by Tara Brown
I move to sit closer to the fire, shivering from the heat of it. “Really?”
He nods, “Have you?”
I open my lips and then look down. I can’t say it and look at him. “I met this guy once, it’s silly. I knew him for a week at best. But it was the best week ever. I don’t know if I can say love, but there was something.” I look back up at him, “Who were you in love with?”
The dark room behind him and the flames in his eyes, have me captivated. He laughs and I swear it’s nervous. “I was not much younger than I am now when I met her. She was the prettiest of girls. So fair and full of spirit. She could sing and play any musical instrument.”
I laugh, “Sounds like you’re describing me.” He doesn’t see that I am mocking myself. I barely see it. It’s like I am being full of myself. I clear my throat, shaking my head. I look down at the spiced wine, setting it off to the side.
He shakes his head, “She’s the sister of the girl my brother was to marry, or might have already married, I suppose.” It’s weird that he says that, the girl his brother was to marry or might have already. The way he words things is weird sometimes.
He sighs when he speaks next, “She was just a child when I met her the first time. She didn’t know I existed and nor should she, and I saw her as a baby. She was so young then, but when I met her again, when she was grown up . . . I couldn’t help myself. I think it was instant. It isn’t important.” The firelight dances across his face and I no longer see evil—I see sadness and pain. It’s like he’s watching a movie in his mind, and he’s lost in the details I can’t see and he won’t say. The next words leave his lips, but I can see the haunted look on his face is still there and the words are emotionless. “Our families have no chance at getting past the betrayals that have been committed. It can’t ever work with her. I could never trust her to not be like her sister, and I have to think of my people, always.” His eyes grow haunted.
As much as he is weird, I feel sick for him. His story makes no sense whatsoever, but he is heartbroken still. He’s such a peculiar guy. I look around at the creepy house and nod, of course he is. He’s scarred and damaged and his family has left him here, alone.
I know that pain.
I reach across to him, taking his hand in mine, “You will find love again.”
He laughs but it’s bitter and horrid, “Yes. I, the man with the monstrous face will find love again.”
"You will."
He gives me the most frightening look I have ever seen, "NO, I WON'T. I KNOW WHAT I AM, LYNNIE! AND I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!" He tosses his glass against the wall and rips his hand from mine and leaves the room in an angry huff. It is the first time I have seen him angry since the first day we met.
I don’t know why he has to rub the curse in my face that way. I know what I am too. My heart is beating out of my chest. I sit back, shaking my head. What a psycho. The spiced wine was bad for us both. I became conceited and he became the monster he fears he is.
I sit back and cover myself with the blanket I have on me. I feel like crying for the first time in days. I have not felt truly alone in this house yet, but the anger in him takes away the magical comfort the house gives off. The magical feeling I should fear, and yet, I don’t. Instead, I like it here and I like them. Bizarre or not, they are like me somehow. They have accepted me. Except Alex, but no one really likes him, apart from the master.
I close my eyes and think about Bastion’s face. It’s getting harder and harder for me to see it clearly. He fades in and out of my mind. I miss him, Sam, Lune, and Sarah. I miss home, but I don’t miss being outside of the circle of cool people with them. It’s got to be impossible to miss being an outcast.
I drift off to sleep and my dreams don’t feel like dreams. They feel real, but I don’t remember them when I wake up. I just recall dreaming and thinking this is a dream.
I am on the old couch, covered in the blanket. I don’t recall the evening clearly and I don’t remember sleeping. I swear I blinked, and it was morning. The light that has flooded the library seems different, fresher and brighter than I have seen in weeks. I get up, stretching and yawning and start to tidy the room. I sing Baylor while I dust and organize, fold, stack and sweep until it looks like a proper room, and I am covered in cobwebs and sweat. The debris has not started to change back and things are different, not where they were before, but I don’t think I moved them.
The clean stays.
I walk backwards from the library, keeping my eyes on the papers and clean surfaces. I nod and take a chance. I hum and walk to the kitchen and get a drink of water. I walk back to the library with my drink, prepared to find the chaos it was.
Instead, it is pristine. I think it is even cleaner than how I left it. The stained glass in the tops of the windows sparkles, and I can almost see the horses running in the pictures. Everything is clean and beautiful, and I know for the first time that I have been in this room, it is as it was before. I know this room from a dream or another life. I have seen all of it, including the furniture I don’t recognize, before. And it isn’t that I have just seen it—no.
This is my house. This is where I grew up. I know this.
Someone has been lying to me.
My thoughts are interrupted by a gasp. “By God, have you done it?” Heidi asks in a whisper.
I turn, beaming, “I remember this place. I cleaned it up, and I can see it like it was before. I finally got a whole room clean, and it stayed. And under the dust and filth I can tell, I have been here before. I lived here, I think.”
She looks like she might either drop the tray or cry. She doesn’t look happy which makes no sense to me. The damned house is nasty and they hired me as a cleaner.
She walks backwards, still staring at the clean space, “I have to tell the master—what will he say or do?”
"Hopefully, he’ll say thank you. The furniture looks different, don’t you think? I swear that chair wasn’t there before, and yet, I know it. I’ve seen it, not in a dream either but for real. This must have been how it looked when I was a kid. I swear to God, I grew up here."
Her eyes do not leave the chair but tears begin to well in them. She turns and leaves abruptly.
I trail after her, out of the room, not catching what she is saying. I look down the hall, and it is clean too and there is a dresser I have not seen before. The lights are all working and there is no debris. I brush past her and go to the study. It is clean as a whistle, and somehow I recall this room more than any other in the house. I smell something and I know it’s my father. Tears almost fill my eyes. I can feel the lump, but the confusion is too much.
I turn in a circle, seeing how pristine it is. I run from the room and down the hall. My shoes slap on the marble tiles and hardwood as I run from room to room, finding things very different than before.
The house looks like a restoration team has gone through. I shake my head, “This is a magical house. I knew it. When have I been here before? I know I have been here before. Oh, but you all just moved here, didn’t you? You won’t remember me being here.” My heart is pounding, but I can’t reach a rational response to the fact everything is changing in front of my eyes. Where are my memories?
“It’s you.”
I turn to see the master standing there, exactly as he was when he left the library, scarred and all. He is the only aspect of the house that is not improved, and yet, I find myself staring at his eyes more than his scars.
He smiles, “You are the reason the house is healing. We are going home. It’s finally time. You are breaking the curse, Lynnie.”
I shake my head, “How is that possible? What curse—the Lake Curse, you mean? It can be broken? What home? How am I doing this? Is this my house?”
“You are the only person who can save us.” His eyes seem a bit lost. He looks like he might get excited. He doesn’t seem angry like Heidi was expecting him to be.
I shake my head, “You aren’t making sense. I only cleaned the library. I never
touched the rest of it. How is it clean and repaired? Where is the new furniture coming from? Are you doing this to me on purpose? Are you making me think I’m crazy on purpose?”
“No, of course not. You aren’t crazy. You are cursed, we are cursed.” He toys with his lip, the only place on his face that is void of scarring. I stare at them for the first time, really noticing them. He sees that I am not moving beyond it and nods, “It is a magical house—there is so much to tell you.”
I point at him, beaming, “I knew it. So the curse isn’t really mine, it’s the house? I can be free of it all?”
He laughs his big, booming laugh, “Yes, and no. You need to try to clear your thoughts and find the way back home.” He seems free of something suddenly. He’s joking, and I swear I’m having a heart attack.
Alex walks into the room, “The barrier is still up, she hasn’t broken it. Not fully.”
The master nods, “She will.” Alex scoffs and leaves the room.
“What barrier? What are you talking about? Are we trapped here?”
He ignores me, “Stay calm. You need to break the curse. You need to remember who you are.”
I turn to face him, “What is it then? Have you lived here forever? Is this place like a haunted prison for you guys? If I leave will you turn to dust? Are you real? Are you my Lachlan family from before?” Terror is filling me and I can’t feel my legs to run.
He sees the fear, “No. It’s not easy to explain. It was a long time ago, but not that long. It’s been a decade. The story is long, but I want you to try to remember on your own. The answer to the way home is in your head.”
“My head? Did I grow up here? I never lived in Maryland, did I? That always felt wrong.” I can’t stop the questions, “So how does the house work? You don’t age, and you can’t leave? How did Lance come and get me if there is a barrier? What barrier—you never explained that? Why don’t you get into the car and leave? Lance came and got me, surely you can all leave?”
He looks like he is losing patience, and I know I am tired of him not explaining anything to me. He is driving me insane, but I think I am having the same effect on him. He grits his teeth, “No, we can’t. We don’t age, no. We are frozen, but the time moves and the seasons change. The curse is on us, not the house. The house is you. Come and let me show you something.” He scowls at me and holds a scarred red hand out to me. I place my hand in his, without even a slight hesitation, even after the angry tirade the night before. He pulls me to the front door and opens it slowly, “The things you see are not the things that are there, Lynnie. You change the house. You change the reality we live in.”
Out in the yard is a carriage with two massive black horses in front of it. Lance is scrubbing the horses down on the gravel. He is using a bucket and strange-looking scrubber. His clothes are different now too, and his face is older somehow, without actually aging any more. Everything is different, as if a veil has been lifted from it.
“What are you? What year is it? Are we all trapped here now?” My stomach starts to hurt even more.
The master gives me an odd smile, “No, don’t worry. We are like the ghosts in the house. You are quite real and in the right time and place. You are breaking the spell, that’s all.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I don’t believe any of this. I don’t even believe in ghosts. You’re real. I can touch you.”
He sighs again, “I’m not a ghost, I’m like one. I can’t go anywhere. I’m trapped here in this bubble.”
It can’t be true. I can’t wrap my brain around it. I shiver with something but it isn’t fear. I can't seem to feel much fear here. I shake my head and point, “Where did the car go?”
“There was no car.”
“I saw a car. Brandon saw him and the car too. Same as me. The day I came here. Lance had a flyer and he was in Brandon’s parents’ store.”
Lance winks at me as the front door is closed and I am left standing, staring at the huge wooden entrance.
The master puts a hand out for me again, “You need to look again.” I take his hand and let him pull me to the study. He stands me in front of a tall mirror. He steps out of the mirror's reflection, leaving me in it. “Tell the mirror to show itself to you—its real self. Your answers are in there.”
“This is stupid and not funny.”
He shakes his head, “I’m not laughing, Lynnie.”
I whisper, “Show me your real self, mirror.” Suddenly, it is as if I am no longer in the mirror either. Somehow it is filled with a blurry picture I can’t see, but it’s not a reflection. I jump back, “What the hell?”
He chuckles, “Hell indeed. Your powers are finally coming to you. It’s a process. Ask the mirror to show you what really happened that day outside of Brandon’s store.”
I shake my head, “Show me what really happened outside of Brandon’s parents’ store, the day I got a ride from Lance.”
“Watch.”
The picture becomes a vision of outside Brandon's parents’ store. I am there, but my back is turned. My red hair is tangled, and even from the back, I look sad. I see it the way it happened. Me and Brandon standing outside of the store talking. Brandon looks upset. Lance appears out of nowhere, like magic. He starts speaking to me. Brandon doesn’t see him. I don’t think he does. I take the flyer that magically appears in Lance’s hand and climb into the carriage. Brandon shakes his head and mutters but doesn’t ever look up.
The master points, “Lance went there, against my wishes, to bring you here. I had given up after meeting you. I knew when I met you, you weren’t like them, your mother and sister. I wasn’t even sure you could work the mirror, not before today. Anyway, Lance went there in the carriage, pulled by the horses and gave you a fake flyer. He went looking for you because he was determined to find an answer. He said the wind showed him the way to you. I asked him about it; the boy never saw him, and when you got into the carriage, you vanished but the boy was already looking away.”
I step back from the mirror, “They will be looking for me.” I touch the mirror, “Are my friends okay? Are they looking for me? What have they been up to while I’ve been here? Show me what they have done while I have been here.”
The mirror goes fuzzy and suddenly I see them all. They are drinking and laughing around a campfire and swimming at the lake. Everyone is having fun and no one is looking for me. Sam looks sad sitting on the log. His eyes seem dulled, compared to the last time I saw him. His throat has a tiny scar that is red and fresh. Sarah goes and sits next to him on the log. He shakes his head and looks lost. I see him mouth my name.
“How is it so warm in town and so cold here? This last week has been freezing up here. Is it ‘cause we’re higher?” I ask as if I’m in a trance. Nothing is making sense. The unbearable heat of summer feels like it was yesterday, and now it is so cold outside, I swear it’s going to snow.
The mirror isn’t helping me understand like he thinks it will. If anything, I just have more questions. My stomach aches when I get one answer and the picture changes. My friends are saying goodbye to each other and getting into their parents’ SUV’s and minivans or driving their own cars out of town. The leaves turn and fall onto the ground. Sarah is still there, on Main Street in our town. She is alone, walking past my house. She looks at it, scowling at the red car and pulling her sweater closer to her skin.
“Is this the future?” I ask but the master doesn’t meet my gaze. He continues to look at the picture as it changes again and shows Main Street. The first flakes of snow are falling. Winter has come, and once it lands in Maine, it doesn’t let go. The flakes become blizzards and the snow becomes unbearable. My jaw drops, “What is this? Is it my future? Am I dead?” The people of the town shovel and salt, and plows blow by the stores. The lights are put up on Main Street and the trees are trimmed with decorations.
I sob a little; I don’t mean to, but I’m scared I have lost my mind like my mother. I tear my gaze from the piles of snow and my friends who are sudde
nly home. Lune has a guy with her I have never seen before. She kisses him like he is the only person in the world. They stagger down Main Street, clinging to each other and singing. They walk past the old bar I always sang at. It’s closed down. There are boards on the window. I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge. I give him a desperate look, “Is it Christmas? Has this much time passed?”
He nods once. I run past him to the window, and suddenly I see it. The brown grass is gone, and in its place, is two feet of snow. I open the front door to find Lance is still dressed in old-fashioned clothes, but now he has on a jacket and is brushing the snow off of the horses. Heidi is sweeping the front steps to rid them of snow and Tim is leaping about like a snowy jackrabbit. Silent tears slip from my eyes. “Lance, your clothes?” I turn back to the master, “It’s been weeks. Weeks at the most.” The house suddenly feels like a prison. I feel dizzy and lost. "How have months past? Where did the time go? How does the mirror make the magic? WHAT IS HAPPENING? I want to go home. I want to go home now."
The master's lips make a tight crease as he stares, looking heartbroken. Finally, he sighs, "We all want to go home. Your family’s curse is not what you think it is. I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would never believe me without proof.”
I can't believe what I'm hearing. I shake my head, "Why did you trick me into coming here? Am I stuck here now too? Have you cursed me as well? You didn’t think the curse I already had was bad enough? Am I dead?"
“No, of course not. You are more alive than ever.” His face lifts, and for the first time, I really just see his eyes. They're dark and pained. He shakes his head, "I am so sorry. I never meant for you to be stuck here. We thought maybe you could help us, break the curse. Just once, please, try asking the mirror how to get home or to show you home."
I look at the mirror, “Show me the way home.” The mirror fuzzes and shows me Mary’s bedroom. I nod, “That is my home. You may be a ghost in a house, trapped in a bubble. But I am no one. Trust me.”
He looks upset, “I don’t understand. What room is that?”