Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  At Andrew’s place, long shadows coat the walls. Andrew examines his eye in the mirror. It is tender to touch and stings. Patches of black are appearing already. Soon it will turn purple.

  He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing. It’s no good. He can’t avoid sleep anymore.

  He gets into bed and lies on his back, gazing at the familiar brown water stain above him. It is well past time the apartment was painted. It will never happen. He doesn’t care and the landlord cares even less.

  After staring at the water stain for sometime Andrew rolls onto his side… and comes face-to-face with an elderly Italian woman. She sucks her gums, apparently because she has no teeth. Her sleek grey locks are held in place by a hairnet. Some particularly nasty black hairs jump out at Andrew from a mole on her cheek.

  As usual, Andrew takes her presence in his stride. He rolls on to his left and flinches. Another face. The woman’s equally old husband crowds Andrew on the other side. A skinny man clad in an old, dirty white singlet.

  Andrew rolls on his back and returns to the water stain above. Paying no mind to the elderly couple flanking him on either side.

  I lie awake, entangled with the sleeping Buckley. My phone rings. I answer it as quickly and as quietly as possible.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey…” Pause. “It’s Andrew.”

  “Hey.”

  I glance at where the travel clock once sat before I remember that I smashed it. I look at my watch instead. 4:26.

  The floorboards creak quietly as I creep out of the room.

  “So… You know, tonight? Before your friend came over. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  “Thanks, Andrew. I said some things too.”

  I wander into the lounge room and wait for him to keep talking.

  “So… What are you doing?”

  It’s an odd question for 4:26 am. Andrew gives the impression of someone needing to talk, but with very little say. Trying to fill time. This is my chance. I’ve had endless questions for him. Finally, he is in a mood to answer them and I can’t think of what the questions might be.

  “Can I ask you… Why do you think they are so angry?”

  “Who?”

  “The things we see. The dead.”

  “Some just are. I wouldn’t take it personally. They just want your attention.”

  I stretch, feeling very tired. Still lost in the maze. Still no closer to finding my way out.

  “Do you believe in fate?” I ask Andrew after a drawn-out silence.

  He scoffs. “Yeah. And fairies and God and the Easter Bunny and all that other bullshit. Why?”

  “I used to believe everything happens for a reason, you know?”

  “And now?”

  I have no answer for him.

  Our intermittent chat continues for a while longer. I do my best to keep the conversation going as long as I can until I drift off and drop the phone. The movement rouses me. I pick up the phone and let Andrew know I have to go. He understands.

  In the spare room, I crawl back into bed with Buckley. He appears to be asleep, but:

  “This guy calls you at four in the morning. Should I be worried about him?”

  I snuggle up close to Buckley, pleased he’s awake.

  “Bear is convinced you’re sleeping with him and I should kick his arse.”

  “You don’t say. Bear is very angry.”

  Buckley yawns. “He’s mad at everything. He is mad at me because I’m not reacting the way he thinks I should. He is mad at you for whatever’s going on. He is mad at Ginny because she’s keeping secrets and won’t tell him what’s going on with this guy. He wants everything to go back to normal. Back to the way it was. It’s all a mess.”

  “A big mess.” I take Buckley’s hand and press mine up against it. It’s nice. I didn’t realise how much I have missed this intimate contact. Like his body is mine, to do with what I will. An extension of my body.

  “What about you? What do you think?”

  “I love you, El. I don’t think you’re sleeping with this guy. I don’t think you’d do that to me.”

  I cuddle closer, playing with his fingers. “Thanks for being here…”

  “I tried to wait up. But afternoon beers in the sun got the better of me.”

  At Andrew’s place he has the opposite problem. He can’t sleep. Or settle. He strides endlessly about his apartment, hoping to find something to do.

  “El, can I ask you something?”

  He pauses, waiting for me to give him the go ahead. Buckley is unfailingly polite.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you blame me for the accident?”

  I rest my face on Buckley’s chest. “Maybe. I don’t think so, but I don’t know anymore. I didn’t think I did. Now, I feel like I don’t know anything. I am having to reassess everything I thought I knew.” I take a breath, trying to phrase my thoughts a little better. “I do know you would never do anything to hurt me on purpose. And that it is probably killing you to know you did hurt me.”

  His chest rises and falls softly against my ear.

  “I miss you.”

  Buckley moves my arm and rolls away. It’s a pointed move. Creating distance between us.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I feel like you’re simply telling me what I want to hear. It’s all just words. Tomorrow you’ll go back to being vague and refusing to talk to me or see me.”

  That’s fair enough. I close the gap between us, trying to think of something else to say. “I do miss you.”

  “So, come home.”

  Even the suggestion ties my stomach in knots.

  “Whatever is going on, I can help you with it.”

  I don’t respond. A disturbing image crashes into my brain. The back window at our place. The rabbits in the boat in the backyard. I sit up. “The house scares me.”

  “Everywhere is scaring you, isn’t it?”

  “The house… seems worse. Somehow.”

  “Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  It’s a good question. “I’m scared it will drive you away.”

  “Whatever you tell me is not going to drive me away, Ellie. Whatever it is, I’ll love you and I’ll help you through it. It is your refusing to trust me, that’s what’s driving me away.”

  I nod. He sighs. “You have to make a choice, El.”

  “I choose you.”

  “It’s more than that. More than words. You need to commit. To us. To our lives. Our home. All of it. Choose to let me in. Choose to get better.”

  I nod sadly. I completely agree. I just don’t have the slightest clue how I’m going to do it.

  “I love you, but… We can’t go on like this.”

  The words hang in the air for a long time.

  “I just want my life back,” I tell him.

  Buckley turns on his side, resting on his elbow. “You remember my friend, Steve?”

  It takes a moment to place the name. Steve. Buckley’s friend confined to a wheelchair. “Wheels?”

  “Yeah, Wheels. When we were young, we used to love skateboarding. We used to go skating a heap. They were building this freeway near our house and it was awesome. There was a couple of weeks after they finished building but before the freeway opened. It was so good for skating. So smooth. Anyway, one day I was skating with Steve and this other kid and Steve’s board slipped out from under his feet. Didn’t look like much, except he landed flat on his back. And he started to scream. It was terrifying. We had no idea what to do. He couldn’t move. We were miles from anyone. We didn’t have phones. Steve kept screaming.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The other kid… I can’t even remember his name. He went to get help. I stayed with Wheels. It seemed to take an eternity. He screamed and screamed. Seems silly, but I can still hear his screams. If I think about it. The point is, the whole thing was just a freak accident. The three of us, we fell off our boards all the time. Wheels was just unlucky. A ba
d fall. And everything changed. He broke his back. A whole new reality. I am sure Steve wanted his life back.”

  Buckley runs his fingers softly down the side of my face. “Sometimes things don’t come back, no matter how much you want them to.”

  He gazes deep into my eyes. I nod.

  “Whatever is going on, this is your new reality. Why it happened doesn’t matter. You can’t fix it. What’s left? Deal.”

  “Yeah, but… How do I… I mean…”

  “You know the solution.”

  I fix him with a blank stare. He lightly taps my forehead with the tip of his finger.

  “It’s up there somewhere. You’ll figure it out. You always do. You’re the smartest person I know. That’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

  He grins at me. “Who cares what this guy Andrew says or what some fucken hypnotherapist thinks. You need to find the Ellie solution.”

  “The Ellie solution,” I repeat. I like the name.

  “Yep. It’s the only one that’s going to work.”

  31

  I put a load of washing on the line. It’s mostly Virginia’s and Bear’s. A few items of mine. Generally, I am trying to make myself useful. So I am more than a burden to them. Not that they have said anything.

  Somewhere deep down though I am not sure how much it really matters. It’s difficult to articulate, even in my head, but I get the distinct impression this is all drawing to a conclusion. Somehow. Change is in the wind. Andrew may have found a way to float forever. I can’t. Everything continues to escalate. My breaking point will be upon me sooner rather than later.

  I hang out Virginia’s clothes admiringly. She always has such good taste. Not some much one for brand names or the most expensive items, Ginny seems to have an uncanny ability to purchase the perfect thing. I am gazing at one of her tops when it hits me. The awful, increasingly familiar realisation I am not alone. It’s possible I am mistaken and there is nothing to worry about. That it’s a living person. Ginny or even Bear. And yet I know it’s not. I do my best not to overreact. Physical sensations are tricky to control. It’s a losing battle, like attempting to fight off a stiff breeze. Maybe if I completely ignore the presence. As Andrew does. He manages to survive. I am sure it is a strategy he didn’t perfect overnight.

  Movement teases my peripheral vision. My head is drawn in that direction, unable to not look.

  A little kid hides in the bushes, watching me. His face partially obscured. I can’t see much. What I can see is enough. Blood drips off his chin. As determined as I am to be brave, I want no part of this. The back door isn’t that far. I could make it inside. It occurs to me I have this exact thought many times before. That I can make it. That running away is an option. And it hasn’t helped. I need a new plan of attack. I need the Ellie solution.

  Taking the deepest breath I can manage, I step towards the child, rather than running the other way in fear. I approach slowly, as one might a neighbour’s cat.

  “Hello?” I edge closer. “Are you okay?”

  The little kid stays hidden.

  A voice in my head implores me to run. There is still time. I don’t have to do this. I probably shouldn’t do this. I ignore the voice and keep going.

  “It’s all right.”

  The kid watches me. At least I believe he is watching me until he moves slightly, giving me my first glimpse of his face. He has no eyes. They have been poked out. The eye-hole cavities cause my mouth to fill with sick. What happened to this poor child? He seems different from the others I have encountered. Less angry. More timid. Or is the difference me? Have I been projecting my fear onto them, making them seem more hostile than they are?

  This poor kid. He appears so sweet and innocent, even without eyes. Whatever happened to him can’t possibly have been his fault. It’s devastating. Who could do such things to a child? I am overtaken with a desire to do something for him. To help him somehow. I reach for him. He flinches away.

  “It’s okay.”

  I touch his face lightly. The kid smiles. I can’t help but smile back. We have a connection. I rack my brain. What can I say? What can I do? There must be something.

  Fear invades his features. He flinches and scurries backwards.

  “Hey, no. It’s okay.”

  I am not sure what I did to frighten him until I realise it’s not me. We’re not alone. Someone looms up behind me.

  As I turn I feel myself become drenched in icy cold fear. It’s Long Hair. The angry dude, carrying his fork. I am not projecting anything onto him, he’s just angry. Oh God, the fork… Is that what happened to this poor kid’s eyes? I fight simultaneously urges to run and to throw up. It’s all very well to try and be brave, except this dude was never part of the deal.

  Long Hair starts to yell. Silent fury. He points. I glance back over my shoulder. The little kid cowers in fear. If I find Long Hair terrifying, how must he come across to a small child?

  Tapping an inner resolve I wasn’t aware I possessed I step between the two of them, extending out my arms and shielding the boy.

  Long Hair steps right up to me. Scary and imposing. Yelling in my face. Still, I don’t move. He tries to get past. I won’t let him. We scuffle.

  He stabs me with the fork. Hard. Deep into the fleshy part of my bicep. It’s incredibly painful. I scream. He moves for the kid again. Except I won’t let him, physically doing my best to restrain him. We fall to the ground, wrestling.

  And suddenly Long Hair and the kid are gone and I’m rolling about on the grass like a fool. Blood seeps from the three-prong pricks in my arm.

  I rub my bicep, gazing at Ginny’s backyard. It’s one of those moments in life where not much has changed and yet everything has the same time.

  32

  Andrew agrees to see me at The Royal Arms. There is a nice symmetry about our meeting place. The Arms was where we first met when I was stalking him. I hope this meeting goes a little better than that one. I arrive early. The Royal Arms is busier than last time, by which I mean there are four people at the bar and a couple of groups at the tables. The upshot is I can’t sit at the same table as last time, not that that matters.

  I order a lemon squash for myself and a beer for Andrew and take a seat at a free table, thinking back on all I’ve been through since I was last here. I’m very grateful to be at this part of the journey, rather than where I was then. I am different. More relaxed. In control. Not Old Ellie. She is gone forever. For the first time, I feel like that might be okay.

  While I wait I receive an unexpected phone call.

  “Ellie, how are you? Are you all right?” a flustered voice asks me. A voice I can’t quite place.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, my. I’m sorry. It’s Brenda.”

  Brenda the hypnotist.

  “What can I do for you, Brenda?”

  “You never came back and saw me.”

  I scoff into the phone. “What do you expect? You made it quite clear you didn’t want me to.”

  “I did?”

  “You told me explicitly you couldn’t help me.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me. Our meeting left me quite flustered.” She sounds quite flustered now. “I had no intention of fobbing you off. What I was trying to say was that hypnotism might not help you. I was more than happy to keep seeing you. I have thought a lot about you and what you have been going through. How hard it must be for you.”

  “It’s been very hard.”

  “But you are all right?”

  “I think so. Finally. I believe I’ve had a breakthrough.”

  “Oh, that’s good. That’s good.”

  “What about you, Brenda? Are you all right? You seem a bit… all over the place.”

  “Yes, I am, sort of. Recent events have unsettled me. It sounds silly, but you’d understand better than anyone, I suppose. You remember that book I told you about? The novella?”

  “The Caterpillar Nightmare?”

  “Exactly. Well, my copy of the b
ook has been misbehaving.”

  “Misbehaving?”

  “The novella unexpectedly jumped off the bookshelf. Not fell, jumped. Twice. And the word Caterpillar was circled, except there is no one who could have circled it.”

  I ponder if Brenda has gone insane since we last met. She is right though. If anyone should cut her some slack, it’s me. It doesn’t mean I have any idea how to respond though.

  “Anyway, these events, they made me think of you, Ellie. I was concerned something had happened to you.”

  “No. Well, a lot has happened to me, but nothing new.” I spot Andrew approaching through the window of The Royal Arms. “Listen, Brenda, I’m sorry, I have to go.”

  “Oh, okay. I’m glad things are getting better for you. Come and see me sometime.”

  “I will,” I promise and hang up my phone.

  Andrew wanders in. He spots me and comes over. I beam at him, excited. It’s nice to feel an emotion other than fear. My exuberant expression takes him by surprise and he almost smiles back. Almost. It’s like we are… well, friends might be pushing it. Compatriots at least. Freedom fighters with a common cause.

  He sits.

  “I got you a beer.” Immediately I second-guess myself. “Did you want a beer?”

  “A beer is good, thanks.” He takes a sip straight away as if to prove he wants the beer. At least he’s not just blowing on it.

  “Good day?”

  He shrugs. “Just a day.” He’s not very good at small talk.

  I sit forward in my chair, unable to contain myself any longer. I am desperate to relay my breakthrough and excited about what it might mean, not just for me, but for both of us. The positive way this might impact both our lives. “So… I think I had a breakthrough. I have been thinking about these people and why they appear to us.”

  Straight away I can see it in his face. I have lost him immediately. Any connection I thought we shared evaporates. I plough on regardless, confident I can win him back.