Only the young die good- Oliver Herford
★

Henrietta Douvall had looked beautiful back in her day. But ofcourse, that was the time when there was no makeup for hiding huge zits or camera filters to make you look a little less worse.  Damn you Snapchat! There were no slim models to make you feel bad about ordering that scrumptious double cheeseburger. Back then, everyone looked beautiful in their own way. These days, people only looked beautiful if they had an artificial butt, an artificial nose or artificially long nails. What did the people of this generation call them again? Oh yeah, acrylic nails. Pathetic!

Now, Henrietta had clocked her evening years. She was well into extra time. She had celebrated her ninety-fourth birthday only three months ago. Henrietta was so old that she could feel the after life hovering over her head like a very loud helicopter. For her, a double cheeseburger was the equivalent of a bag of heroin. She was only allowed to eat bland foods that tasted like the equivalent of warm cement. Fucking doctor's orders.

Henrietta looked every bit of her ninety-four years. Well defined lines, which some rude and insensitive people liked to term as wrinkles, were etched on her forehead, around her sunken eyes and around her mouth. Her neck was lost to a pile of sagging flesh and her stringy grey hair no longer obeyed the good will of a comb. The billowy sundress she wore didn't do much to hide her crinkly translucent skin. In short, she resembled a vapid witch. All she was missing was a broomstick and a welcoming coven.

Make no mistake. Henrietta might look like your average creased old hag on the outside but she was one tough babushka. Just ask her husband. Well you could, if you were into seances or you could just visit his grave like a normal person. But that wouldn't yield results. Henrietta's husband couldn't tell you that she had shot him to death with his own treasured revolver the same night he had pummeled her with his fists. He couldn't tell you that Henrietta had left no implicating evidence behind and thus she had never been convicted of his murder. Not that they'd suspected her anyway. Even back then, she'd known how to play the part of the grieving widow very well. Henrietta didn't even remember why he had hit her, but that didn't matter now. Henrietta would discuss the 'shouldas' and 'wouldas' with her husband in hell over a bonfire.

Henrietta's tough nature had saved her from death but it also brought one major problem. It had brought with it loneliness. A loneliness so abject that she craved any sort of human contact.

Most of Henrietta's friends were either six feet under or lying half dead in some hospital or confined to some sort of wheelchair or making the final amendments to their wills. Henrietta didn't even need to write a will. She had nothing to give. She was living off her daughter in a palatial cottage straight out of a fairytale. Oh how the great have fallen!

The last of Henrietta's friends were bedridden in their children's homes as they fought a losing battle with some terminal illness. Mostly, it was some sort of cancer. Henrietta didn't even have family to rely on. Her only daughter, Abigail,  had made it crystal clear that she didn't want to see her ever again. Abigail was still so damn pissed at her for murdering her beloved father as if she hadn't killed her own husband. Ungrateful bitch! After all she'd done for her. Henrietta knew Abigail would never admit to murdering her second husband but a mother always knew when her child told a lie. After all, Abigail had learnt from the best in the husband murdering business. To make things worse, Henrietta had grandkids who didn't even know that she existed. All but one.

Matthias. Little brown eyed Matthias. So hopeful that his Gam Gam would save him from the wrath of his uncle turned stepfather. She still remembered the day when her new son-in-law, Marcos, had brought Matthias to her. He had literally thrown Matthias along with his suitcases at her doorstep, gotten into his car and then he had driven off leaving a cloud of unrelenting dust in his wake.

Little Matthias had cried for his mother. He had even gone on a hunger strike. What Matthias didn't know, was that a battle against food can't be won. A day and a half later he had wolfed down a plate of steamed rice and fried chicken. Henrietta didn't know then, if he had simply become resigned to his fate or if he was making a genuine attempt at moving on. Matthias soon stopped crying for his mother. He had even began playing with kids his age. His grades had started to improve. Then her son-in-law had returned.

The memories of that day were seared into Henrietta's mind. It was Matthias' sixteenth birthday. Henrietta had planned a surprise party. She had baked a cake and everything was all set. Then her son-in-law had stormed in and chased all the guests out. He had dragged her into her bedroom and told her about his plans to enroll Matthias in the army. Her son-in-law had made her sign some papers at gunpoint. He'd threatened that if she didn't get Matthias all packed up and ready to go within five minutes, he would shoot him.

Consequently, Henrietta had lied to Matthias. She'd said that he was going to live with his mother again. Matthias had been excited in that sixteen year old boy kind of way where you never showed your true emotions because that would ruin the bad boy vibe. He'd simply shrugged and feigned nonchalance.

Matthias must have felt betrayed when he'd realized that he was not going to see his mother and that he was being enrolled in the military instead. He must have felt betrayed by a God who'd let him suffer so much, by his mother who had never bothered to come for him, by his father who had left him on earth and by his Gam Gam who had fed him a bunch of lies for his sixteenth birthday.

Every now and then, Henrietta dreamt about Matthias. Sometimes she had good dreams where she dreamt about a smiling boy wolfing down a hearty meal of rice and chicken. Other times, she had nightmares where Matthias was killed in an explosion in Afghanistan. Those days she would wake up with a scream ripe in her throat, sweat flowing down her wrinkled face in tiny undeterred streams. Henrietta hoped that Matthias was doing well wherever he was. She hoped that he would forgive her for failing to protect him and for lying to him.

With Matthias gone, Henrietta had nobody left. Except for the UPS delivery man, Eddy, who delivered her groceries every Thursday. Eddy had been there for her when her own daughter had abandoned her. He had made a place for himself in Henrietta's heart. She loved Eddy like a son. On some days, Henrietta thought that she even loved him more than her own daughter. And for good reason. Eddy had refused to work for his rich father. He had preferred curving a name for himself with his own sweat to managing his father's multi-million dollar business. Eddy now worked two full time jobs to support his two kids.

Just like her, he detested social media. But that was not what had brought them together. It was their shared love for music from the 70's that had brought them together.

Henrietta examined her appearance in the mirror for the third time. Her hair was a bit askew but then it was always like that. She picked out a pair of brown loafers that she'd not worn in years so that she could tame her gnarled feet and left her room.

Henrietta laboriously descended the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom, she was panting like a dog in summer. If she was not careful, she would be joining her sister in the afterlife very soon.

Henrietta reached her kitchen and yanked open the fridge. It was so old that it required two more tries for it to open. She picked the container of chicken that she had left to marinate overnight and got to work. The chicken was for Eddy. It was her way of getting him to stay longer. She loved their witty conversations.

Henrietta drowned the marinated chicken pieces in beaten eggs then smothered them in breadcrumbs and put them in a pre-heated pan containing oil. The chicken began to sizzle almost immediately just as the neighbor's dog began to bark incessantly.

Henrietta opened the back door of the house and waved her spatula as she shouted at the dog over the fence, "Quiet down."

The dog would not listen. Henrietta sighed. Damn mutinous dogs. It was good she'd seen the downside of adopting a dog before she'd made a stupid mistake such as getting one for herself.

Henrietta didn't know why but the grey hairs on the nape of her neck had risen. All of a sudden, she felt scared. When a dog barked like that, it always signified something ominous. She slammed the door shut and heaved a temporary sigh of relief. Atleast she was safe in her home. Right?

Henrietta ran around the house double checking the locks on the doors and windows. She was safe. Then she remembered the chicken. She painstakingly ran back to the kitchen and found that her chicken was no longer going to be edible. Time for Plan B. Pasta. Everyone loved pasta. She put water on the stove and added the  pasta as soon as it began to boil. A pinch of iodized salt went in and the dish was done. All she had to do now was wait. She used the time to catch her breath. At her age, she shouldn't be running like that.

Henrietta sneaked a glance at the clock in her living room. She was trying not to make it obvious that she was impatiently waiting for Eddy. That was already proving to be difficult. Her feet were tirelessly tapping the floor.  Henrietta couldn't allow herself to be this desperate. Especially for a man. But she was panicking. It was coming to nine P.M and he was not yet here and the pasta was getting cold and the dog was fucking still barking. Fuck! Henrietta forced herself to calm down. She didn't want her blood pressure to shoot through the roof because she hated hospitals with their fussy nurses and long needles. Why wasn't he here yet?

Henrietta finally calmed down when five minutes later, she heard the familiar sound of a heavy engine. Eddy was here. She rushed to the window and watched Eddy unload two boxes from the truck and place them at her doorstop. He was dressed in a dull buggy jacket that fell around his knees, khaki pants and a huge white hat. The hat was new. Henrietta didn't mind the hat because it made Eddy look like a cute Mexican cowboy. She forced herself to wait for him to knock before she opened the door.

The first thing Henrietta noticed was that he was broader than usual. "You been working out, Eddy?"

For his answer, Eddy nodded. He was awfully silent today. Normally he would have already burst into some spiel about his two kids or he would be complimenting Henrietta's dress or the loafers that she'd put on for him. The awkward silence stretched on and Henrietta was getting fidgety. She twisted her hands so that they could have something to do. Henrietta felt the need to break the silence.

"I made pasta." Henrietta said.

"Nice." Eddy replied. His voice was hoarser than usual.

"You have the flu or something?" Henrietta inquired.

"Just a little cough." Eddy answered. He was now carrying the boxes into the house. The dog was still barking.

"No need to worry. My pasta will make you good as new." Henrietta patted Eddy on the shoulder and left to plate up dinner.

Dinner was an awkward affair. Henrietta kept trying to make small talk while Eddy kept his replies curt. Henrietta was relieved when dinner was over. She really hoped that Eddy got better soon because she didn't like sick Eddy. She got up to clear their plates.

"They just don't make pasta like this in the military." Eddy complimented.

Military? Eddy had never mentioned that he'd been in the military.

Henrietta's hands began to shake.

"Isn't that right Gam Gam?" Eddy added.

Gam Gam?

The plates fell from Henrietta's shaking hands and splintered across the oak floors. "Matthias?"

Henrietta turned slowly and saw that Matthias was holding a knife. Everything was silent now except for the persistent ticking of the clock in the living room. Even the dog had stopped barking. It had tried to warn Henrietta but she'd refused to listen. Her problem now.

"Where is he?" Henrietta needed to know where the real Eddy was.

"In the trunk." Matthias shrugged.

"Is he dead?" Henrietta's hands gripped one of the  chairs as she surreptitiously slipped off her loafers.

"That all depends on you."

"What do you want?" Henrietta asked

"To see my mother." Matthias taunted.

Henrietta looked into his red rimmed brown eyes and she knew that he hadn't come so that he would see his mother. He had come for her. Matthias raised his knife and Henrietta ran. Her ankles made a popping sound and the broken pieces of the plates cut into her feet but she pushed on. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Matthias grinned. She should know better than to run. He loved it when they ran. The chase was even more fun than the bloodbath. Just ask Harleigh. His little dancer girl had made him proud.

After all, how far could an old lady get on her own two feet?

★

I don't know about y'all but I am already writing Henrietta's obituary. Do you think she'll survive. After all miracles do exist. Right?

Disclaimer: I said some pretty bad things about God but that was because Henrietta is atheist. She doesn't believe in God. It's not my personal opinion. So my Christian readers, please don't eat me.

Hit the star button for me. Don't stop till it turns orange.