Exhaustion was threatening to overwhelm him as Dennis approached the door to his house. He was certain that he had begun hallucinating at some point during the final stretch of his drive, although he couldn’t be certain. It was San Francisco, after all, and it was quite possible that he had in fact watched two women clad only in orange paint chase one another with plungers. Still, he somewhat doubted it. The fact that they had vanished immediately after Dennis had nearly bulldozed a mailbox was another hint.
The lights were on when Dennis opened the door, which meant that either Alena was home or he was in trouble. His wife seemed to have a sixth sense about the electricity bill, and regarded unnecessary lighting as a crime punishable by death. It came as a relief when Dennis heard the sound of footsteps, even as he realized that Alena’s presence did not in any way negate the possibility of his own forgetfulness.
“Where have you been?” Alena asked as she turned the corner. There was more curiosity in her tone than anger, but Dennis could still sense the irritation lurking underneath her neutral expression.
“A job,” he answered.
“I tried calling you. I take it your phone was on silent?”
“No, it’s…” he thought for a moment. “Actually, it’s still in my glove compartment.” He flopped down onto the couch and let his eyelids fall as he tried to relax, although the shaking that had started in his limbs seemed disinclined to fade.
“Are you going to go get it?” Alena asked. Dennis waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. He heard the sounds of motion, and felt Alena sit down next to him. “Okay, what’s the matter? Still that thing with Sam?”
Dennis opened his eyes and looked into the concerned gaze of his wife. “You would not believe the day that I’ve had.” Alena smiled sympathetically, and leaned in to kiss him, but pulled back and wrinkled her nose before their lips met.
“Ugh, Dennis, you reek,” she said. He started to protest, but realized that the mixed odors of nervous sweat, alcohol, and pipe tobacco were not the best ingredients for a pleasant aroma. The lingering vomit stench probably didn't help, either.
“Sorry,” Dennis replied. “I’ll go shower. Just give me a minute.” He closed his eyes again, but he could feel Alena still watching him.
“Did something happen?” she asked finally.
Dennis tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a gravelly cough. “You could say that.”
“Tell me.”
It was more difficult to open his eyes this time, but he managed it. Alena’s expression was warm and open, although tightened with worry. Dennis was uncertain of how to explain the way his day had gone. Not only did Alena disapprove of his borderline-dishonest escapades, she was also a staunch realist, and not at all the sort of person who would believe a story about a haunted chair.
“Well,” Dennis began, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “the good news is that I won’t have to go out in makeup anymore.” He scratched at the flakes of glue still clinging to his face, and immediately regretted it. The itching sensation was bad enough, and the miniature snowstorm that the motion caused was an irritant of its own.
“You got caught, didn’t you?”
“Sort… of…” replied Dennis slowly. “Not in the way that you’re thinking, though. Oh, and Draadtrekker is a fake.”
A look of confusion crossed Alena’s face. “What is?”
“Not what,” corrected Dennis. “Who. Draadtrekker, the guy who runs that store with all the crystals and stuff, is a fake.”
“That’s nice,” Alena said, still clearly puzzled. “What does that have to do with you?”
“He gave me this rock that was supposedly a magical artifact,” Dennis explained. “It started buzzing in my pocket, and I confronted him about it. It turns out that the guy isn’t a half-bad electrician.” He left out the details of their fight, although his leg ached at the memory.
“So, what, it was electronic?” Alena asked. Dennis nodded his affirmation. “Where is it?”
“Probably still under a cabinet somewhere in his shop,” replied Dennis. He suddenly recalled his earlier visit to the store, and dug the paper-wrapped candle out of his pocket. The package had been resting there all day, and it felt oddly contorted. Dennis suspected that he had landed on it at some point.
“What’s this?” Alena asked, reaching for something on the floor. She came up with a folded piece of paper, and Dennis immediately recognized it as the check that Elspeth had given him. It must have fallen out when he was digging for the candle, he thought.
“That would be the rest of my day.” Alena opened the check slowly, and her eyes widened when she saw what was written on it.
“Dennis, what is this?” she repeated. Her voice was hushed and fearful. Dennis pulled in a deep breath before responding.
“Remember when I said that you wouldn’t believe me?” he asked. Alena kept silent, her attention fixed on Dennis’ face. He took another breath. “Well, this is the part where I prove it to you.”
It took a surprisingly short amount of time for Dennis to recount his experiences from the day, beginning with his trip to the curio shop. Alena listened in silence, her expression never changing, even when he described Evy’s appearance. Dennis stammered through an embarrassed moment as he talked about his fainting episode, and was intentionally vague about his altercation with Bobo, but eventually he finished the story, and slumped back into the couch as a means of punctuation.
Alena sat and stared at Dennis for what felt like hours. When she finally spoke, it was still in a subdued tone, but the fear had been replaced by something else.
“You’re taking a thousand dollars a week from that poor woman?” Alena asked. The anger startled Dennis, and he rushed to defend himself.
“I didn’t want to!” he said quickly. “She insisted that I take it. I told her that I didn’t need the money, but she was relentless!”
“You make it sound like she held you down at gunpoint,” Alena said coldly. She held the check out in front of her. “When you go back on Wednesday, you had better return this to her.”
“I don’t think she’d like that very much.”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of you conning a dying woman out of her money!” Her voice fell into a tone of disappointment. “Honestly, Dennis, you told me this was for your book. What happened to that, huh? You’re gone at least one night a week, and I hardly ever see you writing anymore.”
“Maybe you’re not looking hard enough?” Dennis ventured. He was trying to be playful, but the look on Alena’s face made him regret it immediately. “I am writing a little bit,” he asserted, “I just don’t have much to go on yet.”
“So make it up!”
“Hey, they say you should write what you know.”
Alena made an aggravated noise and stood up. She looked like she was about to storm out of the room, but she stopped and brought her hands to her temples.
“Look,” she said, turning and staring into the air like she was reading from an invisible script. “It’s bad enough that you’re still going out dressed like a character from a bad TV show.” Her eyes snapped down to glare at Dennis. “Honestly, I could deal with that if you didn’t expect me to believe this garbage about some half-dead teenager.”
“She’s all-dead, actually,” Dennis murmured.
“Whatever! It’s bullshit, either way!”
There was a pause between them. “Is it the hat?” asked Dennis.
Alena’s livid expression contorted with bewilderment. “What?”
“The hat,” he said again. “You said that I looked like a character from a bad television show. It’s the hat, isn’t it?”
“Dennis, would you forget about your costume?”
“Because, frankly, I always thought that the hat was a bit much.”
Another noise emanated from Alena’s lips, but some of the anger had subsided. She let out an exasperated sigh and held her face in her hands.
“You know, I married you because you were sill
y, but sometimes it gets to be a little much.” Her voice was muffled by her palms, and sounded a bit like she was talking through a traffic cone.
“The glasses are okay, though, right?” Dennis asked, pretending not to hear. He pulled out the spectacles, which were bent but still intact. “I think they make me look distinguished.” He put them on and looked up at Alena, an innocent expression on his face. She moved her hands and finally, thankfully, a smile broke through her hardened frown.
“God, Dennis,” she groaned. She sat down on the couch at the opposite wall. “You are impossible to argue with.” She rested her elbows on her knees, and held her chin against the knuckles of her clasped hands.
“I guess that’s why I always win,” Dennis replied. He took off the glasses and adopted a more serious tone. “Listen, I don’t have to cash the check. I can just throw it away, and Elspeth will never know.”
“Thank you,” said Alena quietly. She looked up at him imploringly. “Dennis, you don’t really believe all this nonsense about ghosts, do you? It’s just an act, right?”
Dennis didn’t answer immediately. If he was honest about what he had seen, Alena would undoubtedly take it very badly. She was under enough pressure at her studio, and Dennis didn’t like the idea of adding any more weight to her mental load. On the other hand, he liked the idea of lying to her even less, but he didn’t see much choice.
“Come on,” Dennis said, waving his hand dismissively. “I have to pretend to go along with this stuff, and sometimes I get carried away, but you know me better than to think that I’m actually buying any of it.” He gave Alena a lopsided smile, and watched as she relaxed.
“You had me worried for a minute,” she replied. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Dennis, it’s just that things are pretty crazy right now. I don’t need to think that my husband is, too.”
“Rest assured,” said Dennis, “that my sanity is not being called into question.” Even as he said it, Dennis wondered if he had told a second untruth. Any sane person would know better than to believe in ghosts, and yet there he was, scrambling to cover up the fact that he found their presence to be considerably more likely than he ever had before. His gaze drifted towards his feet as his brow furrowed in thought. The situation also brought to mind a second question: What if he had encountered a real ghost before, but had been too closed-minded to see it? He doubted that any of his past clients had actually been plagued by a spectral stalker, but the possibility that he was wrong had been made horrendously apparent.
“Are you okay?” Alena asked, shaking Dennis from his musings.
“Yeah,” he answered absent-mindedly. He shook his head, still staring at the floor. “Sorry, I was just thinking about this whole thing.”
“What whole thing?”
“I think,” Dennis said, choosing his words carefully, “that this might be the last job I do for Sam.” He glanced up at Alena. She looked curious, albeit skeptical. “I mean it,” Dennis continued. “I’m not really getting any material for my next book, and if he’s in some kind of legal trouble, then I don’t want to get involved.” He neglected to add that his encounter with Evy seemed like it would probably provide him with all the inspiration he would need.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” Alena answered. Dennis struggled to keep his face even as he met her gaze.
“I promise,” he said firmly, “that once this business with Elspeth is done, I’ll hang up the hat forever.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Just so you know,” Alena continued, a hidden smile tugging at the corners of her eyes, “you’re right about the hat.”
“Yeah,” Dennis agreed, turning the object over in his hands. “It does look pretty silly on me, doesn’t it?”
“I would have used a different word,” she hinted wryly.
“Don’t say it.”
Alena’s mischievous grin stretched to show her teeth. “Don’t say what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” Dennis muttered.
“Why, Dennis, are you saying you think your hat looks…” she trailed off, but kept an eyebrow raised in expectation.
Dennis growled under his breath. “Fine,” he said. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath and glared into Alena’s impish smirk. “My hat looks goofy.”
Try as he might, Dennis couldn’t keep a straight face in response to Alena’s laughter.
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