The Third Part of Chapter 14: Halloween and After

Eunice went down the street to visit Clarissa in the early evening of the following day, the sun having just set, and Eunice having just garnished a steak, which was in the oven. Her behaviour last night was perhaps the most notable aspect of her party, in that she was absent from the fun and jokes, which was unlike her. Eunice walked up the front steps, which were strewn with a few withered leaves, and knocked on the door.

“Coming,” said a voice from inside the house. It was Clarissa, but her voice was flat and quiet, unlike her previous self. She opened the door and it appeared to Eunice that she was much worse for wear.

“Hi Clarissa, I’m so sorry you couldn’t come to the party last night.”

“Sorry; I was exhausted. That seems to be happening a lot these days.”

Eunice looked around the front hallway and the living room; the carpet had not been vacuumed lately––she estimated not since James’s funeral––and the cushions on the couch, which were normally arranged carefully and symmetrically, were now in disarray: one was on the coffee table, the other on the ottoman. This disarray also extended to her bookcases, from which several books were missing, and could alternately be seen on the coffee table, the couch, and the floor near the fireplace.

“Yes, that was sort of what I wanted to talk to you about; are you feeling okay? You don’t look your usual self,” by which she meant the side of herself that she had presented a few weeks previously.

“I’ll admit that I’m still feeling drained, although I don’t know why; I’m not as busy as I was before, so that can’t be it,”

“I know, I remember in university you were involved in all sorts of clubs, the student union, and you had a job; I quite frankly didn’t know how you managed all that and still did well,”

Clarissa half-smiled at the transparent attempt at flattery, but showed none of her teeth, and her eyes retained that tired expression.

“I think work is just wearing me out,”

“I think it’s that your husband died; you know that just as well as I do, dear. I don’t know how it relates to you becoming tired, but it must be affecting you in all sorts of terrible ways, and, well, we’re worried, you know; both Mario and I...well, we pray for you at night.”

Eunice noticed some framed photos sitting on top of a small shelf in the living room. They were of Clarissa and James, and looked like they were honeymoon pictures, as she could see plainly that the pictures were taken in Newfoundland. Next to the photos, in a vase, stood a wilted carnation. This gave the arrangement the appearance of a small memorial for James that had been set up some time ago, and neglected since.

They then walked into the kitchen, in which Eunice could see the previous night’s unwashed dishes in the sink, and the potted oregano and rosemary plants were starting to wither.

“Oh dear, Clarie, you seem to have been despondent this past little while; when I was in here in September, everything was spotlessly clean!”

“I’m too busy for that right now; I have dinner going.” She gestured to the stove, on which Eunice saw a chicken breast frying with some sweet peppers and mushrooms, while the pasta was on the counter, and a pot of water was coming to boil.

“Now Jimmy’s dead, I feel as if I don’t have any choices or direction: I must continue marching into the unknown, but I don’t feel as if I’m getting anywhere,”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when Jim was alive and with me, the whole world seemed more alive and more wholesome. Now that he’s dead, I see death everywhere: there’s road kill on the street outside, bird carcasses, and withered gardens,”

“It is autumn, you know; of course things are decaying.”

“Well, I’m sorry that he was a pill-popper and had to die,” said Eunice; she had heard this fact from Belinda after the funeral; the Millers’ medicine cabinet, however, remained private.

“Where did you hear that he was a pill-popper?”

“Belinda,”

“That’s not true; the only pills in there are Tylenol, which I need for headaches, but Jim was very healthy until–”

Eunice took advantage of her sudden pause. “Really? I wonder why Belinda told me that,”

“It’s probably just her trying to sound all-knowing or something. If she said that, she’s really stupid; I mean, what can you hope to gain by spreading lies?” That rhetorical question went unanswered, and Clarissa continued. “I don’t know when I will get choice back; maybe when my baby is born, I’ll be happier,” she gestured to her slightly enlarged stomach.

Sensing that the conversation was leading nowhere, Eunice said, “I see; I had better get dinner going too. Mario said he wanted steak, and I left him to fry some onions and mushrooms.”


On returning home, Eunice checked on her steak. “It ought to be ready at seven,” she said to herself.

“How’s Clarissa?”

“Her house is a mess, which is sort of a reflection of her present state; she’s not happy,
which she never explicitly told me but anyone can pick up on that. She’s also tired.”

“From what, something at work, or something that happened last night?”

“I think it’s tiredness in general.”

“She said that?”

“Yes and her house also told me that.”

“I’m getting very hungry now,” said Mario, who wanted to take his mind off of something so sad, and food was his main distraction when something was troubling him; Eunice’s description of Clarissa’s behaviour sounded vaguely like the symptoms of depression, which was really troubling. On the one hand, he felt that he wanted to help Clarissa in some way, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure exactly how.

His propensity to eat as a method of distraction was fortunately absent in his other characteristics such as his waistline; he was genetically blessed that way. He turned back to the mushroom and onion garnish he was making.

“What about mashed potatoes?”

“Oh yes, I need to make them,” and with that, Eunice started peeling the potatoes.

Forty-five minutes later, they were eating, and Mario was talking about work.

“We have lots of turkeys in stock,” he said.

“It’s that time of year again; turkey-roasting time,”

“Have you heard from Kate?” Kate was short for Katelin; Eunice referred to her mother by that affectionate diminutive.

“No, not yet, though I think she’ll call on Friday,” said Eunice.

“How’s her liver?”

“The doctors are saying that she will need a transplant at some point,” said Eunice. “Poor mom
would simply not keep away from the bottle in her youth, and now she’s paying the price,”

“Speaking of liver, would you like some tomorrow night? We have quite a number of cow livers in stock, and there are also a couple packages of chicken livers,”

“Perhaps; liver would be a nice dinner,”

“Good; I’ll bring some home tomorrow,” said Mario.

November, after having a cold start, with a hard frost on the night of the first, was pleasant during the first half of the month, and then grew colder. Snow could be seen first on the escarpment in the distance to the north, as whitening at the top of the hills, which appeared blue in the distance during the summer, and grey in the fall and late winter.

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