by Jay Sherfey
“Well,” Frank held in a laugh, “the dirty footprints running across the kitchen floor right up to Suzy’s room and ending by her bed might be considered a dead give away.” He leaned the broom against the table and stuck the hollow handle of the dust pan on the end. Frank pulled out a chair and sat. “You wanna tell me exactly what you were doing parading around the house last night.
“She couldn’t sleep and woke me up to talk for awhile.” Jason put his head back on his arms. It did not hurt as much. He could not remember anything that happened last night. “I got her back to bed.” He turned his head and looked at Frank. “Sorry about tracking in dirt.”
“Hmm.” Frank interlaced his fingers as if in prayer and leaned forward on the table. “That jives with what Suzy said. So, I guess you are off the hook…except to clean up the mess.” Frank stood. “OK?”
“Yeah, I’ll get right to it.” Jason waited for a response, but none came. When he looked for Frank he saw a hand with two white pills in the palm.
“Here, these will help with the headache,” Frank gazed down on him. He recognized the symptoms. “These are aspirin tablets.” Jason reached over and popped them in his mouth. Frank had a glass of water ready. Jason sipped it.
“Thanks,” he said. Frank nodded.
“Don’t forget to clean up those prints.” Frank turned and left the kitchen.
Jason waited for the aspirin to have an effect before he tried to stand and do any cleaning. It took about thirty minutes. The pain relinquished its hold slowly, as he rose to his feet. On his feet, he felt a little better and grabbed the broom. He pulled the dust pan off the top and shoved the handle into his back pocket. When he looked at the floor, the unmistakable signs of his passage were clear. The linoleum was easy to sweep. Clearing his tracks from the rug in the hall and up the steps brought on a sweat. The harder he swept, the faster his headache faded. He ended his efforts at Suzy’s door which was open. His tracks had been cleaned up in her room.
“Where is everybody?” he whispered. He encountered none of the residents as he cleaned his way through the house. Even Frank and Lydia magically disappeared.
Done with his chore and his headache significantly diminished, Jason went to the front room where Frank stored books by the hundreds. The stacks lined the walls and covered much of a large, mahogany desk at the center of the room. Jason discovered this room when he first scouted the house in the early hours after he possessed the mental strength to suppress the dreams and thoughts of the sleeping inmates. The broom with the pan stuck on the handle leaned against the wall. He found a large text with maps of the States. There was just enough room on the desk to open the book. He searched for Pennsylvania and discovered it was a large state with thousands of towns and cities. He pulled up a chair determined to find Franklin Chase. Jason started with towns around Philadelphia and got lucky. He located the town fifteen miles to the southwest.
“Hey Jason,” said Rachel happily. She headed to the kitchen. He looked up. She carried a large box. Suzy came down behind her with her own full box. At the bottom steps she stopped.
“Hi, Jason,” she said animated. She took a deep breath and hoisted her box higher and followed Rachel into the kitchen. Jason replaced the book of maps and snuck after them. He peered around the corner. They sat at the table and drank glasses of cherry Kool-Aid from a pitcher taken from the fridge. They talked avidly about their plans for the day. A column of boxes stacked by the backdoor waited for their attention.
“Um… excuse me, but… Where is everybody?” asked Jason. He walked into the room.
“Some went to climb on the rocks in the park,” said Rachel. She sipped from her glass; then added, “Some went with Frank to the carwash.”
“If you don’t mind Rachel?” Jason took a seat opposite her. “I need to talk to Suzy for a minute.” He sensed a strong camaraderie between these two like the feelings he experienced among Russ’s sisters.
“Sure, Jason.” Rachel shrugged. “Just don’t take too long.” She gulped the last of her drink, put the glass in the sink, and headed back upstairs.
“We got the OK from Lydia to share a room,” said Suzy. She lit up when Jason turned his attention to her. “So, we’re working on setting it up today. Getting rid of old junk. Isn’t that great Jason?”
“Suzy, that’s amazing. I’m really, really glad.” He placed his hands on the table palms down, fingers spread. This new relationship between Suzy and Rachel added to the growing list of unexpected outcomes when he squatted in someone’s mind. “What happened this morning in the shed?”
Suzy downed her Kool Aid; then held her empty glass with both hands. She stared for a moment at the blood red dregs at the bottom.
“I… I hurt you, I think,” said Suzy, embarrassed. She took a deep breath. “Do you remember anything?”
“I remember a woman. Was she your mother?” Jason leaned forward and brought his hands together, fingers interlaced.
“Yes.” She hung her head afraid of where this might go. “It’s the way I remember her.”
“She killed herself?” asked Jason. He closed his eyes and tried to remember all that had happened.
“What?” Suzy looked up, shocked.
“In the room next to the kitchen,” Jason whispered the last few words, suddenly uncomfortable. He opened his eyes but could not look at her. It felt like betrayal. Something you know, someone is not ready to hear. Stop now! He couldn’t.
“Your mom picked up a gun on the counter; then walked into the next room. I heard a shot. At least I think it was.”
“She went to the garage,” said Suzy in a shaky voice. “My mom heard voices all the time. She…”
“Couldn’t take it anymore,” Jason finished her thought. Suzy nodded.
“And this has been your secret?”
She nodded again. They sat quietly for a time.
“I’m sorry.” Jason unclasped his hands, leaned across the table, and caressed one of Suzy’s. She pulled back and looked away.
“We get used to it,” she said very serious. “Don’t we?” Her head turned to Jason.
“Yeah. I guess we do,” answered Jason who raised his eyebrows, surprised. These things aged a girl or a boy too fast. Jason took a deep breath; then blew it out. He glanced at the table then at Suzy. “She said some stuff.”
“About me?” She turned back to him and leaned forward interested.
“Not exactly.” His fingers tapped a nervous cadence. Suzy sat back. “She said she could jump into my mind. She would have to be like me to do that. Do you think she was?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her eyes sad.
“OK.” Jason pushed back his seat and grasped the table’s edge. He decided to change the subject. “Do you remember your father at all?”
She smiled; then frowned. “Why?”
“Well, he never came up. I was wondering.” Jason struck a Dr. Lipton pose and relaxed back in the chair and crossed his legs.
“Yes and no.” Suzy stood. “It isn’t very clear.” She picked up her glass, stood, and placed it in the sink. “He just suddenly wasn’t there.”
Jason got to his feet. He wondered why his father left no trail in his thoughts. Suzy and he had some not so good things in common.
“It’s just so weird,” said Jason, thinking of Suzy, “how you aren’t cramming thoughts down my throat like everyone else. Ya know?”
Suzy smiled. “It’s a good thing. Right?”
“A very good thing.” Jason grinned.
“I should get back to Rachel.” She returned to the table, picked up the pitcher, and returned it to the refrigerator. At the archway to the hall, Jason called to her.
“It wasn’t your fault. Ya know? What happened to your mom, I mean.” He had no idea why this needed to be said. It was obvious. Suzy turned back to him for a moment; then ran over. She gave him a hug and kissed the top of his head.
“Thanks,” she whispered and dashed back upstairs to work with Rachel on th
eir new room. The first salvo of laughter broke the silent gloom on the second floor of the Dubois house.
“Not so obvious, I guess,” said Jason to himself.
* * *
The end of school came the following Tuesday, much too quick for Jason.
“Settle down now. Settle down.” The school’s Principal, Mr. Harris, addressed the school assembly before the summer vacation started. Hundreds of bored students, row after row across the high gloss wooden floor, endured in the metal fold out chairs. Partially obscured behind the podium, Mr. Harris stood center stage, with the retractable, basketball backboard directly over his head. He looked oddly out of place in his starched white shirt and bright red bow tie.
“This is the last assembly before summer vacation and…” He waited for the applause, the catcalls, and the whistling to stop. “We have a few announcements.” He flipped a few pages and began, “There are awards that need to be presented. I am very proud…”
“Oh man,” whispered Russ who sat next to Jason at the rear of the auditorium, “you look awful. What happened?” The dark circles under Jason’s eyes caught his attention.
“Another headache,” said Jason. He groaned from the incessant ache. “I’ve been trying for days to do what that Fantastic Four woman could do. It hurts and I can’t move even the smallest thing, not a twig, a leaf, a scrap of paper.”
“Maybe you can’t or you can’t yet. Know what I mean?” Russ scanned the immediate rows always on the lookout for something interesting. The hum from the hundreds of whispered exchanges filled the gym. Only the teachers paid attention to Mr. Harris.
“Maybe,” sighed Jason. Quiet for a moment, he looked up at the stage; then said, “Oh, yeah. I didn’t tell you about our visitors did I?” He quietly brought Russ up to speed on what he thought happened over the past weekend. He left out the part about Suzy’s mother.
“Lemme see,” insisted Russ. He looked under Jason’s chin to see the swirling pattern. “It’s gone. But you think the bullet went right through without touching?”
“Yep.”
“Wow. Man, you need your own comic book. This is getting too good.” Russ could hardly keep still in his chair. Mr. Harris droned on. “And the other bullet you knocked away from you?”
“Apparently.” Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out the wood chip. He held it up so Russ could see the half-moon indentation from the bullet.
“Oh, momma!” Several shushes filled the air after Russ’s outburst. Quietly, he said, “Like…this is evidence.” Russ just stared amazed.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t help,” whispered Jason. He put the piece away.
“We’re having lunch once the assembly is over.” Russ looked at his shoes, thinking. “Let’s see what Suzy has to say.” Jason never got the chance to respond.
“…and the final award for perfect attendance goes to Russell Wyatt. Where are you Russ? Come on up here.” Mr. Harris and the teachers started clapping energetically with only a smattering of applause coming from the students.
“This is so embarrassing. Remind me to be sick at least once next year. It saves on nerd attacks.” Russ got up and from his seat far back in the auditorium walked up to the stage. He waved and laughed; he ignored the sniggering.
“Lastly,” said Harris. Russ paraded back to his seat, holding his award envelope high. “Due to a large number of new first graders coming in September, it has been decided that the sixth grade will move to Jackson Middle School. Your parents have been notified.”
“Hey,” said Russ back in his seat, “doesn’t that mean Suzy will be in the same school with us?”
“Yep.” Jason smiled. This was a welcomed surprise.
Russ opened his envelope and whistled. “A five buck gift certificate to Hagarty’s Drug Store. I’m rich. Finally, something useful!”
Suzy had little to add to the debate during lunch about Jason’s next steps. The rest of the school day passed uneventfully.
Shooting off the school bus and down the side of the house through the gate in the chain-link fence, Jason pushed open the shed door and tossed his books on the work table. He turned and froze. Lydia sat on his cot; she turned a page of his notebook. He hurried to catch the bus that morning and forgot to hide it.
“So, there is more to you, as I suspected,” she spoke quietly. Jason choked. He could think of nothing to say. Scared and frantic, he sought a solution. The noise in his head started to build. “I think we need to rethink how best to use your talents.” She looked up from the notebook with an evil smile.
A new rush of fear and revulsion flooded Jason. This was wrong. This cannot happen. How can I stop it? All this and more passed through his conscious mind. The hiss like a radio between stations blasted in his head; a dull ache became acute. He closed his eyes to the pain and staggered against the bench. When he opened them, the notebook lay where he had left it, but Lydia had disappeared. The pain in Jason’s head did likewise. The noise levels dropped to tolerable levels; then wasted away to nothing.
“Oh no!” he said, shocked. “What did I do now?” He heard the backdoor slam and peered out of the open shed door. Frank walked across the yard with a can of something in his hand. He entered the shed.
“Jason, you may want to leave for awhile.” Frank started to shake the can.
“Why?” Jason spoke quietly not understanding what might be about to happen.
“Lydia wants me to get rid of the spiders. She’s got issues with spiders.” Frank chuckled at Lydia’s arachnid discomfort.
“If you don’t mind, I prefer you didn’t. I won’t be able to be in here for a long time and I don’t really mind them.” Jason stood by the cot, picked up his notebook, and stacked it among his other books.
“Well, you’ll have to do your own house keeping, if you know what I mean?” Frank took a look around. “Not that there is much to do out here.”
“Yeah. I’ll take care of it.” Jason dropped his books back on the cot. He turned to Frank. “Did Lydia want anything else done?” He studied him. Had Lydia discussed the notebook with Frank?
“Nope.” He said matter-of-factly and left. Jason followed a few moments later and looked for Lydia in the kitchen. He had to know what she planned. She stood at the sink, gazing out of the window. She took no notice of Jason, as he stood inside the kitchen by the backdoor.
“Lydia?” Jason called. She turned slowly.
“Jason,” she said and grinned. Her face struck Jason as dull. “I was just watching you cross the yard.” She spoke very deliberately. “I was wondering why I had come to the kitchen. It had something to do with you, but it has flown out of my mind. Can you remind me?”
“The spiders, maybe?”
“There was something else…but…” She turned back to the window. After few minutes with no further response from Lydia, Jason left the kitchen and went to the shed. Her memory of their confrontation in the shed had evaporated. How? Jason let the thought hang while he considered the shed layout in search of a better place to hide his notebook. He did not want to carry it with him all of the time. Where the table top touched the supporting legs there was a half inch gap stretching from one leg to the other. The notebook fit snugly in the gap hidden by the table top. The only way to find it was to crouch low and look up under the table top.
Jason pulled the notebook from its new hiding place and opened it on the work bench. His fifth entry read, Somehow I have erased Lydia’s memory of the notebook and its contents. He placed his pencil beside the page folded his arms and rested his head.
When will this get any easier?
Chapter 9
“So, how have you been?” Dr. Lipton fussed with his notebook, flipping pages. He looked for something. Since their last meeting he moved his desk away from the window to the opposite wall. His bookshelves which stood together last week now graced either side of his desk. He looked oddly uncomfortable, searching the desk for missing items.
“I’ve been OK.” Jason spoke cautiousl
y. He was uneasy; his doctor acted lost. He sat in his usual chair. Both of his hands brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Thanks for the letter.”
“Oh, good. You received it.” Finding his last entry, Lipton crossed his legs and entered a new line. The pencil broke. “Another few pieces of the puzzle put in place, eh?” He went through three drawers before he found a new No. 2 in the fourth. “How have you been getting on with your foster parents?”
“Doctor? You’ve moved things around.” Jason sat on his hands and pushed up.
“Ah, you noticed.” He smiled like a child caught in the act.
“It’s hard not to. Ya know?” Jason scanned the office.
“Well, I find it very important to upset the status quo in small ways. It changes the way I think about things.” He set his notebook aside on the desk. “I was getting too comfortable with the old layout. It is a good idea to mix things up.”
Jason looked at the shelves of books. “I never noticed your books. Am I in there somewhere?” He leaned forward to read some of the titles.
“Excellent question.” Dr. Lipton swung around to his desk and picked up his pipe. “They represent my apprenticeship.” He glanced at them, following Jason’s gaze. “They hold the data that applied years ago. We hope and pray it still applies but…I have discovered it is largely outdated.” He turned back to Jason. “No. You are definitely not in these texts.” He picked up a small metallic object and spun through the spiral of tools finding the one to tap down the tobacco in his pipe. “Now, back to my original question. How are you and your foster parent’s getting along?”
“Better in some ways. I can’t complain.” Jason thought it strange that he should mention them so early in their session.
“Good.” Lipton patted his jacket pockets before he found and pulled out his lighter. “Several weeks ago I informed your foster father that maybe you no longer needed such strong medication. He did not take it very well at the time, but he has acquiesced recently. What do you think?” He flicked the lighter.
“I don’t think I need it so much.” Jason wanted to add that he hadn’t taken it for months since the lock came off the shed door. The sweet tobacco aroma filled the room. Jason inhaled deeply; the smell of burning pipe tobacco comforted him.