Content Warning: >!Depicts verbal domestic abuse and threats of violence.!<
Childhood memories become increasingly plastic as time goes on. By the time we are fully formed adults most of us have an overall sense of what our childhoods were like, but we have a difficult time recalling specific details of the events. However, occasionally there are memories that have such a profound effect on our lives that we can recall all the details with perfect clarity, even decades after the fact. My visit to Mrs. Fleischer’s house is one of those memories.
This story may seem improbable by today’s standards, but keep in mind that I grew up in the 1960’s, and it was considered acceptable to leave a 10 year old child unsupervised during the day. Like many kids, I spent summer break hanging out at the park to see if there were other kids to play with. I had seen Richard Fleischer there before, he was quiet and mostly kept to himself. He was one grade ahead of me, but I knew little about him beyond that. In hindsight it was questionable when he invited me to his house to play, considering how little we knew each other. People were a lot more naive and trusting back then.
Something seemed off in his house, but I had a difficult time articulating why I felt that way. His mom was working in the kitchen, and his dad was presumably at work. Richard greeted her:
“Mom I brought someone over for you.”
He worded that weird.
I wanted to be polite, so I greeted her too:
“Hello Mrs. Fleischer.”
She glanced at me for all of a second and then returned to work. But that glance gave me a strong feeling of what kind of a person she was. She was thin and wiry, and her hair was long and completely gray. She looked like she was old for her age as opposed to actually being old. She wore what looked like a repressed scowl on her face. I grew up in a loving household where my parents hugged me every time I walked in the door, even when I had friends over (sometimes to my embarrassment). So her demeanor was very different from what I was used to seeing in adults.
She’s a really mean person.
We went to Richard’s room, and I was startled on the way there. There was a teenager sitting in the living room. He was motionless and staring off into space. He did not respond at all to us entering the room. It was off putting to see him like that. If we walked in on him like that and he didn’t respond to us, it implied he had been sitting there like that for a long time, which I thought was very strange.
We spent the next hour playing with Richard’s toy cars, although we weren’t playing with each other. Richard seemed to be in his own world and largely ignored me. I thought he was kind of rude. Between that, his mom, and the teenager on the couch, I wanted to leave. I told him I was going home, but he ignored me, so I simply got up to leave. I jumped when I saw his mom was standing in the doorway. Her facial expression was flat and lifeless, and her voice monotone:
“Are you staying for supper?”
It creeped me out that she was standing in the doorway like that. I wondered how long she had been standing there staring at us. I came up with the best excuse I could to leave:
“My mom wants me home for supper.”
I was scared of her, and I felt insecure that my voice wavered when I said it.
She feeds off fear.
“I called your mom, she said it was alright for you to eat here.”
That surprised me, but it granted me a momentary calm. I trusted that my mom would not leave me in the hands of a mean stranger. Perhaps, I had misjudged Mrs. Fleischer? I was surprised that she knew my mom, considering she was never given my name. I asked her, out of genuine curiosity:
“You know my mom?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know her?”
“Go back to playing.”
And then she walked out. The momentary calm went away and I felt agitated. I was uncomfortable, but also a little angry my mom would allow me to stay at a place like this. Something about this situation seemed off. I was still surprised Mrs. Fleischer knew my mom.
She was lying.
I returned to the toy cars and tried to distract myself. Somebody walked into the house, and shortly thereafter I heard a commotion in the kitchen. I thought an animal had gotten into the house and attacked someone, but I realized it was Mrs. Fleischer yelling at someone. Actually, it wasn’t yelling per se, but more like a mean, vicious, snarling. I couldn’t discern the exact speech, but I could tell she was pouring out obscenities. In response, a low muffled voice of a man tried to speak up, but it was always drown out by Mrs. Fleischer’s voice. I gave a concerned look at Richard, but he was unaffected.
He’s used to hearing this.
And just like that, the exchange stopped. Several minutes later, Mrs. Fleischer was in the doorway.
“Supper’s ready.”
We walked into the dining room. There was a man standing in the dining room, presumably he was Richard’s dad and also the guy Mrs. Fleischer had been chewing out. I momentarily locked eyes with him and I could see a look of concern on his face.
He’s a nice person.
Mrs. Fleischer returned to berating her husband. I had heard adults swear before, but never like this where it was a vicious, hateful stream of obscenities. Her posture was poised and erect, and she maintained eye contact at him throughout the entire exchange. I thought it was strange that she never blinked. Mr. Fleischer, on the other hand, just stared at the floor as if he had been defeated.
I had a seemingly unrelated thought at this time. I thought about how people in our area were becoming concerned at the disappearances. No one was being murdered or found dead, they simply left home and never returned. Adults were telling us kids to be careful and to stay away from wild animals. I couldn’t articulate why this seemed relevant at the moment.
She’s responsible for the disappearances.
There were five plates of food already on the table. Richard and the teenager were sitting at two of the spots. I noticed that both of them remained motionless, staring at their food, neither of them eating yet. Clearly they did not want to attract attention while this argument was going on. I didn’t want to attract attention either, so I sat at one of the spots. Mrs. Fleischer immediately broke her rant and snapped at me:
“That’s not where guests sit!”
I just stared at her frightened.
“Go at the end of the table, that’s where guests sit! Didn’t your mom ever teach you any manners? I swear you almost ruined everything.”
What did I almost ruin?
It’s hard to describe how commanding her presence was, especially if you were 10 years old like I was. I immediately went to the end of the table like she commanded me. Her husband was the opposite of her. He appeared timid and humiliated by Mrs. Fleischer.
I saw that she made hamburger hotdish. Normally I liked hamburger hotdish, but I really did not want to eat it this time.
She poisoned mine.
Richard and the teenager weren’t eating yet, so I wasn’t going to either. We sat in silence for several more minutes while the argument went on. I noticed that Mrs. Fleischer hurled a lot of personal insults at her husband. She called him fat and stupid, but she also berated his ability to provide for his family. She said he didn’t make enough money, and what he did make, he wasted. She said their house was a dump because he didn’t know how to fix anything. My fear was still there, but for some reason I gained a sense of resolve.
She resents that she has to depend on him.
Eventually the argument subsided and they joined us at the table. I assumed Richard and the teenager were waiting to say grace before eating, but nobody said grace. It seemed there was an unwritten rule that no one in the family could eat until Mrs. Fleischer started.
My fear began to rise. I needed to come up with an excuse to leave without eating. My mind raced with different ideas, but it was interrupted by Mrs. Fleischer snapping at me.
“Eat your food. We don’t waste food in this house.”
I momentarily looked at Mr. Fleischer for reassurance, but he stared down and ignored the exchange. She immediately picked up on my fear and her eyes flared up:
“I said eat your food!”
Mr. Fleischer won’t protect me.
I stared at her blankly, but my mind was racing. I could run for the door, but she placed me at the end of the table and I was boxed in. I think she placed me here on purpose. I could say I was sick, but what if she called my bluff? I tried to think some more, but I was interrupted again:
“Hellllllooooo? Are you stupid? I said eat your goddamn food!”
To my surprise, Mr. Fleischer spoke up:
“Honey, please…”
Her eyes flared up, and she began berating him again. This was the first time I had really watched her berate her husband. She looked downright demonic. Her pupils were dilated, and she spoke with such ferocity that spit began to spill out the sides of her mouth. I knew this was just a brief respite before she returned her attention to me. My heart was pounding. I was so scared I began shivering, and yet I was also sweating. My vision even began to go blurry. I needed to think! What could I do, what could I do? Think, think!
Play them against each other.
I don’t know where I came up with this idea. I was so intoxicated with fear that it happened automatically, seemingly with no input at all from my mind. I’ve wondered many times since then if it came from God himself. I pushed the food from my plate onto Mr. Fleischer’s. Mrs. Fleischer saw this, and she stared at me stunned. Her mouth was wide open. Her lips quivered as if she wanted to say something, but she was at a loss for words. This was the only time I had seen her in a state of vulnerability.
She fears disobedience.
Like a trained dog, Mr. Fleischer looked down and tried to return to eating, but Mrs. Fleischer slammed her fist on the table and yelled at him:
“Why are you eating that?!”
He spoke sheepishly:
“…I don’t want to waste food?”
He answered it as if he were trying to guess the answer to question. Mrs. Fleischer grabbed the plate and threw it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. I used this momentary distraction to grab a steak knife that was sitting on the table. I was going to make my escape or die trying. Mrs. Fleischer returned her attention to me:
“And you, you little shit! I’m going to…”
The stunned look returned to her face when she saw the steak knife in my hand. On the surface I may have appeared calm and collected, but beneath I was terrified. It was like a western duel, and we stared at each other, waiting for the other to react. It seemed like it went on forever, but it was probably just a couple seconds. She reacted first. She didn’t lunge at me, apologize, or even say anything. She simply smiled at me. Despite being motivated by evil, it seemed to be a genuine smile. Why is she smiling at me like that?
She respects me.
I took this respite to run out the door as fast as I could. I clumsily pushed past Mr. and Mrs. Fleischer in the process. She laughed at me on the way out. I was so terrified that I was halfway home before I realized I forgot to put on my shoes and that I still had the steak knife in my hand. I eventually made it home. My mom asked where I had been, but I wouldn’t tell her. She was mad at me, but more so because I lost my shoes and missed supper.
Mrs. Fleischer passed away several months after this incident. The town was shocked. Everyone thought she was an upstanding, if not aloof, member of the community. I was relieved. Mr. Fleischer was prosecuted for murdering her, but many people suspect the teenager (who I later learned was Richard’s brother) was actually responsible for it. I have no proof Mrs. Fleischer was responsible for all the disappearances, but in my heart I know it was her. I do know they stopped around the time she passed away. Nobody ever made the connection that Mrs. Fleischer might be responsible.
This event had a profound effect on me. On one hand, it gave me a sense of courage, but on the other hand it left me with a nagging sense of fear that follows me everywhere. I always wonder what really goes on behind closed doors in society. How many Mrs. Fleischers are there right now, running free, seemingly without consequence?