by Amy Cross
Chapter Four
Luke
"I hope you don't mind that I looked you up," Laura says, standing in the doorway with a faint smile on her lips. "I just kind of... was nearby, with some friends at a bar, but it was really dull and I was going to go home before suddenly I remembered that you lived somewhere around here." She pauses. "So this is the famous haunted house, huh?"
"Come in," I reply, completely taken aback by her sudden appearance. My mind is racing, and there's a part of me that thinks it's a very bad idea to let her through the door; on the other hand, I spend all my evenings alone at the moment, and the chance of some company - particularly Laura's company - is too good to pass up.
As she steps past me, I try not to stare at her cleavage.
It's almost 10pm, and I've spent the past half hour checking various websites while noting with disappointment that Laura didn't seem to be online. I figured this was going to be a rare example of a night when we didn't talk, but then there as a sudden knock at the door and I opened it to find her standing here. It's the first time I've actually seen her in person since we broke up seven or eight years ago, and as she steps into the hallway, I can't help but wonder exactly what she's here for.
"I've never been in a haunted house before," she says, taking off her coat to reveal a tight black dress that dips low at the front to show off her ample chest. She smiles as she hangs the coat up, as if she's fully aware that the dress must have caught my attention. "So what happens?" she continues, turning to me. "Will a floating white sheet come past at some point? Do you have suits of armor standing in the rooms?"
"No floating white sheets," I reply, leading her through into the kitchen. There's a half empty bottle of wine on the counter, and I figure it would be rude not to offer her some. "Drink?" I ask, holding the bottle up for her to see.
"Sure," she says, keeping her eyes fixed on me.
While I pour her a glass, Wilbur wanders through from the next room and leisurely greets Laura before coming and watching me. I know he's just a dog, but sometimes I swear that he knows more than he's letting on; right now, for example, he's probably wondering who the hell this strange woman is and what she's doing in the house, and why she's here when Kate isn't. I guess he's got a point.
"Cute dog," Laura says as she takes the glass from me. "I read about pets and ghosts once. This woman was saying that dogs and cats can pick up on things that we don't notice. They somehow sense presences that pass us by. There were all these stories about, like, cats that can sense people who've died, and dogs that seem to follow their dead masters. I'm sure it's all bullshit, but at least it's fabulously entertaining. Cheers." She clinks her glass against mine and takes a sip. "Sorry," she adds, "I guess it must freak you out when people talk about ghosts, especially when you've got the house to yourself." She stares at me for a moment longer. "You have got it to yourself, haven't you?"
"No-one's due back before Saturday," I tell her.
"And your girlfriend?"
"She's..." I pause as I try to work out how to explain things. "She's barely my girlfriend anymore," I say eventually, even though I know I'm being disloyal. "To be honest," I add, "I think we're in the middle of a very long, very slow break-up."
"Sorry," she says with a distinct lack of sincerity. "I had no idea."
"It's been coming for a while," I reply, even though I know I probably shouldn't be saying these things, especially not to my ex-girlfriend.
"Where is she?" she asks. "Back in the loony bin?"
"She's got her own place," I reply, bristling at the way she describe the hospital. "She's taking some time to be alone in the city so she can find herself."
"She needs to find herself?" Laura replies with a grin. "Oh, that's easy. Just go to the mirror and take a look. It's always so easy."
I can't help but smile at the simplicity of her worldview. Laura's a complicated person, but she masks her feelings with a veneer of simplicity. Sometimes, I think Kate's the opposite: a fairly uncomplicated person who desperately tries to be complicated and who, as a result, winds up twisting herself into knots.
"How long's she been off finding herself?" Laura asks.
"A few weeks," I tell her.
"Any idea when she might be done?"
I shrug.
"Sounds very self-obsessed to me," she continues. "Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but personally I always get tired of people who constantly feel the need to talk about themselves. I guess that's the problem with the modern world, though. Everyone's supposed to focus on their own identity and their own needs, and it breeds a kind of selfishness." She pauses. "If you only think about yourself, of course you're going to be depressed. The key is to give a damn about other people and about the rest of the world." She takes a sip of wine. "Sorry. It's just that sometimes I think everyone else is depressed and I'm the only one who can cope."
"Me too," I tell her.
"Huh," she replies, taking another sip of wine before turning and heading through to the front room. "Still no ghosts," she calls back to me. "I'm disappointed, Luke. I was hoping for something really chilling or maybe a Jonathan Creek vibe, but it just seems like a fairly nice, rambling old house. No atmospheric thunder or striking stuffed animals on the walls. I suppose it's a bit cold, but that doesn't mean anything."
Following her through, I find that she's standing by the window. For a moment, I can't help but stare at her perfect figure, and memories of the old days come flooding back. The first time we got together, we had sex seven times in one afternoon, and we both ended up sore and bleeding. It was a passionate relationship at first, but over time we began to argue and the whole thing just became a mess. I know it would be a mistake to get involved with her again, but I'd give anything for one night of pure, casual sex. If it doesn't mean anything, does it still count as cheating?
I guess I'm a bad person.
"What was that?" she asks with a curious smile, turning and looking up at the ceiling as there's a familiar creaking sound overhead. "Could it be our ghost, finally making an entrance?"
"Old house," I tell her, heading over to join her by the window. "If it's any consolation, those noises are the closest I've ever got to seeing or hearing a ghost."
"But the other people who lived here," she continues, "they've seen things, right?"
I nod.
"Like, actual figures?"
"Yeah," I reply. "That's what they say, anyway."
"So they've seen... what?" she asks. "Figures on the stairs? Faces in the window?"
"Voices," I tell her. "I think a lot of it has been voices, but there are a few claims about seeing things too. Kate's sister says she's seen something a few times."
"You really don't believe them?"
"I have no idea," I continue. "Of all the people I've ever met who've spent time in this place, I'm the only one who's never really experienced anything weird. Even Wilbur's occasionally looked up and seemed to stare at something that passes unseen through a room. I guess I'm just lucky."
"Or sensible," she points out. "Maybe you're just not prone to flights of fancy. You were always kind of level-headed, weren't you? People have a tendency to exaggerate things for effect. Like that creak we heard just now. You and I both know what it really was, but there are people who'd spin it out until they claimed they heard voices upstairs, maybe even saw a figure reflected in the window." She pauses. "Maybe you should be glad you're not like that. I'm pretty sure that I'd start getting a little paranoid if I was spending the night here. If I didn't have something to distract me, at least."
"Whatever's going on in this place," I reply, "I can deal with it. It's not like I'll be living here forever anyway. One way or the other, I guess it's going to be time for me to move on soon. Either I'll get a new place with Kate, or..." I pause for a moment as I realize that maybe it's finally time to vocalize the other possibility. "Or I'll have to find somewhere just for me. And Wilbur, I guess."
"That's a shame," she says, s
etting her wine glass on the sill and then taking mine and doing the same. "Still, everyone has to move on, right? If something isn't working, you have to end it. I've always thought that a quick, harsh chop is the best way to finish a relationship."
"I guess."
"You don't seem convinced," she continues.
"I know you're right," I tell her. "I just don't think Kate and I can do it like that. There's so much that still needs to be said."
She smiles, and for a moment she seems lost in thought.
"It's just sex, you know," she says suddenly.
"What is?"
"This. What we're both thinking. It's just two people who used to have sex a lot, who now figure they could do it one more time without hurting anyone." She pauses, and there's a glint in her eye, as if she's enjoying the awkwardness. "Can you do that, Luke? Can you just fuck me and then forget about it? Because if you can..." She steps closer and puts her hands on the front of my shirt. "I know I'm pathetic," she continues. "Hell, maybe I'm even a slut. But tonight, at the bar, I just kept thinking that I'd like to come over here and fuck you one last time. So why not?"
I look down at her cleavage, and it's hard not to think back to the sight of her naked body when we used to make love all those years ago.
"Decide fast," she whispers. "If you're going to turn me down, I might as well get back to the bar and find someone who doesn't mind a quickie." She pauses, before grabbing the front of her dress and slipping it down just far enough for me to be able to see the edge of her left nipple. "Am I being too subtle?" she asks with a fierce, determined stare. "You always needed things spelled out for you, didn't you? Please, for the love of God, tell me you understand what I'm suggesting here."
"I..." Taking a deep breath, I start to realize that although I desperately want to sleep with Laura right now, I can't betray Kate. Damn it, I never knew I had this moral core, but some sense of right and wrong has suddenly begun to assert itself and I take a step back. "I can't," I say eventually. "Please, you have to know that I want to, but I could never live with myself. I'm still hoping that maybe I can work things out with my girlfriend, and even if I can't, I don't want to cheat on her."
"Seriously?" she asks, picking up her wine glass and taking another sip.
"Believe me," I continue, "you have no idea how much I want to do this."
"If you wanna fuck me," she replies, "then fuck me. If your girlfriend was so goddamn bothered, she'd be here, wouldn't she? She sure as hell wouldn't be sitting in some apartment in the city. I mean, face it, she's moved out. She's basically left you, and now you're just waiting for the inevitable conversation."
"It's not like that," I tell her.
"And you'd rather cling on to some desperate dream than have a good shag?"
"I want to... be with you tonight," I reply, barely able to believe that I'm even having this conversation right now. "I really do."
"But you're holding yourself back," she replies, with a hint of sadness in her voice. Finally, she sighs and finishes her wine. "Trust me to try to secure a booty call with the one guy in my life who actually has morals, huh? I mean, Jesus Christ, I thought that kind of thing was way too old-fashioned these days. It's cute, really it is... In a kind of pathetic, over-earnest way." She pauses, before stepping closer, giving me a brief kiss on the cheek, and then heading through to the hallway.
Figuring I should at least show her out, I follow her to the front door, where she's already putting her coat back on.
"Sorry," I say again.
"Don't be," she replies. "It was a dumb idea. I mean, it would have been great sex, but maybe in the grand scheme of things it wasn't such a grand scheme after all." She pauses. "I have to admit, I would have liked to have had sex in a haunted house. The thought of all those ghosts standing around the bed, watching me as I'm riding you... It really turned me on. But I guess you've made your choice, and you'll just have to live with knowing that you traded a good shag for a clear conscience. There was a guy at the bar who kept staring at my tits, so I'll go back and make sure that it's his lucky night." She smiles as she opens the door and steps outside. "By the way," she adds, turning to me with a devious look on her face, "when I was walking to the house earlier, I swear I saw a figure standing in one of the upstairs windows. The room right above the kitchen. I guess I might have been wrong, but you should probably check it out, just to be sure. Wouldn't want a burglar to get you, would we?"
"Nice try," I tell her.
"Why would I lie?" she asks, with the faintest glimmer of a smile. Honestly, it's impossible to tell whether or not she's lying.
"Again," I reply, "I'm sorry."
"Me too," she says, before turning and walking away.
Once she's gone, I head back to the front room and finish my wine. With the dog having settled back down in his bed, I head upstairs and go to the small bedroom directly over the kitchen. I switch on the light and take a look inside, but of course there's no-one around. I guess Laura was just trying to freak me out, and she didn't do a bad job. Turning the light off, I stop on the landing for a moment and listen to the silence of the house. There's the occasional creak, but nothing more. No voices, no footsteps, no bells. Sometimes, I can't help but feel a little annoyed that the ghosts seem to ignore me. I wouldn't mind a brief encounter, just so I could say that at least one interesting thing happened to me here.
But no. The ghosts ignore me. I don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed.
Chapter Five
Luke
"I just want you to know that I hate myself," Kate says quietly, her voice filled with tears. "I know you must hate me too, but I hate myself more. I need you to understand that. I'm a bitch, and I deserve all of this."
It's 3am, and it's barely been ten seconds since my phone started ringing and woke me from a deep sleep. Sitting up in bed, I try to pull my thoughts together, but I've never been the kind of person who can spring out of a dream and immediately connect with the real world. It always takes me a while to wake up, even if my suicidal girlfriend is on the other end of the line, hinting once again that she might be about to hurt herself.
"Are you listening to me?" she asks.
"Of course," I reply, rubbing my eyes. "Where are you?"
"Where do you think? I'm on the fucking moon, Luke."
"Okay," I reply, almost telling her to calm down before realizing I probably shouldn't.
"I'm in my flat," she continues calmly. "My flat," she repeats, to emphasize the fact that it's hers and not mine. "My little domain," she adds, with a hint of good humor. "Surrounded by my things."
Down at the bottom of the bed, Wilbur rolls onto his back. He's fast asleep, and right now I envy him. He doesn't have to put up with yet another of Kate's meandering late night calls. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I find myself wondering if she might just be self-absorbed rather than depressed. Why can't she be happy with the life we have? Wilbur and I are fine, so why does Kate have to keep causing problems?
"Can't you sleep?" I ask.
"Oh yeah," she replies sarcastically, "I can sleep just fine. That's why I'm calling you up."
"Have you taken one of your pills?" I continue.
"I hate the pills," she mutters. "They make my mouth taste all metallic in the morning. I'd rather just not sleep."
"Okay," I reply, still trying to get my thoughts together. "So what are you doing?"
"I'm calling to say that I'm sorry for being a bitch," she says, her voice suddenly sounding calm and reasoned, as if she's been rehearsing the line.
"You're not a bitch," I tell her.
"I am," she continues. "I'm a bitch to you, and I'm a bitch to everyone, and I'm so sorry for hurting you." She pauses, and it's clear that she's on the verge of tears. There's a brief pause, accompanied by the sound of her struggling to compose herself. "It's my problem," she adds eventually. "There's something wrong with me, and I just can't carry on like this. Being with you is agony, Luke. It's nothing to do with who you are, it
's just that I can't handle being in a relationship, not when I have to deal with..."
I wait for her to finish.
"I thought I'd feel better if I came away from the house," she says eventually, "but Ellen was right. That place follows you, no matter how far you go. She told me it even reached her when she was in Hong Kong. How fucked up is that? I thought she was exaggerating at first, but now I understand exactly what she meant. Even from here, with the doors and windows all shut, with the whole flat hermetically sealed, I can feel the house reaching out to me. It's just nibbling at the edges right now, but I know it's going to take a full bite sooner or later, and when it does..."
Silence.
"I know it's coming," she adds, her voice suddenly sounding much quieter than before.
"Isn't there a danger that you're over-thinking things?" I ask. "If you sit and obsess over every little detail -"
"I'm not obsessing!" she shouts, suddenly sounding as if she's filled with anger. It's startling to realize that she seems able to cycle through so many different emotional states in such a short period of time, and I can never be sure what's going to come out of her mouth next. "It's the house that's obsessed," she continues after a moment. "The house is obsessed with us, or at least with me and Ellen. God knows what it's like for John, but he never really talks about it and I suppose he's fine so long as he stays away. He's the normal one, at least on the surface; somehow, he manages to keep it all bottled up and out of sight... But for me and Ellen, it's like the house has attached these fine threads to us, and it won't let go, not ever!"
"You have to give it time," I tell her, hoping to lighten her mood a little.
"I've given it time!" she shouts. "Don't you get it! I've given it all the time in the world! You'd think that after thirty years, the damn thing would leave me alone and move on to someone else, but it just wants more and more! You don't understand, Luke; it's not something that I'm choosing! It's a kind of evil that got its claws into me when I was a child." She pauses. "Tell me what you're doing right now," she adds, suddenly sounding calm again. "Right now, where are you?"