Seven Point Eight

by Marie Harbon

  That was a moot point for Sam, and he shrugged bitterly. “Work comes first.” The words were spoken with a degree of vehemence.

  Ava smiled sympathetically at Sam, who tried to hide his feelings and she concealed her own disappointment, for she also wished her uncle could have made it. He’d guided her throughout her life, so it saddened her that he wasn’t here.

  Sam took an empty plate and helped himself to the food, then quietly began to eat. Numerous times he glanced over at Ava, who returned his gaze with some fondness. She remembered him as a young boy, one who’d grown up without a mother and suffered the emptiness of a frequently absent father. As much as she adored her uncle, she didn’t agree with the way he’d nurtured Sam, and in many ways, she’d looked out for him throughout his childhood. Caroline had always been there for him, and in his father’s absence he’d stayed with Ava’s family many a time. Therefore, Sam had high regards for Ava and the rest of the clan.

  “So,” Robert said, “what are you doing nowadays? Have you finished school yet?”

  “No, I’m in my final year,” Sam answered.

  “Oh, so that must mean you’re ready to take your exams. What are your specialist subjects?”

  “Music and art, they’re my passion. Do you remember when Aunt Caroline bought me the piano, and kept it at your house?”

  Jack interjected. “Where’s the money in music and art? I can’t say your father was too pleased.”

  Sam transposed from a placid manner to one decidedly cockier.

  “Well, Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ was number one on the album chart for thirty seven weeks and it generated seven top ten singles, making him $125 million. U2’s ‘Joshua Tree’ sold more than fourteen million copies worldwide and the tour grossed $40 million. I think that could be regarded as more substantial than mere pocket money. Would you like me to continue?"

  Jack appeared embarrassed at his snappy response. Everyone looked at their plates with sudden interest, and silence fell upon the room, only broken by the sound of knives cutting chicken. A few people cleared their throats. Caroline sensed the imminent explosion and used diplomacy.

  “Do you play any other instrument besides the piano?”

  Sam smiled and stated proudly, “The guitar, not like my father cares but I have my own path to follow. It’s as valid as anyone else’s.”

  Ava gave him a supportive look. “You must play for me sometime, I haven’t heard you perform for about five years now.”

  “Yeah, I’ve improved enormously since Yankee Doodle Dandy,” he joked.

  Once the meal concluded, Caroline helped shift all the dirty plates to the sink, and Jason began browsing their CD collection for the early evening entertainment. Emma wanted commercial pop, while Jason insisted on the Smiths and the Sisters of Mercy, plus a little Bauhaus when everyone had consumed too much wine.

  “This is my birthday, not my funeral,” Ava objected, “and we have conservative guests today.”

  Jason sighed in concession, and chart music won. Ava laughed inwardly though. Conservative her family may be, but they were like dynamite and earthquakes together sometimes.

  Kylie Minogue kicked off the evening with a song entitled ‘I Should Be So Lucky.’

  “One hit wonder,” Jack scoffed.

  At this point, the door bell rang again and Caroline answered it. A few minutes later, a bohemian looking woman a little older than Ava breezed in, with her boyfriend in tow. She had a henna rinse on her hair and wore a stripy long sleeved t -shirt. Handing Ava a bottle of wine, she gave her a hug.

  “Sorry sis, we couldn’t make the meal, we only got back from Goa last night. Happy birthday!”

  “Glad you finally made it, Nettie, just in time for the wine!”

  Jack butted in, clutching a bottle of Budweiser and looking more arrogant than usual.

  “If you don’t find a suitable job, you can always start as my assistant. You’ll soon work your way to the top.”

  Sam cut in, after eavesdropping. “I think my father is interested in recruiting you, Ava, when you’ve finished your degree of course. You know how he has a vested interest in science.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll find something, there’s an abundance of jobs in the scientific field.”

  She used Sam as a cue to exit Jack’s company, and the monotonous train of conversation concerning finance and accounts.

  “Shall we open this bottle and dispense the wine?”

  They moved into the kitchen, and Ava rummaged in the drawers for a corkscrew. Sam watched her uncork the wine, with the adulation of a teenager in love for the first time.

  “You become more beautiful every day,” he said.

  Ava stood looking at him with the bottle in her hand, unsure about his intentions. Prince began to sing ‘When Doves Cry’ in the background.

  She replied with a compliment. “And you’re turning into a handsome young man, I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of girlfriends.”

  “As long as they’re like you, and are as intelligent as you.”

  She averted her eyes for a moment, trying to deal with the strange feelings his comment churned up. How could he think like that?

  “Sam, I love you as a member of the family. I know I’ve played a huge role in your childhood, but, you’re my cousin….”

  “Adopted cousin, remember?” he pointed out.

  Yes, adopted. They both knew that all too well. Her parentage had become a sensitive issue since Caroline had told her about the adoption years ago, just as the hidden identity of Sam’s mother gnawed at him occasionally.

  He moved closer to her and placed one hand on her hip. She paused, bottle of wine still in her hand, unsure what to think. Sam placed her hand on his stomach, and began to sing along with the music, referring to the lyrics.

  “Can you feel how my stomach trembles inside?”

  His infatuation confused her, it being so direct and unexpected. He continued singing along and enjoyed the feel of her hand on his stomach. As he received no rebuttal, he began to move her hand further down his body, and a little thrill of sexual arousal tingled throughout her nervous system.

  This is so wrong.

  Her sister, Annette, burst onto the scene, thankfully not excruciatingly drunk. At this point Sam pulled away, a little embarrassed and feeling his moment had been cruelly deflated. As much as Ava wanted Sam’s company, his unexpected romantic interest had disturbed her deeply and thrown up some confusing feelings. Nettie provided a much needed distraction.

  “Life has turned upside down this summer!” she declared.

  Ava became fascinated by the drama and mystery. “Is this concerning your latest travels?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “Where have you been this time?”

  “To another freaking dimension! Seeing as it’s the summer of love, I took part in a little drug experimentation…”

  In the background the music changed to Bon Jovi, ‘Living on a Prayer’, to which Jason and Emma began to sing along in their semi drunken state.

  “Drugs???” Ava blurted out, shocked.

  “Shhhh! Don’t let mum hear, it was just LSD.”

  “Just LSD?” Ava lowered her voice. “Why would you do that?”

  Annette rolled her eyes. “To free my mind, you really should try it. The colours are amazing and when it peaks, everything you think is so profound, and the hallucinations really are out of this world. I sat in someone’s house after a party, and the carpet was just writhing with snakes.”

  “Snakes?”

  Warning sirens began to sound in Ava’s head.

  Nettie takes acid and sees snakes.

  I saw snakes today, in the roasting tin.

  Coincidence?

  Ava made wild connections, or were they wild?

  Am I tripping on LSD, or something?

  Nothing made sense anymore. Surely someone hadn’t been spiking her drinks or food, had they?

  4

  Forlorn Genius

&n
bsp; There was nothing more Sam hated than coming home to an empty house, but he’d gotten used to it. However, he still hated the solitude. The quietness of the house sometimes disturbed him, for in these silent moments, the nightmares came. They’d plagued him all his life and he’d never learned to deal with them. Now he was almost an adult, and he missed the feeling of family Caroline had given him as a child. All his father had offered was an empty house and an empty heart.

  Sam’s father’s place was a large town house in the suburbs of north London. Quintessentially Victorian, it had a double bay window at the front and dormer window at the top. Sam never used the front of the house and entered through the back, a little tired after Ava’s birthday meal. He unlocked the door and entered the kitchen, moving through to open the double doors between this room and the next, which created an open plan living area.

  When he looked into the living room, it appeared he had a visitor, who’d probably some to see his father. Many people came and went in his father’s life, so it wasn’t unusual to find someone in the house. The male visitor was middle aged, with a full head of grey hair and he sat on the sofa, which showed its back to the kitchen, so that only the top part of the man was visible.

  “Hi,” Sam said, nonchalantly, “you waiting for my dad?”

  “Yes and no, I’ve been meaning to pop by for a while,” the visitor replied.

  Sam shrugged in an effort to appear indifferent, although he appreciated the company. Because he was polite and believed in hospitality, he offered the visitor a drink and the man accepted a cup of tea. Sam put the kettle on.

  “So,” he attempted conversation, “are you here for business or pleasure?”

  The man smiled. “A bit of both,” he said warmly. “I’m Bill, by the way.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I’m Sam.”

  “Oh yes, I know your name, you’ve been mentioned many a time, in a positive way of course.”

  This surprised Sam, he often felt non-existent and when his father acknowledged his presence, he complained about what Sam chose to do with his time, and his career choices.

  “So young man,” Bill continued, “you’re finishing school soon. What are you going to do after that?”

  Sam found this a difficult question, as he’d become so used to condemnation.

  “I’d love to study music or art at university… express my soul… compose music to move people’s souls.”

  “Well, I think that’s wonderful.”

  “My dad doesn’t. He wants me to be like Ava and be a scientist, or run a business like him, because he thinks I’ll make a lot of money from it. All I want to do is make music.” Sam popped a teabag into an empty cup, poured on the boiling water and stirred it with vigour. “Music is big business, and as worthy a career as stock broking or science, not that anyone takes me seriously.”

  “I’m sure your instincts are correct, you’ll find many of your gut feelings can be safely followed.”

  After pouring in a little milk, he took the cup into the main living area and walked around the sofa. A surreal and gross sight confronted him. Bill sat on the sofa but both his legs were missing below the knee, the wounds bleeding, jagged and raw. It was happening again, the visitors…they always looked so real but they weren’t…they couldn’t be. Sam dropped the cup of tea, the drink splashing everywhere.

  “Sorry to appear like this,” Bill continued, “I needed to get your attention.”

  Sam closed his eyes like he always had done and breathed deeply.

  “You’ve shut us out for too long, Sam. You need to start accepting that we’ll always be around, to be seen and heard. We mean no harm.”

  He opened his eyes, mortified to find Bill still sitting there, although he now had complete legs. Sam grabbed a cloth from the kitchen to clean the tea stain on the floor. As he rubbed, venting his anger, Bill pursued the conversation.

  “You didn’t always ignore us.”

  Sam shrugged, with a surly expression on his face.

  “Well, times change, don’t they?”

  Bill gave him a benign smile, patient of the reluctance Sam demonstrated.

  “Who was your first, how shall I say, spirit visitor?”

  Sam finished rubbing the stain and set the cloth to one side.

  “An old lady.”

  “And she stayed with you for a while, didn’t she?”

  Sam exhaled sharply in frustration.

  “Do you think I really appreciated visitors dropping by my bedroom each night with… their brains hanging out, or their arms missing, or their wasted, diseased bodies to scare the shit out of me? I was a child, for God’s sake.”

  “And a gifted child at that,” Bill added.

  Sam reached out for his guitar, which was close by and he tuned it with finesse in the matter of a minute.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  “I want to help you. You need a father figure, someone who understands you. After all, we don’t want you going down the wrong path, do we?”

  “I’m fine, really.”

  “You know, it doesn’t make you weak to need others.”

  Sam began to play his guitar, a mixture of wild riffs and soft melodies. Bill smiled, listening to the music emanating from Sam’s anger, its raw power and energy, and he nodded in appreciation.

  “Beautiful.”

  Sam paused, damping the vibration of the strings and he remained silent for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply. It was rare he played for another person, although he couldn’t quantify whether a dead person still counted as a legitimate audience. He played a softer, more delicate tune, including an arrangement of chords off the top of his head. As he played, picking the strings delicately, he closed his eyes and visualised the tune as a landscape. In his mind’s eye, it became a symphony of colour and vibration, an undulating horizon of sound and each new hill, or feature on the landscape predicted the next chord or string to pick.`

  Sam was now engrossed in the guitar, so Bill decided to make an exit.

  “Well, if you need us, we’re always around, but you can’t avoid who you are forever.”

  Sam had his own path to follow, but in the war between the soul and the will of the conscious, albeit angry mind, the latter could easily overpower the subtlety of spirit. Another day may yield greater dividends, so Bill faded from sight. Sam paused, those final words ringing in his head.

  ‘We’re always around, but you can’t avoid who you are forever.’

  5

  The Waking Dream

  Saturday 3rd November 1990

  Why does it always take so long to recover from a hangover? Ava thought, finally able to stomach a meal.

  Sam’s 18th birthday had necessitated a legal drinking session, and she’d joined a large group of college art students in his local pub. She felt like the odd one out at first but as the night had progressed, she’d drunk sufficient alcohol to adapt to a younger mind set and by the end of the night, it became clear she’d regret it in the morning. It had been great to see Sam again, and what a polite yet intense young man he’d become. After vowing to keep in regular contact with him, they’d hugged and then she’d fallen out of the taxi.

  Life had moved on since the completion of her degree, with repeated job searches and deliberation over whether to continue studies at a higher level, all tainted with financial stress. Ava finally secured a job at a small laboratory not too far away, although she did wonder sometimes what the prospects were for promotion. She wanted to make it independent of family help, despite her uncle’s offer of assistance.

  She fancied a quiet Saturday night. As a student, she’d pored over text books about genetics. Now she’d finished, she felt like indulging in something superficial and steamy. A dusty Jackie Collins book sat on her bedside table, so she dismissed the unwanted particles with a gust of breath and located her bookmark. Before long, the words and ticking clock caused her to drift off to sleep.

  However, she awoke not too long after. An odd
tingle crept across her skin, as if the air were filled with static electricity, penetrating her body and pulsing through her nervous system. A shift of perception occurred, like a blurring and a crackle of the air itself.

  She sensed a presence in her room and a humanoid figure emerged. It moved towards her, emitting a soothing energy, although the only features it possessed were eyes that glowed iridescently, moving through the hues of blue, purple, and pink. Strangely, it seemed to have large wings that were folded behind its back. There was nothing rational about this visitation, yet it felt real and gripping, holding her attention like a visual vice. As it neared her, however, its face began to take on form and transmuted into a young man with fair hair, whom Ava instantly recognised.

  “Michael?”

  The figure of her ex, Michael, albeit with wings and no clothing, sat on the end of her bed.

  “I think it is essential you believe that,” he said.

  The angelic entity in her room must have drawn a memory from her subconscious, one long suppressed, one that held a yearning for something no longer in her life.

  “If you’re not Michael, then who are you?”

  The figure posing as Michael fell silent, as if in deep thought, then answered, “I don’t think you’re ready for that knowledge yet.”

  She surveyed his face and found that the usual imperfections were absent, such as the slight kink in his nose where it had been previously broken and re-set, but the likeness was very convincing.

  “You must be wondering why your perception of the world around you seems distorted at times.”

  Ava felt reluctant to discuss the matter, how could she admit to anyone the psychological condition of her sister, and her own leanings in that direction?

  The Michael figure continued. “It is an essential process in your development and crucial to discover who you are, and why you are here.”

  “Do you mean where I came from and who my parents are?”

  “It runs deeper than mere material relations, although your parentage will help you understand a great deal. You need to discover yourself too, and in these things you will ascertain your purpose. There is a natural process that must run its course, one that has been postponed for a number of years.”