Unearthly Things

by Michelle Gagnon

  “Fantastic. Meet you at the car.” He beamed at me, then headed for the door.

  As I frowned after him, I realized he’d never finished explaining about Eliza.

  Ten minutes later, I was wearing the Speedo under one of John’s sweatsuits, and our boards were strapped to the top of John’s black SUV.

  “Gorgeous day,” he commented cheerfully as we pulled away from the house. “Finally feels like spring. So, are you ready for the cotillion? It’s next weekend, you know.”

  I stared at him as if he were insane. “You’re kidding, right? I’m not going.”

  “Sure you are,” he said evenly. “Dear old dad will insist. He did buy you that dress, after all. Well, technically you bought it for yourself, but still—”

  By next weekend, I’ll be back in Hawaii, I thought. Even if I have to rent a canoe and paddle there. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. “We’ll see.”

  “Now who’s being secretive?” he asked, glancing at me. “Just so you know, if Fairfax isn’t up for it, I’d be happy to wear the penguin suit.”

  I had to laugh. “Seriously? Are you asking me on a date?”

  “Hardly. I’m offering to do charity work.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Your loss. But I can guarantee you’d have more fun with me, anyway.”

  I felt a pang, discussing Daniel with the person he considered to be his mortal enemy. I’d meant to call him after breakfast, but then John had distracted me, and before I knew it we were in the car. For a millisecond, I debated borrowing John’s phone, but Daniel would totally freak out. I wouldn’t exactly feel comfortable talking to him in front of John, anyway. I hated not having a cell phone; I kept unconsciously grabbing for it.

  We’ll only be surfing for a couple of hours, I told myself.

  I’d ask John to swing by a drugstore on the way home so I could buy a disposable phone. There would be plenty of time to call when I got back to the house.

  “Nice one!” I called out, watching John cruise along a right break from my vantage point twenty feet offshore. I had to admit, I was impressed. He wouldn’t be going pro anytime soon, but he was holding his own.

  Definitely better than Daniel, I thought guiltily. As the wave mumbled away into gentle breakers, John hopped off the board, tucked it under his arm, and flicked hair out of his eyes. Giving me a thumbs-up, he strode back into the surf, then paddled back toward me.

  We’d been at Ocean Beach for over three hours. It was a gorgeous day, with a perfect swell out of the northwest and just enough wind to kick the waves up. It was also unseasonably warm, in the low sixties. I drew a deep breath, loving the feel of salt air tickling my lungs. This was just what I’d needed; surfing had banished the nightmarish events of the past week to the back burner, at least temporarily.

  “You going to catch another one, or just sit here checking out my ass?” John hollered as he shifted to sit on his board, forcing the tip of it out of the water.

  “Just making sure you don’t drown,” I teased.

  Since we’d arrived, I’d thrown myself into catching wave after wave; it felt good to spend a minute just taking it all in. Waiting for the perfect set was as much a part of the experience as riding: the feel of the board rising and falling beneath you, the constant crash of waves, steady as a heartbeat. It always gave me a sense of the vastness of the ocean and the pull of the moon. Sometimes that made me feel small and insignificant, but not today. Right now, it just felt good to be alive and free.

  John’s cheeks were red from the cold. He wasn’t wearing a hoodie, but the frigid water didn’t seem to bother him. “What?” he finally asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, tracing my hands through the water. “It’s just . . . you actually look happy for a change.”

  He laughed out loud. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. Hell, I should be out here every day. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  “Trust me,” I said. “If I didn’t have to go to school, and had a car, I’d be here all day, every day.”

  “I bet you would,” he said, regarding me contemplatively. “I forgot how good it feels.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. The sun emerged from the clouds as a wave broke close to shore, sending a shower of rainbows cascading through the air. “I used to go at least once a day.”

  “Must’ve been nice.”

  “It’s a lot easier when there’s a break right in front of your house,” I said ruefully.

  “You miss it, huh?”

  “So much,” I confessed. “This is the only place I feel like I belong anymore.”

  “Funny. Seems to me you’re starting to fit in fine.”

  I snorted in response. “Yeah, right. I’m practically the toast of the town.”

  “Play your cards right, you could be,” he said smoothly.

  I shook my head. “Not in a million years.”

  “Suit yourself. Hey, check it out.” John tilted his chin, and I followed his eyes; a perfect wave was approaching, the swell visible against the horizon. “That beauty’s all mine.”

  “Not if I catch it first!”

  We both flipped onto our bellies and started paddling furiously, splashing each other and laughing. I edged him out and jumped up to ride the wave. My board coasted along the top, just below the crest. As I raced along, John yelled encouragement from behind me.

  A solitary figure on the beach caught my eye. He was standing stock-still, staring at us. As I got closer, I realized who it was.

  Daniel.

  I cut out of the wave, hopped off the board, and raced toward shore, splashing as I went. “Oh my God, I’m so glad to see you!” I burst out, throwing my arms around him.

  He didn’t reply, and I realized he’d gone rigid in my arms. I pulled back and looked up at him. “What?”

  Daniel jutted his chin toward John. “You’re with him.” His voice was cold and flat.

  I stepped back and pushed the hair out of my face. “Well, yeah,” I said. “I really wanted to go surfing, and he offered me a ride. I was going to call as soon as I got back.”

  He barked a hard, short laugh. “Well, that’s big of you.”

  I examined him. Daniel’s eyes were bloodshot, and his scruff of beard was overgrown, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “You know I lost my phone in the fire,” I said slowly. “And then—”

  “Then you attacked Georgie. I heard.”

  “I didn’t attack her,” I said with a flare of anger. “Well, I slapped her, but then she—”

  “I had to hear about it from a kid in math class,” Daniel snapped, cutting me off. “How do you think that made me feel?”

  “Daniel, I was in a mental hospital,” I said, exasperated. “Drugged up and locked in a padded room, literally. I couldn’t exactly send a text. And I didn’t get out until late last night.”

  There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. I stepped closer and put a hand on his arm. “Seriously, the past few days have been . . . well, crazy,” I said with a short laugh. “But I wanted to talk to you so badly.”

  He gazed at me for a long beat. When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. “I can’t believe you came here with him. I mean, c’mon, Janie. This is our place.”

  I bit my lip, suddenly realizing he was right. The surf sessions were how we’d gotten to know each other, and we’d had our first kiss here. I’d been so eager to get on my board, it hadn’t occurred to me that this would seem like a betrayal. “Listen, I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Daniel was still staring past me. I followed his eyes; John was standing in the breakers watching us. “He’s not so bad,” I said tentatively. “I think maybe he’s changed—”

  “Bullshit.” Daniel snapped, turning on me. “So he’s got you fooled, too. That’s great, Janie. If
you’d rather hang out with that asshole, I’ll leave you to it.”

  There was an undercurrent of rage beneath his words. Throwing a final glare in John’s direction, he turned and started walking up the beach, hands shoved in his pants pockets.

  “Wait!” I called out. He didn’t stop. Muttering to myself, I chased after him, catching up right before he reached the dunes. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face me. “Look,” I said firmly. “I get that you don’t like John, even though you’ve never told me why, which is insanely frustrating. But he’s pretty much the only person in that house who’s been even a little bit nice to me.”

  “Of course he has,” Daniel scoffed.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “He’s a user, Janie. John gets close enough to find out your weakness, then he takes advantage of it.”

  I glanced back at John; he’d gotten back on his board and was paddling past the break. I couldn’t deny that he was as self-serving as the rest of the Rochesters. But I also couldn’t see how helping me benefitted him. I hesitated, then asked, “So how did he take advantage of you?”

  Daniel turned his head away, his jaw set. Tightly, he said, “We were best friends; or at least, I thought we were. He’s the one who got me high the first time. And pretty much every time after that, too. Then he talked me into helping him get rid of some pills. ‘Nothing major,’ he said. ‘Just helping out a friend.’ Well, guess what. When the cops showed up, he shoved the baggie in my pocket. So I’m arrested and sent to rehab, while he waltzes off to boarding school. You want to know why I don’t trust him? It’s because he sold me out, Janie. And he’ll do the same to you.”

  He turned and started walking again, head down.

  I took a second to catch my breath, still processing everything he’d said. Then I hurried to catch up.

  “Look,” I said. “You’re right, that sounds awful. I get why you hate him. But I’m kind of going through bigger things right now—”

  Daniel spun around. “It’s all about you, isn’t it?” he shouted, stopping me in my tracks. “Poor Janie, who lost her parents. Who hears weird noises in the attic. Who thinks someone is out to get her. Well, you know what? I’ve been out of my head worrying about you. I heard about what happened at school, and I cut class and headed over there, but no one would tell me anything. Then you just vanished! I spent the past two nights lying awake, wondering if I should go to the cops—I was imagining all sorts of terrible things. And now I find out that you’re fine, they let you out. But you didn’t call—”

  “I couldn’t,” I interrupted weakly. “I don’t have a phone.”

  “Something wrong with the landline?” he asked.

  I flushed red in response.

  “I came here today, because—” His voice suddenly broke, and he looked away. After a few seconds, he said thickly, “Because this place reminds me of you, and I missed you. And when I show up, you’re here with him, acting like nothing’s wrong. Laughing and having a good time, and . . . and . . . surfing!” He threw his arms up. “It didn’t even occur to you to let me know you were okay?”

  “I was going to, as soon as I got home,” I replied in a small voice. But it sounded lame to my own ears. He was right; my first thought hadn’t been to run to him, it had been to come here.

  Daniel drew a deep breath and looked down at his shoes. “I think this might’ve been a mistake.”

  “What might’ve been a mistake?” I asked tremulously. The steel in his tone scared me half to death.

  He shook his head, and said, “My sponsor was right. This was too soon. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Are you . . . are you breaking up with me?” I could barely form the words. My teeth were chattering from the cold. A new emotion, foreign and powerful, coursed through me. I felt sick again, and tasted my breakfast in the back of my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “But I can’t do this. Goodbye, Janie.”

  I stood rooted to the spot as he walked away. I kept hoping he’d turn back, but he marched purposefully to where his car was parked and slid behind the wheel. As he drove away, I blinked tears out of my eyes.

  Could it really be over, just like that?

  “Hey,” John’s voice said from behind me. “You okay?”

  “Let’s go,” I mumbled, wiping my face with both hands. “I want to get out of here.”

  We drove in silence back to the house; sensing my mood, John wisely (and uncharacteristically) refrained from commenting about Daniel. Honestly, the way I was feeling, I probably would’ve sucker punched him if he’d opened his mouth. Not that it was his fault; that was the worst part. This was all on me.

  I felt gutted, like Daniel had reached inside and scooped out everything important. I was hurt, and really, really angry. Everything he’d said ran through my mind on an endless reel. Poor Janie. Dead parents. Noises in the attic. Like I was pathetic, wrapped up in myself and my own problems. And yeah, maybe I was. But I had damn good reason to be.

  How could I ever have compared my feelings for him to what my parents had?

  It was that, more than anything else, that made me feel like a fool.

  I was so distracted, I forgot to ask John to stop so I could buy a new phone. It didn’t seem to matter as much anymore, though. Who would I call, anyway? I wasn’t even in the mood to talk to Kaila. I didn’t want her comparing this to what had happened with Tommy; if she did, I’d probably snap at her, and that would only make things worse.

  When we arrived at the house, I mechanically lugged my surfboard off the top of the car and hauled it to the garage. John watched silently for a minute, then offered, “I can handle that, if you want.”

  I shook my head. I needed to do something physical to distract myself. I rinsed the saltwater off everything, hung my wetsuit from a rafter to dry, and stacked my board along the wall. Then I stalked past John and into the house. I hesitated briefly on the threshold; the house was silent. Where should I go? Alma’s apartment was off-limits. I needed to avoid Richard’s wing of the house, too.

  I took the stairs two at a time. When I reached the bend in the hall, I paused at the door to my old bedroom. A special cleaning crew had stripped it bare. All that remained were scorch marks on the red wallpaper and the lingering smell of smoke; huge machines hummed in every corner, probably to dry it out.

  It was an apt metaphor for the barren wreckage of my life.

  Turning away with a sigh, I walked down the hall and rounded the corner. Opening the door to Nicholas’s room, I inhaled deeply. It smelled of baby soap and sweet sweat and tears. I crossed the room and collapsed onto his bed. Pulling the nautical-themed comforter over myself, I huddled there, shivering. It was always so cold in this house, just another thing I hated about it.

  My shoulders shook with sobs. More than anything, I wanted my mother. Wanted to feel her hand on my forehead, brushing back my hair. The murmur of her voice in my ear, telling me it was all going to be okay. Her body curled up beside me, reassuring me with her presence. I cried as if my heart was breaking all over again; as hard as I had when the cops first showed up at our house.

  “Mommy,” I sobbed, burying my face in the pillow. “Oh, Mommy, I miss you so much.”

  Daylight shifted across the room. I clutched the comforter to my chin and used it to dry my tears, only to have more overtake me. I cried for everything I’d lost, all the things I’d never have in my life again. That, coupled with the hours of surfing, left me drained and exhausted. I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Perhaps the dream was provoked by lying in Nicholas’s bed. It was strange, like watching a montage of old home movie reels: the Rochesters in black and white.

  At first, I saw a younger version of Nicholas playing with a sickly-looking girl with pale hair. Eliza. Yet for once, the sight of her didn’t terrify me. She and Nicholas were de
eply absorbed in the castle game, galloping horses around the turrets. Marion came in and made a fuss over Nicholas, ignoring Eliza entirely.

  An abrupt shift, and suddenly the little girl was standing in the front hallway. Her arms were wrapped around Richard’s legs, her tear-stained face tilted up to him. There was no sound, but somehow I knew she was begging him to stay. Grimacing, he disentangled himself, patted Eliza’s head, and walked out the door.

  A shadow fell over her. Suddenly I was Eliza, turning with dread to face Marion, the tears still smarting on my cheeks. I felt raw terror as Marion dragged me upstairs by the arm. The door to the attic was thrown open and I was shoved inside, knocking my small knees painfully on the stairs. As the door latched behind me, I pounded my tiny fists against it, howling. The dream was so vivid I practically tasted the dust motes in the air and smelled the wood rot. I curled into a ball on the stairs, weeping. Nicholas was on the other side of the locked door, murmuring to me, but it didn’t help. I felt forsaken.

  Another jump: I was perched on Richard’s lap, giggling blissfully as he bounced me up and down. Behind him, I could see Marion glowering, which made my smile fade, but for the moment, I was happy. Daddy loves me, I thought, over and over. My daddy.

  More images, faster and faster. The banishments to the attic grew more and more frequent, until it seemed like I was up there permanently. There was a cot in a tiny room, and a thin rug that barely covered the floorboards. I sat in the corner, scrawling on the wall with a red crayon. No one came to see me. I was consumed by confusion; why was I so uncared for, so unloved? Why did Mommy hate me?

  And then it was dark again. I was being shaken, so hard it felt like my head might come loose from my shoulders. Marion’s face was inches from mine, her features twisted into an expression of pure loathing. Bad girl, she said, over and over. You’re a very naughty girl.

  In the background, a wisp of moonlight peeked through the skylight. Locking onto it, I made a wish, because that’s what children did. I wished for my daddy to come save me. Wished for Mommy to stop hurting me. Wished that the pain would go away.