by Alyse, Jade
Asha huffed and stood to her feet. “I’m not dealing with this right now.”
“What would Bellamy think if he found out?”
Asha shoved her emptied plate in the sink. “I don’t know...why don’t you ask Natalie?”
Brandon pursed his lips, then looked at his wife. “What the hell does that mean?”
Scotty followed Asha’s actions. “Nothing, man. You know Asha believes that the sun rises and sets on her ass.”
“Fuck you, Scotty.”
And she promptly exited the kitchen, tossing a dish rag to the floor.
Brandon and Scotty then began speaking animatedly about Asha’s strange behavior. A few key words like “period” and “cramps” and “woman-problems” emerged. She faintly heard Brandon remark on how happy he was that he didn’t have to deal with Natalie’s period and all of the “bullshit” that came with it for awhile. Brandon nudged her playfully - she didn’t feel it. Instead, she was gazing out of the bay window by the kitchen table. Trees were bending to the wind, succumbing to it, the sunlight stifling and comely. The weather was changing again. And with her own particular blend of reluctance, she closed her eyes and saw Bellamy. Her lips hummed to attention, quivering just enough, and deep, relieving breaths wouldn’t come.
What would happen if she heard him speak again?
It had just been a dream, Natalie. Nothing more. Stop this.
Would it sound the same?
Stop this.
But, damn it, it felt so real.
Remember, Tallie. Remember what you and Brandon fought against, just to be together.
He felt so warm. So warm.
This is no good, Natalie. Don’t do this. These thoughts. They’re no good.
Inside her. She wanted him...to be...inside. What was she thinking?
Natalie. Don’t.
She saw his eyes. His clear, sincere eyes. Behind smart glasses, undulating hair. His hair. She’d run her fingers through his hair in her dream. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. And the smell. The smell of his hair. The smell of him. God damn it. Him.
Please.
What was he thinking right now? Did he think of her? Did he picture her when he made love to other women? Did he picture her when he was alone?
You’re risking everything. You don’t care.
Brandon shuffled his fingers through her hair. “Hey, you.”
She looked up at him, languidly. “Hey...”
“You pick the place we go.”
“Huh?”
“Today...you pick the place we take Scotty and Asha.”
“Pittock Mansion.”
“Where?”
“Pittock Mansion.”
Scotty looked at her strangely. “Where the hell is that?”
“High up in the hills.”
“Gee, that’s descriptive.”
Natalie sighed. “We’re going either way. I heard it’s haunted.”
SHE’D HAD A CONVERSATION ONCE WITH BELLAMY. They were standing at an overlook, peering downward. And while she couldn’t remember the time of day and why they were standing there, she quickly recalled, however, saying something to the effect of how staggeringly beautiful the Pacific Northwest’s landscape was.
“Even for a southern girl like you?” he’d said, grinning. She remembered studying his grin and how unnatural it looked on his face, as though it were covered in multicolored, pulsating splotches. She’d blinked a couple of times to get the sight out of her head, but she couldn’t.
She’d nodded. “Yes. It’s different, but I like it.”
She remembered him moving closer to her. She could smell him. He released his breath as though it had pained him to keep it in for so long.
She scrambled to remember why they were standing there and why the sight before them had been so beautiful. She wanted to know why she’d gazed down at his hands, gathered together, desiring to touch them, feel them squeeze hers. She could remember swallowing thickly at the thought of his contact.
“I want to take you somewhere.”
His voice was milky, breathy, timid, but assured. She turned her head toward his, but her eyes made a point not to tarry too long in his direction.
“Where?”
“Somewhere I used to go as a kid. Scared the shit out of me. I thought it was haunted. Now, I want to try it again. You can bring Zuly if you like.”
“Okay...”
It didn’t happen. But it never once squelched her curiosity.
Now, they were in Brandon’s truck, trolling up a hill, with the hazy cliffside to the right of them. Brandon had his hand in her lap; she stroked his thumb rhythmically, gazing out of the window.
Scotty had managed to wrangle Asha into the truck as well, and she was quiet. Scarily quiet. Natalie subtly stared backward. Asha didn’t seem to notice her eyes’ invasion. Her fingers were tapping the top of Scotty’s hand, rhythmically so. Scotty seemed to warm himself to the understated gesture of affection.
“You feel okay?”
Brandon was asking her this question. He knew her well. She looked over at him. A splash of organic sunlight painted slant lines on his cheeks and illuminated his eyes. She focused on his face for a moment.
“Yes.”
Then, he glanced in her direction, grappling her hand in his. It was warm and strong and familiar. She sucked in her breath. “Okay.”
“Why do you ask?”
He bounced his shoulders up and down quizzically. “I don’t know. I just sensed something.”
“I’m fine, baby. Just a little tired, that’s all. Didn’t sleep well last night.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Kind of. Tell you about it later.”
“You better.”
She smiled. Her chest thumped. She took a deep breath. She could still smell his hair.
THEY KNEW NOTHING OF ARCHITECTURE. Especially century-old edifices perched on land that they barely knew themselves. Brandon parked in the furthest space in the rounded lot and killed the engine.
“Didn’t you say this place might be haunted?”
Natalie nodded.
“Any particular reason why?”
She shrugged with indifference. “You aren’t up for a little adventure?”
“Always. But my wife is now pregnant. She’s not the same Natalie who was afraid of the dark and her own shadow when we first started dating. She now wants to go into a haunted house with my baby inside of her.”
“You could stay in the car if you’re scared. No need to blame it on me.”
He tugged the keys out of the ignition and opened the door. “Please. I go where you go.”
“Then bring your ass on, Greene.”
Scotty and Asha followed suit, rather cautiously. The sprawling mansion with a bright red roof on rolling green hills was up ahead. They fell into a crowded line of tourists. Scotty’s heels got clipped by an eager mother with her obnoxiously large stroller.
“Fuck!”
He turned back to the mother, whose face read unadulterated remorse. Brandon and Asha started laughing. Irritation clouding his generally sensible expression, Scotty then reached for Natalie’s arm.
He leaned into her. “I think Portland might have some of the scariest pine trees in the entire country. Look how tall those fucking things are.”
“What’s with you and Brandon today?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re afraid of everything today.”
“Maybe your husband is, but I damn sure am not.”
Natalie pursed her lips. “We’ll see. We exploring the house together or what?”
“Is Brandon going to let you out of his sight for more than two minutes?”
“You’re funny.”
Scotty squeezed her arm gently. “I wonder if we can get down in the basement. That’s where all of the ghosts are.”
“You have it figured out already, huh?”
“Damn straight,” Scotty mused. “I’ve seen enough movies to know
. Just stay close to me, baby girl. Uncle Scotty’s got you covered.”
The house had a stream of cool air running through it, smelling of chlorine and decaying wood. She thought of the manpower and resources it took to maintain something so old. Everything was brightly colored, well-lit and very Victorian.
Brandon and Asha stopped to peer over a pamphlet to the entire estate, momentarily distracting them.
Scotty reached for Natalie’s hand. “C’mon, while Brandon’s not looking.”
He tugged her into another sitting room with floor-to-ceiling, ornately dressed windows and well-carved mahogany furniture.
“Scott, where are we going?”
“To look for ghosts, what do you think?”
He tucked behind an elderly couple, running through pictures on their digital camera. Distracted by their blatant disrespect for antique architecture, Natalie stared at them. “Don’t they know that flash fades everything?”
“Nat, please. Focus. How long do you think we have until Brandon comes looking for us?”
“A matter of seconds.”
“Shit, we should’ve grabbed a map. Come.”
They trailed down a fairly long corridor. Scotty nearly knocked into a small child, but didn’t pause to inquire.
“Scott, I’m pretty sure the ghosts aren’t going anywhere. They’ve been here for awhile now. I think they’re comfortable. No need to rush.”
“Nat, we’re not going to look for ghosts.”
“What?”
“We’re going to find somewhere to talk.”
“We’re talking now, Scotland.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Natalie halted their movement and stared up at her friend. In all her years of knowing Scotland Lee Kelly, she’d never really taken the time to study his face. With Brandon, she had successfully memorized every single nook and cranny of his skin. If she practiced, she could memorize the number of mustache hairs, when he neglected shaving throughout the week.
But the point went without excessive thought.
However, her Scotland was different. His face was less complicated, far more pleasant and open. His narrowed brown eyes, slightly crooked nose and small mouth, made him a little less than Greek, but attractive nonetheless. His curly, sandy brown hair is what Asha loved about him. She’d said so once upon a time, while she was drunk and could barely stand on her own.
Natalie gazed at him; concern mounted his expression.
“Scott. Don’t.”
Somehow, they made it to a quiet corner on the second floor. Brandon and Asha were nowhere in sight. The sun bathed the room in which they stood.
Scotty leaned against one of the walls for support.
“Natalie.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. And I don’t appreciate you telling Asha about it. That is something that I need to handle.”
“So you’re saying that there’s something that needs to be handled? And what did I tell Asha?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You two are ridiculously close. You share everything with each other.”
Scotty shook his head slowly. Natalie was sure that he hadn’t blinked in quite some time. “No. Not this.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I didn’t tell her anything. How can I tell her something that I’m not even sure of myself? Why would I do that?”
Natalie sighed and turned away, pressing her hand to her forehead. Her skin was damp. She felt warm.
“Natalie, I just need a minute to ask you what’s going on...”
“What’s going on with what, Scotty?”
She raised her voice. She was getting hot again. She heard voices in the distance, but she couldn’t be sure of their origin.
“Do you love Brandon?”
“Of course I do. Why would you ask me something like that?”
Scotty paused. “That man would kill for you. Do you know that?”
Natalie turned to him again. “What do you want me to say, Scotty? You obviously want me to admit something.”
“Where did you go last night, baby girl? Huh? Did you really go for a drive?”
Natalie’s chest begin to ache. It tightened, rebelling against her, causing her to tremble without warning.
“Scott, I didn’t leave the house last night.”
Scotty huffed. “Nat, I saw you. I saw you grab Brandon’s keys and walk out. Where did you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere.”
It was a dream, really it was. Nothing happened.
“I stayed up, waiting for you to come back. I wanted to talk to you last night. But I don’t even remember you coming back.”
Nothing happened. It was a dream. But it felt so real.
“That’s because I didn’t go anywhere. I was with Brandon the whole night. We talked, made love and went to sleep. I woke up in his arms.”
A dream. Right?
“Baby girl...”
“Scotty, stop looking at me like that. Please.”
“Tell me the truth, Natalie.”
“What are you going to do with it, Scott? Huh? What’s going to change?”
“You already know the answer to that question.”
“I can’t listen to this...”
She started to walk away, but Scotty blocked her escape, halting in front of the doorway.
“Scotty, let me pass.”
“Not until you tell me the truth.”
“It’s none of your fucking business.”
“When it comes to my best friend, Natalie Chandler, it becomes my fucking business.”
“Ask me what you’re going to ask me, Scotty. You’re running out of time. Is that Brandon, I hear?”
Scotty huffed and closed his eyes for a moment. “Nat...did you? Did you go see that Bellamy guy?”
Natalie stared at him. “I went for a drive.”
“Where, Nat? Just tell me.”
“I went for a drive. I needed to clear my head.”
“Is there something going on with you two?”
“No.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Because I think he has feelings for you, Nat. Some serious feelings.”
“And that’s my problem?”
“Fine...I’m dropping it.”
“What did you tell Asha?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell her anything.”
“She seems to think otherwise.”
“Natalie, I didn’t tell her a thing. This is between us. This is about what I saw last night, the moment he showed up in the restaurant.”
She mulled over it quickly in her head, little flashes here and there. She then pictured riding in the passenger seat of his car. She could feel him then. Damn it. He drove with a quiet ease, slowly, carefully, in such a focused manner, that she wondered what he was thinking, what he was seeing when he stared straight ahead of him. Donny Hathaway’s “Superwoman” was playing. It suited him well, but made her ache. It had been one of her father’s favorite songs.
Damn it.
But Scotty was still staring at her, as though he had not believed her, and was waiting for her final declaration of truth.
“I think you’ve got it confused,” she muttered, gazing at him through heavy lids. “You’re way off base.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bellamy has feelings for Zuly. They’re damn-near a couple. He told me so yesterday.”
SHE WAS A LITTLE GIRL ONCE. A DAYDREAMER, NO LESS. A stick of a figure, gazing skyward most days, as though all the answers to her prayers and queries lay beyond the clouds somewhere. Her imaginative thoughts had her floating, believing that elsewhere (wherever the hell “elsewhere” was) was the better alternative. She neglected her thoughts most days as a child, and her flightiness was something that her father had discovered very early on, but had neglected to mention to the rest of the family. He’d only wink and grin, as though the secret would be kep
t between them. He’d then pat her head, dub her his little cielito and go about his business.
On one particularly warm day in October, just two days shy of her eighth birthday, she wandered into the woods on her own. Her mama and papa were arguing in the kitchen with the window over the sink open. She was sure that the entire neighborhood could hear. They were fighting over her. The middle child. After Sidney’s birthday in April and Maya’s bad ear infection in June, there was no money for Natalie’s birthday. No money for the pink bicycle she’d seen at the corner store and had desired for months now. And a birthday party? Where was the money going to come from for that?
She’d never had very many friends anyway - just a few girls from her elementary school and her cousins. It never really mattered to her though.
She wanted to get away as fast as she could, so she tumbled down a bridlepath of slick wet rocks and tripped over a raised root, scraping her knee. But she didn’t cry. She never cried, not even when her papa yelled at her for fighting with her sisters. But she sat there for a while, rocking back and forth as blood pooled in her tiny hands. She didn’t need a birthday. It was all a mess of an ordeal, that she’d have to help clean up after it was all done. Sidney and Maya wouldn’t help her. They were always too spoiled for their own good.
But she wanted to disappear for awhile. Go all the way to Dunston Street, to the old ranch house where the old lady died while looking for her slipper in the backyard. She’d heard it was haunted. Nobody had moved in since.
It would be better anyway without her around. Mama and Papa could love Sidney and Maya without her being in between. No need to argue over a birthday that didn’t need to be celebrated anymore.
She got to her feet and dusted herself off. Her mama would surely lend her a whooping for getting her new pink shorts dirty.
She started to walk again, to the point where the house was no longer in view and the sun had begun to set. Dinner was coming soon. One less mouth to feed, Natalie thought. They’ll be happy. She was just beyond another oak tree when something tugged on her belt loop from behind.
“Where do you think you’re going, cielito?”
Her father’s Dominican lilt was light and articulate. She’d loved his voice from the beginning.
Natalie stopped moving. She turned to look at her papa. He’d let his hair grow out, to the point that it coiled. It was pretty, black, shiny and soft. He often let her play with it when they were sitting on the porch swing on Sundays. He’d hum a childhood tune that his grandmother had taught him and she’d sing along, watching his wide brown eyes narrow and twinkle with the pleasant ease of a settled life.