Fiends

carried the suitcase over to the door. Then he knelt and slid Joyce out from under the bed.

    ‘Darling, meet Joyce.’

    Joyce lay stiff on the carpet, her wide blue eyes gazing toward the ceiling, her lips curled in a smile that showed the edges of her straight, white teeth. Wisps of brown hair swept across her forehead. Thick tresses flowed from beneath her head - a rich, silken banner that extended past her right shoulder. Her arms, close to her sides, were reaching upward from the elbow's, hands open. Her legs were straight, parted slightly. Her feet were bare.

    She wore a white negligee, a skimpy number with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline. It was every bit as short as the nightie that Barbara had delighted Darren by wearing on their wedding night, and every bit as transparent. The way he’d dragged Joyce from beneath the bed had twisted it askew, pulling its deep V sideways so her right breast rose bare through the gap.

    Smiling over his shoulder at Barbara, Darren said, ‘Isn’t she lovely?’

    Barbara dropped.

    When she came to, she found herself lying in bed. Darren was sitting on its edge, a worried look on his face, a hand inside her kimono gently caressing her thigh. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

    She turned her head.

    Joyce stood beside the bed, six feet away, still smiling. The nightie blew softly, stirred by the breeze from the window. Though it concealed nothing with its sheer fabric, at least it had been straightened so her breast no longer stuck out.

    She has a better figure than me, Barbara thought.

    She’s more beautiful than…

    Barbara looked away, frowned at Darren. Though she wanted to sound calm, her voice came out high and childlike when she asked, ‘What’s going on?’

    Darren shrugged. He stroked her thigh. ‘It’s nothing to be upset about. Really.’

    ‘Nothing to be upset about? You’ve got your dead wife stuffed in your bedroom… and wearing that!'

    He smiled gently. ‘Oh, she isn’t stuffed. She’s freeze-dried. I found a place that does people’s deceased pets. She looks wonderful, doesn’t she?’

    ‘Oh, God.’ Barbara murmured.

    ‘And that’s her favorite nightgown. I don’t see why she should be deprived of it, but if you’d rather she wear something a bit more modest…’

    ‘Darren. She’s dead.’

    ‘Well, of course.’

    ‘You bury dead people. Or cremate them. You don’t… keep them.’

    ‘Why not?’

    ‘It just isn’t done!’

    ‘Oh, if I couldn’t have had her preserved so nicely, I suppose there’d be some reason to dispose of her. But look at her.’

    Barbara chose not to.

    ‘She’s as fresh as the day she died. She doesn’t smell. What’s the problem?’

    ‘The problem? The problem?’

    ‘I don’t see any problem.’

    ‘You’ve had her here… in your house… all along?’

    ‘Sure.’

    ‘Under the bed?’

    ‘Well, only when I expected you to come over. I was afraid you might not take it well, so I felt it best to keep her out of sight.’

    ‘Under the bed? When I was here? All those nights I spent here, she was… Oh, God. You had this… this stiff under the bed while we…’

    ‘Not just any stiff. My wife.’

    ‘Oh, that’s supposed to make it okay?’

    ‘She was my wife, darling. What was I supposed to do, throw her out like an old shoe? I loved her. She loved me. Why should we part, just because she stopped being alive? I would’ve been… so lonely without her. And look at it from her point of view. Do you think she would’ve enjoyed being put in a hole, all by herself? Or burnt to ashes? Good Lord, who would want a fate like that? Instead, she’s here in her own house where she belongs, with her husband. Isn’t that the way you would want it? Really? It’s what I’d want for myself. It’s what I’d want for you if, God forbid, you should stop living before I do. So we would always be together.’

    ‘I suppose,’ she muttered, ‘it would be better than… those other things.’

    ‘No doubt about it.’

    ‘You should’ve told me, though.’

    ‘I was waiting for the right time. I’m just sorry you had to find out about her… the hard way. She must’ve given you quite a shock.’

    ‘Yeah, I’ll say.’

    ‘You’ve taken it really well, though. You're a champ.' With that, he spread open her kimono.

    ‘Darren!’ She swept it shut. Fast. And looked at Joyce. Who didn’t seem to be watching. The former wife’s gaze was directed, not at Barbara, but toward the open window beyond the bed, which she seemed to find pleasing, possibly a little amusing.

    ‘Now, now,’ Darren said. ‘Relax.’

    ‘But Joyce.’

    ‘She can’t see what we’re doing. For heaven’s sake, she’s dead.’

    ‘I don’t care. Not in front of her. No way.’

    ‘Now you’re being silly.’

    ‘Silly! Goddamn it!’

    ‘Shhh, shhh. Calm down. It’s all right. I’ll take care of her.’ Darren bent low, parted just enough of Barbara’s kimono to expose her groin, kissed her softly there, then climbed off the bed. Stepping in front of Joyce, he took off his velours bathrobe. ‘Forgive me?’ he asked. Then he draped the robe over her head. It hung down nearly to her waist.

    He stepped away from her. He faced Barbara. He smiled. ‘Better?’

    ‘Can’t you just put her out in the hallway or something?’

    Darren looked disappointed. ‘That wouldn’t be nice. This is her bedroom, too, you know. I can’t just put her out.’

    Barbara sighed. This would be their first night together in the house as man and wife. She didn’t want to make a stink. Besides, it wasn’t really so bad now that Joyce’s face was out of sight. ‘All right,’ she said.

    ‘I could put her back under the bed, if you’d…’

    ‘No, she’s fine there.’ Under the bed, she would be so much closer. Directly beneath them as they made love. Awful.

    Darren stepped over to the light switch.

    ‘No, leave the lights on.’

    ‘Are you sure?’

    ‘I don’t… want to be in the dark with her.’

    ‘Whatever you say, darling.’

    As he returned to the bed, Barbara sat up and took off her kimono. She glanced at Joyce, then lay down and shut her eyes.

    Darren sank down on top of her. He kissed her mouth. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he whispered.

    ‘I know. I’m a champ.’

    ‘You are. You truly are.’

    Barbara couldn’t help it: every now and then as Darren kissed her and fondled her and plunged inside her, she looked over at Joyce. His other wife. His dead wife. Standing there shrouded by a bathrobe. Which wasn’t pulled