The Wiggly Foot
Alan J. Levine
It startled her at first. There she was alone in the house. Alone except for
Bernard, her fat calico cat with its 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. 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.
Copyright 2008 Alan J. Levine
A Halloween Song:
The Ghosts of San Ysidro - it's not often all the members
of the Red State Bluesters can make bail simultaneously, but
when they do, they play a scary little ditty.