by Fawn Bonning
As they pulled onto her street, she felt a tightening in her chest at the sight of her house. Once a sight capable of instantly brightening her mood, her once warm and cozy abode now conjured images of shadowy figures with icy eyes and waxy skin. A smothering oppression settled over her heart. Absentmindedly sucking in a salty tear, she peered at her humble home, the dread building steadily as they approached.
“Tell ya what, Cher,” Cindy sighed wearily beside her. I’m gonna get Kenny to watch the kids tonight. How does that sound? You won’t be alone.”
Suddenly Cheryl had a grisly vision of Cindy’s face being yanked into view, a hand clutching a fistful of her hair. And the look on his face as he’d sliced the scalp from her head.
As Cindy pulled into the drive, throwing the car into park, Cheryl grabbed her sister’s hand, squeezing tightly. “Cin,” she breathed. “Thank you. Thank you for wanting to help me, but…” she hesitated, pulling her hand away to brush the hair from her eyes, “there’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
“Cher—”
“No, Cin. I mean it,” she said, squaring her shoulders defiantly. “You stay away.”
“Jesus, Cher. You scare the crap out of me and then tell me to stay away?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just thought you might be able to give me some advice. You’re supposed to be the smart one in the family, aren’t you?”
“I am?”
“Oh, come on, miss straight A’s. Who do you think it is you’re trying to fool, here? I’m just the average C student who had to follow in your king-size footsteps, you clodhopper?”
Cindy smiled shyly, some of the color returning to her cheeks. “You’re just as smart. Just never applied yourself, is all. You were always too busy being rebellious, giving Mom and Dad a hard time, you troublemaker.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“God,” Cindy said, shaking her head.
“What?”
“I thought I was the smart one, too. But, up until thirty seconds ago, I thought you called me a clodhopper all those years because I wore a size ten.”
“Well…maybe that’s what you were supposed to think,” she said, grinning slyly.
They stared at each other, their smiles slowly fading, and she felt the tears welling, mirroring those she saw in her sister’s eyes.
“Isn’t there something we can do,” Cindy asked, “someone we can call?”
Cheryl shrugged. “Well, I called the nightmare busters, but they’re overbooked this week.”
Pulling a tissue from her purse, Cindy dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. “How can you crack jokes?”
“Sorry, Cin. It’s just…I need an outlet, you know? Besides,” she said, “I feel this is something that I’m destined to face on my own. I feel it here,” she said, placing a hand over her heart.
At the tormented look on Cindy’s face, she took her hand, squeezing it warmly, wishing that she could tell her that everything was going to be just fine. “Trev, baby, let’s go, honey,” she said instead.
“Cher, promise me one thing, please,” Cindy said, grabbing her arm as she reached for the door handle. “Call Jeff and tell him. Tell him everything. Please, Cheryl. It’s his son, too. He has a right to know if he’s in danger. And maybe he can help you…you know, deal with whatever it is you’re up against here, whether it be something… I don’t know… supernatural, or maybe just a nervous breakdown. I know,” she continued quickly, “but at this point I’m almost hoping that’s all it is. And quite frankly, that’s the direction I’m leaning toward. You know, it kind of runs in the family. They say Grandpa Riley had a nervous breakdown when he was in his twenties. They came real close to institutionalizing him.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, I promise. Now let me out of here, will ya. My foot is killing me.”
“Okay. Call me later, okay, Cher. I love you.”
“Yeah,” Cheryl cleared her throat of the lump that seemed intent upon lodging there. “I love you too, Cindy.”
She stood on the front porch, waving to Cindy who was pulling away with lips drawn back grimly in a forced smile.
Shouldn’t have opened my big mouth, she thought to herself. She’ll be camped out at my front door tonight, I just know it.
~~~~
She opened the door at seven-thirty that evening to Cindy with wet hair, a freshly scrubbed rosy face, and a cram-packed overnight satchel clutched tightly in front of her.
“Hey, sis,” Cindy chirped. “I’m all packed and ready for an overnight. Just us girls, tonight, isn’t that cozy?” she said, pushing past the elbow blocking her path and leaving an aroma of strawberry conditioner, baby oil, and minty toothpaste in her wake.
“Now don’t give me that look,” she said as she heaved her overnight bag onto the coffee table. “You need a good night’s sleep and I’m here to make sure you get one. Besides, we never get to spend any time together, you know, quality time, just the two of us. So here I am,” she said, plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion beside her. “You need to talk about anything, you know, anything. Marital problems, or any depressing thoughts, or—”
“I don’t need a shrink, Cin.”
“Are you sure? Because there’s a lady who works out of her house not two blocks over. She’s supposed to be pretty reasonable.”
“I’m sure,” she said, hobbling to the couch. “And we’re not having marital problems. Really, you’re barking up the wrong tree, big sister.”
“Then why haven’t you told Jeff yet?” she asked, crossing her arms over her stomach.
“How do you know I… Damn it, Cindy, did you call him?”
“No, I didn’t. Though I haven’t the foggiest notion why not. I just know he would be here if you had.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking this whole thing through thoroughly, and I’ve decided you’re right. I’m just stressed about this whole sleepwalking thing.” Propping her cast foot up on the coffee table, she lounged back, yawning as she rubbed her dry eyes. “That, exacerbated by the fact that I haven’t sleep in almost a week. Sleep deprivation can skew one’s perception, I suppose.”
“There you go then,” Cindy said, sitting up straight, the worry draining from her face. “Just lay that weary body down and don’t worry about a thing. Is Trev asleep?”
“He’s reading. Well, looking at books, but I think he’s pretty close. I’ll check on him.”
“No, no,” Cin said, jumping up. “Sit, sit, I’ll do it. You just relax and don’t worry about a thing. Big sister’s at the helm now. Never fear, big sis is here,” she threw over her shoulder as she scurried down the hall.
Hobbling to the kitchen, Cheryl quickly prepared her sister’s “special” drink. Carefully emptying the contents from the sleeping capsules into the chilled cranberry juice, she stirred briskly.
“You were right,” a voice piped up behind her. “Whoa, take it easy, Cher. Just me. He’s got his nose in a book. Hey, you remembered,” she squealed, reaching around her to snatch the glass of cranberry juice from the counter. “Nightcap of champions,” she said, taking a few sips and smacking her lips. “Nice and tart. Thanks, sis.”
Cheryl smiled and, retrieving her own glass from the counter, took a sour sip.
~~~~
Lying on Trevor’s floor, she watched the slow oscillation of the ceiling fan. It had been a good hour since they’d taken their spot beside Trevor’s bed, and she was surprised at how much she’d enjoyed her sister’s company for that time, the two of them whispering into the night. It was cozy, intimate, and she was surprised at how comforted she felt to have her close, and more than a bit saddened that they hadn’t spent more time together as adults. They had always been so different growing up. Cindy, Miss goody straight A’s two shoes, always so perfect, always looked up to and admired, while she had always been just the average one, struggling to pass, and seemingly always able to find trouble. Or ma
ybe trouble just had a way of finding her.
But it was different now. Cindy had changed. Or maybe she had. They both had changed. Their lives were similar now, their objectives the same, both centered on their children and creating a good life for them. They had grown to have a lot more in common than she would have ever dreamed, both driven by a love stronger than any either had ever known before, a mother’s love for her children. She was saddened that she was only now realizing this.
“You know,” Cindy whispered, beginning to sound drowsy. “I’ve been thinking…about Trevor’s sleepwalking. And about what you said, you know, about the dreams before he was born, and well…it makes me wonder…”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just this whole sleepwalking thing, how it continues to be passed down through the generations. I mean, everyone knows that we pass down certain physical traits, the slope of a nose, slant of the eyes…” She yawned loudly, before picking up where she’d left off. “Thin hips, wide shoulders, that sort of thing, you know, genetics.”
“Yeah?”
“And, well…certain artistic talents can be passed down as well. You know, singing, painting, musical abilities, that sort of thing. I know, I know, some say it’s because they’re exposed to it more, but I’m not so sure. You remember Terri Tyson?”
“Yeah.” She did remember. Everyone knew the story about Terri. How she’d banged up her head in a car accident. And how, a few weeks later, she’d sat herself down at the piano in chorus class and began playing scales. And the look on poor old Mrs. Chendler’s face when she’d asked her how long she’d been taking lessons, and Terri replied that she’d never taken a piano lesson in her life.
“Well,” she continued, “You see that all the time, you know, people doing all sorts of remarkable, inexplicable things, remembering places they’ve never been and speaking languages they’ve never heard, and people automatically start to scream holy miracles or reincarnation, but…I believe there’s a perfectly logical scientific explanation. I mean, it makes more sense to me that we might pass down other things besides big noses and bald heads, and the tendency to sleepwalk.”
“Such as?”
“Well, such as memories—you know, brain cells. And not just from your parents or grandparents, either. I mean, maybe it’s possible to inherit a memory from ancestors way back in the family tree, hundreds, thousands of years, even. Maybe that can explain why people can visit a totally foreign place and feel a strong connection, like the feeling that they’ve been there before. Deja vu. I believe that bump on the head woke up some sort of genetic memory, some latent cells that were sleeping.”
Cheryl scratched her chin. “Yeah, I suppose it’s possible,” she said. “I mean, that would explain how Trevor could be dreaming in my womb, but not why I was experiencing the dreams with him?”
“That I can’t explain.” Cindy yawned, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “I mean, you’re two separate people. You know, you and the baby.” She paused once again, trying to get her wandering thoughts back on track. “I mean, he has a brain, you have a brain, he has a heart, you have a heart. But, I don’t know. It’s a special bond. Nothing…nothing like it. There’s a connection there…the physical connection, the umbilical cord. I mean, we all know that he’s affected by your hormonal changes…and by what you eat and so forth…but maybe there are ways that you…you know…the mother are affected, as well. Ways that we don’t know about, and because Trev is…Trev is special…it affected you in a much…much…on a higher level, a greater scale.” She yawned loudly, cupping her hand over her mouth, and then scratched her head. “Well, anyway…it’s just a theory. I wouldn’t carve it in stone just yet.”
Cheryl sighed deeply. “Cin?”
“Yep.”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. I guess for not calling the men with the white coats to come and take me away.”
Cindy didn’t reply, and for a few moments, Cheryl thought she might already have passed out.
“You know,” she said at last, her speech slurred as the pills worked their magic. “I watched that tape after you left the other day. You know…Trevor’s wild pony ride. I couldn’t stop…I don’t know. I felt compelled, and…and…” Her concentration seemed to break. Putting a hand to her forehead, she rubbed groggily. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice climbing to a higher, on the verge of tears pitch. “You were right. I was afraid to admit it, but…I saw something…something not right. And I…I just pushed it aside, like…like it wasn’t important, and I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have, Cher. I’m so sorry.”
Cheryl grasped her sister’s hand. “It’s okay, Cindy,” she said, squeezing. “I know, I know. I did the same thing. It’s a difficult thing to accept.”
“But…its eyes…they…”
“Shhh. Sleep now. Sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Cheryl felt her hand go limp.
She dragged her sister down the hall and into the living room—a difficult feat considering the bulky cast—and though Cindy mumbled her protest, she didn’t waken. Situating her safely away from Trevor’s room, Cheryl placed a pillow under her head and covered her with a blanket, and then knelt by her side for a few moments. She watched her breathing, deep and steady, and peered down at her face so peaceful in sleep. She’d never looked at her sister before, she realized with amazement. Not really looked. Not like this. It was strange. Twenty-five years and she didn’t really know what her sister looked like. Though she’d always known her sister was pretty, she hadn’t realized how beautiful she was with fine, chestnut-colored hair against fair skin, a spattering of small freckles across the bridge of a slightly oversized nose, full lips. She leaned in to place a kiss upon her cheek, something she hadn’t done since…she couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed her sister.
She sat back on her heels, feeling a heaviness in her chest, one she didn’t immediately recognize for what it was—resignation. “Please don’t let him hurt Cindy,” she breathed, and felt a strange sensation, like the gentle tickling of a feather along her spine.
She rose slowly, swallowing hard as a silent tear slipped from her eye. Brushing it aside, she pulled her shoulders back and headed toward the hall, limping toward Trevor’s room, the sliding of her cast on the tile reminding her eerily of the old classics where the monster would drag its bum leg behind it as it pursued it’s intended victim down the long, dark corridors of the haunted mansions. Except, of course, she wasn’t the monster in this case. No, the monster awaited just up ahead. She felt him…it…them.
There came a cool draft. It lifted the hair gently from her shoulders and sent the goose bumps coursing down her spine. Bracing herself, she stepped into the doorway.
He stood with his back to her, wearing an old-fashioned suit. He was peering down at the bed, obscuring her view of Trevor, and she wondered briefly if she was too late.
She was relieved when she heard Trevor speak with a sleepy slur. “Please, Sir, can you help her get home?”
“Oh, yes,” he responded in a hushed whisper. “I plan on driving her home, myself.”
He turned toward her, allotting her a brief glimpse of Trevor sitting up in bed, his eyes open and his head tilted.
“Oh my,” he gasped, “you’ve hurt your little footsy. How very unfortunate. It’s going to be so horribly cumbersome with that thing up around your ears, don’t you think, my dear?”
His vest and jacket and neat bow tie were tailor cut, and his hair was white and slicked back. He was the Wizard of Oz.
“I know,” he said, looking down at himself with a pout “Not what I would have chosen, either.” His bushy eyebrows shot up as he gave her a chiding look. “We aren’t changing our tiny little mind now, are we?” He tsked, shaking his head. “Now…that would be highly inadvisable. There’s nothing gets our goad worse than a Wolly teaser.”
“I meant what I said,” she said, regaining her composure and step
ping into the room.
“Oh, goodie!” he shrilled, clapping his hands merrily but quietly. “We have been so looking forward to this. Wolly’s been going out of our skin, if you know what we mean, dearie,” He reached into his trousers to pull out a freshly shed snake skin about six feet long. With a child-like titter, he twirled it around like a feathered boa as he sashayed coquettishly toward her, batting his lashes demurely.
Stopping several feet shy, he tossed it aside and reached inside his jacket. “We brought you a treat, beautiful,” he purred, pulling out a colorful lollipop and twirling it in front of her eyes. “Straight from lollipop land. Now, be a good little girl and give us a lick.”
He inched the lollipop toward her mouth in measured intervals, his eyebrows arching higher and higher, his eyes growing wider and wider. They nearly popped from his head when she slid out her tongue. “Ooooh,” he moaned. “Oh, yes! Yes!” He was shuddering as he ran the lollipop down her tongue, then up again.
His own tongue slid out in his sick excitement, and thanks to Trev’s Mickey Mouse nightlight, she could see it teeming with life.
He slurped it back in. “You wittle Wolly teaser, you.”
Trevor cleared his throat. “Mr. Wizard, you in there? You got those red shoes?”
The wizard grimace grinned. “Shh,” he directed to her, his pale eyes glittering in the darkness. “He can’t see us behind the green curtain.”
She stifled a scream as he tossed the lollipop aside and swooped in to grab her buttocks.
Pulling her close, he ground his hips against hers. “What’s the prob, sweetness?” he purred, his maggot breath hitting her in the face. “Lookin’ a might peaked.” Kneading her buttocks, he gyrated against her in tight little circles.
Gnashing her teeth, she set her face in what she hoped was a disinterested demeanor, despite the fact that she could feel ‘Wolly’ frantically prodding.