The Second Part of Chapter 12: Out

Eunice and Mario were sitting down to a particularly delicious dinner of seafood crepes with a salad on the side. Eunice had taken a bite when she heard a scream. “What was that?” she said, startled.

“You mean who was that,”

“It sounded like it came from the Millers’,” said Eunice.

“I had better see what’s up,” said Mario. With that, he rose and went to the window. Clarissa and James lived four houses down the street, and their front door was visible over the junipers that grew in the front. A glance revealed that the door was open, and he could see the figure of Clarissa, who was talking on her cell phone. He saw her put her phone away, and kneel down near a mass on their floor. That was all he could see. He then returned to the table.

“Something’s going on at the Millers,” said Mario.

“I’ll call them to see what’s going on,” said Eunice.

“Can’t that wait?” interjected Mario. He disapproved of Eunice’s gossipy streak; if Clarissa had something to tell them, she would surely call. They were about to enjoy a nice dinner anyways, and eating dinner while it was still hot was more important than something going on at the neighbours’. He took a line of passive resistance to gossip, usually nodding and saying “uh-huh” before he turned away or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Thinking about Clarissa and James was making Eunice antsy; she viewed herself as one who needed to be up on the latest events and in the know. As a result, she played with her food more than she normally did, and enjoyed it less; she would have normally savoured every bite of her creation, from the texture and taste of the crepe right down to the creamy filling with crab, lobster and scallops. She finished her dinner in five minutes and strode over to the phone.

“I’m sure she’ll call us,” said Mario as Eunice dialled the Millers’ number.

She listened, and frowned when she got a busy signal.

“Fine, I can wait a few moments,”

“I told you, she will call us if there is anything going on; we’re quite close, after all.”

Eunice drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter, and then picked up the casserole dish. She removed the remaining crepes, put them in a Tupperware bin, which she then put in the fridge; Steve, who was from Sudbury, would be visiting for the weekend, and he liked crepes as much as they did. She then did the washing, with her mind always on Clarissa and James. It was interesting to hear Steve talk, especially about the nickel mine where he worked; on the other hand, she was not so much interested in hearing him gripe about his neighbour, a woman named Juliana, which was what he did the last time he visited, in January; gossip lost its appeal when the subject is one whom she did not know.


The phone rang at Ryan’s house, and he picked it up. Clarissa was again at the other end of the line. This time, however, she was in hysterics.

“He’s… dead!” the words came out in stutters.

“Who’s dead?

“James!”

“James…how? He’s perfectly healthy, he can’t be dead!”

“I called the ambulance two minutes ago; I didn’t think he was dead either.”

“What happened, though?”

“He arrived home, and I told him the good news. He then went into shock; it might be a heart condition, I don’t know.”

“Ryan, who is that you’re talking to?” inquired Patricia.

“It’s Clarissa. Jimmy’s dead.”

“My Jimmy… no! It can’t be. He must be alive, he must!”

Patricia went to kitchen and picked up the other phone. “What happened?” she asked sharply, in something of a panic.

“Oh, Patricia, I’m so sorry. He went into shock when I told him I was pregnant. I don’t know what to think right now. He was only thirty-three; I can hardly believe this is happening.”

They heard Clarissa choking back a sob. “It’s just such a horrible way to go. We were supposed to raise a kid together. Would you know of any conditions he might have had that could have led to this?”

“No, not at all. It’s such a tragedy, and we’re all in the dark.”

Was it murder? Surely not, he thought, in dismissal of the absurdity of such a notion; they loved each other deeply, which he could see from the way they would look into each other’s eyes. A woman who loves their husband that much doesn’t just kill him. Did someone else kill him? If that were the case, Clarissa would have told, and they would not be so much in the dark. Was it illness? No, then Clarissa would have had some sort of warning. Could it be a heart condition, as Clarissa said? Now, there’s a possibility; it is known that the first sign of chronic heart disease is death: “it doesn’t make you ill, it just kills you”. On the other hand, heart disease did not run in the family, at least not that he knew of.

Patricia was both in hysterics and grasping at straws; what could explain it? It could not have been anything fishy, and it did not sound like there was any violence involved; if that were not the case, Clarissa would not have called so quickly were she the killer, and she would have said so were it someone else. Little Jimmy, oh poor, dear little Jimmy must have been ill with something. What was it, though? She needed answers! The notion of her grief, powerlessness and ignorance of all circumstances was as much as she could bear.

“Clarissa, were there any warning signs?”

“No; he was fine yesterday. I told him that I was pregnant just as he got home. He was shocked, and then he collapsed.”

This was even more mysterious; there were definitely no prior signs.

“Well, it is very devastating to hear this, Clarissa dear, but thank you for telling us,” said Patricia.

“It just happened three minutes ago,” said Clarissa.

“Well, good-bye then, and we will have to look into funeral arrangements.”

“Wait a minute. You said you were pregnant?”

“I’m keeping the baby. The death of my husband does not change things,” responded Clarissa, sniffing.

“I have wanted a baby, and I will raise one without James, as I shall have to do now. Good-bye, Ryan and Pat,”

“Good-bye, Clarissa.”

Patricia hung up the phone in the kitchen and wept. It was even more devastating for her than for Clarissa, she thought; she had raised him, while Clarissa knew him for less than a year. Now he’s been felled by I-don’t-know-what, leaving a pregnant widow and grieving parents.
Ryan joined Patricia in the kitchen. His cheeks were tear-stained. “Why us, Ryan?”

“Questions like that sometimes don’t have answers, darling. It might be God’s plan,”

Ryan felt a mixture of grief and frustration. Patricia felt the same.

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