Remembrance

by Avery Kloss

  “He’s picking me up in an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were alive. You were so quiet.”

  If only you knew …

  “I’m totally alive.” I planned to find out where Gabe lived, wanting to speak to him. “You have fun.”

  “I need to find furniture for the house. I want to try to keep it period related, you know? Nothing too modern. I’d love a few pieces to refurbish. I need a project.”

  “The renovation is a big project.”

  “They’re coming this week to start work.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “You look … better.” She touched my face. “You look really well-rested.”

  “I feel like a million bucks.” And that wasn’t an exaggeration.

  She scooted from the bed. “Well, I’ll let you get up then. I’ve got a few things I want to do before Clark comes.”

  “I need to shower.”

  “You might want to start some laundry while I’m gone.”

  “Okay.” I slid out of bed after she left the room, venturing to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower.

  I thought I heard my mother leave a while later, a car arriving to pick her up. Finding my phone, I called Tara, who answered after the fourth ring. “Hey, it’s me.” I sat on the bed with wet hair, my feet encased in fuzzy white slippers.

  “Brie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where have you been? You like ghosted me all week.”

  “Sorry about that. I was … a little antisocial. I go through that every once in a while.”

  “Okay.”

  “I called to ask a question.”

  “What?”

  “Do you know who Gabe Murray is?”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “Does it ring any bells?”

  “Um … he’s not in school.”

  “No, he’s older.”

  “Murray, Murray, Murray,” she repeated. “Uh, he’s … maybe with that biker bar. I think he works there, or owns it or something. Yeah, that’s where I’ve heard of him.”

  “What’s the name of the place?”

  “Bad Bone.”

  “Thanks, Tara. I appreciate it.”

  “Are you going to ignore us this week too?”

  “No, I’m totally better now. I really am sorry. You know, I’ve got some issues.”

  “Don’t we all,” she chortled, snorting. “If you go to that bar, they won’t let you in. We’ve tried to sneak in, but it’s a no go.”

  “Okay. I don’t want to drink. I just want to talk to someone.”

  “I wouldn’t, Brie. It doesn’t have the best reputation. That place is scary.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “All right. Let me know what happens.”

  “Sure will. See you tomorrow.”

  “If you’re not in school, I’ll know you were murdered and dumped in the woods somewhere.”

  I laughed, “That’s such a sweet thought.”

  “Seriously, don’t go there alone. Don’t go there with people. Just stay away. Some Hell’s Angel or something could kidnap you. Those men are scary as heck.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be careful.”

  “You’re a crazy woman.”

  You don’t know the half of it. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.” I had to hurry to get ready, not wanting mom to know I had taken her car to a biker bar, a place I wasn’t supposed to set foot in.

  Dressed and ready twenty minutes later, I found the car keys on the table in the entranceway. I left the house in jeans tucked into black boots and a light grey jacket. I had not driven a car for a long time, although operating an automatic was easy enough. The vehicle rolled down the driveway a minute later, the tires crunching over rocks.

  Not accustomed to the town yet, I managed to find the onramp to the highway, and exited a few minutes later, as per the directions. I found them on the computer at home, using the car’s navigational system as a guide. Being daytime, I felt safe enough at the notorious establishment, with a few cars parked out front, along with several motorcycles. A sign said Bad Bone Bar in a bold script. The sound of laughter and music emanated from the place, along with the smell of beer.

  A man sauntered out a moment later, casting a glance my way. “Hey, honey. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “No, thanks.” I brushed past him, slipping into the darkened establishment, my eyes taking a moment to adjust. I felt a prickle of awareness, knowing people stared at me. Slipping past several tables, I approached the bar.

  A man pouring a drink glanced my way. “ID, please.”

  “I’m not here to drink.”

  He gave a thin-looking waitress the cocktail, the woman scrutinizing me. “What can I do for you then, sweetheart?” He strode over, standing on the other side of the counter, his look impassive. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “You really shouldn’t be here.”

  “Obviously. I need to speak to Gabe Murray.”

  “He’s not … at work at the moment.”

  “When will he be in?”

  “Later, after dark.”

  “Where’s he now?”

  “Sleeping, I imagine.”

  “Do you know where he lives? I need to talk to him.”

  “I wouldn’t advise that.”

  “What time is he here tonight?”

  “After eight.”

  I sighed, doubting I would be able to steal the car without mom knowing. “Can I leave him a message? Does he have a number?”

  “No phones, but you can leave a message. Should I get a paper and pen?”

  “No, just tell him Brie was here. Tell him I want to talk to him.”

  He placed his elbows on the counter, leaning near. “I really wouldn’t advise that.”

  “Will you just tell him?”

  “Sure.”

  But that sounded weak. I doubted he would relay my message. I would have to figure out another way to return. “Thanks … what’s your name?”

  “Clive Hornsby.”

  “Thanks, Clive.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I turned to leave hearing, “I wouldn’t come here during the day, but I’d stay clear at night.”

  A shiver drifted down my spine. “Why’s that?”

  “They’d eat you alive, honey.”

  I somehow knew he meant that literally, the thought terrifying. I hurried for the door, the sound of laughter following me out.

  15

  Before I even got out of bed the next morning, I felt the difference. That cloud of depression that had hung over me was gone. I slept beautifully, and dreamt things I could not remember. Yet, they left a soothing, peaceful impression. Slipping from the bed, I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand, realizing I had risen before it went off.

  Humming softly to myself, I put a record on, playing it on a lower volume, so as to not wake my mother. Digging through the closet, I pulled out a dark purple pair of jeans and a creamy, white sweater. Wearing a tank top beneath, I dressed, glancing at myself in the mirror. What had happened to the circles beneath my eyes? In a way, they were my trademark, the dark spots difficult to hide, even beneath concealer.

  In the bathroom, I brushed my teeth, staring at myself in the mirror, hunting for a pimple, and not finding a single one. Combing out tangled hair, I marveled at this change, praying it stayed with me. In my heart, I worried the break in depression might only be temporary.

  “Better enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Perhaps, one consequence of a near death experience was a greater understanding about the precious nature of life—how I really did not want to die. I was just desperate enough to stop the pain, grasping at anything in that awful, dark moment.

  A door closed in the hallway, and then my mother appeared. “I thought I heard you up. It’s early.” She wore a robe over her nightclothes
, her feet in thick socks. “I need coffee.” A yawn escaped her. “People are coming to work on the house. I apologize in advance. It’s gonna be crazy. You might have to come in through the backdoor after school. They’re doing the floors.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” I grinned, genuinely happy to see her. If I had succeeded the other night, her entire world would be turned upside down. “Make me a cup.”

  “Sure will. It’ll take several.” She wandered off.

  At school, I noted other changes. Having a quiz in Psychology that I had not studied for, I breezed through it, finishing nearly before everyone else. This allowed me to catch up on Chemistry homework and to read the chapter in US Government that I had forgotten about. By the time lunch rolled around, I searched the cafeteria for Tara and Steffy. They sat at an already crowded table.

  Unperturbed, I slid onto a bench next to Maven, but the girl looked tired, her shoulders hunched. “How’s it going?” I tossed a piece of tomato into my mouth, having gotten a salad.

  She eyed me, her expression bland. “Somethin’ different about you.”

  “I feel fantastic.” A grin lifted the edges of my mouth. “It’s probably temporary, so I’m gonna enjoy it while I can.”

  “You were down for the count last week.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I heard through the grapevine you were at the Bad Bone Bar yesterday.”

  “Wow, news spreads fast around here.”

  “Why would you do that? Don’t go there again.”

  The tone of her voice held my attention, prompting me to stare at her. “You’re like the third person who’s warned me about that place. What’s up?”

  “You’re under age, for one. The people who go there are … bad. Just stay away.”

  “Are you speaking from experience? I’ve seen your Walking Dead boyfriend, the one with the noisy motorcycle.” I waited for her to answer, and when she remained silent, I nudged her with an elbow. “Spill. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “You know, I like you better when you’re quiet.”

  “Everybody says you’re on drugs. Is that the problem?”

  She glared at me. “I’m not on drugs. I just … don’t get a ton of sleep. Unlike some people, I don’t live in gilded mansions.”

  I had never thought of Ravon Manor in such a way, but I could see how she might think it. “My mansion is a hunk of junk, Maven. It’s in need of renovation, a lot of it. But, that point aside, what’s going on?”

  “I didn’t pester the crap outta you when you felt bad. I respected your privacy.”

  “True. I totally appreciate you silently supporting me last week. That was really nice of you. I needed it. But, I’ve since had a little change. I’m … feeling so much better for the moment. One of the reasons is because I met this guy Saturday night. He works at the Bad Bone, and I’m trying to get a hold of him.”

  “I’m not gonna help you with that. I'm warning you to stay the hell away from that place. As a friend, that’s the best I can do. I wouldn’t advise any friend of mine to go anywhere near there, especially at night.”

  “Well, then tell me why. Why be so vague?”

  “That place attracts bad elements.”

  “But, your boyfriend works there, right?”

  “He does, but … oh, never mind.”

  “Is he on drugs?”

  “No.” She looked at me, her expression quite severe. “Who is it you need to speak to there? I can send a message through Flint.”

  “Gabe Murray.”

  Her mouth fell open. “What?”

  “You heard me. I just need to talk to him.”

  “You saw Gabe Murray on the weekend? Where did you see him?” Her eyes widened with concern. “Brie?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Do you have his number?”

  She snorted. “Do I have his number? No, I most certainly don’t, nor would I give it to you if I did.”

  I sighed, finding the conversation and her ambiguous answers irritating. “I’ll see him again one way or the other.”

  “Don’t. He’s the tiptop of the food chain. That’s the worst idea ever.” She glanced over her shoulder, worried we might be overheard. “Don’t talk to people about this. Don’t talk about this, period. Don’t try to contact him. What happened to you on Saturday?”

  “I … had a moment of weakness. Gabe showed up and helped me out. He must have EMT training or something. I hurt myself, and he … kinda rescued me.”

  “What do you mean by hurt yourself?”

  “I had a little accident, but it’s fine now.”

  “He gave you his blood,” she whispered, clarity shining in her eyes. “I see. You’re right. It won’t last.”

  “You know what’s going on, don’t you? I had a feeling you were the right person to talk to.”

  “And I’m telling you to stay away. I don’t know why he’d help you, but it’s rare, very rare. It won’t happen again. You don’t owe him anything.” She nibbled her lip, appearing thoughtful. “He’s stalking you. You have to be really careful. Don’t go outside at night. Stay away from windows, even if they’re closed. Put that biker bar outta your mind, you understand?”

  “You’re really freaked out about this.”

  “I do know what’s going on. You have to trust me.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  She swallowed visibly. “I’m … kinda stuck in something, but it’s not your problem. I’ll be okay.” She glanced at me. “You’ve got potential. You’re probably going to college and moving on and having an awesome life. Some of us don’t have that choice. Some of us are just … stuck. And you don’t want to get stuck in this. Just take my advice, and stay away.” She got to her feet. “The bell’s about to ring.”

  “You’re not stuck, Maven. Everybody has free will. There’s no reason why you can’t go to college and get out of town.”

  “You keep thinking that, if it makes you feel better.” She walked away without another word.

  The conversation with Maven played out in my mind over the next two hours, and, by the time I sat in Algebra, I had even more questions, although I doubted I would ever get the answers. After the last bell, I gathered my things and headed for the exit, where I stood on the top steps of the school. Several buses waited, filling in with students, while others walked or biked home.

  I glimpsed Maven then, where she stood beside her boyfriend’s motorcycle, the two of them in conversation. She sensed my appraisal, turning to me. He glanced my way too, his expression darkening. Disturbed by the situation, I hurried down the steps and walked briskly along the sidewalk, taking a turn for the woods. Passing the cemetery a while later, I spied my house through the trees, the steeply pitched roof towering over the yard.

  Entering by the back door, I heard the sound of workers. Mom sat in the kitchen with a laptop opened before her. She smiled at me. “Did you have a good day, honey?”

  “Sure.”

  “I made some coffee.”

  “I’ll have a cup in a minute.” A loud crashing sound occurred. “Wow, they’re noisy.”

  “They’ve been at it all day. They’re removing the floor. We thought we might be able to salvage it, but there’s been water damage.”

  “Is that fixed?”

  “Someone did a while ago, but the water made the wood bulge. No amount of sanding will help that. They’re taking some boards out and leaving others, then they’ll sand it down and varnish, but not for a few days.”

  “Great.”

  “You do look so much better, Brie.”

  “Thanks.” I poured a cup of coffee, adding milk. “I’ve got homework.”

  “Sorry about the noise, but they should be done pretty soon.”

  “No worries. I’ll just play music louder.”

  “You like all those old records. Most of them are from my childhood. I grew up with that stuff.”

  “You must’ve played it a lot when I was a kid, because the songs are familiar.”
<
br />   “No.” She smiled. “No, not really. I always had the radio on with more modern stuff.”

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll listen to anything.” With a mug of coffee in one hand and the backpack over a shoulder, I headed for the stairs, taking the ones off the kitchen. “They aren’t working upstairs, are they?”

  “No, honey. One floor at a time. When the downstairs is done, we’ll address some of the bedrooms. You said you didn’t want yours touched, so that’ll stay the way it is, unless you change your mind.”

  “Don’t touch mine.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She glanced at the computer. “I’m trying this new banking program. It’s driving me nuts. Your father knew how to do this. I hate it.”

  “Sorry mom.” If I had succeeded this weekend, I would have impacted my mother’s life in such a horrible way. “I love you, Mom.”

  She blinked, appearing slightly stunned. “I love you, Brie.”

  I smiled, taking the steps, where I went to my room. Tossing the backpack on the bed, I put on a record, which helped to drown out the constant pounding downstairs, men tearing apart the floor. I settled in to do homework, because I wanted to get it out of the way quickly.

  Since Saturday, I felt sharper, smarter somehow. I remembered almost everything about each class today, the notes I wrote meticulous. Glancing at what I had written a week ago, the words appeared almost unreadable. Maven said the change would not last, which was something I feared. I yearned to feel this way forever, not missing the cloud of depression in the least.

  The music suddenly stopped, the room deathly silent. I glanced over my shoulder, and gasped—stunned. A misty, whitish glow rose upwards to the height of a person. Startled by the sight, I regained my senses, smiling, knowing who this was.

  “Hey, Suzie. Hi.” Mom would think I had lost my mind if she knew I had a friend—a ghostly friend. She had turned the record player off to gain my attention. “What is it?” Just as quickly, the apparition began to disappear, the misty air thinning. “Don’t go away. We can hang out, if you want.” The glint of a small object shone from the top of the record. “Did you bring me something?”

  I got up to see what it was. A thin gold band lay upon the record. “Jewelry?” I held it, feeling the coolness of the gold and admiring how simple, yet pretty it was. “Someone’s wedding band?” What was this? On impulse, I slid it onto a finger, the fit perfect. “I’m married now,” I giggled, admiring how it shone, the gold a deep yellow. “Um, thanks, I guess.”