Unearthly Things

by Michelle Gagnon

The depth of emotion in his voice seemed utterly at odds with his persona. In fact, he sounded almost exactly like Nicholas, which gave me an odd twinge.

  Georgina let out a short, brittle laugh. Stabbing a chunk of chicken viciously with her fork, she said, “Just wait until Thanksgiving. Richard’s a ton of fun after a few whiskeys.”

  “Don’t worry, though,” John added. “He’s careful not to leave any marks.”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t hurt her.” Georgina scowled down at her food as if it had offended her. “She’s the golden goose, remember?”

  John made a scoffing noise. “Thank God for that.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked warily, looking back and forth between them.

  “Nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” John reached over and grabbed Marion’s abandoned wine glass, draining it in one gulp. Then he got unsteadily to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair. “I’m out of here. If they ask, tell them I went to piss on a few more puppies.”

  Chapter VII

  The light that long ago had struck me into syncope, recalled in this vision, seemed glidingly to mount the wall, and tremblingly to pause in the centre of the obscured ceiling.

  The attic was blissfully quiet that night—so silent, in fact, that I figured either Georgina or John must have talked to Alma about curtailing her midnight rituals above my bed.

  Which left me feeling foolish. Of course there had been a reasonable explanation. Just a month ago, I never would’ve believed there was a ghost tromping up and down an attic. It was the kind of ridiculous explanation a child Nicholas’s age would come up with; and even when I was his age, I hadn’t been that type of kid. As a four-year-old, I’d found the concept of the Tooth Fairy preposterous.

  Yet I’d nearly convinced myself that my new house was haunted. Sure, I’d been through a lot: losing my parents, moving to a new city, changing schools. But that didn’t totally excuse it.

  Well, I was done with that nonsense now. And I felt more than a little embarrassed about getting Daniel involved.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if that was why he hadn’t called last night. Had he written me off as a sad, crazy girl? Monday in school, I kept surreptitiously checking my phone for calls or texts.

  But there was nothing. The total radio silence was starting to annoy me. If Daniel had decided that based on our little adventure he was done with me, the least he could do was let me know. Anything else was cowardly.

  And what was up with him and John Rochester? Obviously they had some sort of history. I’d meant to ask this morning, but John hadn’t been at breakfast. I sat with Richard and Georgina, dutifully devouring an omelet while we all avoided each other’s eyes. It was as if John had never returned at all.

  What a weird family, I thought again. And the fact that Daniel was ignoring me didn’t say much for him, either.

  Unfortunately, telling myself that didn’t make it hurt any less.

  So when I walked out of school with Helen and saw Daniel leaning against the hood of his car, I was conflicted. Part of me wanted to run over and throw myself in his arms; the other wanted to slap him. Of course, doing either in front of the entire Hamill carpool line would make me a topic of gossip for weeks. I slowly descended the stairs, trying to decide what to do.

  “What’s wrong?” Helen asked, taking in my expression. Following my gaze, she grabbed my elbow and said in a low voice, “Is that Daniel? Oh my God, you did not do him justice.”

  “Yeah, well. You should see how good he looks when he’s running away from me,” I muttered. But my traitorous heart had lurched into a skippy little dance in my chest. I slowed my pace even further, determined not to look like I was eager to see him.

  Helen, on the other hand, practically set a land speed record crossing the street. “Hey, I’m Helen!” she chirped, jutting out her hand.

  Daniel threw her a smile, identical to the one that had first gut-punched me. “Hi, Helen. Hasn’t Janie told you how uncool it is to shake hands?”

  “Oh, she has,” Helen said serenely. “But my attempts to civilize her should kick in any day now.”

  Daniel burst into laughter and pumped Helen’s hand with enthusiasm. “Nice, Helen. I like you already.”

  “You seem okay,” Helen said, eyeing him skeptically. “But I’m reserving judgment for the moment.”

  “Really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

  “Because you’re in the doghouse with Janie,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “And honestly, you’re too attractive to be one of the good guys.”

  Daniel’s gaze shifted toward me. In a more serious tone, he said, “The doghouse, huh? That doesn’t sound good.”

  I’d spent the entirety of their exchange praying that one of San Francisco’s infamous earthquakes would strike, swallowing up me and, more importantly, Helen. My face burned with embarrassment. Throwing her a glare, I said, “Helen’s exaggerating.”

  “No, I’m not,” she retorted. “Better to get everything out in the open, isn’t it? I think people should always be straight with each other. That way everyone knows where they stand.”

  “You know what, Helen? I totally agree.” Daniel walked around his car and opened the passenger side door for me. “Want to go for a drive?”

  “Sorry, I’m busy,” Helen said blithely. “But I bet Janie would love to.” She gave me a little push toward the car.

  I bit my lip. The Town Car was in the shop, so I’d offered to walk home from school today. And it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be; Helen and I had knocked out most of our homework in the library during a free period.

  Still, I threw her a final angry glare, muttering, “I’m seriously going to kill you for this.”

  “Please.” Helen waved a hand disdainfully. “You’re going to thank me. Text later, I’ll be home.” With a final wave, she trotted off.

  Daniel was still holding the car door open. “Well?”

  “Fine,” I said, aggravated. “But I have to get home soon.”

  “Woof,” he joked. I scowled through the windshield as he pulled away from the curb.

  Daniel didn't break the silence until we were sitting on top of the dunes at Ocean Beach. “So . . . that was weird yesterday, huh?”

  “Which part?” I asked, digging my toes into the sand. I’d taken off my loafers, and the sand was cold against my feet. “The ball in the attic, or when you basically ran out of my house?”

  My house, I realized the second the words left my mouth. That was the first time I’d ever referred to it that way. It felt like a betrayal of the little cottage where I’d grown up. I stared out at the ocean.

  In front of us, a perfect set was rolling in. The waves hurled themselves over at the last moment, exploding in a cascade of foam. My fingers itched for my surfboard. Wind whipped past us, tossing my hair. Shivering, I wrapped my school skirt tightly around my legs.

  “Here,” Daniel offered, taking off his coat.

  “I’m fine,” I replied curtly.

  Daniel sighed. “I really am in the doghouse, huh?”

  “I hate that term,” I muttered.

  “Well, whatever you want to call it, then.” Crossing his arms around his legs, he stared past me, out to sea. “It just surprised me, seeing Rochester like that.”

  “You were in his house,” I reminded him. “And, oh yeah, we’ve been friends for a month, and you never said anything about him.” My voice caught a little on friends; I hoped he didn’t notice.

  Daniel’s jaw twitched. “I didn’t really want to get into it.”

  “Well, guess what? We’re into it.” Angrily, I plowed a furrow through the cold sand with my feet. “And it would’ve been nice if you’d given me a heads up. You two obviously have some sort of history.”

  After a beat, he said, “Yeah, we do. God, Janie, if you had any
idea . . .”

  “Any idea of what?” I pressed when he didn’t continue.

  “Just—the way I am now? I wasn’t always this guy. I used to be . . . someone else.”

  “Someone more honest?” I said. His expression immediately made me wish I could take the words back.

  His eyes clouded. “Less, actually. Sophomore year was kind of rough for me. I was hanging out a lot with John, and things got kind of out of control. Anyway, that’s why I told you to stay away from him.”

  “Um, hello? Kind of hard to avoid someone who’s living in the same house,” I pointed out.

  “I know. I guess what I mean is—” Daniel helplessly tossed up his hands. “I don’t know. Try to keep your distance, as much as you can.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You’re still being really vague.”

  “Yeah, well. This isn’t stuff I’m proud of talking about. Especially not to you.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Because you’re special,” he blurted.

  That hung in the air between us, heavy and charged. I said slowly, “So you don’t want to be honest with me, because you’re afraid I’ll think less of you?”

  “Exactly,” he said.

  “Okay, but when you ran away yesterday, and then ignored all my texts . . . that didn’t exactly make me feel special.”

  I’d planned to say something much more casual and flippant. And I really hadn’t intended to sound so wounded. I stared down at my legs as I tried to rub some warmth into them, avoiding his eyes.

  “Janie,” he said softly.

  I couldn’t face him, I just couldn’t. I bit my lip and wished again for the ground to open up beneath us. A seagull flew overhead, screeching plaintively. I knew exactly how it felt. “I’m not special,” I finally said. “Trust me. Maybe here I seem different, but back home I’m just like everyone else.”

  “I doubt it.” Daniel gently cupped my chin, turning my face back toward him. And suddenly I didn’t feel the cold, or the sand, or the mist peppering my cheeks. His hand was so warm and firm; it felt right. It rooted me to the spot and swept every other thought from my mind.

  Daniel leaned closer, until his face hovered inches from mine. His thumb stroked my cheek, his eyelashes brushed my forehead. Then, finally, I felt the pressure of his lips against mine. They were soft, gentle. He tasted of mint gum and smelled like cinnamon. As he kissed me, I swear I stopped breathing; for the briefest of moments, all the grief and homesickness and loss were swept away. I felt a hundred pounds lighter, as if I’d awoken from a dream, and the world was recognizable again.

  “I-I didn’t think you liked me,” I murmured as he pulled away.

  His brown eyes softened. “Why not?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to ruin the moment. Already, I could feel the weight descending again, bowing my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  “So you think I just happened to be at Ocean Beach that day?”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I figured a girl from Hawaii would probably hit the waves the first chance she got. I didn’t mean to crash into you, though. That almost blew the whole plan.”

  I struggled to process what he was saying. “You were hoping I’d be there? That seems a little . . .”

  “Stalker-y? Yeah, that’s why I didn’t mention it earlier,” he said ruefully. “But there wasn’t going to be another mixer for months. And I really wanted to see you again.”

  My heart leapt. I’d waited so long for Daniel to say something like this, it was hard to believe it was finally happening. “So why didn’t you just ask me out? We never really had any dates.”

  “Denny’s doesn’t count as a date?” he joked.

  I shrugged, terrified that the moment was slipping away, desperate not to let it. “Those didn’t feel like dates.”

  “You’re right, they weren’t.” He gently scooped up some of my hair and slid his fingers down the length, making my breath catch again. “God, your hair is so soft. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve wanted to do that.”

  I shivered involuntarily. “So why didn’t you?”

  He didn’t answer. Some sort of internal battle was playing out on his face. Finally, he said, “I’m in a program, and they have these rules. One of them is that you’re not supposed to date for the first year.”

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly understanding. “So is it AA, or—”

  “Drugs,” he said, cutting me off. “Pills, mostly.”

  “But, uh—you’re okay now?” Please be okay, I thought desperately. Back on the island, I knew kids who smoked pot, but no one with a serious problem.

  “Well, I’m a month short of a year, but, yeah. I think I’m good.” His smile faded as he took in my expression. “Are you okay with this?”

  Honestly, I didn’t know what to say; I never would’ve guessed that he had a drug problem. It was an entire life experience that I couldn’t really relate to. “I’m fine,” I lied.

  “That wasn’t very convincing,” he said. Picking up a stick, he drew a circle in the sand between our feet. “It’s cool. I just figured I should explain, after what John said back at the house.”

  “Okay. Well, thanks for telling me.” I remembered John’s dig about calling the cops—had Daniel stolen things? Or worse?

  But asking might just make him shut down even more. He’d already drawn away from me and was staring moodily out toward the water. If I couldn’t find a way to be okay with this, we’d be over before we even got started. But was I ready to get involved with an addict? What would Mom and Dad think?

  They’d admire him for getting into a program, I told myself firmly. They’d say he deserved a second chance. And he’d been clean for almost a year, so he’d definitely earned one.

  I put a hand on his arm. “Look, I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

  “It’s cool, Janie. I get it.” He shook his head. “Believe me, I didn’t want to tell you, at least not like this.”

  “I’m glad you told me,” I said, meaning it.

  “Yeah?” He met my eyes again.

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat and asked, “So, um . . . does this mean we can start dating in a few weeks?”

  Daniel burst out laughing, tilting his head back toward the sky.

  “It’s not that funny,” I said, miffed.

  “It kind of is. I just like the way you said it.” He grinned at me. “That’s what makes you special, Janie. Around you, I feel like myself, but better—like the person I’ve been trying really hard to become. Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” I said, still fixating on the fact that he thought I was special. “But it doesn’t really answer my question.”

  Without warning Daniel leaned in again, bringing his forehead to rest against mine. “I say we start now,” he said in a low voice that sent shivers through me. “What do you think?”

  “Sure—” I said weakly, but the word was cut off when he kissed me again.

  I pretty much floated into the house after Daniel dropped me off. I could still feel the pressure of his lips, and the slight scratchiness of his cheek as it brushed against mine.

  Best. Day. Ever. I told myself. Well, at least since . . .

  But I didn’t let myself go there. Nothing was allowed to ruin this mood.

  Judging by the quiet, most of the Rochesters were out, so I had the house largely to myself. Not that I planned on doing anything other than taking a nice, long bath, then calling Kaila and Helen. The only thing better would be telling Mom, I thought with a pang. I pictured her sitting on the living room couch with her legs tucked under her, sharing a bowl of popcorn while I gushed about a date.

  She’d like Daniel. For once, thoughts of her didn’t hurt. Instead of the void those memories usually elicited, I could almost sense her
with me. Maybe the grief was finally transforming into something else.

  Smiling, I pressed the button for the elevator, not trusting my wobbly legs to the stairs. The elevator descended slowly with the usual groans, like an old person getting out of bed. I’d grown acclimated to it by now, though. It was actually kind of awesome having an elevator in the house. Especially since the rest of the family never used it.

  I stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor, letting my backpack drop to the floor. I settled back against the rear handrail, watching the door slowly slide shut. The mirror above the panel reflected my face back at me, complete with goofy grin.

  I thought of my parents again, the way my mom used to brush her palm across the small of my dad’s back as she passed him in the kitchen. He’d reach back to return the gesture, and they’d share a private smile.

  How they’d met was a long-running family joke. My father had made a game out of coming up with crazy stories, each more ridiculous than the last. I’d stopped expecting a real answer at an early age, and only kept asking because I loved how silly they were.

  –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  There I was, investigating a Mayan tomb, he’d say, pretending to peer through the gloom. After dodging booby traps, I finally reached the treasure room, and your mother was sitting right there on a throne.

  Like in Indiana Jones? I’d asked, eyes wide.

  Exactly like that, he’d said with a wink.

  Another time, it was, I was fishing . . . He mimicked throwing a line into the water, then rocked wildly as he pretended to reel it in. And your mother came up on the end, with seaweed tangled in her hair.

  So I was a mermaid? Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Yup. Which was a shame, because I’d been trying for tuna.

  He grinned as she rolled her eyes.

  –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  One thing was always the same, though. As soon as he finished spinning the tale of whatever absurd circumstance had brought them together, my dad would get this look on his face. If my mother was in the room, he’d gaze at her, as if seeing her again for the first time. It was a look that used to make me jealous when I was younger, because on some deep level I understood that I wasn’t a part of this story, not yet, anyway.