chart to Doctor Rosannea, and then he’ll be in to talk about your discharge” Connor turned on her heel and scurried out as if her feet were on fire. Rachel felt awful. Why couldn’t she just tell Connor? Why couldn’t she have just admitted that she didn’t know where she was? That all she knew was that she lived at 114 Maple street. That her arsenal contained only her own name, childhood address and her father’s name?

She realized why she couldn’t. Because they would commit her. She knew that it sounded crazy. Finding her father on minimal information, and a feeling. But it had worked. She’d found him, and now they were going to be a family. Rachel closed her eyes for a moment.

“Hey” Rachel opened her eyes again, this time the room was dark. She looked towards the door, and there he was.

“Daddy” she whispered. Her father entered the room with a rolling suitcase.

“Are you ready to go?” His voice sounded shaky, uncertain.

“Absolutely” Rachel rolled out of the bed and to her feet. Everything ached, but she didn’t care. She was going home.

To be Continued…...

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Gregory

Gregory sat in his living room on his big Chartreuse couch. He knew, for a fact, that it was chartreuse because of his Wife, Emmalina. Emmalina had spent hours agonizing over furniture when they'd first moved in 45 years ago.

    "Oh Greggy!" she'd  said in that sing songy voice that set all of his senses on fire.

 "Oh Greggy Greggy! Look at this! It's the most perfect shade of chartreuse! Can we get it Greggy? Oh please?"

    So now, 45 years into the future, Greg sat on this worn Chartreuse couch. He reached for his beer on the side table. Non alcoholic. Emmalina had hated when he drank, so he quit.

    "Oh Greggy! Oh Greggy, I worry about you. I don't want you to get sick. You know, My granddaddy got sick from drinking too much beer. He drank so much that my Gran had to move an old mattress out onto the porch for all the nights he came home drunk as a skunk. Poor Granddaddy could never find his keys when he was drunk like that. And Gran had all of those babies to take care of. She didn't want him coming home and banging on the door at all hours of the night. So, She put out that mattress. Gran was so resourceful. OH Greggy! I don't want to have to lock you out of our home! Our perfect home!"

Gregory had done everything for Emmalina. Everything. He'd changed his hair, his drinking habits. He got a job at the Post office because Emmalina had thought that his job at the butcher's was too "icky".

    "You come home with all that blood all over you Greggy. It's so yucky. I hate it. Can't you please work somewhere clean? I get so scared when I think about all that blood and all those poor animals getting all butchered up, Greggy. Please Greggy"

Chartreuse. The color of Piss, if you ask Gregory. He hated that couch. He hated working at the Post office. The only thing keeping his life together was his absolute unwavering deep passionate love for Emmalina. He looked at the TV in front of him. He had yet to turn it on. In the black face of the monitor he could see himself. Sitting on the heinous couch, drinking that awful, awful  "beer". He was disgusted with himself. He didn't even recognize that man in the reflection. He looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:30 pm. He wondered about Emmalina. Where was she this late? Where was the meaning of it all? Where was the beauty in the dark cavern that had engulfed his life?

        "Emmalina?" Gregory let out a small whimper. He hated the sound that left his lips. So castrated. Like he was begging permission to even speak her name. He'd been a tough burly man for the whole of his life. He'd never say "Sir" to anyone.  When Emmalina came along, all of that changed. He'd become a polite, church going member of society. At least to the outside world.

You see

Gregory still had needs, a man often does have needs. They come in all different forms. Sometimes the lust of the flesh, sometimes the thirst of alcohol. Sometimes the desire to destroy.

Gregory had possessed all  three of these needs, and Emmalina had stripped them away. Slowly at first, it started with the drinking.

Then came his Job.

Gregory had been ok with waiting until their wedding night to experience physical love with one another. He'd been alright with her reasoning. He'd understood the importance of maintaining her purity. He had no problem with waiting.

He knew that when they'd get married, that he could focus all of his manly needs into His beautiful wife. He could transfer all of what she had stripped away into love.

And this, this idea made him feel more Holy. Closer to God. Closer to Emmalina.

    At first, being physically romantic with Emmalina was enough. For the first 2 months of their marriage Gregory was sated. He had everything he needed, in Emmalina.

Then, oh then, the imposter.

Emmalina was so ecstatic about the intrusion

"Oh Greggy! We're going to have a little Greggy or a little Emmy! We're going to be a Mama and Papa! Aren't you proud, Gregory? Aren't you?"

That was the first time in their relationship that she'd called him 'Gregory' it was so fast that you'd almost not notice

But Gregory noticed. You'd think a grown man would be happy that his 23 year old wife was finally dropping the pet names, but not Gregory. Hearing her call him "Greggy" had been making him fully aroused for 1 1/2 years. He'd finally been able to do something with it, and now 2 months into their marriage, everything was ruined. He had to do something. He couldn't just let a small human come between him and his desires, his needs.

He did what had to be done.

         The doctor had said that it was a "Miscarriage" that the child just stopped developing.

    "Don't worry" The Doctor had said to a sobbing Emmalina

    "You will be able to try again in a few months"

Gregory saw to it that when they did try again, nothing came of it.

It was so simple. Just a little bit of a thing. Just a little foxglove. not enough to kill her, but just enough to rid her of the imposter. Gregory knew that a baby would strip the purity from his perfect bride. That the final castration would be complete.

Every time they "tried" he would feed her a little with her dinner. She didn't realize it of course. Emmalina, so trusting. So loving. To her, it was nothing more than a romantic meal. But Gregory knew. He would get all the fun.....with no repercussions.

        Gregory snapped back into the now. He looked down at his empty bottle of beverage. Gregory let out an exasperated sigh, and rose to his feet. It was almost dinner time. 8 pm every night. Maybe there would be something in the refrigerator. A leftover casserole, or maybe some jello. Something to tide him over. As Gregory entered the kitchen, he saw the silhouette of a person at the kitchen table. He turned on the light….

    "Oh! Emmy my love, when did you get home?" he reached for her, but she pulled away.

    "Why Gregory? Why did you do this to us?" Gregory was shocked.

    "That's no way to speak to the man who loves you. That's no way to treat someone who has done everything for you. Why would you pull away? Why would you come home so late? Why would you ask such a terrible question?"

 Emmalina looked down at her hands. That's when Gregory saw that they were stained red.

Gregory backed up. His heart beating in his chest so hard.

     "WHAT'S WRONG? WHY IS THERE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS?"

        "I've tried. I have tried, so hard Gregory. I did everything you asked of me. I was sweet. I was virginal, I was everything you could have ever wanted. Why wasn't it enough Gregory? Why?" Emmalina's eyes welled up with tears. Her face began to radiate a red hot

    "Gregory! ANSWER ME!"

    Gregory stepped back once more. He looked, deeply into the eyes of his bride. She was looking straight at him now. And he could see. He could see everything.

Hair, black from the rain.

Mud caked onto her cheek....the whites of her eyes were violet red, the sockets bruised

    "I-I didn't want to be a Father" Gregory managed to spit out all at once.

" I only wanted it to be us Emmy! You know! You and me! In love! You remember Emmy!"

Emmalina forced her hands up to either side of her head, making a God awful clapping Reminiscent of glass breaking on the ground.

        "No Gregory! Why! Why did you do this to me Gregory?! WHY GREGGY WHY"

The sound of her saying his name, finally after 45 years, sent a surge of adrenaline throughout his body.

 He had to have her right there. And then.

Gregory lunged at Emmalina, with all of his might, toppling her off the chair and to the ground. He began furiously pawing at her

        "No Greggy! Not now, not like this!" He tore off her already weathered blouse. He was even more excited by the bruises on her chest.

    "Oh Emmy, I've wanted to hold you like this for so long" he wrapped his hand around her breast. He could feel where the skin was broken. She let out a pained whimper. He squeezed. Hard.

"After losing my job at the post office.....after being ostracized from the church....I thought nothing would ever be the same again....oh Emmy....oh my beautiful lamb...."

Gregory ran his hands down her body to her skirt, tearing it off in one swift motion. Her stockings were already ripped........

He stopped. Her stockings..... were already ripped. He looked up into the eyes of the woman he had begun to ravage. Her eyes were blue. A sickly ocean blue.

Emmalina had hazel eyes.

Gregory rose to his feet.

    "You're not my wife"

The woman on the floor lay motionless and began shaking her head.

    "I....did.....every...thing.....you....asked....of....me...."

Gregory looked down at the woman on the floor.

    "YOU'RE NOT MY EMMY!"

The woman winced.

    "I'm.......I.....came to help......after....your wife....."

Gregory stood straight,  regaining his composure.

        "Just get started on dinner Emmy. I'm not mad. We can talk about it after dinner. I just don't like to be tricked. I'm thinking a nice roast tonight? Yes....that would be lovely"

He walked to the refrigerator and got out a nice cold non alcoholic.

Gregory sat in his living room on his big Chartreuse couch. He knew, for a fact, that it was chartreuse because of his Wife Emmalina. Emmalina had spent hours agonizing over furniture when they'd first moved in 45 years ago.....

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.