My Sweet Marie

© 1998 Tara Roberts
All rights reserved.

The woman in the basement stopped crying today. It's too bad. I miss the sound of her voice—so soft and sweet, so much like Marie's. Usually I despise the sound of crying, but her delicate wails sent pleasant shivers racing down my spine. I will miss her.

I'll never forget the last time I saw Marie. She stood in front of the local stadium with one hand waving at me, flagging me down. I could see her eyes sparkling from where I sat across the street. I hadn't seen Marie in a couple of months and I was taken aback. Usually I only see her once or twice a year, never more. Maybe I would be seeing more of her now?

This angel in white taffeta entered my cab and told me her destination. This time around she had short auburn curls and was tall and slender. Beautiful. Although we didn't speak to one another on the ride to her house, I kept looking at her in the rearview mirror. She knew I was looking, too, and kept squirming in her seat, moving her slender legs so I could catch a peek of her firm thighs. No, we didn't speak, but her body language said it all. She wanted me to play with her, to dance to her tune.

I pulled up in front of a large, almost overwhelming, house. I would have opened her door for her, but a man was standing in the driveway and had already opened her door before I could get around the car. Every time Marie resurfaced she always had a man in her new life, a man who controlled her every action. Even if she could prevent it, she wouldn't have it any other way. How else could she infuriate me but to have a dominating partner? A dominant partner who would continue to control her in their afterlife if I failed again. In order to win, I had to dispose of the man every time. I had to rescue her from him.

I looked at the man, ready to challenge him for her hand, but he wasn't as intelligent of an opponent as I was and mistakenly believed I was awaiting my taxi fare. With a sway of his hand, I felt something hit my chest. A crumpled ten-dollar bill lay on the ground at my feet.

"Come on, Barb," the man curtly ordered, his harsh black hair blowing roughly against his face in the cool September breeze.

My blood boiled. How dare he speak to her in such a manner! Didn't he know that she wasn't Barb any longer, that now she was Marie? I turned to her, my gaze softened by her incredible beauty. I could see into her soul—my beautiful Marie. Her deep brown eyes looked into mine, and she murmured, "Keep the change."

I remained where I was, unable to exhale in her presence. I waited until they walked up the long driveway and entered the house before I returned to my cab. She had spoken to me. She remembered me. She still loved me. My fury rose to an all-time high. Marie wanted to be with me and that man was taking her away! I knew that it was part of the game, that jealousy and rage were key players, but it was difficult to suppress my animalistic impulses. I almost got out of my cab at that point, removed my pistol from the glove compartment and ended it right then and there. But I restrained myself. Marie would be unhappy if I did that and would probably go away to find a different player to replace me. Although I am tiring of her sneaky, childish tactics, my love for Marie is too great to let her slip away again.

In her last body, Marie had blue eyes and was short and heavy-set. Despite her body-jumping, I always recognize her by the twinkling in her eyes—her soul playing peek-a-boo. She always enjoyed playing games, showing herself and then fleeing to another body before I could capture her. I will get her and keep her for myself. But at this particular time she was showing herself in another's body, playing the game again. I would have no choice but to keep pursuing her until she was ready to be mine forever.

I waited for her to call for a taxi and to request me as her driver. I was confident the call would come in, but after a week I realized she wouldn't call. It did cross my mind that she probably didn't know my name ... but of course she did! Just because Marie was occupying a different body didn't mean that she had forgotten about me! No, she knew me. Heck, she loves me!

No, it was because he wouldn't let her call. I knew this. That controlling bastard! Poor Marie. What atrocities was she experiencing? What sins and violations was he committing against her? He did this to her all the time! Oh, he would pay. I whispered this promise to my sweet Marie.

I waited by the stadium that evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of my angel in white, but she didn't show. Cursing, I turned the cab around and headed to her house. He probably wasn't letting her out to see me! I had had about enough of him.

I parked my cab in her driveway. A few carnations grew in scattered piles throughout the front yard. I picked a bunch of them and made my way to the door. I rang the doorbell and nervously shuffled from foot to foot. Why was I nervous? Marie loved me. She would be grateful I had come to her aid again.

And then—there she was, standing in the open doorway wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe. Her hair appeared to be damp. I smiled at her. Her angelic face contorted into an expression of bafflement. "I didn't call for a taxi," she stated, perplexed.

"I use a cab when I am not working," I said. "I am here for him." I pushed my way past her, trying not to touch her velvety softness. She would let me know if and when she wanted me to touch her. "Where is he?" I glanced around the dining room; a table, two chairs, a lace tablecloth, two lit candles, dishes. No man.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" she asked, her slim arms on her curving hips.

I chuckled and then promptly handed her the carnations. "Sorry, they were blocking my face. It's me."

She didn't say anything for a moment, then shrugged. "Do I know you?"

I sighed. The room was poorly lit. He obviously didn't allow her to have adequate lighting. Oh, he'd pay for this, all of it! "It's me. Harry."

"Harry?"

"Yes. I'm here, finally." I quickly glanced at the table again. The fine china sitting on the table gleamed magnificently in the flickering light. Service for two. She was expecting me. My Marie was so clever!

She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, but...."

I nodded, understanding all too well. "There's no need to apologize. It's okay. Where is he?" That bastard! Even in my presence he intimidated her! She must have been afraid he could hear what we were saying.

"Umm ... Do you mean Dave?"

I whirled around. "Yes, Dave. Is he here? I've been waiting to see him. I have something for him." I winked at her to let her know that everything would be fine.

She seemed to relax, pleased that I was here for him. And do you blame her? The tyrant!

"Dave, someone's here for you!" she exclaimed, and then closed the door. "He's been waiting for you. What took you so long? We expected you last week," she said to me. Disgust filled her face.

I was surprised.

"You were expecting me last week?" This wasn't part of the game. Had Marie changed the rules?

"Yeah, we both were. Didn't your boss tell you?"

My forehead wrinkled in thought. "No, he didn't. Did you call for me?"

She sighed. "Yes! I called—twice!"

I clenched my teeth together. "I apologize. My boss usually gives me my messages immediately."

"He's finally here!" A man's voice.

I stiffened at the sight of him. He was wearing a blue bathrobe and his hair was dripping. Did he and my Marie just take a shower together? My stomach lurched.

"You know, Barb and I have been waiting for you for nearly a week!" He pulled a chair out and sat at the dining room table.

He began mumbling something about adding an addition, electricity, contractors, and prices. I looked at Marie. "Did you want to be here for this, or would you rather wait in the other room?" I asked, knowing she'd stay. Marie enjoyed seeing me kill for her. Oh, she never acted like she enjoyed it, but she did.

Dave paused, then said, "Of course she wants to be here for this! It was her decision."

"Did you want to sit down ... uh, Harry?" Marie asked, pulling out a chair.

"No. It's easier if I stand, thank you. I want to get right down to business," I answered.

"I'm so excited! Okay! Let's get down to business then," she chirped, sitting in the chair she had pulled out for me.

They both looked at me, as if waiting for something. "Well?" Dave began. "Let's get started."

I shrugged.

"Very well."

I pulled my pistol from my pocket, pointed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. He fell face-first into the plate he had pushed aside, a bullet hole in his forehead. Marie backed away in her chair, speechless. Then she made a strange gurgling noise and tried to lift his face from the plate. I grabbed her arm and gently pulled her away.

"Marie, we don't need the plate."

She began to scream. I embraced her.

"He can't hurt you anymore, dear." Grabbing a handful of his wet hair, I lifted his head from the plate. Blood oozed out of the perforation. "See?" I released his hair. His face fell back into the plate. "He's dead. I killed him for you. I won. You know what you must give me now."

I waited, eager to have her for all eternity.

She screamed louder and began babbling hysterically. I couldn't understand a thing she was saying.

"Marie? Calm down! He is gone, baby. I took care of him."

She continued to scream.

I frowned, suddenly knowing what was wrong.

"He told you he was coming back to haunt your soul, didn't he?" I looked at his limp body. "Bastard. Even in the light of your demise you continue to terrify her!" I kicked his leg. His body twisted and crashed to the hardwood floor.

Marie crumbled to the floor, weeping and asking "Why?" over and over again. I put my gun away and then tenderly took her in my arms.

"It's okay, darling. I'll protect you."

I rushed outside, and carried her to my car. I almost placed her in the back seat, then quickly changed my mind—if he was in spirit form, he would see her. I had to find a place where he wouldn't see her. She fought me tooth and nail, but I was able to put her inside the trunk while explaining my reasoning to her the entire time. But she was much too hysterical to comprehend what I was saying.

I returned to the house and knocked over the candles. The delicate white lace tablecloth instantly became engulfed in flames. I spat on Dave's body before leaving the house.

I brought Marie to my house and hid her in the basement. Dave would never find her there! The room was damp and cold, but I fixed it for her and it soon became comfortable. I covered my crumbling tool bench with a sheet and swatted at a few stray cobwebs. Then I sat on the blanket beside her and offered her a cup of hot tea. She refused to drink it. Frustration began to set in. I could understand that she feared Dave's spirit would find her, but didn't she realize she was safe now? Not only was the door locked with the master lock and key hidden, but I was here to protect her. She was taking this thing too far; getting too carried away. Would she risk jeopardizing her own health for her irrational dread? Concerned, I held her body against mine and rocked her back and forth. At last I had her! Come morning she would surrender her soul to me and then we would locate the perfect woman for Marie to occupy.

I don't know when I fell asleep, but when I awoke I found Marie at the basement door, practically clawing her way through the old wood. Getting up, I carefully inspected her fingernails. They were torn and bloody. Her eyes looked wild, her face pallid.

I looked around the dark room, sure that I would see something threatening, but I saw nothing but cobwebs and dust. I faced Marie.

"He's here, isn't he?"

She was huddled against the decrepit bricks that formed one of the walls.

"Get away from me, you sick bastard!"

He must have been standing directly in front of me because she was looking at me. Damn! I couldn't see him!

"Get away from her!" I bellowed, moving toward Marie. She cringed.

"Don't touch me!"

I quickly spun around.

"Leave her alone! Coward! Show yourself!"

"You son of a bitch!" she spat. She came at me with her fists. I grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the floor.

"Marie! Look! It's me! I'm not him!"

She fought for a little while, then calmed a bit. Her bright eyes became dull.

"Ha...."

I leaned closer to her. She wanted to say my name, probably wanted to say thank you or something equally gratifying.

"Ha...." she tried again. I mouthed my name, attempting to help her.

"Hate you," she blurted like poison.

Stunned, I stared at her.

"No, you don't mean that, Marie."

"I hate you," she repeated.

I gazed into her eyes for a long moment, searching for a glimmer of love and finding nothing but icy repulsion. This was no longer my Marie. I removed myself from her and stood.

"I don't know how he did it, but he got to you." I shook my head wearily. "He stole your soul away from me again, Marie."

"My name isn't Marie!" she bellowed. "You murdering son of a bitch!"

My blood turned to ice, my expression to stone. She wasn't Marie anymore, and I wouldn't tolerate abuse.

"There's no need for insults, bitch."

Turning to my left, I grabbed something from the musty darkness beneath the rotting work bench.

"I will find you, Marie," I said to the air, hoping her soul could hear me. The woman in my basement gasped when I revealed the twenty-pound sledge hammer I held. I brought it down on her head, stifling her cry before it had a chance to fill the room.

That happened three days ago. She has remained in my basement since, softly whimpering for help and begging for water. I haven't gone down there. Nope. There's just ghosts and impostors down there, no one deserving of water.

And as for Marie, I will find her.... .

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