Page 14 of Call Off the Dark

“I like that sound you’re making,” he said, and she hadn’t even realized she was making a sound.

Usually the first time Helen had sex with someone new, she pretended to come because she was too hyperaware of herself to let go. The second time, the third time, she would have no problem finding release, but the first time felt like performance art. She always viewed her body through the man’s eyes, as if she were outside herself. So she was surprised when she felt the sensations between her legs growing and then growing even more. So much of it was the way Tyler was looking at her, holding her in such an intense gaze that she had a hard time staying stuck inside her brain. His gaze tethered her heart to his and made her fall in small increments. She became vaguely aware of the noises she was making again, and he must have seen how she was responding because he maintained the same rhythm, just moved into her a little deeper, and then she came. No performance art. A real wave that crashed over her so hard that she buried her face in his shoulder so he wouldn’t be able to fully see and hear how much it affected her.

When Helen opened her eyes and lay her head back, Tyler was looking down at her. Their eyes locked together and he tipped over the edge. He, too, buried his face in her shoulder and muffled his sounds there. The way they were hiding from each other accentuated to her how new all of this was.

Afterward, she rested her head on his chest and listened to how fast his heart was beating.

Later that night, when Tyler kissed his way down her stomach, Helen put her hands in his hair and warned him that oral sex wasn’t really her thing. He paused and peered up at her. “What do you mean?”

Her past boyfriends had been impatient or uninterested or both, and so the whole act made her feel self-conscious. She told him, “I don’t mind it. I’m just not sure I’m that into it, I guess.”

He just smiled at her and resumed kissing his way southbound. Then he showed her how wrong she was.

The next morning, their third time, was perfect.

Because by that time, she was completely lost to him.

When Tyler left Helen’s apartment the next morning, he said, “I’ll call you later today.”

She nodded and smiled. There was no doubt in her mind that she would hear from him.

But her phone never rang.

Chapter Seven

Present day

The dark thing that fell from the sky landed twenty feet away from Helen.

When it hit the earth, she felt vibrations from the crash, not only beneath her feet, but also as pressure in her head that traveled down her spine. That made it all the more shocking when she saw how small it was. Its impact shouldn’t have been so substantial.

She walked slowly toward the black form. It was a raven. She had accidentally shot a bird out of the sky. She closed her eyes.

Sometimes Helen saw ravens in the forest and around the farmhouse. While crows traveled in large groups—a murder—ravens were often alone. They were larger than crows, and instead of flapping, they soared when they flew. Crows cawed, but ravens screamed. This raven wouldn’t be soaring or screaming anymore though. It was dead.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Helen finished piling dirt on the tiny, freshly dug grave. She’d placed it about two dozen feet from her garden, so she’d be able to see it while she worked on her vegetables. She planned to make a grave marker for it later out of cedar twigs.

She ran her hand across the fresh dirt on top, then picked up the Edgar Allan Poe book from the ground next to her and opened it to the page she’d folded down: the poem “The Raven.”

Helen began to read it aloud as a eulogy.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered . . .

She continued reading the poem with clear enunciation and soft emphasis. When she reached the last lines, she took a deep breath first, to ensure she said the words in her best rhythm with her best timbre.

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!