“No, he’s away on business,” she said into the phone. “Who’s calling?” She was talking about my Dad who traveled every couple of weeks. He and my mother opened a sporting goods store in town two years before. My Dad would travel to conventions while my mother watched the store, and me. It was cool having all those things to play with. Camping gear. Coolers. Bikes. Two weeks prior I had taken up residence in a tent my Dad helped me erect in the living room. Before I went to sleep in the tent at night Mom would come say goodnight with a flashlight, just for effect. She tried to be fun.
“Well, he should have been there last night,” she continued at the phone. “I haven’t heard from him. I’m beginning to worry.” She listened to the other end. She was in good shape for a thirty five year old woman who worked a lot of hours. I tried not to look at her. She was holding the phone up to her ear with both hands, her breasts pressed together creating all a young boy needed. I knew it was wrong so I turned away and went back to rolling up my sleeping bag.
“Maybe he got off the road earlier to avoid the storm. If you hear from him please tell him to call. I will. Thank you.” She hung up and thought about whatever she was thinking.
I waited for her to leave my sight before I asked her if Dad was okay. I didn’t want her to get any closer to me dressed like that. “Everything’s okay honey. You’re Dad is just fine. Nothing to worry about,” she called from her bedroom.
I started flipping through the channels by pressing buttons on the television. I’d lost the remote somewhere so I had to skim through all the news channels before I could get to the QVC station. I had a crush on the girl who hosted the show that sold the rings and the necklaces and the silverware. She helped me get through plenty nights in my tent. I could tell she had nice breasts by the way the buttons stretched the fabric of her shirt. I imagined her with her shirt off and I would kiss her nipples and she would brush her fingers through my hair.
Before I got past the news channels I heard the only other word that intrigued me more then sex. Murder. It was the News Man, the one with the glasses and the corduroy jacket and big red lips, like he wore lipstick. I had tried my mother’s lipstick once, just to see if it felt good. It gave me an erection and then I masturbated, still with the lipstick on. I felt bad about that so I never did it again… with lipstick.
He was standing on the interstate somewhere between Oregon and California, not to far from where we lived. Red sirens were flashing behind him. “Another body was recovered early this morning and the authorities investigating the case believe this is another senseless murder by the Pacific Coast Killer.”
He went on to describe the circumstances of the case over a montage of related pictures: Like the first victim who had been beaten to death with a baseball bat. She was young and her hair was dirty blonde and her smile reminded me of Mom’s. In the picture she was smoking a cigarette and waving goodbye. The last time friends saw her was at Lou’s Tavern in southern Oregon dancing to Elton John’s Rocket Man. The bartender told the investigating officers that she drank too much that evening, as she often did, so he asked her to leave. Her car was found outside later that night so they speculated she walked home because she had been drinking, but close friends of hers said she always drove home drunk. “Even when she had her six year old daughter with her,” a man with a big messy mustache they called a close friend said.
The next victim, a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a beard, was found dead and naked under the bleachers at a high school football field in Northern California by two young students looking for a place to fornicate, seven miles east of the Pacific Coast Highway. He was strangled with a jump rope and beaten with a golf club.
The third victim was a woman of Middle Eastern descent. She had been camping in the Red Woods National Forest. Her family said she left the campsite to see if she could find a store in town that sold curry powder. The news reporter with the corduroy jacket said into his microphone, “They had been grilling boneless chicken breasts when she volunteered to go to town to find the very popular spice among Middle Eastern people.” She was found way far away fully clothes but totally dead. She’d been suffocated with a windproof parka.
I had been keeping up with the Pacific Coast Killer for several weeks. I marked the dates of the deaths on the calendar. I ran to my room, completely forgetting about my crush on QVC. I quietly closed the door and removed the swimsuit calendar from under my mattress. I turned to Safire in September. Her breasts were shiny, hardly covered by a zebra patterned top. Her puffy lips embraced her smile. I picked off a dried spot of cum with my fingernail. Again, the day of the murder landed at the same time my Dad was away on business.
The phone was ringing. I heard my mother yelling for me to answer it. I stuffed the calendar back under the mattress and ran out of the room. “Hello.”
It was my Dad on the other line. “Hey, how’s my camper doing?”
“Where are you? Some one called and said you didn’t make it.”
“That was a mix up buddy. The hotel’s fault. I’m fine. How’s Mommy?”
“Good, she’s getting ready to take me to school.”
“Is she worried?”
“Not really.”
“How nice.”
“She is a little.”
“Okay, well tell her I’m okay. I’m at the hotel now and she can call me here.”
“When are you coming home Dad?”
“I’ll be home tomorrow. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I want you to see my new sleeping bag.”
“I will tomorrow, I promise.”
“Okay.”
“Take care of your mother. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I said goodbye and hung up. I pressed my head against the bedroom door. “Mom, Dad’s okay. He’s at the hotel.”
“What happed to him last night?”
“He said the hotel messed up.”
It was silent for too long. “Okay.”
Mom didn’t say anything as she drove me to school that morning. It was drizzling. I watched the drops collect on the side view mirror. When she stopped in front of school I reached over to give her a kiss on her cheek. My book bag swung off my shoulder and pulled me with it. I tried to stop myself from falling onto her but my hand landed on one of her breasts. She didn’t notice.
“Have a good day, honey.”
I got out and watched the car drive away while other kids ran from the rain into the building.
A few days later I listened to my parents argue through the bedroom door. I didn’t understand what they were saying but Dad didn’t go away on business anymore. I knew the store wasn’t doing very well because I hadn’t been getting any stuff to play with.
Dad explained to me in the den as we watched TV. “I have to sell that stuff so I can get money to buy us food and clothes. My business is kind of slow right now. Okay buddy. You understand what I mean, right?”
“Yeah Dad. Can I still sleep in the tent?”
“If you want to, but don’t you think the bed might be a little more comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable in here.”
“Your call pal. As long as you’re happy.”
“I am. Are you?”
The way he looked at me made me feel like an older kid. Like he wanted me to understand something I couldn’t at that age. “I’m happy, if you’re happy.”
“I’m happy. Is Mom happy?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “Mom’s happy.”
The Pacific Coast Killer hadn’t killed anyone since Dad stopped going on business trips. The police hadn’t caught anyone either. The News Man with the corduroy jacket said that the profile was a white male, from the middle class, who most likely traveled for business. Like most serial killers. They anticipated another attack. I was almost positive my Dad was the killer. As long as he stopped it didn’t bother me.
I had moved on to Miss Daisy of November now. Her hair was blonde and she had auburn leaves on her bikini. I ran my fingers over her big breasts and her curvy hips. Her eyes sparkled. I told her that I wanted to be a helicopter pilot. She said I was cute and that she wanted me to kiss her stomach. She dragged her pointer finger down my chest, grabbing my penis and played with it until it got hard. She said it was really big and that she wanted to have sex with me, but first I had to take all her clothes off. Before I could get her top off, Mom and Dad were calling to me from downstairs.
I got myself together and ran to the stairs. “What?”
“We’re going out for chili, c’mon,” Mom said.
My father was rubbing her shoulders and she was smiling.
I ran down the stairs and Dad handed me my jacket. “Before we go, go look in your tent.”
“Why?”
“Just go look,” he said.
I dropped my jacket on the floor. I unzipped the flap on the tent and there was a box, but I couldn’t see what it was until I crawled out backwards. It was the battery-operated lantern I had asked for. “Oh my god!”
My mom was standing by the door. “You can open it when we get back.”
“Can I bring it with us?”
“You can bring it in the car, but not inside the restaurant,” Mom said.
“Cool!”
A few weeks went by. I was able to bring my calendar in the tent now that I had a lantern. I didn’t bother watching the News Man anymore as I went through the channels to find my favorite girl on QVC. I knew that there weren’t anymore PCK murders because my Dad hadn’t gone out of town since the last girl with blonde hair was killed.
One night, after dinner, I was counting the days until Christmas in my calendar. Snowflake, Lady of December, let her fluffy white scarf dangle over her cleavage. Her cheeks were red like her bikini.
Then I heard my mother’s voice, loud and angry. “You’re going to see her again!”
Dad yelled back. “I don’t want to hear it from you! You’ve been less then faithful yourself! What about those days when I was gone and you left Bob at the store alone? Where were you? You didn’t think I knew about that.”
“You bastard! I was taking care of your son. You ruined this family.”
“I didn’t ruin anything.”
“You want to be with her, go ahead. You tell your son that you found him a new mommy. See how he takes it.”
“You’re sick. You really are. But he can’t see that.”
“Shut up, he can hear you.”
“You want him to here me.”
“Go tell him you found a new wife three weeks before Christmas. Tell him he was born before we were married while you’re at it. Tell him about your business trips.”
“He’s too young.”
“If you don’t tell him I will.”
I didn’t want to hear the truth. I turned the lantern off and jumped into my sleeping bag like I was sleeping.
I heard my father. He sat outside the tent. “Hey pal, you awake?”
I didn’t answer him.
“You decide to go to sleep early?”
“No.”
“I have to tell you something.”
“I already know.”
“What do you know?”
“I know you’re the Pacific Coast Killer.”
“What?”
I didn’t want to say it again. It hurt me for the first time and I started to cry.
“I’m not the Pacific Coast Killer. Where did you get that? Look buddy, I’m not a killer. Why would you say that?”
“Then what do you want to tell me.”
“I have to go on business tonight. I’m going to be gone for a couple of days, and when I get back, I’m going to be staying with a friend.”
“You don’t want to live with Mommy anymore?”
“It’s a difficult thing for you to understand. But don’t ever think for one second that I don’t love you.”
“Do you want to live with another lady?”
He thought about answering that one. “Yeah.”
“Is that where you go when you go on business?”
“Yeah, that’s where I go. That’s who I go on business with. She’s a very good friend. And she comes with me when I have to go on business.”
I wasn’t mad at him for that. Just happy he wasn’t the Pacific Coast Killer. “I love you Dad.”
“I love you too pal.”
Dad had been gone a couple of days. Mom was very angry most of the time and she wore her robe all night around the house. She had the pizza delivered every night, which didn’t bother me, but I wanted Dad to be there with us. But even then, when I went to bed with out being able to say goodnight to my Dad, I was glad he wasn’t a murderer.
Dad called every morning before I left school. “How’s my camper?” Then he’d ask me what I wanted for Christmas. Mom would stand in the kitchen and listen to our conversations. She looked like she started to hate me.
Then Dad came back, but he didn’t stay in the house with us. He stayed in a hotel five minutes away. Mom let me stay with him in the hotel one night. I brought my tent and sleeping bag and Dad and I set it up on the floor.
“Are you going to stay here for a while?” I asked.
“Do you like it here?”
“Not really.”
“I’m going to stay here until after Christmas, then I’m going to find a new house.”=
“Are you going to stay with me and mom on Christmas Eve?”
“No, I’m going to stay here but I’m going to take you out for chili on Christmas Eve and then I’ll see you again Christmas morning.”
“Are you still happy Dad?”
He gave me the same look he gave me the last time I asked. “Sometimes, adults can’t always be happy. Sometimes we have to settle for… content.”
“What does content mean?”
“It’s means okay.”
In the morning when I woke up Dad had bought egg sandwiches and orange juice and we ate and watched the news. The News Man in the corduroy jacket was on TV, yellow caution tape wrapped around the crime scene behind him. “The police are calling this the latest murder of the Pacific Coast Killer. It happened sometime last night in the Oregon Dunes National Monument Park. The victim was a young woman. The police are saying she was impaled by an arrow. As in from a bow and arrow.” Even the news man looked stunned.
Dad looked over at me. “See, I’m not the Pacific Coast Killer.”
We laughed about it together.
What seemed like minutes later, Mom was honking the horn outside the motel room. Dad closed the curtain and helped me put my jacket on, then pulled my knitted hat over my ears. “This isn’t your mother’s fault, so don’t be mad at her.”
“Whose fault is it?”
“Nobody’s fault. Maybe mine. These kinds of things happen to good people. But we’re still a family.”
“Okay Dad.”
“I love you pal.”
“I love you too.”
He grabbed my backpack off the bed. Before he handed it to me, he started to look inside. “You didn’t forget anything did you?” He noticed the calendar. “What is this?” He held it up and looked at the girl on the cover.
“I’m counting the days until Christmas.”
He grinned. “I’m sure you are.” He folded it and put it back in my bag. “We’ll talk about this stuff soon. Don’t let your mother see it.”
“I won’t. Thanks Dad.” I ran out to Mom’s car and when I got inside she was smiling so I kissed her on the cheek.
“How’s your father doing?”
“He’s good. He said Hi.” He didn’t really.
“Oh. Okay. Next time you see him tell him I said Hi.”
“I will.”
She pulled off the road into a 7/11 parking lot. “I have to get some coffee. I’m tired. I was up awhile last night.”
“Okay.”
A man held the door open for her as she entered. She thanked him and he watched her walk in. I could see her at the coffee machine. My mom was very pretty. I wondered who I looked like more, Mom or Dad. And why did Dad find someone else. Was she as pretty as Mom. I pulled down the sun visor to look in the mirror and some lose papers slid out and fell to the floor on the driver’s side by the pedals. I reached over and started picking them up. There was sand all over the floor. Dark sand. Why would Mom be at the beach in this weather?
Then I remembered the woman killed on the Oregon Dunes last night. Arrows? They sold bows and arrows at the store.
Quickly I picked up the papers and put them back above the sun visor. Mom was leaving the store. She didn’t look like a killer. She was too small and pretty. Her eyes were blue and kind. Her legs were thin and her hair was the color of honey.
She sat down in the car and opened her coffee. She looked at me and smiled. “Why are you looking at me like that? Are you okay? Were you up late?”
I couldn’t answer her.
“Did Dad let you watch a scary movie again?”
“No.”
“Well stop looking at me like that. You’re worrying me.”
“Sorry Mom.”
“Don’t be sorry, just stop.”
So I stopped. But I knew. I felt cold.
“We have to work on your Christmas list today. Christmas is one week away and Santa has no idea what you want for Christmas. What do you want?”
I thought about not answering her, but she was waiting. “I want a new calendar.”
She seemed a little surprised at simplicity of the request.
I closed my eyes and remembered the smile under Lady December’s rosy cheeks. I didn’t want to think about Mom and her being a serial killer. I didn’t want to think about Dad all alone in his motel room. I didn’t want to deal with sun about to brighten up the day. I just wanted to get home so I could spend time with my calendar girls.
