by Tiana Laveen
I bet if I opened my mouth, I’d see my own breath…
On a self-dare, she did just that. Emerald inhaled deeply and exhaled as if doing Lamaze; only, much to her surprise, there was no fog. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she rushed to pick the over-sized Yankees T-shirt he’d set out for her from the floor, where it had ended up during their intense romp, and slipped it on as quickly as she could muster without suffocating herself. The thick, good quality cotton provided a barrier between her and the odd chill, but her feet were still exposed as whispers of coolness danced across her, covering her flesh in goosebumps.
I better make this fast so I can get back under the covers…
She tiptoed across the creaky floorboards, wincing when a few sang out beneath her weight. Not only that, she was caught off guard by the dull ache between her thighs.
Damn, I had no idea Sloan was packin’ like that! Scared the hell out of me. She paused and placed her fist up to her mouth, stifling another stint of laughter as she recalled her reaction upon seeing it for the first time. He knows how to use it, too!
Reaching for the brass doorknob, she tugged at the thing and gave it a spin, then slipped out into the hall. While a few well-placed nightlights shined from the baseboards, visibility was still quite compromised. Running her hand along the wall, she made her way to the staircase and flipped the switch.
Ahhh, that’s better.
Though it wasn’t exactly the infamous Maxim Christmas Lightshow Festival, the foyer chandelier sparked up, and after a few blinking bulbs in the thing seemed to wake from some long, Snow White like slumber, they finally settled and remained lit. She took each step down the winding staircase with care, all the while gripping the golden banister in which she could see her reflection. She could see other things in it, too… subtle motion, shadows, flickers of light that seemed to have no source.
A sense of dread draped over her and the heaviness of it all slowed her gait. On a swallow, she pushed herself forward.
Emerald, it’s all right… You’re thirsty; get yourself some water and then run like hell back up the steps…
Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she sighed in relief to finally be on solid ground. Practically running, she made a mad dash past the dining room, and turned on the kitchen light, which reflected on all the stainless steel appliances, mismatched with an old, sky blue gas stove that looked as if it belonged in a 1962 Sears catalog.
She opened the refrigerator door, trying desperately to ignore a slight electrical buzzing sound that had suddenly begun. Reaching for a bottle of water, she snatched the thing, slammed the refrigerator door shut, and didn’t bother turning the light off as she practically flew back out the kitchen. She now regretted not just drinking the glass of wine that had been sitting in his bedroom for hours, and caving in to her need for something cold and nonalcoholic. Visions of lying next to Sloan, warm and curled up against him, was the only thing that kept her nerves from becoming any worse.
But, as she reached the bottom of the staircase, the cold bottle of water tight in her grip, she thought she heard what sounded like an album needle skating across an old LP.
…And then she was certain she had.
‘Only You’ by the Platters played ever so softly, as if there was a party going on a couple of houses down. Not only was the chill in the place all around her, it swelled and dwelled within her now, impregnating her with insurmountable fear as the double office doors suddenly opened all on their own, slowly revealing a pitch black room that reeked of the things shadowy nightmares were made of…
I’m fifty-four and thought I’d fucked before…
I’ve had my share. Katie and I had a good sex life for the most part, but that’s not enough to keep two people together. Regardless—and this isn’t because of my drought, being picky, and all the other reasons I avoided dating as of late—I’ve never, in my history of making love, enjoyed sex like this before. I love her body, her smile, her scent, her laugh, her voice, and Jesus… the way she moves her hips!
Sloan smiled gratefully up at the ceiling, stretching his arms and yawning big and bold, like some lion awakening from his eighth afternoon nap of the day. The sun had begun to peek into the room, a welcoming kiss he graciously accepted. He yearned for a cigarette and a couple of cups of coffee, figuring perhaps he’d whip up some pancakes and bacon, too. He looked over to his left, expecting to see some warm, swarthy woman who looked like a love he could call his own, but all he found were cold sheets, empty and barren… devoid of any human body heat whatsoever.
“Emerald?” he called out, staggering to his feet, his muscles still not in agreement with being up and at ’em. “Emerald?” He called out again while taking note that her clothing, panties, and shoes were still in the restroom, folded neatly on the side of his bathtub.
He clumsily searched about for his robe and his bare hipbone brushed against a chair as he navigated his master suite, delivering a sharp pain. He ignored that dull ache for a bit of panic now set in. Snatching the robe off the back of the chaise, he wrapped it around himself and tied it at the waist as he hightailed it to the bedroom door. “Emerald!” He swung the damn thing open and stormed down the hall, a sense of urgency grabbing a hold of him that wouldn’t shake him loose.
The house had an odd feeling to it at that moment, one he couldn’t ignore as he made his way down the spiral staircase. It was cold, yet also warm at the same time. As he neared the bottom of the railing, he slowed down. The office doors were closed, yet light shone through from beneath the threshold. A full bottle of water lay on its side in plain view on the ground beside the door, as if it had been dropped or placed down and forgotten. Light music filled the air, a song he recalled his father enjoying when he was a child: ‘Put Your Head on My Shoulder’ by Paul Anka.
“Emerald!” He burst through the damn doors, his chest filled with the fuel of a tornado, only to see the woman perched behind his desk, looking disturbingly comfortable with her thin, yet shapely legs propped up and clutching a leather bound book. She didn’t even seem to notice him enter as she had her attention riveted to the page before her. Two desk lamps glowed, giving her an odd orange radiance. The room smelled of cigars, though he knew Emerald didn’t smoke. Oddly enough, this was the first time it didn’t feel inhumanly cold inside the place. He realized the customary dank odor in the room was completely gone, replaced with the scent of cologne instead…
She still ignored his presence. How perplexing, yet he found it imperative to simply keep observing her for just a few moments longer. She slowly turned another page, and then another, as if she were in some strange, hallucinogenic trance. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and his T-shirt hung seductively off one of her shoulders, exposing her toasty flesh, kissed with a natural sheen. His chest warmed, and he suddenly felt pangs of jealousy and possessiveness, as if another man were looming over her, running his hands up and down her thigh, seducing her right before his eyes.
He wanted to scream and lunge out, stake claim to the woman and fight. The emotions were overwhelming, but he refused to yell out, to say anything silly just yet. After all, she was merely sitting there, reading. No harm, no foul.
The song ended, and then, just like that, the needle skated across the record and stopped. Seemingly awakened by the ending of the tune, she slowly looked up from her book. For an inkling, he didn’t know who she was. She had the same face, the same smile, but her eyes seemed much darker, filled with shadows.
“Oh, hi Sloan.” A strange grin stretched across her face. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough. What are you doing?” He approached her, getting a better look at the woman as he leaned on the desk and glared down at her. The Emerald he knew, the one he’d shared his bed with, soon returned. The darkness in her eyes dissipated and she looked down at the book in her hands, seemingly a bit confused.
“Oh, I uh… I had come down for water a little while ago and saw the office doors open.” She scratch
ed her head and looked about. “Sloan… I don’t remember everything. This is strange. I mean…” She sighed and looked about the room. “I remember coming down the steps, getting the water from the kitchen and then… oh yes!” She smiled as her memory seemed to return. “I heard music and the doors opened. Maybe they were already open,” she said, grimacing in confusion and bewilderment. “And then I came inside. It’s like… it’s like something took me by the hand and pulled me inside.”
The situation filled the room with a tangible bizarreness. She seemed fairly calm; in fact, she appeared to be in a rather good mood despite what she’d just relayed.
“That’s… that’s really strange, Emerald. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m fine.” He grimaced, stood a bit straighter and slicked his hand in his robe pocket.
“Tell me what else happened.”
“Well, I felt around in the dark and found these lights on the desk, and then I heard something heavy fall. The music kept on playing, but I still heard the thud noise. I came in and turned on that lamp over there.” She pointed across the room. “And then I saw this book lying smack dab in the middle of the floor.” She raised it high in the air and waved it about like some flag. “I picked it up and then… well, then I sat down and read some of it.”
Sloan moved past her and pulled one of the curtains open, allowing in some natural light. When he returned to her, her face appeared ashen, as if she were in shock.
“What’s wrong?”
“The sun…what time is it, Sloan?”
“When I left the bedroom about ten minutes ago, it was 6:13.”
“Oh my God. I thought I’d only been down here twenty minutes… thirty, tops. I left to get some water at 2:43. I remember because I looked over at the clock on your nightstand before I’d headed out.”
They just looked at one another, both undoubtedly wanting answers to riddles that were impossible to solve.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Emerald?” He got on one knee beside her and ran his hand up and down her back.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m good, actually.”
He nodded and forced a smile as he looked about the office once again, then back at her. “So, what is that book about?” He pointed to it. “It’s definitely not one of mine. You think it fell off the shelf?”
She nodded, closed the thing and ran her hand protectively along the cover.
“It’s the story of a man who was in love with a dead woman and wanted to bring her back from the grave. Peter Jones is listed as the author.”
“I don’t recall a book by him with that subject matter, and I’ve read all of his work.” He opened his hand, an invitation for her to hand the thing over. She looked at his open palm as if she’d never seen such a thing in her life…and then, she placed the book there, hesitantly, but didn’t take her eye off it as he flipped through the pages, reading a few sentences here and there. “Yeah, I would’ve remembered this… This must be part of his unpublished work.”
“It is.”
The uncharacteristic warmth dissipated.
“How do you know that?”
She looked down into her lap, then back into his eyes.
“ ’Cause he told me…”
“Did I tell you what happened to my cousin Vivian?”
“No, I don’t believe so; you don’t talk about her much… On second thought, yes you did; you told me everything.” Emerald tried to save herself from the agony of some sordid tale that Sugar was sure to spin in her own, notoriously twisted fashion, but it was far too late. The gate was open and out poured the beginning workings of something that she’d pay good money to miss.
“Listen up. Let me tell you what she’d gone and done; maybe it’ll knock some sense into you. That woman was in love wit’ some man in our town that didn’t want her. He was real handsome, tall like a tree, slept around a lot and had a little money he’d gotten from some little highfalutin’ apartment he owned and rented out. Problem was, he was married too, and had kids, a whole litter of ’em, but that didn’t stop my cousin from fawning all over him, throwin’ herself his way.”
“Sugar, I don’t have much time. I have to get out of the house and I’m already running late.” Emerald sighed.
“You had time to be over there at lovah man’s house so you got time to listen to this! Now be quiet. Anyway, he had a bunch of kids with a bunch of women, had populated practically the entire state of Texas on his own, but she had designs on him anyway. She even got into a scuffle with his wife one time. We all thought that was silly ’cause Vivian wasn’t none of his woman or as the kids nowadays say, side chick; but that wife shoulda been knockin’ on all the doors in every town instead and askin’ if any of the children inside were any kin to her no-good husband. Anyway, I guess Vivian wasn’t his type ’cause he didn’t pay her any mind.
“He wouldn’t sleep wit’ ’er, nothing. Now, Vivian wasn’t no looker—she was skinny as a dandelion stem and had buck teeth that reminded you of two white pieces of paper overlappin’ one another and flappin’ in the wind. They pushed out like windows. She wasn’t rich, either. She wasn’t that good of a cook, kinda like you—it was mediocre at best—and when she said certain words, she kinda slurred, like she had a heavy tongue.”
Emerald plopped down on her living room couch, her purse on her lap, and resolved herself to the fact this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.
“In an act of desperation, she ran off and got one of those devil people, like a witch or some sort of gypsy, to put a love spell on him.”
“What does all of this have to do with Sloan’s house being haunted? You called me and wanted to lecture me on going on over to my boyfriend’s house but somehow now the conversation has turned to your cousin and her insecurities. Love spells don’t work anyway, Sugar.” Emerald rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“I’m gettin’ to what it has to do with the house being haunted and you uh a damn lie about those spells not being worth a pot of beans, ’cause this worked all right… a little too good, actually.”
“Is this the part where you tell me he fell hopelessly in love with her, and they lived happily ever after in a haunted house filled with ugly, tall children that also spoke with a lisp?”
“Shush! This is serious. Now, that man left his wife three days after that love spell was done, Emerald. I swear on it, and you know I don’t swear! He marched right up to Vivian’s door, dressed in his finest suit, and knocked on it one rainy night.”
“Why does it always have to be a dark and rainy night, Sugar? Did lightning strike, too?”
The old woman ignored her and kept right on. “When she answered that there door, he had a red rose in his hand and he looked into her eyes and said he was in love with her, wanted her to be his woman—flat out. She was happy as a lark for about a month or two, but then thangs changed.”
“What? She was mad because he was still wearing the same suit day after day from the moment he’d first showed up?” Emerald snapped, sick and tired of Sugar’s madness.
“He got crazy, jealous and possessive. He ain’t want her to do anything or go nowhere without him. She said she’d go to the bathroom and he’d be right there sitting at her feet while she took a shit, even tried to wipe her ass for her from time to time.”
“I could have done without that information…”
“She couldn’t even go to church or to the sto’e by herself without him followin’ behind. The minister, Reverend Parker, may he rest in peace, told her she couldn’t come to church no more ’cause she was messin’ with a married man. That hurt her heart because Vivian loved church and she started to really resent the whole situation. She ain’t want him no more after a while, Emerald. It became too much. This man went and quit his job, abandoned his kids, and just wanted to stay all up under her all damn day, like he was some human mattress. She said he was always tryna get on top of her, wouldn’t give her no rest. She could barely walk when he’d finally turn ’er loose. W
hen he wasn’t screwin’ her brains out, he was just lazin’ around and he barely washed his own ass for fear he’d miss her doing something. He’d accuse her of cheating and lookin’ at other men, threatened to kill her if she left him.”
“And just think? For one white rabbit foot and a drop of dragon blood all of this could have ceased…”
Emerald regretted the moment she’d told Sugar the details of her situation, but who was she kidding? Despite their bickering, she loved talking to Sugar, but this was just one of the consequences of spilling too much, too soon.
“You can keep sassin’ but Imma finish this story. So anyway, he’d call her job and almost got her fired, he was callin’ so much. She needed that job at the dry cleaners, ’specially since he wasn’t working, and then all them women came to her door asking for funds ’cause he ain’t have no job and they said they kids needed to eat. That rent money from the apartment just wasn’t enough.”
“Oh, hold on a minute now! She worked at the dry cleaners but he was wearing the same dirty ass suit every day? Well! This story is just chock full of irony!” Emerald chortled. “And why didn’t they just go to the devil witch magician Warlock Harry Potter Wiccan Priestess I Dream of Jeannie and ask her to cast a spell for child support received and paid in full?”
“Emerald,” the old lady said, her voice shaking, “I don’t know where you got this sassiness from, certainly wasn’t from me, but if I was over there yonder I’d pop you right in your smart-alecky mouth! You think this is funny, huh?!”