by akirakel » Fri Jul 03, 2015 2:42 am
8. FRIDAY
When she woke, she could hardly see. It was as though the room was filled with fog.
She rushed to the mirror.
There had been more changes. Her hair was completely white now.
The skin around her eyes had become crepe-like and thin. Elsewhere the skin had coarsened, and mottled with "sun" spots.
Her eyelids and lower lids both sagged, giving her a weary, resigned look. Deep frown lines had formed between her eyes. She felt tears welling in the corner of her eyes but they only made them glisten--there weren't enough of them to roll down her withered cheeks.
Even her nose had changed--the tip sagged downwards, the bridge had grown higher and narrower and developed a slight bump. A tiny network of veins had formed under the nearly translucent skin.
Her high cheekbones were completely gone. Her face had hollow, shapeless, drooping look. Her jawline was completely hidden by the jowls and sagging wattles that had grown more pronounced last night, while she slept.
She jumped when she heard the door to the room open behind her.
"You didn't hear me knocking, did you?"
A woman stood framed in the doorway.
She thought at first that she was looking into another, happier mirror. The reflection wore a cotton bathrobe, with her hair wrapped in a towel, turban-style. She went to the mirror and uncoiled the towel, and shook her long, thick red hair loose around her shoulders. Her eyes shone.
"Hearing isn't the best at your age," the woman in the bathrobe said. "The eardrum thickens. The nerve endings waste away. You can't hear as well as you used to. Perhaps I'll order a hearing aid for you. Hmm. Perhaps not--"
"You did this to me!"
"Please, dear," the new Sara Ruth said. "Calm yourself."
"I will not fucking calm myself!" She drew the kitchen knife she'd bought yesterday from under her robe. "Undo this! Undo this or I swear, I'll kill you right here."
The new Sara Ruth rolled her eyes. "As entertaining as it might be to see how you'd go about that, I don't want to see you hurt yourself."
She lunged at the impostor, holding the point of the knife as steady as she could as she brought it down.
The new Sara Ruth slapped the knife from the old woman's hand. She grabbed the older woman by the collar of her robe with one hand and slapped her across the face with the other. Then she grabbed the stunned old woman's wrists, shackling them with her own stronger hands. She laughed.
"You lost the muscle mass to pull that off two nights ago. When you went through menopause, and I entered my mid thirties." She tightened her grip on the old woman's wrists. "I can snap you like a twig, dear, not that I'd ever do such a cruel thing. But I'd advise against any fist-fighting at this point just the same. Your bones are quite brittle now. Like a little bird, you are, a dried up little skeleton of a bird."
The old woman continued to struggle. The other woman slapped her across the face again. "Do get hold of yourself, Mrs. Foust! I don't want to hurt you--"
A wave of fury washed through the old woman, drowning her thoughts--and suddenly she felt something warm, something spreading, something trickling down her leg.
"See what you've done now?" the new Sara Ruth cooed. "Poor dear."
The old woman stared at the dark pool forming on the terra cotta tile under her ankle.
Sara Ruth quickly undid the the baffled old woman's robe. "Let's run a bath for you. Yes. It's okay, come with me. We'll get you all cleaned up. Don't be embarrassed! Incontinence is pretty common in women your age."
The younger woman took her arm and ushered her into the bathroom.
"I'll make the water nice and hot," she said. "That's how I always liked it, when I was your age." She squirted bath soap under the running water. "Doesn't that smell good? I own the company that makes that soap. In fact, I designed that particular scent. It's natron perfumed with bitter almond and sweet lotus. It was all the rage, back in the New Kingdom."
She helped the old woman into the bathtub. "There. It's soothing, isn't it?"
"How did you do this," the old woman muttered. The new Sara-Ruth picked up a sponge and gently scrubbed her shoulders with it.
"How? That doesn't matter." She put her lips to Mrs. Foust's ear and whispered, "Do you know what a Nephilim is? Hmm?"
"No."
"Then even if I wanted to tell you how you became what you are now--and I don't--you wouldn't understand."
"Why."
"Why what?"
"Why did you do this?"
"I should think the answer to that would be self-evident."
Suddenly Sara Ruth fanned her long, manicured fingers and held her hand before Mrs. Foust's face. "This part will be hard for you, I'm afraid. Take a breath. As deep a breath as you can."
Sara Ruth plunged Mrs. Foust's head under the water.
Mrs. Foust struggled, but again Sara Ruth was too strong for her. She managed to get her head above the water once, but Sara Ruth plunged her face back into the water with a splash.
The blue light she'd seen before in the spa shimmered in the bathwater.
Then Sara Ruth hoisted a gasping, sputtering Mrs. Foust back up into a sitting position.
Mrs. Foust opened her mouth to scream, and realized that she no longer had teeth.
"No," she said. Her voice had changed again. Now it was whispery, tremulous, so soft, so … feeble. She probed her bare gums with her tongue and sucked at her cheek.
"There. All done," Sara Ruth said, and closed her eyes. She massaged her temples with her fingers, and winced.
"That was painful for me, too, if that's any comfort to you."
"What did you do to me? What--"
"Can't you feel it? I sure can. It's necessary, things don't--fit properly, unless you do the brain last. I'd rather not have done it--it's dangerous--but it's essential."
"My teeth--" She slurred the 'th'. It sounded more like a 'sh'.
"Your teeth are the least of your worries, dear. Besides--" Sara-Ruth cringed--"in that last bit, you got the better deal."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing at all. Don't trouble yourself about it. I shouldn't have said anything." She winced again, and rubbed her temples. "Oh, God--I feel it--"
"Robert!" Mrs. Foust cried. "He'll know. You won't fffhool him. And what are you sshinking of doing? You can't be his wifffhe--you can't sleep with your own son--"
Sara Ruth laughed. It was a beautiful laugh, light, full of energy, but with a hard and knowing edge to it. Mrs. Foust had laughed that same laugh many times herself when she'd been Sara Ruth. It made her tremble now.
"Silly girl," Sara Ruth cooed. "He's not my son. He's my partner. You might call him my husband--yes, sex has always been part of our arrangement. But he's always been my partner. Longer than you can imagine."
"You can't be serious--"
"When you came up here to the spa with me, he knew full well how you and I would be coming back. He chose you, you know. But not for you, or himself. He chose you for me. He knows what I like. I've always loved being women like you--beautiful, strong, athletic--and oh, this lovely long auburn hair--it's my favorite, red hair."
"He knew?"
"This isn't the first time this has happened, you know."
"He--you did this to someone else," she lisped. "--with him--and he did this with someone else--he's like you--"
"Now you're catching on. See. See what I mean about you getting the better of the deal? Yes."
"How many times have you done this--"
Sara-Ruth dropped the sponge back in the water and closed her eyes, a little pout forming on her full lips. "You know, I do believe I've lost count. I'm a little fuzzy on that particular piece of information. And a few other things, too. You really were a lot duller than I thought you were. Had I known just how much intelligence I'd be sacrificing, we'd not be in this situation right now. Ah well. What's done is done."
She stood up and walked to the mirror. She ran her hands over her perfect breasts, her toned stomach, her round hips, and sighed. "I have to say, whatever I may lack now in smarts and cunning is more than made up for by this lovely body. You really were stunning, dear. I do believe this is one of the best bodies I've ever had. I'm not unhappy with the compromise."
Mrs. Foust tried to stand up, but her feet slipped out from under her, and she landed back in the water with a splash.
Sara Ruth laughed. "Oh, are you ready to get out now? Let me help you, poor thing ... there. There. Don't slip on the wet floor. Now you wait right here on the bath mat. I'll get you a towel from the linen cupboard in the hall. Hold that thought …"
Mrs. Foust waited for her to return, naked and shivering on the bath mat. She tried not to look down at her body, but she couldn't help herself. She looked down in horror at her exposed body.
Sara Ruth strode back into the room, a towel in one hand and a purse in the other. That was my purse, Mrs. Foust thought. Her purse, now.
"Getting a little more comfortable with your new self, are we?" She handed the towel to Mrs. Foust.
"I hope you don't mind," Sara Ruth said, opening her new purse. She rummaged around for a moment. "So many pockets! Ah. Here we go." She drew out a pack of Newport 100's, turned it lid down, and tapped the box against the heel of her hand. "I've been looking forward to this moment all week, and I simply cannot wait one more minute! Would you like one, too?"
"No, I--you don't--"
Sara-Ruth put a cigarette between her lips and flicked the lighter. She closed her eyes and drew til the ember sizzled. Creamy smoke trickled from her mouth. She sighed.
"You don't--"
"I don't what? I don't smoke?" She giggled. "Oh, I did, when last I was young. Everyone did then; it was the fifties. No one knew any better." She looked at the cigarette burning in her hand. "Now how did you hold it. Nearer the tips of your fingers, wrist back, oh so casually, fingers fanned, elbow bent? You held high, near the ear, like this? Yes." She took another drag and blew out the smoke in a tight cone.
She smiled. "How do I look, dear? Familiar?"
Mrs. Foust looked away.
"Now, of course, I'll quit when I turn 30. In 15 years, the risks will have fallen so much that it will be as if I hadnever smoked. At the moment, though? I'm 26. And I have four long years to enjoy this. And I will enjoy it. Very much. How I've missed it! You will, too. They won't let you smoke where I'm taking you, I'm afraid. Are you sure you don't want one?"
"Please tell me where--where are you taking me?"
She cocked her head and smiled. "Call me Sara Ruth."
"Sara Ruth," the old woman lisped.
"Ah. And you are?"
"Effie Foust."
"Excellent," Sara Ruth said. She lead the old woman out into the bedroom and roughly dressed her. She'd brought Mrs. Foust's old clothes in a bag; a small unadorned bra, a pair of plain white waist-to-thigh panties, a dark shapeless dress. She pinned the old woman's hair into a bun.
The new Mrs. Foust did not struggle. She closed her eyes.
"Oh, cheer up," Sara Ruth said. "Look at yourself, don't you look nice? Get used to it."
She opened her eyes, and saw Mrs. Foust looking back at her. She heard a low, heartbroken groan--it took her a moment to realize that she'd made it herself.
Sara Ruth grinned. She took off her own robe and went to the dresser and put on Sara Ruth's shiny black bra, her black lace panties, and a peach silk camisole. Then she went to the closet and chose Sara Ruth's favorite Kelly-green dress, the one that went so well with her green eyes and brilliant hair. She slipped it on and zipped it up in the back casually and effortlessly. She put on Sara Ruth's favorite pair of heels.
Then she sat down at the vanity. She swept the old Sara Ruth's makeup into the trash, and took her own from a bag she'd set on the table. She applied a foundation.
"You asked me where I'm taking you. Hmm. Well, you did such a nice job with those commitment papers, dear," she said. She smiled as she dusted a tiny bit of pink blusher on the apples of her cheeks. "Wouldn't it be a shame to let one of your last acts as Sara Ruth go to waste?"
The new Mrs. Foust watched Sara Ruth lightly dust her eyelids with face powder. She swept a light, neutrally colored eyeshadow across her eyelids. Then she brushed a darker, dramatic matte brown over the crease of the eyelid with an eyeliner brush, and blended it with a small fluffier brush. She picked up the eyeliner gel brush and feathered her eyelashes, and then drew a perfect cats-eye wing in each corner of her eyes. She brushed some of the eyeliner over her top and bottom lashes.
She noticed the older woman watching her, and said, "It's not the way you did it, is it? When I was a young woman I always wore it this way. Dramatic, no? Do you like it?" When there was no answer, she turned back towards the mirror. She applied two coats of black mascara to her lashes, and drew a dark line from the lashes to the wings with a Q-tip. She popped open a new tube of lipstick.
"Coral," she cooed, kissing at her reflection to spread it evenly. "I always loved coral. Though it may be too much with this lovely, lovely red hair of yours." She picked up her cigarette from the edge of the vanity and drew deeply. "Tell me honestly, what do you think of the new look?"
"You made me like goddamn nineteen-sixties housewife," the old woman whispered. "No one will believe you're me."
"Oh, it won't matter if I make a few changes to your style. Don't worry. You won't have to suffer, watching how I'm going to enjoy making this body my own. You'll be out of the picture. My husband helped you draw up those commitment papers, didn't he? I'm sure there aren't any legal loopholes. He's very thorough. And much quicker than you are. Were. You'd be a match for him now, or you would be if I hadn't pushed you an extra seven or eight years towards senility."
Sara Ruth stood, and admired herself in the mirror. "Robert always found my raw intelligence a bit … emasculating, in our last life. Remember what I told you, about men? Children. He'll love me with less of an edge. I think I will, too."
"Now you lie down and take a nice little nappy," Sara Ruth told her. "I'm going to lock you in the bedroom now. You'll be safe. And … don't try to leave. You really have nowhere to go, do you?"
"Where are you going?"
"So many questions! See what it's like to have an inquisitive mind, now? I have business to attend to. An employee of mine will be here in just a few minutes to whisk you away to your wonderful new home. You'll be comfortable there--"
"What business?" Mrs. Foust tried to weep, but the tears would not come.
"What business. Hmm." Sara Ruth slung her purse over her shoulder. She strutted to the doorway, heels clacking on the terra-cotta tile. "My business? My business is to live. To cut my swath through this world. To eat every apple and pluck every plum I can. I'm young, Mrs. Foust, and that's the way of youth. This body--this energy--this beautiful, wild, heedless, lovely life of yours--it's mine!" Her eyes gleamed.
"You stole it," Mrs. Foust said.
Sara-Ruth shrugged. "It doesn't matter how I got it. It's mine. It'll be mine long after you're rotting in the ground. Although I won't have it forever ... youth is all the more precious because it is always lost. Yes? What you went through, everyone goes through. Just not at such speed. I've suffered through it more times than I can count. You're mortal, so you only have to go through it once. That's the gift and the curse of being mortal. But don't worry about me, dear, when I'm not young any more, I can just start all over again, with the help of someone like you."
"I'm going to die," Mrs. Foust said, in a hollow voice. " I'll never know what it's like to be thirty. I'll never travel, I'll never have a baby. You've taken everything I had. And now I'm to be committed--"
"Oh, this is getting mawkish, isn't it," Sarah Ruth snapped. "You were going to commit me, you were going to take everything I had, I'll remind you. And Robert never was your husband. He was mine before your grandmother's grandmother was born. Your marriage to him was an illusion."
"Please," the old woman sobbed. "I'm begging you, please, undo this--I don't deserve this--you'll never hear from me again--"
"There, there. I'll never hear from you again, anyway. Your brief life as Sara Ruth was an illusion, too. Just a dream. You'll realize that in the next few days. I've had a pretty heavy daily thorazine dose prescribed for you after you arrive at the home for your rather violent dementia. You made the paperwork for that easy, by the way--trying to buy your gun, yesterday."
She paused after she stepped through the door, silhouetted by the sunlight pouring into the hallway beyond. "Goodbye, dear. Oh, and thank you. Thank you for everything." She closed the door.
Mrs. Foust heard the tumblers in the lock click into place.
END
Last edited by
akirakel on Fri Jul 03, 2015 9:10 am, edited 3 times in total.