So there I was, staring blankly up at the ceiling and the many posters that covered it, completely unable to switch off the hyperactivity swirling around in my head. Tossing and turning proved to be useless. Music didn’t do anything to calm me. But this restlessness was different. I didn’t have the remnants of Mr. Rothenberg’s voice rambling on and on, telling me of just how detrimental his latest assignment was to my grade if I did not produce a perfect paper. I didn’t have my mother’s last words to me causing its typical wave of nausea to course through my insides. No. No hellish fears. No painful memories. Just a particular individual.
No matter how hard I tried to brush his image away, my mind kept trailing its way back to Jack, and his steely blue eyes proved to be potent enough to render me sleepless. To make matters worse, butterflies had manifested in my stomach once I reminisced about this morning, when he had been laying right here. I could even smell him. The coast. I knew his scent hadn’t lingered, that it was only a scent manufactured by my imagination, but even the mere snippets of what I had conjured up left a stirring.
But why? He wasn’t even my type. Granted, I didn’t actually have one, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew better than to play with fire. And Jack was a torch. Sure, he was sexy. Sarcastic. A bit more humanlike than I had expected. But he was still trouble. Then I entered dangerous territories when I thought about him on the field, an image that I had tried best to suppress to the darkest corners of my mind. Yes, his physique was perfect, but that’s not what had warranted my attention, mostly. Okay, not completely. There was something about him that I could not quite lay my finger on. I was more than acquainted to the conceited egotists of this world, but he didn’t quite fit the bill. That’s what bothered me most. Jack didn’t just exude confidence. There was also a... knowingness. And that was not common. Ian had it as well. There was something about them that had me eager to learn more, like they were harboring precious insight beyond their years. The difference between them though was that Ian’s perception was always agreeable. Jack’s was a bit more erratic, at best, which seemed to be all the more provoking... and terrifying.
Up until now I had done everything in my power to repress any feelings I had about him whatsoever, but apparently this exploration was enough to divert the rest of my pensive anxieties. I closed my eyes and drifted away.
I awoke to find my body in the fetal position, trying desperately to keep any bit of heat locked inside my tightly bound cocoon of a comforter. The air was bitter cold, worse than it felt outside when I came home. Had I left the windows open? I forcedly pulled myself out of the covers and took a look around the room. Nope. Everything was sealed shut, yet I could still see my breath! How cold was it in here? I climbed out of bed and threw on my jacket before heading downstairs.
“Dad? You home?” I called aloud.
Nothing.
The kitchen was even worse. The windows had a thin film of fog over them, which worryingly meant that the outside was that much warmer to cause such an effect. I headed over to the thermostat and wiped off the sheet of vapor from the screen.
Twenty-eight degrees?! That couldn’t be right.
I turned on the light switch for the chandelier above the island, and sure enough, with a second look at the monitor, it read twenty-eight degrees. All the lights began flickering, and I saw the temperature suddenly begin to drop even further. There was nothing wrong with the heating because I could feel the warm air pushing out of the vents. What was this?
Snap! Snap! Snap!
I instinctively dropped to the floor, throwing my arms up over my head for protection. After a few seconds, I slowly rose up and peered over the counter. Every light bulb in the room had burst! The raging storm outside sent a deafening roar of thunder that shook the house. I retracted to the stairwell just as a strike of lightning pierced the sky, and I screamed at the sight of a daunting shadowed figure hovering directly on the other side of the window by the door. A large black hood concealed their features, but there was absolutely nothing welcoming about their presence.
It was hard to tell if it was the thunder that pounded behind me or something worse as I raced back up the stairs, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out. I bolted into my bedroom and desperately heaved my dresser as far as I could move it in front of the door. My fingers barely managed to dial 9-1-1 into the keypad as my whole body shook with dread.
“911 operator. State your emergency,” said a calm voice on the other end.
“Hello?! There’s someone outside my house!” I screamed. “I think they’re trying to break in!”
“Where are you?”
“Locked in my bedroom. I live at 427 Avery Lane,” I said, inching toward the closest window. “Oh my God...”
“What is it?”
I peeked through the blinds with only the streetlights outside providing visibility, seeing the looming stranger standing right in the middle of the yard in a large, long trench coat and hoodie. Even under the hood it was obvious that this individual was staring back up at me, because as soon as the next strike of lightning hit they raised their hand, cocking it to the side and slowly dropping each of their digits from pinky to thumb as if counting down to an impending doom.
As the last descended, my vision suddenly clouded over with a gray haze.
“Ma’am, what’s wrong?”
The weight of my body caved under me, and I fell to the floor.
Pound! Pound! Pound!
The back of my head began to throb as I came to, peeling myself off the hardwood. The hammering started up again from downstairs, and I realized it was the front door. I pulled the shade away from the window, seeing flashing lights mounted on top of a squad car.
“Police, open up!” I heard as I trampled down the steps.
It was my dad’s friend, Officer Benson, and the one rookie cop from last night. I unlocked and pried the door open.
“We received a call about a possible intruder. Is that right?” asked Benson, looking over my shoulder alarmingly.
“He didn’t come inside as far as I know, but he was lurking around the windows by the kitchen and he was standing out in the middle of the lawn,” I explained, motioning them inside.
“It was a he? So you saw his face?” asked the rookie.
“...Well, no. Not exactly. He was wearing a hood so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but he seemed rather masculine.”
“So this someone was tall?”
“Around six feet or so, yes,” I said, looking out at the side window where I had seen this person standing and estimating the loftiness to appear at that elevation.
“Was this person muscular?”
“Um, no... Well, I don’t know. It was kind of hard to tell. He was also wearing a big trench coat, so it was difficult to make out his build.”
“Okay, we’ll take a look around,” said Benson. “Make sure things are all clear.”
“Thank you,” I said, watching the two span out across the property.
They ran a sweep of the house, both inside and out. My breathing had finally regulated when we all reconvened in the kitchen. Benson and the rookie finished up their private conversation before addressing me once more.
“Everything’s clear,” said Benson, casting me the most peculiar look. “Miss Foster, I’m going to be blunt with you.”
“...Okay,” I replied, noticing the rookie giving me the same stare.
“There’s no evidence that so much as suggests that anyone else was even here-”
“He didn’t try at the locks or anything as far as I know, but he was here,” I said firmly. I could see by both their expressions that they thought I wasn’t right in the head, but why? “He was standing right out there.”
“We looked at the yard. There’s not so much as a shoeprint.”
“Yeah, but it’s raining-”
“Exactly, the ground is sopping. It would make it next to impossible to be out there and leave no evidence. The lawn is perfectly intact.”
“I
know what I saw-” I blurted out, but neither of them would hear it.
“Cassie-” started Benson.
“No, I already know what you’re going to say,” I interrupted. “I’m not crazy!”
“Nobody said that.”
“Explain what happened in here,” I said, pointing to the thermostat and broken bulbs. “Right before this person appeared, the whole house was freezing! It was twenty-eight in here. And when I turned the lights on, they all burst!”
“It’s storming outside,” said the rookie. “You know how common power surges are, especially in older houses? This place has to be at least fifty years old.”
“All the bulbs burst, not just the ones I had on,” I explained.
“Manufacturing faults in the glass can do that,” replied the rookie. “And if it really was as cold in here as you say it was, that could very easily cause this. It makes the glass contract, and then break. I’ve seen it happen when bulbs get wet with cold water.”
“Okay, then tell me how it wound up being that cold in the first place,” I challenged.
“Feels fine to me now,” the rookie remarked.
“Oh, really? Wow, I couldn’t figure that one out for myself. Thank you,” I scoffed, pointing at the screen of the thermostat that read seventy-one degrees. “I said it was cold. Freezing actually.”
“The temperature miraculously shot up forty-four degrees in a matter of a few minutes it took us to get here?” cracked the rookie. “Yeah, I believe it.”
I took notice to the long-stemmed flashlight in his hand, and consider the possibility of me beating him up with it!
“Talbot, why don’t you do another search of the perimeter?” asked Benson politely.
“What am I looking for this time?” remarked his partner. “Little green men?”
I actually made a lunge towards him before Benson took hold of me.
“Back off, alright,” he warned the rookie.
Talbot straightened himself up and headed to the foyer, eyeing me from afar.
“Look, Cassie, I don’t know what to tell you here. Everything seems fine now,” said Benson. “Whether it really was as cold in here as you say it was-”
“It was.”
“It still doesn’t explain how the mere presence of someone not even in the house could do that.”
I wasn’t sure if I was about to start crying or screaming, but I knew for certain that I was still about to lose it.
Benson laid his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’ve been through a lot, and with everything that happened last night, no one can blame you for being on edge.”
I opened my mouth in protest, but he cut me off.
“My suggestion to you would be to keep this between the three of us. You and your dad are both still recovering, and the last thing either of you needs is unwarranted scares.”
“I’m not making this up, and I’m not seeing things-”
“So you’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary lately?”
My mind immediately went to the Ouija board, and that minor glint in my eyes sold him his argument.
“Good night, Cassie.”
He headed to the foyer and Talbot stepped out the front door, holding it open in the hopes to hurry him out.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” said Benson, handing me his card.
“Don’t give her any ideas,” cracked the rookie.
Benson cast him a stern glare before returning his attention to me. “Just keep in mind what I said, please.”
I nodded, still unsure if I was sold on his pitch, but I thanked them for their time anyway and let them leave.
Going back into the kitchen, I grabbed a few different packages of light bulbs from the top kitchen cabinets and changed some of them out after cleaning up the mess of shattered glass.
The phone rang. It was my dad.
“Hey, how’re you doing?” he said.
“Been better,” I replied, without thinking. I could have smacked myself!
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just-” Tell him, tell him not...? “There was someone hanging around the house. I couldn’t see who, but I called the police.”
“What?! Is everything okay?! I’m coming back home!”
“No, dad, it’s fine. Benson was kind enough to stop by. He checked everything out. It’s okay,” I assured, though I didn’t really buy the argument myself.
“You want me to come home?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m probably not gonna be here when you get in anyways. I was going to hang out with Ian and Gwen.” That wasn’t a total lie. I initially wanted to catch up on my workload, but now I couldn’t think of anything but wanting to get the hell out of the house.
“Well, I’ve got a lot of work to get done here, and some buddies of mine are gonna be lending me a hand tonight, so I’m not sure what time I’ll even be in.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I know you need to do your thing.”
“Just pray to God that those other permits come through. Otherwise this will have all been a waste,” he said, exhaustedly.
“Don’t worry. It’ll work out.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come back?”
“Positive. I’m good.”
“Alright, if you need anything-”
“I know,” I interjected. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Immediately after hanging up, I dialed Ian. “You free?”
“As a bird,” he replied.
“Can you pick me up? I need to get out of here.”
Chapter 14
All That You Are
I’ve never been one for big group outings, but given my circumstances, I was more than happy to join up with Gwen and all of Jeff’s friends after Ian swung by my house to get me. Grabbing a bite to eat at Chili’s, playing at the arcade, and taking a walk along the beach proved to be exactly what the doctor ordered. My mind had finally unwound itself around my paranoia, and the only thing I was now was worn out.
Gwen practically bounced over to us as we reentered the parking lot just off the coast. “Hey, Jeff and the other guys are thinking about going up to Laurent Overlook. You in?”
“I don’t know. I’m kinda beat,” I replied, looking at the time on my phone.
“I second that,” said Ian.
“Well, how about you give Cassie a ride and I’ll get one from Jeff?” she suggested all too merrily. “Although, the overlook can be a little cool. Cass, could I borrow your jacket?”
“Why don’t you get Jeff to lend you his? Isn’t that some sort of method of flirtation? Chilly girl, considerate guy?”
“Yeah, but I’m saving that one for later. At this stage, it would be more of a gentlemanly gesture than obvious flirtation. So?”
I slid the leather off my shoulders and tossed her the jacket. “Just make sure I get it back tomorrow, okay?”
“Will do.”
Jeff tapped his car horn, and Gwen jumped to its signal.
“Be safe,” I called out to her as she climbed in the Mustang.
“I still don’t get what she sees in him,” said Ian upon their departure. “He’s not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”
“Yeah, but he’s hot,” I imitated whiningly as I flipped my hair.
“That’s frighteningly good,” he laughed.
“Thank you, thank you.” I bowed and waved. “I’d like to thank the Academy.”
“Ready to be escorted home in luxury wheels?” he asked smilingly as he unlocked the doors to the beater truck.
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Then you’re gonna have to catch a ride from someone else,” he chuckled, motioning to the rust stains on the side paneling.
“Well, I prefer to think that the luxury of the car can be found in the person sitting behind the wheel versus the model, so as far as I see it, this is the best ride in town,” I said, taking my place at shotgun.
It was a ha
lf passed ten when Ian rolled into my driveway, and the events of the last few days had clearly caught up with me. I could barely muster enough strength to unlatch the car door and pull myself out.
“Thanks for the lift.”
“See you tomorrow. Seven o’clock on the dot.”
“Sleep well.”
“You too.”
I lugged my weary limbs up the front porch as I rummaged through the contents of my purse. “Son of a-”
“Everything okay?”
I pulled the storm door open and yanked on the main lock. “Could you wait here for a minute?” I shouted to Ian, trotting down the steps.
He nodded, and I headed to the back patio after unsuccessfully trying the side door by the driveway. No luck there either. I returned to the truck with slumped shoulders, crashing my dog-tired frame against the front hood.
“Let me reiterate,” said Ian, poking his head out of the side window. “Everything okay?”
“My keys are in the pocket of my jacket, and my jacket is now on Gwen,” I mumbled. “I know you’re exhausted, but could you be a saint and drop me off at the bar?”
“How long is your dad working till?”
“No idea.”
“Well, why don’t you just crash at my place for the night?”
I peeled my face off the hood. “What? No, I couldn’t put you out like that.”
“Foster, get in the truck,” said Ian.
“What about your mom?”
“She’ll be fine. The woman could sleep through M-80s going off in the backyard. You won’t be waking her,” he assured. “Now, as lovely of a hood ornament as you make, I doubt you’ll want to spend the entire drive up there playing Ship’s Mast.”
I barely mustered a smile and fumbled back into the passenger seat.
Squeezing out the ends of my dampened hair, I wiped the condensation off Ian’s bathroom mirror and studied my reflection as I reveled from the soothing effects of a quick, warm shower. Thoughts began to buzz in my head, but nothing managed to form a clear notion. I was so exhausted that I actually doubted my ability to recite the alphabet, let alone unearth the culprit behind an unfathomable mystery. So I pulled on a concert tee that I had borrowed from Ian, which was still fairly baggy on me despite his rather slight frame, and headed out of the bathroom fresh-faced and make-up free.
Divine Vices Page 14