Her mouth dropped open a few inches and then her lips curled in anger. “You don’t have to be so rude to me,” she snapped.
“I knew that when I was hired here it was to do some general office work, but I’m barely doing that. In fact, I get treated like I’m an idiot,” I snapped back.
“Well, some of it is the way you speak.”
“You mean my attitude?”
“No, the way you pronounce your words,” she chided. “Janet and Linda are afraid to have you on the phone. Customers can’t understand you. We were going to work with you on that.”
I was stunned. “I’m from the south,” I muttered. “I’m not losing my accent just because someone from the north doesn’t understand me. Nobody’s ever had trouble before.”
I excused myself then and stalked outside. Merricka was sitting on the porch, waiting for Sarah. One look at my face showed her I was upset. “Are you okay?” I told her what had transpired.
“Oh God!” she seethed. “You’re one of the only people here I can understand at all! They are just being mean. Just mean.”
“I don’t know what’s worse,” I mumbled. “The ghosts or the people.”
That night I was getting ready to bed when a low grumbling sound filled the room. It started low, like the beginning of a clap of thunder, and steadily grew louder until my walls began to shake. An earthquake? I ran to my window and looked outside, but nothing was moving. It was just inside. Behind me, my doorknob began rattling, the door shaking in its frame as though trying to open on its own. I ran to it and placed my hands on the wood. It was burning hot, like it had been outside in the sun all day. Then another horrific thought struck me. A fire? Oh God! But the knob was cool to the touch. It was just the wood that was hot.
“Stop it!” I called, banging on the door. “Stop it!”
The door vibrated in response, the heat now coming off it in waves. I could actually see them.
Probably not my best move, but not knowing what else to do, I gave the door a tug and flung it open. The door across the hall was closed but when I took a step outside it started inching over, faster and faster. I couldn’t stay and watch so I turned and began clamoring towards the stair. Two steps down, though, and the overhead light blew above me, sending the stairwell into almost total darkness. The door at the bottom was shut, something I didn’t remember doing, and I picked up speed, feeling for the banister for balance. Above me, I could hear footsteps picking up their pace; it was following me. A few steps from the bottom I reached for the doorknob I knew was there when what felt like a ton of pressure pushed me from behind. Losing my balance, I tumbled towards the door, banging my head on the wood with a clunk. My hand found the knob, though, and I fell off the stairs, face first, onto the landing.
Dazed, I lay there on the floor, my face pressed against the cool tiles. The footsteps had stopped. The room beyond kept fading from light to dark. My head was pounding. Well, I thought, maybe I’ll just lay here for a minute and take a little nap.
Sarah and Merricka found me. They helped me up and led me back up the stairs where the two of them mothered me and put me to bed. I had a large bump on my head and my leg was bleeding. I’d cut it on the wooden stairs somehow. They cleaned this, too.
“You get out tomorrow,” Merricka chided. “You tell them to let you move to another place.”
I nodded my head in agreement. “I need to go email David,” I said woozily.
“You do it later,” Sarah said. “He will understand. We will stay for a long time with you.”
When I woke up at midnight and, again at 3:00 am, they were still there. They were still there the next morning, too, when it was time to go to work. They were huddled together on my floor, my bathrobe wrapped around them.
What’s on your head?” Janet asked. She didn’t sound particularly interested, though.
“I fell down the stairs last night,” I said. “Or something pushed me.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever had someone so clumsy,” she mused. “Isn’t this the second time you’ve done that?”
“The light blew out. It was dark.”
“Hmmm…”
I went about my filing and later dropped a note to David and Mom. David was looking at airline tickets again. He was ready to book his. I couldn’t wait to see him. I wanted him there now. I’d glossed over the incident from the night before in my email to him, but I planned on going out later and calling him to tell him all about it. Merricka and Sarah were enthralled with our relationship; they wanted pictures, they wanted details, and they wanted to meet him. “He’s a little like a dream,” Sarah had cooed after glancing at one of his messages to me. “He’s so caring.”
“It is my dream to meet an American man,” Merricka admitted. “Maybe one from the south with a mansion.”
“You and me both, girlfriend,” I laughed.
I couldn’t believe how much better I was feeling, despite the horror from the night before. Just having friends and girls I could talk and laugh with was enough to lift my spirits. I briefly wondered if that’s why the attic was mad. Maybe because it wasn’t pulling me in as hard as it had been. Misery loves company, after all.
I’d taken time with my looks that morning. I was tired of looking and feeling tired all the time. I applied my makeup with care, picked out a matching skirt and top and low heels, and even curled my hair. I felt and looked a little more like my “old” self, even the self before all the sadness back in Kentucky.
Despite my pounding head and the scratch on my leg that really hurt more than it should have, the morning flew by. The filing and emails gave me something to do. I was looking at hostels in Vermont, too, for the weekend. It was time to branch out and try a state I’d never visited. Why not take that opportunity while I was here?
I can do this, I cheered myself on, I can still make this a fabulous summer. Ghost be damned.
After lunch, Janet and Linda, the director, called me into Linda’s office. I gathered up my courage. Now was the time to demand I be moved. I wasn’t staying another night in that attic. Enough was enough. If nothing else, the injury should’ve worked in my favor.
When I walked in, Linda pointed to a spot on her couch. I sat there while Janet sat beside me. Linda sat across from us in a rolling chair. Both doors to her office were wide open and other staff members walked by, their chattering filling the air. Both women had pleasant looks on their faces, but neither one had smiles that reached their eyes.
“Rebecca,” Linda began with what sounded like false cheer, “we need to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I declared brightly, folding my hands in my lap and trying hard not to twist them. Perspiration was gathering under my arms and running down my sides in streaks. I could never stay dry when I was nervous. Fabrics that didn’t breathe were not my friends. “There’s some things I need to talk about, too.”
Linda looked down at her Birkenstocks and bit her lip.
“We’ve discussed everything and we just feel this is not the right place for you,” Janet pronounced in a hurry. I could detect the faintest of smiles whispering across her pursed lips.
What?
“We’ve talked to the other staff and, the fact is, you’re just not getting along with anyone. People think you’re rude, and not nice, and we just can’t have that kind of attitude here,” Linda continued for Janet. She tried to look regretful, but it wasn’t working. “This is supposed to be a fun place with a relaxed atmosphere. You’re just not fitting in.”
What?
I didn’t even know where to begin with that. “Not everyone feels that way,” I pointed out at last. “I’ve made friends with some of the kitchen staff.”
The two women exchanged looks and Linda even raised her eyebrows slightly, a move that infuriated me. I resented the implication that, because they were foreign and worked in the kitchen, they somehow didn’t count. True, they weren’t pot smoking interns, but I liked them.
“Well,” Janet disclosed, leaning
forward, “we’ve talked to them, too, and explained that you have some health concerns that affect your attitude and we just can’t keep you on anymore.”
My eyes just about boggled right out of my head. “What?” I laughed. “Are you serious? What ‘health concerns?’ And even if I did, wouldn’t that violate some kind of HIPPA policy? To discuss health problems with people I didn’t give you permission to?”
They stared at me like I was speaking another language. Kory walked by the office then and peeked in at us. Janet smiled at her before she hurried on.
“This makes no sense to me,” I muttered.
“And another thing,” Janet added. “You always look too happy to leave on Fridays. You’re always going out of town. Like you don’t want to be here.”
“Hey,” I squealed. “You told me in my interview that being able to travel in the surrounding area and sightsee was a perk of this location. And, I’m sorry, but it’s Friday! Everyone is happy to have a few days off.”
“We’re very sorry, but we’ll need you to leave today,” Linda said with resolution.
“It’s 3:00 pm,” I sputtered. “I live five states away. We don’t get paid for another week. You haven’t provided my meals or given me a place to cook so I’ve had to eat out almost every day. There hasn’t been a chance to save much money, especially not enough to drive all the way back right now and stop along the way, which is what I’ll have to do since I’m alone. Where the hell am I supposed to go?”
The women looked at one another as though this thought hadn’t crossed their minds.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to leave,” Janet sighed. “You’re belligerent and mean-spirited. We’ve tried being kind to you but you won’t have any of it.”
She didn’t mention the ghosts, my falling, or any of the issues I’d brought up to her. The fact of the matter was, I was too much work for them. Much like the ghost had disrupted my life, I was disrupting theirs. The ghost had been my parasite, eating off me and sponging my energy. In some way, I had done the same to them. Maybe it was my fault, maybe it wasn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter.
There was no use arguing. They were giving me an out. I would have to go home now. I would have to face the fact that I’d tried this job, tried to do something different for myself, and had failed. I wasn’t as upset as I thought I’d be. Oh, I was mad as hell, but at least I could leave. That decision, having been taken out of my hands, was no longer mine. It was freeing, in a way.
Having nothing left to say, and no energy left to waste on people who obviously didn’t want me, I got up and paraded out of the room and stalked to my desk, my head held high as other staff members pretended not to watch. As I began putting my personal belongings in a box, I picked up the office phone and called my mother. I didn’t care that it was on their dime.
“Mom?” I began as soon as she answered. “I’m coming home. I got fired.”
“What?” she cried. “Why!?”
“Probably because the light went out in the stairs and I fell down it, again, and they just don’t want to deal with me anymore. And they say I’m mean and nobody likes me.”
“Keep your voice down,” Janet hissed from behind me.
“Oh, stop,” I snapped back, not even looking at her. “I’m not making a scene. You’re the one who fired me with the office door open and everyone walking by, trying not to listen. And telling my friends I had ‘health concerns?’ Lady, you’re lucky I’m not calling a lawyer right now.”
I went back to the conversation with my mother. “Look, I’m sorry but I need help with money. They did this to me a week before pay day. I have the gas to get home, but little else. Can you make me a hotel reservation for Hartford for tonight? I’ll stop there on the way.”
“Yes, but I’d be pissed,” she seethed. “What do they think they’re doing?”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said wearily. “This isn’t the place for me. I’m not this person. I just need to come back.”
“Just be careful,” she advised. “The only important thing is that you’re coming home.” Her voice sounded lighter, relieved.
With that, I grabbed my belongings from my desk, turned around, and trooped out of the office and up the stairs. I wouldn’t have to look at any of them again.
Merricka and Sarah cried while I stuffed clothing into my suitcases. “I can’t believe you’re going,” Sarah wailed. “It’s mean. No fair. You’re the only person we like.”
“It’s for the best,” I sighed. They were trying to help me pack, but both sat on my bed, heads low, looking dejected. “I’m sorry I won’t be here to take us to the beach and movies.”
“We had plans for the summer,” Merricka moaned. “We were going to have fun.”
“I know,” I said sadly. I could feel a few glimmer of tears filling my eyes. They threatened to spill over so I tried to rub them away. “I was starting to look forward to it, too. But you know I can’t stay here. Look at what’s happening. I’m going out of my mind. That thing, that boy, he won’t leave me alone. He’s eating at me. By the end of the summer, I might not even recognize myself. I came here in bad shape, but the place, it’s making me worse. They wouldn’t move me. Getting rid of me is best. They just don’t want to deal with me anymore.”
“It’s not fair,” Sarah said again.
The door across the hall slammed, as if in agreement.
The air was dense and full as I pulled away from the farm house. There was no sunset, the sky was just bleached. A light mist covered my windshield, chilled me. I turned the heat on “low” and let the warmth cover me and fill me, inside and out. The trees were motionless. They were just starting to fill out with green leaves, but in the fog they looked brown, murky. The air wasn’t so much still as it was stagnant. A smell I’d never noticed before rose from the ground, fell from the sky, and tried to wrap around me and the car. It was old and unpleasant. My stomach was turning a little and I felt like I could vomit.
The farm house rose up behind me, a sentinel. I knew Merricka and Sarah were on the front porch, sitting in the rocking chairs, waving at me. They’d helped me carry everything down. Sarah wore a bright pink top and Merricka had on light blue shorts. When I’d last looked at them on the porch they’d been beacons of light, their vibrancy fighting the murkiness and shadows. But the fog was starting to close in on them, too.
My mother was waiting for me. I wouldn’t get there until late the next night, but no matter the time she’d be sitting up in the living room, the light on for me with something ready to eat. And David was waiting. I just had to give the word and he’d be there. I was ready to quit for awhile, to let someone else fuss over me and make some trouble over me. I was tired, but strengthened.
I tried not to look back; tried only to push forward on the gas and forget about what had happened there. But I couldn’t help it. Adjusting my mirror, I slowed down and gazed backwards. The girls were still on the porch, still waving. I looked up. I could see the window of my attic room clearly. It watched me pull away. And as I watched it, the lamp flickered on and the room filled with light.
Afterword
The drive back home was long; it felt even longer than the thirteen hours it took me. I only vaguely remember parts of it. I pulled over into a youth hostel in Hartford, Connecticut and spent the night in an old, ramshackle house and then got up early the next morning and drove the rest of the way straight through. Somewhere in Pennsylvania I slept in the front seat of the car at a rest area until the sun got too hot beating in through the windows.
I didn’t feel as defeated as I thought I would. I’d tried my best, but just wasn’t strong enough to work or live in that environment. It wasn’t the place for me, even without the ghost.
Upon returning home I took a few weeks to readjust and pack my bags for Wales and then I got on a Greyhound bus and took off for Florida. It took me almost thirty-six hours to travel down the coast, but David was waiting for me there. I spend the rest of the summer recoveri
ng, relaxing, and recuperating. He provided me with a sanctuary and the friendship I needed.
We spoke little of what transpired in the farm house. He’d already heard most of it by the time I arrived. Over the course of the next few months I tried to forget it. I wanted to move forward. In fact, in time the events even began fading from my mind. Had it not been for the letters I sent home and the diary I kept I might have been able to forget the details and pretend it never happened, that it had all been a nightmare.
I left for Wales in October.
To get to my university town I had to fly into London, take a three-hour train ride to Cardiff, transfer to a small town called Carmarthen, take a one-hour bus ride to MY town, and ride a pack mule the rest of the way. (Just kidding about the mule part…sort of.)
Of course, the airline lost my luggage. I had nothing but my laptop and a small carry-on which, thanks to FSA guidelines, allowed me very little. Naturally, it was raining and frigid and I’d packed my coat in my suitcase so that I didn’t have to keep up with it on the plane.
By the time I arrived at the university I’d been traveling for almost twenty-four hours. It was dark; I was cold and wet. When I found my way to the front office, I was informed that since it was so late they’d “accidentally” given my room away. Swell.
“No worries, love,” the cheerful porter sang. “I’ll find you a room!” He loaded me up on a golf cart and drove me to a nearby dorm. There, he began opening doors at random, trying to find me one that hadn’t been taken.
While he was doing this, I became aware of a tall, very good-looking guy standing in the hallway. He was movie-star handsome with bright blue eyes and blond, curly hair. I was worn out and looked like a drown rat. My laptop was heavy. “Excuse me,” the porter said to him. “Can she put her bags in your room until we find her one?”
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