Tribulation Bay Chapter ONE

It was Rachael Collins’ 21st birthday and she stood inside her bedroom staring at the image in the mirror and compared herself to a picture that was. A few years ago, she was somewhat hard to look at with a pimply face, braces on her teeth and a rather boyish haircut that she instantly regretted.

“You no longer exist!” Rachael demanded as she took the picture in one hand and touched a cigarette lighter up to it with the other, she activated the flame and watched as the old image burned away, holding it against her current image in the mirror.

It took a minute for the 8x10 picture to burn away, but as the fire meandered its way around the picture, Rachael's true, current image began to break through. An image of piercing blue eyes, endlessly long wavy blonde hair, and a body that was full and pleasant to look at. She wore cutoff blue jeans, sneakers, and a white sleeveless shirt that accented her bodily figure

While she wasn’t big on having too many boyfriends either, there was that guy next door, Clark Johnson who was exactly one hour older than she was and was kind of sweet on her. Their rooms were situated so that they could look into one another's rooms at any given time, and he could see what she was doing and vice-versa.

The two shared the same birthday, grew up together and were inseparable and knew deep down that when they were old enough, would be able to marry. If only it could happen today on her birthday, but she knew that wouldn’t be the case, but there were always other birthdays she could get married on.

“Hey,” Carolyn, her mother said in a deep British brogue as she peered into her room, she was slightly taller than Rachael was. Despite being in her mid 40's, she still retained much of her youthful looks and demeanor, and seemed to be more like a twin separated from her by 20something years. “We can’t start the party without you.”

“I know mom,” In Rachael’s mind, looking at her mother was a bit like looking into her own future, and she knew that she would retain the same youthful beauty as her mother, which included ample sized breasts and a body most 45-year-old women would kill for, despite having two children. “Let me finish fixing my hair first.”

“Of course,” Carolyn looked at the ashes of the old picture as they lay on the dresser where the old image peered up at them through the ashes as if it were trying to stare back at them, “OK, that just gives me the creeps.”

“Me too,” Rachael reached for her hair dryer, pointed it at the ashes and turned it on scattering them into a million different directions.

Carolyn began to smooth out Rachael's hair with the brush. “There, now you're ready to go down.”

“Must we?”

“Clark is down there waiting for you, as well.” Carolyn placed her fingers under Rachael’s chin and nudged her head upward so she was at least looking in her general direction, rather than the floor.

“Is “Mommy dearest” there,” Rachael frowned, her eyes cast a glance back towards the ground, “or will we be sending a plate of stuff over to her? Please say we’ll be sending a plate over to her--.”

Carolyn felt for her daughter, and knew she had her own reasons for disliking Clark's mother, some very harsh but legitimate reasons where the police had become involved. One where she pushed Clark down the steps, simply for letting Rachael into the house. “Clark’s mother will be there.”

“Frack!”

“Just be warned; while it’s one of her better days physically, it’s not socially or mentally.”

“Frack!”

“Rachael,” Carolyn looked at her daughter with a look of surprise, “you know what we say about you cursing.”

“It’s…not really cursing, just pretty durned close,” Rachael rolled her eyes, “why does “Mother” have to be there?”

“For what it’s worth, she is almost ready to die,” Carolyn said unconvincingly.

“Again?” Rachael asked. “Isn’t this some sort of an annual thing with her?”

“It seems that way,” Carolyn sighed, “and speaking of an annual thing, it’s about time to get downstairs for your birthday party,”

“Okay,” Rachael said.

-----

Dawn Collins was 16 years old with long strawberry blonde hair and sat at the table that contained a large sized cake with the numbers 1 and a 8 sitting next to one another, at the end of the table sat her father, while across from her sat a creepy old fossil of a woman that looked like a dried-up piece of fruit with long stringy hair that reminded her of a corpse, a corpse that moved and spoke like the Crypt-Keeper.

“I wish to God that girl would hurry up,” Doris, the elderly woman said sharply, “I don’t want to be sitting here all day waiting for that little bitch to decide to come down to her own birthday party.”

Andrew heard just about enough, he stood so that he towered over Doris so that his large-framed body seemed to be extremely menacing. “I’m sure Rachael will be down in a minute.”

“But I’ve got better things to do,” Doris said with a bark.

“Like what,” Dawn mumbled, “Is it past your bedtime, “Mother”?”

“Why you little bitch!” Doris raised her hand to hit Dawn.

“Go on, do it!” Dawn quickly said as she motioned to her cellphone that was sitting on a tripod next to her, recording everything, not there was much to record, until Doris raised her hand to her. “It will make this lame assed video go so viral so fast your head will spin.”

Doris looked to see Rachael bouncing into the room with a cheery look, she composed herself, oblivious to what the cellphone or any technology past a rotary phone was all about, “well-l… it’s about time, bitch!”

Rachael looked at the old woman as the cheery look she had forced herself to put on coming down the stairs disappeared, and she wound up in a stare. “Excuse me?”

“Let it go,” Clark, who was standing off to the side said as he sat down at one of the two empty seats, then motioned for Rachael to sit down, “please.”

“OK,” Rachael sat down with a pout as she stared at Doris, while she didn’t really hate anybody, at that moment she felt what it was like to hate someone.

“Let’s make this shindig quick,” Doris barked out, “and get this nonsense over with!”

“You know what,” Clark said as he grabbed the handles of Doris’ wheelchair and pushed her out the front door much to her protest, “I’m going to take mom home, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Andrew waited for Clark to disappear then began to go through his mail.

“Mom,” Dawn asked, “why is she like that?”

“Because she’s a crazy old bitch,” Rachael said quickly, before anybody could stop her.

“Rachael,” Carolyn scolded, “be nice.”

“But it’s true,” Rachael smiled coyly, “and dad always preaches for us to tell the truth, even if it hurts.”

“I'm glad you've been paying attention to my sermons at least on that point. For the most part I agree with you,” Andrew said as he opened a letter from a New Jersey address, “and this is the last straw concerning her. Remember me saying about that church in the seaside town along the Jersey coast that is looking for a pastor?”

“That church that had you go there for an interview a few weeks ago?” Rachael asked.

“That's the one,”

“What about it?” Carolyn asked

“Well, they made their final decision,” Andrew looked at the paper in his hand.

“And?”

“Well, they want me to start preaching there,”

“When is this going to happen?”

“They're giving me a month to settle a few things here--.”

“When we go,” Rachael had a worried, but prayerful look on her face, “will Clark be able to go with us?”

“Therein lies the problem,” Andrew said, “he’s more than welcome to come with us, but he would have to do something about his mother.”

“So, he would simply have to put her in a nursing home,” Carolyn suggested, “we can help with that… because I don’t want to separate Clark and Rachael for too long. After all, they’ve known one another literally since birth, and we’ve been guiding them towards a certain… relationship.” Carolyn traced her thumb over her own wedding ring suggestively.

“I know,” Andrew said, “but at best she only has a couple of months anyway.”

“She could become better and hang on for a while,” Rachael said, then continued on with a slow drone, “like she’s done over and over again.”

“Yes,” Andrew groaned, “but I think this time she’s going to die soon for real.”

“We can only hope,” Rachael mumbled under her breath, then her voice got loud. “SO, when are we going to make this big move?”

“By the end of the month,”

Rachael looked up to see Clark standing at the doorway to the dining room like a deer in headlights.

“What happens by the end of the month?” Clark looked at the letter that was in Andrew's hand, he could see that it was from the church on the Jersey Coast.

“Clark,” Andrew motioned to the chair he was sitting in earlier, “sit down, we have something to discuss with you.”

“I’m not going to like this,” Clark said as he noticed that Rachael was getting teary eyed, “am I?”

“It’s like this,” Andrew said, “we decided to move, but we want to try to take you with us.”

“I can’t just up and move,” Clark said, “I’ve been obligated to stay with mom until she dies, whether she dies tonight or five years from now she just literally made me sign a legal agreement to that effect.”

“What about your sister taking over?”

“Even though she is much older than me, she has the mind of a child, she doesn’t want to deal with mom long term,” Clark said, “and putting mom in a nursing home she would fight against it to the very end.”

“I figured as much,” Andrew said, “but here’s the thing, it could be for only a few months. When we move, we’ll keep in contact with you, we’ll get you all of our contact information when we get it together. That’s a promise.”

“Email and Facebook,” Rachael suggested, “we can always do that.”

-----

A few days pass, with most of it being spent with the Collins family packing boxes and getting ready to move. Andrew stood at the base of Doris’ bed with Clark and Rachael standing close by.

“Mrs. Johnson, I do wish you would reconsider. Clark is not qualified to serve as a full-time caretaker, and you know it. You would be better off in a proper nursing home, where they can look after you much better so that he could come and live with us.”

“That is not going to happen,” Doris spoke with a coldness, “I don’t care what happens to Clark after I die, really I don’t care in the least, but for right now I want him to stay right here with me.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Listen,” Doris waved a legal looking piece of paper in the air, “I made Clark sign this promise that he will stay here in this house until I die and that he will not put me into a nursing home. He will also not make any contact with you in any way shape or form.”

“What?” Both Rachael and Clark barked.

“Yo!” Rachael added. “That’s low, even for you.”

“You can’t make sure that’s not going to happen,” Clark continued.

“I can and I will,” Doris said.

“That needs to be notarized before it's legal, and certainly not something that you made Clark quickly throw together on some Word document!” Andrew looked at the paper.

“Are you sure your mother is of sound mind?” Rachael asked.

Clark shrugged. “Probably not.”

“If you guys think I've gone crazy,” Doris screeched out, “think again!”

Rachael began to say something off the cuff, and certainly to the point, but it was Clark that spoke first.

“To be sure,” Clark said, “Legal or not, I will honor what you have written on that document just to shut you up. But the moment you die…all bets are off.”

“Like I said, I don’t care what happens to you when I die, really, I don't.” Doris stare at Clark with wild eyes, that indicated it was the end of the discussion.

-----

It was the last day of the month, and during the previous week, Clark, Rachael, and Andrew all tried in their own ways to get Doris to let them put her into a nursing home, but to no avail, although she did back down a little bit on them being in contact with one another, besides Doris had no concept of how to work Clark’s cellphone, and Clark had a laptop that connected to the internet vial the cellphone’s hot-spot, and he was close enough to the library to here he could go there and access their Wi-Fi. Now the Collins family stood in front of the moving van ready to pull out. Clark came rushing up, there was something in his hand.

“Almost missed saying goodbye,” Andrew teased, but truth be told he would have waited until Clark did show up.

“I went somewhere to get you something,” Clark pulled out a ring, “it’s just a piece of costume jewelry from the thrift store--.”

“Clark,” the ring was nothing special, just a piece of cheap costume jewelry, but to her, it was the most special thing in the world, especially if it meant what she thought it meant, “it’s perfect.”

“I want you to wear this all the time, I guess what we can call it--.”

“Call it what it is,” Carolyn smiled, “an engagement ring.”

“More of a pre-engagement ring,” Clark mumbled out.

“There’s nothing “pre” about it,” Andrew chuckled, “and hey, it’s OK if you want to call this an engagement, you're both 21, and I won't protest anything.”

“Especially since this is something we've been guiding you towards to begin with,” Carolyn added.

Clark gave Andrew and Carolyn a passive nod but spoke to Rachael. “Wear this all the time, and when we’re able to come back together, proper, whenever that is, we’ll replace it with something more substantial. That is, if you’ll still want to get married at the time.”

“You know I will,” Rachael smiled.

“Hey,” Clark said, “can you guys at least tell me the name of the town where you’re moving to?”

“It's a small town in upper South Jersey called Tribulation Bay,” Andrew said.

“OK,”

Rachael sat in the middle of the moving van with Dawn sitting on her lap, she let him take a few pictures of her with his cellphone but had to go. Her father did the driving, she watched in the rear-view mirror as Clark’s image grew smaller and smaller. “I promise to keep myself for you and keep away from sexual contact from any one until such time that you and I can come together properly. I make this vow in the presence of my father and mother.”

“You know what?” Andrew said. “I have a feeling something bad is going to happen if we let Clark stay here.”

“We can have Mrs. Grainger look in on her a couple of times a day,” Carol suggested, “since she refuses to let us put her in a proper nursing home.”

“You know she's not going to let Clark just go,” Rachael sighed.

“We'll see about that,” Andrew tapped on the horn, causing Clark to look back, “there are a few empty moving boxes on the porch, grab one of them and put as much of your stuff in it as possible within the next 5 minutes.”

“Who's going to look after mom?”

“We've got that covered,” Rachael glanced at her mother, who was on the phone with Mrs. Grainger. “Now hurry!”

Clark grabbed the largest of the empty boxes and made tracks towards the house.

“And for God's sake, don't let her know what you are doing!” Rachael's eyes glanced up at Doris' bedroom window, she could see the woman standing there watching them and giving the evil eye. “Oh, Hell no!”

“Rachael, language!” Carolyn hissed. “You are a preacher's daughter!”

Andrew looked at the bedroom window, he could Doris standing there wielding a butcher's knife. “Oh, Hell no!”

Clark made his way up the stairs and rummaged through his things, putting only the most important stuff to grab, clothes, his laptop and a few other things. It only took him less than a minute to do so, then he was back at the top of the stairs.

“Where the Hell do you think you're going?” Doris asked, hiding the butcher knife behind her back.

“Out of this, away from you.”

“Away from your mother's love!”

“Mother's love?” Clark scoffed. “You had me when you were well into your 60's, you resented the fact that I was born. The only reason I wasn't aborted was because you didn't believe in it. You raised me, yeah barely. You tried to kill me several times until you realized that you can make me your caretaker.”

“Children are supposed to obey their parents,”

By this time Rachael was standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at Clark and Doris. “Yes, the Bible does say that, then a few very short verses later, it says “And you Fathers (and mothers) do not provoke your children to wrath”.”

“Where am I provoking him to wrath?” Doris turned the knife in her hand, while keeping it behind her back.

“Are you seriously asking that question with a knife hidden behind your back as if I'm not supposed to know about it?” Rachael had to ask. “Really?”

“Oh, that's why I can't see her one hand,” Clark said sarcastically, but he knew she was holding something.

“Clark, just make your way down the stairs,” Rachael watched, as Doris made the knife more visible, knowing the old hag no longer had to keep it hidden from view and waved it about.

“Get back here!” Doris no longer cared what happened to her, she threw herself at Clark with the knife held out intending the blade to go into the side of his neck where the jugular vein was, as her bony structure reached out to her target.