“Already Dead” Ch. 2

Heather stood by her window, looking down at the partially uncovered corpse of her mother. She marveled at how used to it she had become, how the sight of the tarp and the exposed foot laying revealed, gray and rotting, no longer created much of a response from her. She wanted to believe she was in shock, that she simply failed to understand what it was that she was looking at and what exactly she had lost.

But the truth was she really didn't care as much as she figured she should. When her father died, and she knew it was coming soon, that, she was sure, would upset her.

The sight of her dead mother had lost its novelty almost as soon as it had first happened. What was one more tarp covered body is the broad scheme of things. All she had to do was look around, and she could see the neighbor's houses, their yards full of yellow tarps. People she never truly knew, but still feeling like living beings even as they sat, seeping into the earth.

But not her mother. Her mother was dead, and that didn't bother her too much.

“She was a bitch” she said to herself.

That was all the justification she could manage.

She pushed back against herself, against the prodding of her subconscious mind looking for a better explanation for her indifference. And though she found herself mostly successful, it was only the knocking at her door that provided her with a momentary reprieve from the answer.

“Honey, it's dad. Can I come in?”

“Come on in!”

Her father sheepishly opened the door, waggling the medicine in the bag. She instantly noted that there was only one bottle. She decided to table that conversation, instead going with an old standby.

“Why do you tell me it's you. You are the only one in the house.”

He chuckled in a thin way, perhaps carrying a bit more than he wanted to admit.

“I know. Listen Pumpkin, we need to talk.”

She realized she wasn't going to get to avoid it.

“What is it?”

He sighed, and she tried to ignore the rattling in his throat. “Honey, I think it's time for us to consider...other living arrangements for you...”

Her eyes began to sting as she swallowed down the growing lump in her throat.

“I am fine here. I'm not getting sick.”

Her father nodded weakly. “I know...I know. But...I am probably not going to make it...and I don't want you to be stuck here alone-”

“Oh just stop it!” she yelled indignantly. “I'm not going anywhere. I'm not letting you die alone. Don't make me go away.”

He was silent.

“Please,” she pleaded.

He looked up her, his body looking half dead. How he was walking she could not understand.

“I don't want to worry about you. I want to know you are safe.”

“I'll be just as safe here as anywhere else.”

“You know that's not true. We are one of the last families left on the block. I'm not saying you need to leave now or that we need to figure it out now. I'm not dying to today. But...just think about it okay. It will help me feel better.”

“Emotionally manipulative son of a bitch,” she thought angrily.

“Okay dad,” she said convincingly. “I'll think on it.”

“Thanks Bun,” he said appreciatively. He seemed to lose track for a moment, his vision fogging a little. A gentle shake of the head, and he seemed to return. “By the way, any idea what you would like to have for dinner?”

She thought for a moment, then brightened with the thought of her favorite dish.

“I'll do dinner tonight. You rest.”

Her father looked at her with puzzlement. “Are you sure you aren't sick?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, throwing a pillow at the door.

He chuckled too, then paused for a long moment.

“I love you Pumpkin,” he choked out.

“I love you too dad. I'll be down soon to prepare dinner.”

He nodded, half smiling. Then he closed the door and slowly made his way downstairs.

She turned away and looked back down at the body in the yard. She didn't want to imagine that another tarp would be soon joining her mother's. The realization that came soon after didn't help at all.

For as soon as the thought finished, she realized that no one would be home to move her father.

They would just leave him where he died, and mark the door with an X.

To minimize exposure to the virus.

She murmured something to herself, but she wasn't able to make any of it out.

She was only half listening.

It had started to rain, and the sound of the water pitter-pattering off the tarp outside reached her, even through the thick glass. Her moms toes seemed to twitch as the heavy rain struck them, and she watched for a few minutes as the still body suddenly seemed animated once again.