by A. A. Vacco
“Wow, talk about making Easton seem like a lunatic," said Alex.
“If I hadn’t seen any of that stuff first hand, though, I’d think what everyone else was thinking," said Kat.
Elle nodded and said, “Right. I guess according to Jackson there was an investigation that verified the house was active, so the story wasn’t completely ignored.”
With some consideration, Kat asked, “Well, why don’t we find this Easton guy?”
“And say what? We don’t think you’re crazy and this house is cursed, tell us what you know?” said Alex.
“Well, we could rephrase some of it, but that’d be the general gist.” Looking at Elle, Kat continued, “I don’t suppose they told you where you could find him?”
“No. Confidential. They wouldn’t release any personal information. I came across the article by digging through a lot of stuff printed in the winter of 1983. So unless psych joints keep a log of their patients for the public to see...”
“Or if we call different places, pretending to be family wanting to visit," ventured Alex.
The girls looked at each other. Kat combed back her hair with her fingertips and murmured, “That could work.”
“Damn right it could. We just need to plan what to say. Last time I lied on the fly, I stuttered and sounded like an idiot," said Elle.
“Don’t beat yourself up, you usually sound like that," smirked Kat.
There were a handful of mental health institutions in the state. Alex suggested they start with the few listed in Chicago, since that's where the company originated. In his best professional tone, Alex gave the same speech over the phone with each location.
"Good afternoon, I'm Al Kingman. I am looking for a patient who may be residing with you, would you be so helpful as to tell me if a Mr. Byron Eastman lives there? No? That's a shame, I'm overdue for a visit but I heard he was moved several times since we last spoke and I can't seem to find out where. Thanks, and you as well."
Elle shook her head after the third call. "Isn't it slightly illegal for these places to give out the names of their patients?"
"Slightly? A little more than that. But it's usually a young secretary that answers and my money is that she is there part time and not up to speed on the proper formalities of the place. At least that is how the last three places seemed to go," said Alex.
Kat chewed on her lip and looked thoughtful. She thumbed through the phone book and said, "What about this place?"
Alex and Elle glanced at the title under her pink, polished nail that read, "Silverman's Advanced State of Mind" and the number to follow. The facility was in one of the cities north of Chicago. "Rockford, Illinois," read Alex. "Sounds like a nice place."
Elle shrugged. "Give it a go," and Alex punched the numbers into the phone.
After finishing up an explanation on how he needed to get in touch with his uncle to yet another young gal, Alex heard her shuffling through some papers. He mused at the lack of respect for patient privacy each front desk girl possessed.
"We have a ‘Mr. B. Easton’ that has been here since last year, is this who you're looking for, Mr. uh, Kingman?"
"Yes, yes that sounds right. Would you be so kind as to verify his birthdate and a brief description of his appearance?"
"Oh sure!" Alex cringed at how easily that worked. "Um, date of birth is February 3rd, 1939. He's 45. He's about this high...”
Alex visualized a doe-eyed Barbie doll holding her hand slightly above her head.
"...and he has tan skin and brownish hair."
"That sounds like my Uncle Byron," said Alex. "Thank you so much for all of your help. Tell me, what are your visiting hours?"
The sugary voice proceeded to fill Alex in on hours, route to get to the building, and the color lipstick she chose to wear that day because it matched her mood better than the other tubes of lipstick that she owned. Since Alex had the volume cranked up on the receiver, Elle and Kat listened to the exchange in detail and rolled their eyes in unison at the last comment.
"Ok, ok, wrap it up," groaned Kat.
Alex smirked and hung up the phone. "Ladies," he said, "it looks like we need to take a road trip to Rockford. If the charming lass I just spoke with knows her directions, it should be about a four-hour drive from here."
"This is insane, isn't it?" asked Elle.
"Oh c'mon, you're just as curious as we are, Ellbea!” said Kat.
Elle agreed, but pointed out that they’d need gas, a solid story to even get them into the building, and of course, a good explanation to their parents to account for their absences.
15
"But, Mom, Alex is a great driver, and we will leave before dark!” pleaded Kat. "Plus, Elle will be there. It isn't like we are staying overnight somewhere alone."
Kat's mom sipped her tea and glanced at her daughter who paced back and forth in front of the TV, enough to distract her from the evening news. "Kit-Kat, the last time you and Elle went off and did something, you managed to close down the town’s historical landmark.”
"Yea, because that was our faults," muttered Kat.
"No, that isn't what I'm saying. I just mean you two have a knack for getting yourselves into odd forms of trouble. Can't you guys sneak out and go to parties and drink crap beer like all the other teens around here?"
"Well, we could."
Her mom shook her head. "Please, don't. We've had enough excitement for the season."
"But it's just Chicago! We want to see the Shedd, the Art museum, walk around!" whined Kat.
"Love, do you know how cold it'll be just 'walking around' downtown?"
"Fine, we'll stay inside the museums and stores. It'll be so much fun, plus I've never been. And Alex has driven there so many times, so we will be safe...,"
"Enough! Kat, please. I need to think about it. I'll talk to Judy and Camille and see what they think." Diane set her tea on the coffee table and rubbed her eyes. "But right now, you're giving me a migraine."
Kat shrugged and headed to her room. If Alex and Elle could convince their moms that the trip was safe, she knew she'd be able to go too.
As Kat figured, Alex and Elle’s moms were able to help Diane give Kat her consent as well. None of the mothers were all too thrilled, however, when their headstrong offspring chose a windy, sleeting January afternoon to venture north.
“Remember to pump the brakes if you start to slide," said Camille as Alex zipped his coat and threw a knit hat over his head.
“Yea, I know, Ma.”
“And don’t use the wiper fluid if your windshield gets icy. It’ll just make it worse”
“Yes, Ma, I know!”
Camille bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “Oh, and if the handles freeze...”
“Pour water over them?”
“No, no don’t do that! Lord knows...”
Alex laughed, “Yea, I know, Ma, I know. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
Wrapping her son in a warm hug, Camille kissed Alex’s forehead. Smiling back, Alex turned and went out to pick up the girls. Their adventure was underway.
Alex honked the horn with a few, quick beeps. Kat sat next to him, wrapped in one of her many colorful, warm scarves. Her mittens gripped her traveler's mug of black tea. Alex preferred the mug of coffee that sat steaming next to him in the cup holder. Elle, still making her hot brew, stuck her head out and yelled to give her 'just one sec,' and proceeded to leisurely collect her purse and coat.
"Get out here! We need to beat the snow!” yelled Kat.
Alex shook his head. "She'll be a few minutes, whether you scream at her or not."
Elle emerged soon thereafter and the trio headed off. The drive up wasn't as bad as they anticipated. The clouds held out on unleashing their blinding fury, but kept a dreary, gray wash across the sky. It took a little over two hours. Alex pulled up to the building and parked the car. The three exchanged glances, and then Elle said, "Well, here's to hoping the same daft young lady on the phone works today so we can get in to see By
ron."
Kat sipped the last of her tea. "Regardless, I have to pee, so we're going to at least do that much on this excursion."
Alex smiled. "Relax, ladies, relax. I got this. We just need them to think I'm related to Byron."
Without raising her eyes from her tea, Kat asked, "And is Byron black? Because if he isn't it'll be a tough sell."
"I could be adopted! God, Kat, you're so insensitive!"
Elle covered her mouth. She tried to remain stoic for the sake of seeing if Kat believed Alex's outburst, but it was done so well that she didn't have a chance. Alex broke into a giggle, too, and Kat rolled her eyes. "Seriously," Kat continued, "If it's obvious Alex isn't related, let's say I'm the niece. You two can be close friends of the family, and we go from there. Keep it short. The best lies are short. It's ok to say "I don't know," or just shrug. Got it?"
Alex raised his eyebrow. "I'm a little concerned you're so good at breaking down how to accurately lie."
Kat smirked, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and opened her door. She set her traveler's mug down next to his in the adjacent cup holder, stood, and straightened out her coat. Elle followed, stepping out into the Illinois icy air. The cold pierced through her every layer, ending with a final spike into her bones. She walked over to Kat. A gust of wind hit them and they both shrieked and jumped toward each other. Alex walked around the side of the car. "Wimps," he muttered. The trio turned and walked to the white, rectangular building standing before them.
Kat pushed open the green, metal door that read "ENTRANCE" in black, precise lettering. A wall of stale, warm air met them as they stepped into the main lobby. The fluorescent lighting revealed a cream and maroon tiled floor that led to the salmon pink front desk. Kat noticed that the waiting area to the right had worn out couches and chairs in similar color tones. A TV sat on an end table central to the sitting space. The low whir of a water cooler against the wall merged with the quietly playing TV set. Sounds of typing and papers being shuffled chimed in, bringing Kat's attention back to the desk in front of them. Alex stepped forward and introduced himself as "Al Kingman" again. The doe-eyed angel behind the counter beamed at the familiar name. Her light brown curls framed her dimpled cheeks, set in place by two, small bows.
"Oh, Mr. Kingman!” she squealed, "I'm excited to meet you in person. You say that Byron is your uncle?"
"Uh, well, he is by marriage. So yes, yes." Alex cleared his throat.
The girl pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. "I-I don't recall Byron having a wife. I thought he was engaged, but that ended shortly after he came to stay with us."
Alex suppressed a smile. "No, Dear, I mean me. My wife is his niece, but she wasn't able to make it so she sent her two closest friends along with me to check in on him."
"Smooth," whispered Kat.
Elle crossed her arms over her chest and kept her focus on the young secretary. She figured if all else failed she'd stare her down until things were so uncomfortable that the dimpled damsel would just let them back out of sheer awkwardness. Her efforts were in vain, as it turned out. Alex's tale seemed valid, so the three signed in and took a seat next to the TV that currently played The Andy Griffith Show. Moments later, a tall gentleman wearing an olive-green suit with a light blue tie entered through a side door of the waiting area. He stood with a clipboard in one arm, and motioned the three teens to follow him with the other. He pushed back his peppered colored hair and introduced himself to the group. "Morning, everyone. I'm Doctor Ernest Karcher. I'm the psychiatrist taking care of your...uncle?"
"Yes, my uncle," said Alex with a nod. "By marriage," he added when Dr. Karcher knitted his brow.
Dr. Karcher stared at them a few moments, not seeming convinced. He finally nodded and led them down a hallway lined with closed doors on both sides. "Alright then, well your uncle didn't seem to recognize your name, but that isn't too unusual. If it has been over a year since he has seen you, there is probably a lot he may appear to forget. We have him on some medications that can affect his memory a tad. He becomes a little groggy when he takes them, you see."
Elle glanced up at the doctor. "What happens when you don't drug him up?"
With a soft chuckle, Dr. Karcher replied, "I wouldn't say, 'drugged up,' Miss, but without his court ordered medications, Mr. Easton becomes agitated. He claims it is a conspiracy that we keep him here, tries to escape with quite a bit of force-- "
"Force?" interrupted Kat.
"He has a history of getting a little aggressive with staff."
The three paused, hoping for Dr. Karcher to further expound on the statement. He smiled when he saw their hesitance and said, "No, no that was when we were still figuring out which medications would best help him feel relaxed and functional. We don't like to give more than required, but in some cases, a combination of several medications is needed to achieve that goal. Come, Mr. Easton just woke up and is in the lounge."
They turned the corner and headed down another corridor of rooms, presumably patient rooms, figured Elle. She kept her notebook out, jotting things down as they walked. Kat kept pace about a half of a step behind Alex, partially from her short strides, partially because she had a few concerns regarding their safety on this endeavor. Alex appeared as he always did, confident, engaged, and at ease. Beyond the living quarters, Dr. Karcher pushed open a glass door by a metal handle and led them to a man seated near a window with a vacant gaze. The man didn't acknowledge the group’s approach.
"Mr. Easton! Good morning." Dr. Karcher raised his voice and enunciated each word with precision, unlike in conversations with Elle, Kat, and Alex. "I have some family and friends here to say hi to you."
Alex stepped forward from the small group and extended his hand. "Hi, Uncle Byron. It's me, Al." Alex waited as an auburn head of hair slowly turned to face him. Alex watched the dark eyes fall on his extended hand, then raise to meet his own. Well, Alex thought Easton's eyes met his. There was such an emptiness in them that he could have been several hours into a movie marathon, awaiting the end just to say he did it. The expressionless face of Mr. Byron Easton finally cracked with minimal movement of his mouth when he stated, "I don't have a nephew named Al."
Alex did his best to appear wounded. He turned aside and whispered loud enough for Dr. Karcher to hear, "Oh god, he doesn't know me. How...?” and drew in a labored sigh.
Dr. Karcher put a hand on Alex's shoulder and murmured, "Why don't I give you guys a few moments to get reacquainted. I'll wait on the other side of the room," he indicated with a nod of his head toward a desk stacked with papers, "I have some work to complete anyways."
Alex agreed. Kat and Elle pulled up a few chairs and the three created a semi-circle around Easton. Easton's expression never changed. His eyelids seemed to stay open with maximal effort, and the rest of his body slumped in his chair. Once Dr. Karcher was out of earshot, Alex tried again. "Mr. Easton, I'm sorry I lied. You're right. You don’t have a nephew named Al. My name is Alex. These are my two friends, Kat and Elle."
Elle and Kat smiled at him, but Easton remained stoic. He did nod that he understood. Alex continued, "But if you could call me Al and pretend that we are related, we would like to talk to you about some things that might have happened right before you, uh, came to live here."
"Live here," repeated Easton in a flat tone. "Yes. Live here...Al."
With this, Easton turned his body to face Alex. The transition appeared to exhaust him. "Tell me," said Alex, "how long did you work in Millerton for Mr. and Mrs. Valor?"
"Yea, don't waste time on pleasantries," muttered Kat.
Easton shifted his gaze to Kat, then back to Alex, but said nothing. Alex tried again. "Mr. Easton? Did you work for Gregory Valor last year?"
Easton's stare darkened, but his face stayed without expression. "That name ring a bell?" asked Alex.
Easton closed his eyes. The teens figured he fell asleep, and just before Alex went to nudge his arm, Easton’s eyes opened again. Alex sat back and waited. When
several more minutes passed without a word from Easton, Elle spoke up. “Why don’t Kat and I wait over there? I see a vending machine and could use a soda.”
“Soda?” hissed Kat, “We just had caffeine in the car!”
Elle shot her a look and Kat realized what she meant. “Course, an extra dose of it never hurt anyone.”
The two picked up their coats and headed toward a small cluster of chairs furthest from where Alex and Easton sat. A vending machine hummed nearby. Dr. Karcher, still on the opposite side of the room, continued to work on his paperwork without looking up.
Once the girls left, Alex clasped his hands in his lap, but didn’t say anything. He thought Easton had an idea about what he was asking, even if the man seemed like someone who threw back a few too many tequilas. Or someone half-asleep.
Alex wondered what on Earth they gave him to keep him this exhausted.
Without a preceding gesture, Easton broke the silence with his slow, monotonous voice. “The Valors.”
Alex glanced up from his hands and sat forward, leaning on his elbows. “Yea, the couple that live in Millerton. You remember?”
“Remember.” Easton drew in a breath that Alex almost thought could be a chuckle if his energy wasn’t so zapped. “Yes. Ten years at their mansion. But no more. Never again.”
“What happened the last night you worked there?” Alex noticed Easton started rubbing his left index finger and thumb together, as if he were rubbing a coin between the two. The rhythmic motion was slow, fluid, and continuous.
Easton’s eyes refocused somewhere over Alex’s shoulder. Alex turned to see what he was staring at, but the girls were still by the vending machine, and Dr. Karcher by his desk. No one else entered the room. Alex turned back to face him, even if he wasn’t in Easton’s line of sight, and waited.
Then, as if narrating a play, Easton spoke, “He stays in the house more this time. At night it’s where he reads. He takes his evening spirits and walks the house. He’s there more than before.” Easton increased the pace at which he rubbed his two fingers together.