Came Back Haunted: An Experiment in Terror Novel #10

by Halle, Karina

  “I know.” I sigh. “Dad must be happy though.”

  “Why?”

  I frown. “Isn’t that why my dad wanted to talk to you in private last time? He was worried about their relationship? He didn’t trust Jay.”

  Dex blinks at me, then nods. “Right. Of course. Slipped my mind.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s go inside, it’s freezing.”

  Once inside, we get the champagne flowing. Though my dad does seem more with it and relaxed, now that I know the cause of Ada’s mood, I can’t help but feel heartbroken for her.

  We settle down in the living room to watch a movie on Netflix, though it takes fucking ages to try and decide what to watch (that’s no surprise, my father and Ada have very different cinematic tastes from Dex and I).

  Then Ada heads upstairs and I take the opportunity to follow her.

  I find her in her bedroom, shrugging off a sweater until she’s just in a thermal top. Jesus, she’s gotten skinny.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m getting too hot,” she says, going to her dresser and pulling open a drawer, rifling through an excessive number of cardigans.

  I close the door behind me, and she looks up at me, alert and on edge.

  “I know about you and Jay,” I say quietly.

  She flinches, then slams the drawer shut before opening another. “Figures he would tell you. No fucking secrets in this place.”

  “Ada I am so, so sorry.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know how hard this must be,” I say, going over to her.

  I put my arms out in an attempt to hug her, but she steps back, her hand blocking me, her eyes looking wild. “Just stop, okay?”

  I shake my head, feeling extra rejected. “I don’t understand. You can talk to me about this.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you, okay? I don’t want to talk to anyone. Just…leave me alone.”

  That fucking hurts. But I have to remind myself it’s not about me and my feelings right now. I have to give her the space she needs.

  “Okay,” I manage to say, my voice shaking a little. “I get it. We don’t have to talk now. Or ever. But I want you to know I’ll listen if and when you’re ready. And I’m here for you. And I love you.”

  She just grumbles something in return and pulls out a cardigan, slipping it on. “I knew you’d start to pry.”

  “He brought it up,” I protest. “And even if he didn’t, why shouldn’t I? I’m your sister.”

  “Doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything,” she says, going to her bedside table and pulling something out. She turns her back to me before I can see what it is, but from the sound of the cap being popped off and the following rattle, I know it’s a bottle of prescription pills.

  “What are you doing?” I quickly walk over there, trying to see.

  “Nothing,” she says, putting the bottle back in the drawer.

  I watch her swallow it down, no water, then I open the drawer and fish it out, holding the bottle in my hand. It’s a prescription for Xanax.

  “Since when do you take Xanax?” I ask.

  “It’s been awhile. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Then why are you trying to hide it?”

  “Because I knew you’d get weird,” she says, walking over to her mirror.

  I put the bottle down on the table. “I’m not getting weird. I’m just wondering. Dex is on those too.”

  “So then, you know.”

  “But what made you start? Does dad know? Aren’t you a little young?”

  “I’m fucking nineteen, Perry,” she snaps at me, eyeing me in the mirror. “You were snorting fucking coke at fifteen, so lay off.”

  Whoa. I thought we were past this. It’s been awhile since she’s thrown my drug addiction in my face.

  “Okay,” I say slowly, trying to calm my beating heart. “Maybe that alone should make you pause. Have you told Dad?”

  “He made the appointment. He’s on shit, too. You’ve moved on with your life with Dex, with your perfect marriage, new life, and new career, but you’ve forgotten about us here in this house, trying to get through all this shit after Mom died.”

  It’s like she’s gone and punched me right in the gut. My lips press together, trying to compose myself. How on earth can she think I’ve moved on and forgotten about her?

  “That’s not fair,” I say quietly. “Just because…just because I don’t live here doesn’t mean I’m not going through the same things.”

  I see a wash of remorse in her eyes, but then she looks away and shrugs. “You wanted to talk, I’m talking.”

  I don’t even know what to say now.

  I try to swallow the brick in my throat, then head to the door. I expect her to say something to me before I leave, but she doesn’t.

  Nine

  Have you ever wanted something so badly that it takes over your life? That all your waking thoughts and your most lucid of dreams seem to converge on this one thing, this one need that opens up some chasm in your soul and makes it impossible to feed? Because that’s what want is sometimes, an urgent, deep-seated hunger for something you can’t live without, even if you haven’t had it yet.

  I felt that hunger for Dex. I still do. He still ignites a million flames from the scattered ashes inside me, always evolving, adapting, consuming me in one way or another.

  But now that want, that need, has grown. It’s born from our dark, passionate, infinite love for each other and evolved into a child.

  I want a baby with Dex so badly that I ache. It actually physically hurts me to want something this much, a kind of feverish clawing in my chest, like if I don’t get what I want soon, I might just die.

  It’s scary, is what it is.

  No, not scary. It’s fucking terrifying to want something that much.

  And yet I’ve kept all of this close to my heart. I’ve kept it bottled up, because on the other side of this need, is the fear. They go hand-in-hand. The fear that I might get what I want. And the fear that I won’t.

  What if I had my only chance all those years ago?

  What if I can’t get pregnant for a whole number of natural reasons?

  And what if I can’t get pregnant for supernatural reasons?

  The what ifs are killing me inside, adding to those claws that rake my chest from the inside out.

  All I know is that I can’t handle this anguish by myself anymore.

  I need to tell him.

  I missed my chance on my birthday yesterday, but twenty-seven seems like a good year to start.

  I glance at Dex in the driver’s seat as we motor down the winding US-26 highway between Portland and Cannon Beach, seeming to be locked in his own thoughts the way I’m locked in mine.

  Last night, after Ada and I had what can only be described as a fight, I went downstairs and attempted to watch Back to the Future with Dex and my dad. Ada never came back down after that. I didn’t even see her before we left this morning. My father called to her, but she was in the shower forever and never appeared, not even to give me my birthday present.

  I spent most of the drive talking to Dex about it. Last night I ended up drinking a whole bottle of champagne and falling asleep on the couch, so he had to carry me to my room. I’m grateful that I’m not as hungover as I should be, especially considering the zig zag of the road here.

  Anyway, his advice was to just let Ada be for now. This is her first major breakup with a guy, and with everything else that’s going on in her life, she might not know how to handle it. It might just be easier for her to turn inward and push me away, to pretend it’s not happening. I just have to wait it out and hope that she’ll eventually want to open up.

  I still don’t know what I did to make her so upset, though. Could it really be that she resents me, thinking I have things easy when she doesn’t? I guess I don’t like to complain to her too much, so maybe she thinks everything is perfect in my world. Perhaps I should have been more open with her, with
all my ups and downs. I could have told her about the lady in the restaurant, I could have told her about seeing Maximus, I could have told her about this insane ache to start a family, and all my fears that go along with it.

  And I will do that, I decide. I just owe it to Dex to tell him first.

  When we finally get to the resort, I feel like a cloud has lifted, even though the place is totally fogged in. It doesn’t matter though. I already know the change of scenery is going to do us some good.

  Dex takes out our bags, and I follow him into the check-in. The resort is right on the beach, and though it seems fairly small, the lobby is done up with various driftwood pieces and marble, and through the hall you can see the endless stretch of beach buffeted by pounding waves and the center piece that is Haystack Rock.

  The hotel is composed of a main building plus a few little cabins. To my surprise, we have one of the little cabins, which includes a private hot tub in the front overlooking the beach.

  I practically squeal when I see it, then I remember I didn’t pack a bathing suit. Though there is a privacy fence, I still don’t know if I want to go in my underwear.

  “Ta-da,” Dex says, unzipping his bag and whipping out a red one piece that I own. “I thought ahead for once.”

  That settles it. I give him an appreciative kiss then quickly get changed.

  We soak in the hot tub for what feels like forever, both of us facing the beach, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the waves, smelling the sea salt mixing with the chlorine. The fog drifts over us, putting us both in a spell of sorts. I float and I feel at peace. I honestly never want to get out.

  But eventually we do, my skin seriously pruney. Dex says he made dinner reservations at the hotel’s fancy restaurant, so I take my time in the shower and getting ready. Though I’d forgotten the bathing suit, I did manage to pack a nice black dress. Nothing fancy, just long-sleeved with a sweetheart neckline that showcases my waist (and my boobs, obviously), a dress that reminds me of the one Kim Novak wore at the end of Vertigo. Of course, she didn’t pair hers with black leather knee-high combat boots.

  When I step out of the washroom, Dex is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at a show on TV, wearing black dress pants and a black button-up shirt.

  “We’re going to look like a goth couple,” I lament, taking a few steps toward him.

  He looks at me, brows raised appreciatively as his gaze skirts over me from head to toe. “Wow. Baby…” He gets up, slowly sauntering over to me, running his hand over his jaw. “You look fucking incredible.”

  I blush and do a little curtsey. “Feels good to dress up, to be honest.”

  “And you look beautiful while doing it,” he says, sliding his hands over my waist and pulling me to him. I rise onto my toes and meet his mouth with mine, the kiss warm and sweet. “Maybe we should make a plan to do this more often,” he murmurs.

  I smile against his lips then place my hand on his chest, knowing he’s seconds from getting carried away, and as much as I don’t mind the sexy times, especially since I passed out last night, I’m also absolutely starving. “Let’s go eat.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” he says with a smirk, his voice getting husky.

  I grab his hand and tug him toward the door, slipping on my coat.

  The restaurant is located in the main hotel, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows with what would normally be a stunning view of the beach. It’s pitch black outside now, but the walls of the restaurant are all wood, with a giant stone fireplace, giving it an extremely cozy vibe.

  There’s even space in the middle for a dance floor, and a DJ in a tuxedo in the corner, where a few older couples are swaying to Billie Holiday.

  “We’re the youngest ones here,” Dex says to me as the waiter gives us our menus. My hangover has subsided enough that we order a bottle of expensive red wine (I mean, it’s all expensive here).

  “I can only hope that will be us one day,” I say, admiring the couples dancing in their finest. “They all look so happy. Except for that one guy. He looks constipated.”

  Dex chuckles and reaches for the bread bowl the moment the waiter puts it down. “You’re right though.”

  “That we’ll be like that one day?”

  “Yes.” He tears off a large chunk of bread and spreads an obscene amount of herbed butter on it. “We definitely will be, hopefully minus the constipation. But I meant in that we should do this more often. We just work so much and it’s just the two of us, and I think we forget we need to just…live a little. Get fucking wild. Do something reckless.”

  I can’t help but smile. His passion makes my heart skip a beat, and the fact that he looks insanely handsome at the moment only adds to it. “I never thought you’d tell me that we’re boring.”

  The whites of his eyes shine. “Boring? Baby, we’re not fucking boring.”

  “I know,” I tell him, putting my hand over his. “And even if we were, I think we deserve a bit of domestic normalcy considering all we’ve overcome in the past.”

  “Absolutely,” he says, flipping my hand over and holding it as he stares deeply into my eyes. “We do. And part of that normalcy is just…letting our hair down. Let’s do something crazy.”

  Oh, this could go so many different ways with him.

  “Like what?” I ask uneasily.

  “Go on a trip,” he says. “A real one. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

  I mull that over as the waiter comes by with our wine and takes our orders, scallop risotto for me, cedar-planked salmon for him. Even with the extra money, I’m trying not to panic at the prices.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” I say as the waiter pours the wine and then leaves. “Paris, maybe? I’ve never been to Europe.”

  His face falls.

  “What did I say?” I ask. “Oh, is it because you’re French?” His mother was super French, spoke with a really thick accent. I know this because I met her, as a ghost, of course.

  He shakes his head. “No. I would love to take you to Paris. Maybe in the summer.” He raises his glass of wine. I do the same. “Here’s to your birthday, baby. To future adventures.”

  I clink my glass against his, beaming at him. “Thank you. Here’s to us.”

  While I’m taking a sip (the wine tastes expensive) he reaches down into his pants pocket and pulls out an envelope, sliding it toward me. “And this is your birthday present.”

  “For me?” I ask, swallowing the wine. “I thought this was my birthday present,” I say, gesturing to the restaurant and hotel.

  “No, that was your anniversary present,” he says. “This is your birthday present.”

  I have no idea what it could be. I take it from him and eagerly tear the envelope open, glancing up at him as he watches me intently.

  There’s a couple of folded pieces of printer paper inside.

  I give Dex a curious glance and pull them out, unfolding them.

  It’s a plane ticket. First class. To Kauai. In January.

  “Oh my god,” I say quietly, completely shocked. “Hawaii?”

  He’s staring at me expectantly. “Is this…good?”

  “Yes. My god. Really? Are you sure?” I’m beyond shocked. This is totally out of left-field, even from him.

  “Why not? We deserve to go somewhere nice and hot during the armpit of winter here.”

  I giggle, feeling positively elated. “I can’t even imagine you on a beach. Like a warm one, with white sand and sunshine and blue sky. Not a jacket in sight. It doesn’t fit.”

  He grins at me. “Hey, I tan easily. You’re the one who’s going to look out of place. You’re so pale, you’ll end up blinding everyone in sight.”

  “Hey,” I cry out, kicking him under the table, but I’m laughing. I end up getting up and going around to him, hugging him from behind as he sits, kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper to him. “Really. This means a lot to me.”

  I sit back down, feeling like I’m floating. I know going on
a trip isn’t a big deal, but it is for us. We need to just throw all our responsibilities away for a bit and just relax and discover some place new together. Sure, a tropical island in the Pacific doesn’t exactly scream Dex and Perry, but that’s all the more reason to go.

  “Besides,” he adds. “It rains there for most of the winter, so we’ll feel right at home.”

  “I don’t care if it rains the whole time. It will be warm rain.” Then I clap my hands together. “Ooooh, we can go see all the places where they filmed Jurassic Park!”

  “That’s why I picked it.”

  Our food arrives, and we finish it—and the wine—in record time. The portions were small, so I’m not stuffed, which only leaves room for dessert. I made Dex promise to not let them sing me happy birthday, so thankfully when the crème brulee comes, there’s no embarrassing fanfare.

  Then, as we wait for our after-dinner drinks, Dex puts out his hand and asks me to dance. I noticed that he’d stopped by the DJ on the way to the restroom earlier, so when he exchanges a nod with him while leading me to the dance floor, I’m not at all surprised when the familiar beat of “Enjoy the Silence” by Depeche Mode starts up.

  While the other people dancing aren’t sure what to do with the song, Dex does. He pulls me right up to him, one arm tight around my waist, in a slow dance with a lively pace. He’s such a good dancer that I just let him lead me around, finding it easy to match his moves when I just let myself go.

  “All I ever wanted,” he sings to me, his voice matching the deep timbre of David Gahan’s voice like magic, “all I ever needed, is here, in my arms.”

  My body erupts in goosebumps, my stomach tingling as the depth of his perfect voice runs through me. I’m tempted to take Martin Gore’s high harmony, but I don’t want to ruin the velvet perfection that is Dex’s singing voice.

  Besides, it’s so fucking romantic. I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest, breathing in the scent of the man I love, letting the beat of a song I love move us together, synched in time.

  And that’s when I find it rising up from deep inside me, almost like a song I can’t keep buried.

  “Dex,” I whisper to him, wrapping my hands around his neck, staring up at him with so much emotion that I think I might just break into a million pieces. “I want to have a baby.”