It startled her at first. There she was alone in the house. Alone
except for Bernard, her fat calico cat with it purr box always tipped
over. And Claude, her Golden Retriever. For that matter, it startled
Bernard and Claude as well. And that it scared Bernard and Claude
made Pearl even less at ease. She’d never forget the first time it
happened. It was at night. Of course. She sat in bed reading,
propped up on three pillows, looking at back editions of Southern
Living. Bernard had been laying curled at her feet, purring even in
his kitty dreams. Bernard snored at the side of the bed. And as Pearl’
s eyelids became heavy and she readied to turn off the lamp, the bed
began its annoying side-to-side undulations.
Bernard lifted his head, eyes wide, fur and back raised high.
Claude woke and stared at Pearl’s bed, whining in concern. As for
Pearl, she sat there with the magazine in her lap, heart racing, as she
stared at the empty place beside her in the bed.
“Stop it!” Pearl shouted.
And it did. The shaking stopped. Pearl then sat there, no longer
tired, and continued to look suspiciously at the space beside her.
Claude continued to whine. Bernard continued to stare. Then, the
shaking began again, although not so much as it did the first time. A
sensation of sadness and exhilaration filled Pearl.
“I said stop!” she commanded.
Again the shaking subsided. It did not return again that night.
And after many hours lying awake and wondering, eventually Pearl
fell asleep, as did Bernard and Claude. This routine of the bed
shaking followed by Pearl’s admonitions to it continued night after
night. In time Pearl, grew as used to it as she’d always been. But the
cat and dog never accepted it.
It wasn’t long before Pearl began to talk out loud and reminisce
whenever the shaking began. But not first without telling it to stop.
Pearl never told anyone about the nightly visitations, especially her
son Jeffrey. She knew Jeffrey would become alarmed and might
even seek medical attention. If nothing else, Jeffrey would again
start pushing her to move in with he and Ellen and the kids. Not that
Pearl didn’t love her family. But she liked her independence as well.
Besides, Pearl now was afraid if she moved away that her
visitor would no longer come. How could she be sure he’d be able
to follow? He never did like moving. She sensed he might be sort of
stuck. No, Pearl would stay until it was her time.
Night after night, Pearl would tell the shaking bed to stop. Once it
stopped, Pearl would proceed to remember the details of their life
before. Sometimes Pearl would ask a question, looking over to the
empty space in the bed beside her. There was never an answer. But
Pearl didn’t need any answers. She knew full well what he was
thinking. That had been enough then, and it was enough now. Just
knowing he was there with his annoying jiggling foot as he’d been
not so long ago, stretched out next to her to go to sleep, made Pearl
feel safe and cozy. Once again. Bernard and Claude would just have
to remain uncomfortable.
“Stop it,” she said. And he did. Funny man, she thought. Still
wiggling that foot as he waited for her close by, and yet so far away.
The Wiggly Foot
by Alan J. Levine
More Deadtime Stories . . .
Copyright 2009 Alan J. Levine
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