28. The Lovers’ Kiss

Chapter 28

The Lovers’ Kiss

D usk fell on the area. The last vestiges of orange, red, and purple sunlight slowly faded from view, giving over to the darkness of night. The lights of the town center rose above the horizon like twinkling stars appearing in the night sky. The black SUV sped down the road leading into Newbury Grove.

Hugo’s eyes focused on the road before him. He pushed the SUV to twice the normal speed limit. Hugo glanced over to check on her, only briefly, before returning his eyes to the road. Alice’s lifeless body jostled with the movement of the car. Her head slumped over; her body was only held up by the seatbelt.

“Hold on, Alice,” Hugo said in a mixture of fear and reassurance. “We’re almost there.”

Hugo’s eyes only caught the town motto, ’Welcome To The Neighborhood’ as the SUV zipped past the Newbury Grove welcome sign. He slowed down as they approached the town center. The Newbury Grove citizens went about their nightly activities.

He arrived at the intersection that led toward Ravenhill Drive. The tires screeched, rubber against asphalt, as Hugo whipped the car around the corner. He paid no attention to the stop sign, his mission far more important than any traffic laws. He picked up speed again before pressing the brakes once more to control the turn down their street.

Hugo could see their final destination. The purple house appeared from the darkness as they approached. He slammed on the brakes, stopping in front of the house. Their bodies lurched forward before snapping back against the seat rests. Hugo unbuckled himself and exited the vehicle. He ran around to the passenger door and removed Alice from the car.

Her head and arms dangled as he held her lifeless body. He struggled to hold on to her, changing his grip on her legs and torso. When he was satisfied, he gave a kick to the SUV door to shut it and hurried to the house. His muscles exploded in agony as he carried her across the yard.

He started the climb up the gray porch steps. Each step more odious than the last. He slightly rotated her body in an attempt to steady his balance. His foot caught on the ledge of a step. He tripped forward and let go of her legs, catching himself. He stood up, grabbed her legs again, and continued his ascent.

Hugo ran through the open black door. He ran into the living room and set her body on the red velvet couch. He grabbed the twisting pillars of the hourglass resting on the end table. He spun the ring to the top. The sands slowly fell. He placed it back on the end table and ran out of the living room.

He slammed the front door as he passed by on his way up the stairs. His leg muscles burned, but he fought through it and continued. He ran through Alice’s bedroom to the bathroom held within. Max whined as he rushed past. He turned on the lights and grabbed the ornate gold frame of the mirror.

“You have to help me,” Hugo said. “She’s hurt, and I don’t know what to do.”

There was no response.

“You have to help me.”

No response from the mirror .

“Are you there?” Hugo stood up taller.

He looked down to the floor on the inside of the mirror. Alice’s mirror reflection lay motionless on the black and white checkerboard tile. Hugo’s eyes widened with terror. He shook the mirror.

“Hey!” Hugo yelled. “Wake up. I need you.”

There was no response. Her body face down. Lifeless like Alice downstairs.

“I need you. Please help.” His hand slapped the wall.

No response.

As his heart raced and his breathing became labored, he stood there thinking. “What do I do?” he said in a low, hushed voice.

Esmerelda Honeydew. The name popped into his mind.

He hurried back downstairs. His hands braced against the walls; he leapt down a few steps and into the hallway. He scrambled to find Alice’s oversized, rectangular black and purple purse. He unzipped the top and fumbled through the contents. He tossed aside various items, searching for Alice’s phone. On the bottom, his prize awaited. He pulled out the phone and called Ez.

The ringing felt like an eternity. Each dial tone was more excruciating than the last. He heard a click.

“Hello?” Hugo yelled.

“You’ve reached Ez. I’m not able to come to the phone at the moment because I’m probably working behind the bar. You know what to do, kiddo,” Ez’s prerecorded voice said through the phone.

Hugo waited for the beep. “Ez! Ez, it’s Hugo. Alice is in trouble. I need help. Please call back.” He hung up the phone.

Then he stood in the hallway. He crept toward the living room entryway, not wanting to look at the red velvet couch. It felt eerily reminiscent to entering Hill Funeral Home’s viewing room the year before.

Hugo entered the viewing room with half steps. He tried to delay the inevitable as long as possible. If he didn’t enter the room, then it wasn’t real—not to him, anyway. The room was empty, except for Hugo and one other occupant.

The place smelled of lilies and lavender. White folding chairs were organized neatly into rows on either side of a center aisle way. A wooden lectern was placed in the front left. Floral arrangements were spread out in the front of the rectangular room. In the center, there was a tan wood coffin with one half open, revealing the occupant.

Hugo approached with half steps. His eyes focused, and his lips quivered. His eyes watered, but he held back tears as long as possible until a solitary tear fell. As he drew closer, he focused on her smiling face. The auburn wig placed on her head. She appeared to be at peace. No longer in pain. His Elizabeth…

“Focus!” Hugo yelled. “Focus. Help her.”

He dialed Ez’s number again. Once again, he got the voicemail.

“Please call me back, Ez! I need your help.”

He placed Alice’s phone in his pocket. He searched around for something, anything. He glanced down the hallway to the shattered tea cup. His eyes focused on the liquid on the floor.

Liquid. Drink. Wine!

Hugo flung open the door leading into the basement. The smell of mildew and dampness filled his nose. He leapt into the darkness. The stairs creaked as he hurried down. He braced himself against the wall, taking a risk with every hurried step. He lunged for a step below, and his foot slipped. He stumbled but grabbed ahold of the railing, preventing him from falling and smacking his head into the cinderblock wall. He picked himself up and continued.

He stretched into the darkness for the light pull string. His arm flailed into the air, searching, hoping. He felt the twine pull string. His fingers wrapped around it and gave a tug. The light illuminated the empty basement. Hugo rushed over to the wooden door. He pushed on the cast iron handle revealing the dark room inside.

Hugo snapped his fingers. Nothing happened.

“Of course,” he said. “Alice, we need to have a conversation about motion sensors.”

“ A parlor trick. Stage magic, ” Alice’s words from last Halloween filled his mind.

He pulled out Alice’s phone and turned on the flashlight. He rushed over to the wine rack along the back wall. He pulled bottles, searching for anything that could help.

“Luck?” Hugo said. “Maybe.” He placed the bottle under his arm, his hand holding the phone.

“Contortion? No.” He pulled more and more bottles. “Courage. Insight. Happiness. None of these are going to work.”

He continued. “Fertility. Not right now. Protection. Too late. Youth. I guess I’ll try luck.” He placed the phone into his pocket and ran back up the stairs.

He charged into the living room. Alice’s body lay still on the velvet couch like a corpse in a casket. Her face had turned a pale blue. He knelt beside her, holding the bottle in one hand and gripping the top with the other. The cork buried flush into the bottle’s neck.

“Fuck. Corkscrew.”

He set the bottle on the coffee table, stood, and took off for the kitchen.

“She’s a damn human corkscrew. What are the odds she has one?” he murmured to himself.

He yanked open the counter drawers and rifled through their contents. Silverware, kitchen towels, cooking utensils. A drawer full of coupons, batteries, and other various odds and ends. None held a corkscrew.

He flung open the cabinet doors. Plates and dishes. Coffee mugs. Glasses. Nothing resembling a corkscrew.

He opened the final cabinet door. Wineglasses hung upside down. Resting in the corner below the hanging glasses was a lever corkscrew.

“Oh, thank God.” Hugo exhaled. He grabbed the corkscrew and hurried back to the living room.

Hugo repositioned Alice’s body, so her head was atop the arm rest. He placed the corkscrew overtop the bottle’s neck. He squeezed and pushed down on the lever. The corkscrew descended into the soft wooden stopper. He pulled up and, with a small ‘pop,’ the cork was free.

He opened Alice’s mouth. Her lips and jaw were cold to the touch. He poured in a small bit of wine—not much. He didn’t want to drown her trying to resuscitate her. He closed her mouth and tilted her head back. He waited.

Nothing happened.

He tried a little more.

Nothing.

He picked up Alice’s torso, hoping it would help her drink the liquid. He waited.

Nothing.

He placed her down. He ran back into the basement and wine cellar. He continued searching the bottles for anything to help. He found nothing. He let out a barbaric yawp. The same primal scream he imagined he let out in the church a year ago. He checked the phone. No calls. Zero bars. He rushed out of the cellar. One bar.

He dialed Ez again. “You’ve reached Ez. I’m not able to come to the phone at the moment because I’m probably working behind the bar. You know what to do, kiddo,” Ez’s prerecorded voice said once again.

Hugo hung up. He stood there; his emotions overwhelmed him. His eyes filled with tears. He could not hold back the deluge as tears fell down his face. He collapsed to his knees on the basement floor. His hand was the only thing keeping him upright. He could barely breathe through his sobbing. Fear washed over him at the realization that he couldn’t help her. He couldn’t help either of them. He hunched over and gasped for air with every sob.

“Why?” Hugo asked. “Why did this happen? Why did this happen again? Help me!”

His words pleaded out into the darkness for anyone or anything to listen. There was no response.

He raised his head. There, in the corner of the basement, below the stairs, rested an oak wine barrel. Not an ordinary wine barrel. Their wine barrel. The wine they made together. The one with the special potion that caused Alice to move and enter his life. The one Hugo insisted they make the traditional way. The one where Hugo and Alice shared their first kiss. Where they embraced for the first time. Where they made love for the first time. The Lovers’ Kiss.

He had to try it.

He climbed to his feet and went back into the wine cellar to grab a glass. He hurried over to the barrel. He grabbed the wooden stopper in the top center. He wiggled it back and forth; it wouldn’t give up the liquid held within. He continued working it until the stopper relented.

Hugo set the glass down and grabbed both sides of the barrel. He pulled with all of his might; his leg lodged under it to provide extra leverage. The barrel was unrelenting. The wooden brace below prevented any movement. He pulled with all of his might.

“Come on, you son of a bitch,” Hugo yelled. His grip was slipping.

He leaned over the barrel. His hands moved along the metal hoop that lined both ends. He positioned his hands along the backside. His grip was tight. He inhaled deeply, then held his breath, clenching his teeth. He let out a primal scream, compelling the barrel to move.

He leaned backward, and the barrel rolled with him. The reddish, purple liquid poured out of the hole, splashing against his black leather jacket. He braced the barrel against his body, his right forearm holding it in place. He took the glass and filled it to the top. He rotated the barrel back to its previous position and returned the stopper. He rushed upstairs, careful not to spill any of the contents .

He hurried to Alice and knelt by her side. The wine sloshed back and forth in the glass. A few drops slipped over the edge, ran down Hugo’s hands, and splashed against the dark wood floor. He set the glass down on the coffee table. He repositioned Alice once again. He grabbed the glass, parted Alice’s lips, and held the glass above her.

He paused. He inspected the wine whirling around inside the glass.

“ I feel silly, ” Alice’s voice came back to him.

“ That’s okay, ” he remembered reassuring her. “ We can be silly together. ”

The wine spun from the movement of his hand as it traveled from the basement to above Alice’s head.

“ Spit into the cauldron, ” Alice had commanded. He remembered never taking his eyes off of her emerald greens as he spit into the black cauldron.

“ What was that? ” he asked Alice.

“ A very special potion ,” Alice replied. He remembered the seductive expression on her face. The impish smile. Her sultry eyes. The purposely misplaced strands of purple hair. A secret that only the two of them knew.

Her words came back to him. “ The Lovers’ Kiss. ” She winked.

“ What does it do? ”

“ No one knows. Its secrets are lost to time. Few have attempted it. Many have died to acquire it. Wouldn’t it be great to find out together? ”

Together.

He took a drink, nearly half. He poured the rest into her mouth. The liquid splashed against her lips. Small drops dripped down the side of her cheek as it rushed over the edge of the glass. He closed her gaping mouth.

Hugo set the empty glass down. He picked up her body, hoping it would help in any way possible. His hands intertwined with her purple hair as he braced the back of her head. He waited for what felt like an eternity. He set her back down on the couch.

Hugo spun around and sat on the hardwood floor. His knees pulled up to his chest. He spotted the familiar black, onyx ring he had placed on the coffee table earlier in the evening. He snapped it up. He held it in his right hand and examined the dark shine. Hugo positioned it over his left ring finger, allowing it to hover not even an inch away. He thought of putting it back on. Going back to his life of pain and misery and torment, torturing himself with things he could no longer change.

He held the ring in his fingers. His left ring finger moved closer. His eyes watered. He sniffled to hold back the tears. He pulled the ring away, collapsing his fingers around it. He placed his closed fist to his forehead and closed his eyes. A solitary tear fell down his face. He grabbed Alice’s hand. He hoped. He prayed.