Tipping the Scales

Tipping the Scales, Chapter 26

It felt so good to move freely again that Odelia was kind of disappointed the clean-up went as quickly and easily as it did.

She was sitting with her body stretched upward like a giraffe's neck, but bent backwards at the bottom of her rib cage, her chest and arms pressed against the ceiling, lying on it as if it was underneath her rather than the other way around. Luxuriating in the welcome silence and solitude of an unplugged TV and closed door, she lazily traced the ceiling's lone flaw with a fingertip, grateful the mark had survived being washed.

The surface above the line felt smooth and unblemished to the touch. If the mark had been a cobweb or a streak of dirt, it would have come off with the blood, yet evidently it wasn't a crack, either. So it had to be part of the plaster, a speck of pigment that had invaded it while wet, and been drawn into a line when it was swirled onto the ceiling.

It was ever so nice to have one of the mysteries in her life solved, even if it was only the most minor of them all.

A yawn overtook her, and reluctantly, she dropped her torso back onto the damp mattresses. Several times she'd wet the blood spots down and then used her weight to squeeze the moisture back out, but there were still blotches of discoloration where the fabric had stained. The walls and ceiling had fared better, only marred by dark patches where the plaster was still wet, a condition which would clear itself up in no time.

Unfortunately, any damp patches on the floor under the mattresses would have to stay that way. It wouldn't be good for the hardwood, but since the mattresses would take a very long time to dry and couldn't be moved, nothing could be done about it.

Other than that, the only problem spot remaining to be addressed was Melanie's rat nest of soiled bedding, and she'd be damned if she'd so much as try to scrub that clean.

She curled the mattress up at the corner and felt for damp spots around her belongings. Satisfied that her iPod remained safe and dry, she undid the knot she'd tied in her catheter tubing and reattached it to the collection bag, once again anchoring herself to the floor.

That damned catheter was the functional equivalent of a ball and chain. God, but she hated it... Everything about it was disgusting. The feel of the tubing where it coiled around her leg and up inside her, the sight of the sickly yellow fluid oozing through it, drop by drop, the—

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, WOMAN?? ARE YOU?" Jackson's voice boomed out, startling Odelia into a flinch that, thanks to her size, rattled the darkened TV against its mounting clear across the room.

"KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN! THE NEIGHBORS WILL HEAR!" Melanie shrieked.

Jackson's reply was a menacing rumble, just quiet enough that Odelia couldn't quite make out the individual words. It came through the walls as a stuttering rumble of unintelligible ferocity that harkened Odelia back to childhood zoo visits, the bad kind of zoos that kept the lions crowded together in a single cage.

Odelia grinned. It was difficult to imagine the phrase 'be quiet, the neighbors will hear' being uttered in any way more certain to be heard by those very same neighbors.

That it had been said at all was a marvel. Jackson and Melanie were the neighborhood equivalent of people who carry on cell phone conversations in theaters while the movie's playing.

Still, she had to give them credit; in this area, if in no other, they had changed for the better. Most of their fights over the past few months had been waged so softly even she had seldom known when they were taking place, and she shared a house with them. They had succeeded so well in their efforts to be discreet that anyone who didn't know better might assume the two had finally learned to get along.