The unexpected

Who would do this?

She burst through the door beside her into the hollow stairwell and bounced down the steps toward the ground level. She didn’t think Jeff’s boss would actually go through with the threat, not after his son was arrested for attempted murder only a week before. Her boots slapped the concrete steps and echoed in her ears. Jeff’s sudden resignation shouldn’t have surprised Greg at all, but he had threatened to kill Jeff anyway. That’s the way of things in a family business.

She stopped at the door leading out of the stair well, creeping up to and peeking out the tiny window. An empty, dark hallway stretched out before her. She wondered how many people worked in the office on the weekend and if they had seen Jeff, or someone, fall from the window above. After only a few inches of open door, she could see the trail of blood leading from the access door on her right, then down the hallway. As she stepped out of the stairwell she knew someone had dragged the body back inside the building and down toward the maintenance room. They made a short turn, scraping it against the door frame where a bright flash of red burned into the backs of Maria’s eyes.

Thoughts of his mangled, fallen body flew into her mind without her consent, causing tears to surface and stream down her face. Every ounce of her knew it was him. Cold rushed through her like the crest of an ocean wave hitting her square in the stomach and running down her legs, draining her. She gripped the door frame when she started to feel herself tilt, wobbling into the hallway, and pressing against the wall for support. She told herself not to think it was Jeff, but the more she did, the more she knew it had to be Jeff.

Jeff. The one she knew would be gone by morning, but ended up staying for six months. The one she’d told herself would never make her happy, not in the way she thought she wanted to be. The wall slanted, towering toward her until she had to sit down. It forced her to take a break and breathe through her spinning head and sour stomach. But she couldn’t silence her mind enough to thoroughly catch her breath.

Jeff. The tiny ponytail holders that littered the bedside table always made him laugh, knowing that they were his instead of Maria’s. Her hair was short, easily tucked behind an ear, while his thick mass of brown hair went wild in the Chicago winds. Maria laughed at that too. His laugh made her laugh. His smile made her smile. His contagious personality was the only one that worked on her like that, filling her with volcanic happiness when his excitement bubbled out of his face. She couldn’t not reflect his giddy attitude.

She stood, running her hands along the wall and keeping one keen eye on the open door to the maintenance room. The hallway shrank, and the air compressed as she neared the opening. Every muscle in her body pulled tight into her ribcage, making it painful to breathe. She turned the corner and watched the trail wind around old water pumps and under rusting pipes.

Then she saw an arm. Jeff’s arm. As Maria stepped closer she found it was only just that; ripped from his shoulder, it lay on the dirty ground, bent at the elbow. She gagged at the sight and gripped a nearby pipe for support. She had to find him. She couldn’t leave without knowing. People can still live after losing an arm, she thought.

Just around the pumps she found the rest of him. Pieces of him scattered everywhere. Blood decorated the concrete walls, and she lost her balance and fell on her knees into a pool of it. She watched the back of his severed head as tears streamed down her face.  She watched and waited, hoping to wake up from the dream she knew she was having.  After a few minutes, she knew he was gone, and she was left thinking she was at least glad he didn’t have to see her cry.

The rest of the day sped by in a blur of police officers and cups of hot coffee. Detectives blamed his employer and questioned Maria for hours about every detail she could remember. They asked her things she couldn’t answer, and told her things she didn’t want to know--things about how his body had been ripped apart while he was alive.

The chairs in the interrogation room were uncomfortable, and it wasn’t long before Maria retreated to the corner of the room and curled into a ball. Her stomach hurt, but she couldn’t eat. She shivered a lot and blinked too often, but even so, her eyes still burned from dryness.

After the forensics unit went through the apartment, she was finally allowed to go back inside. But it didn’t feel the same. She didn’t expect that anything would feel the same again.

Jeff’s dirty sneakers were still under the coffee table, but she wouldn’t have anyone to scold for not buying new ones. The Playboy calendar in the hallway, scratched in his handwriting with reminders about bills and upcoming birthdays, wouldn’t be as funny without him telling her friends it wasn’t his. Everything he’d touched had his life print--an essence she couldn’t erase, though she’d never try to.  

Someone had cleaned up the glass and shut the cabinet doors, but the blood was still smeared into the carpet. She skipped the bathroom, heading straight for the bed she shouldn’t have left earlier that morning. She stripped the layers until she was back in her underwear, and fell face down onto the quilt. Landing sideways with a moan into the mattress, she let out everything she’d been holding in. But it felt like she could exhale for days before all the feelings were fully released. 

Something tickled her toe—a rough little wisp of a tickle. She pushed up and craned her head toward her hovering feet. A fluffy grey cat sat by her exposed toes, licking them with care.

“Gumball?” Maria croaked, emotions degrading her vocal cords. The cat mewed.

Maria brought up her legs, turning and sitting against the wall, and waited for the cat to join her. He started to jump, but stopped short and coughed. Once, twice, then again, until he expelled a shiny object covered in phlegm. She got out of bed and examined the pile. Mixed with blood was a fingertip, and a ring.

Jeff’s ring.

Maria looked from it to the cat, and in the light from the city outside she noticed a marking that she hadn’t seen before. She reached behind her to pull the lamp chain and it filled the room with a yellow glow, but the only color Maria noticed was the red in Gumball’s fur. He licked down one of his hind legs—a long, satisfied movement.

Slowly, she pulled herself all the way into bed, hoping the cat would stay on the floor, and while she pushed herself against the wall, she cautiously reached to the bedside table for Jeff’s phone.

Gumball jumped onto the bed.

Maria brought her knees to her chest and typed, humane society, into the browser’s search bar. The first result included a phone number and she pressed it. The cat brushed her body against his shins, flipping around and going across them again in a smooth motion.

“Hello? Yes, I have this cat—“

She yelped when something sharp pierced the skin on top of her foot. She peered over her knees and saw blood trickle from her foot. The cat’s tail slapped her hip.

He was staring up at her. She could almost see a smile on his furry face.

She pressed end on the phone.