"Margaret!!" With a wheezy hoarseness of someone half dead, I shouted as I slammed the tinted-mosaic-glass mahogany door behind me.
Turning round toward the girl who'd been shadowing me ever since we got here, I gave Liz the signal look.
Just act like I told you.
"Margaret!"
"Robert?" My wife came down the spiraling staircase in the main hall. "Robert!" Her curly golden hair undone, she was dressed most appropriately for the occasion. If the air could be considered proper attire.
"Honey!" Upon seeing Liz, she cowered and hid behind the stairs. "You could've called so I could prepare!" I could her knees thumping against the wood as she crawled back into her room.
"I didn't want to ruin the surprise," I said to her.
"Mine or yours?" Her voice from behind the bedroom faintly reverberated in the hall.
"Of course it's mine. What other surprises have you got for me?"
"You think you've seen it all?"
"Of course I have!"
"Kevin has a ten pack."
"Tch—"
Another one. I was expecting maybe a six pack, but a ten?
"I'm almost impressed. Maybe next time you can find me someone with twelve!" I strained my neck and yelled to the back of the house.
The mind couldn't handle the taboo. Once it had gone off the rails, there was no stopping it from looking out for the worst-case scenarios.
My wife was getting tired of being bound to a sore loser like me. She also wasn't just the type to lust after younger men; she was just warped in the head.
Imagine cheating on your human husband to sleep with literal mutants.
"Aren't you jealous? Was that why you brought her here?"
"Yeah, I'm jealous that I couldn't get a piece of Kevin myself!"
—Why did I say that?
I wasn't being literal. It was a figure of speech.
Whatever, she got the point.
"I'll introduce you two next time~" She popped out from the stairs again, this time in a wet white towel and somehow with even messier hair than before. "But you should introduce us first."
"Liz." I gestured toward the younger girl. "Long story short, she's my savior."
"Hello, gorgeous! You look wonderful. It's so nice to see you!" Look at her, slinking over to the girl. Liz was shrinking into the corner by the main entrance. "Did my husband treat you right? Did he touch you?" Her tone was low enough to almost emulate a man's voice.
I forced a dry cough. "What's that even supposed to mean?" She was the one touching her!
Liz just stood and stared at Margaret.
"So he did touch you. Look, honey, I understand. You don't have to say anything. Come on, let's go to the cops and file a restraining order. You'll never have to see his face ever again."
"Why did you say yes when I proposed to you? I didn't do anything!"
Liz stood there with a blank expression.
"Something wrong, sweetie? I'm not kidding around, you know."
"Please don't file a restraining order against me!"
Liz looked at me, unsure what to do.
What are you doing, Liz?
Just stick to the plan!
"Nice to meet you," Liz finally spoke up.
"A beautiful voice that matches a beautiful young lady!" Margaret jumped in to give her a warm embrace. "Oh, you're so adorable, I could kiss you. Come help me prepare dinner while we talk?"
"Where's mom and dad?" I asked Margaret.
"Who? Oh, them." Margaret turned and headed to the kitchen by herself. "They left two days ago."
"Do you hate them that much?"
She made them move out of the house.
"I love your parents. They just needed some fresh air." Margaret was no longer in the foyer at this point.
To stay away from you, I assumed.
"What are you doing??" I whispered, eyes wide at Liz.
"Sorry." She dipped her head low. "She's just so pretty, I forgot what to say."
"Wha—yea, she's supposed to be the most beautiful woman in this neighborhood, well, according to her, anyway."
"She's the prettiest woman I've ever seen."
"You serious? Don't say that to her face—she'll turn her head so hard she'll never be able to see her own feet again."
Liz gave a nod. I was expecting a good comeback from her but it never came.
The house was, for lack of a better description, ransacked. The blue sofa in the living room was barely hanging together, being torn almost into thirds. The carpet was shredded. Chew toys in all kinds of shapes were scattered across the floor—a bone, a corn, a flexing gorilla...
It didn't look like it was done by a person. My wife was not the type to eat furniture.
She was keeping company. A pet.
An exotic kind. The ones you'll only see on television or in the zoo.
I knew something was up judging how she didn't even react when I suggested we get a fox pet for the urine.
Liz ran her fingers across the fraying cotton on top of the sofa. I shook my head. "It's her pet. Don't worry about it."
Yeah, don't ask any more questions because I won't be able to tell you.
"Like a big dog?" she asked.
I groaned and shook my head. "Very big dog." Probably. "Ask her about it. She'll show it to you."
We had steamed broccoli and water for dinner, part of Margaret's staple diet. And of course, a bowl of red chilies.
Maybe I should've called her beforehand to tell her to make something edible.
Liz didn't seem to mind. My wife offered to run to the mall for some grocery but Liz insisted that this was perfectly okay.
Considering the things we were about to tell Margaret, anything on the table would've been fine.
It all started with the meeting at the park, I began my story.
I told her about the giant spider hybrids, Liz as a Kitsune and her prison cell of an apartment, the bodyguard that never arrived, the video tape and the police who couldn't see the things recorded in it.
We even showed Margaret the tape. She couldn't see those things, either.
The only detail that was left out of conversation was my encounter with the hobo when we came out of the police station. I also didn't tell Liz about it.
To our surprise, Margaret took it all in pretty easily.
So far so good.
"You're not thinking we're making this up?" I asked.
"I've heard worse from you," Margaret said. "But truth or not, you still should've called."
"Sorry."
"If it weren't for the bite marks on your leg, maybe I would've sent you both out of the house alread—no. You wouldn't have made it through the front door."
"You were planning to change the lock or something?"
"You wouldn't have made it out of the cab in the first place."
"You were going to shoot me??" I asked her. "Don't listen to her, Liz. We don't have guns in the house."
"Or so he thinks," Margaret added, chuckling.
"No, we don't. Stop scaring her."
Maybe she wouldn't hesitate to point a gun at me.
Technically, Margaret had been the one to check on my wounds every night, so my story didn't seem too far-fetched from her perspective.
"So... you're fine with me being away for three days?"
"Of course. Kevin was fine with it, too. He didn't mind."
"I'm being serious."
"I know, I know. I'm glad that you both made it through in the end, but that's enough reminiscing for the night. Since you're both here, I'm guessing she didn't have the cure."
"No, but I brought her here to—"
"—that's all I needed to hear. C'mon, time for some karaoke!" The wooden chair slid back with a jarring creak as she trotted to the living room.
What? Now? I asked her.
We were now in the other room.
"Why do I live, why do I die?" Margaret broke into song. "Do you know this one, sweetie?"
Liz gave a quick nod. "I'm not a good singer," she said meekly.
"You're not with an audience, sweetie. It's just you and me." She handed her the bronze mic. "You can go away now." She turned toward the big screen, waving the back of her hand at me. Tah-tah, I could almost even hear it.
"Marge, we still have something to tell you."
"I already told you I'm okay with everything."
"..."
"Oh dear, this is a tough one! Hang on."
Margaret paused the playback.
"We gotta warm up. First off, Falsetto." She started making opera noises. "C'mon Liz. Do it with me."
Guess I'll go f*** myself, was what I said, basically, but minus the profanity—she didn't need to hear it—I limped out of the living room and headed to bed.
This is an S.O.S, of an earthling in distress.
From what I could tell, Liz was probably just miming the lyrics. Margaret was the one doing the "singing". I didn't think Liz did the warm-up with her, either.