Deep Night

by Greg F. Gifune

  “I don’t want you to go, but if you don’t want to be here I won’t stop you.”

  Several months later, her words continued to haunt him, and though he and Peggy were still legally married, they remained separated. Despite their now individual lives, they continued to be oddly close in many ways. Some days their marriage—their happiness—seemed so distant, while others it still felt within reach, like there might still be hope. So he’d grabbed hold of that distant glimmer of hope and tried to sustain it as best he could. In the dark, or even in the light, it was all he had.

  * * *

  As the logjam of traffic finally broke, Seth’s thoughts returned to the road and what would hopefully be a quiet evening ahead.

  The rain was still falling by the time he pulled into the apartment complex. Using his briefcase as a makeshift umbrella, he moved quickly across the parking lot to the shelter of the building’s small foyer then rode the elevator to the third floor.

  He strolled along the quiet, carpeted hallway to his front door, unlocked it and slipped inside. As he flipped the switch just inside the entrance, welcoming light filled the short hallway that led to the living room.

  He’d only taken a few steps when he sensed a presence in the apartment other than his own, and while that realization was still taking shape in his mind, a dark form slipped past his peripheral vision.

  His heart sunk in a terrified rush as he brought his briefcase up like a shield, but even then he knew it was too late.

  The intruder was already closing on him.

  CHAPTER 6

  The intruder stepped forward, became Raymond. “Relax.”

  “God almighty,” Seth said, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. “You scared the hell out of me, Ray.”

  Still partially masked in shadow, he lingered near the far wall but said nothing.

  Seth put his briefcase down. “How did you get in here?”

  “Invest in a decent deadbolt.” Raymond motioned to the door. “That lock’s shit.”

  Unsure of what to do, Seth looked behind him at the door.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t break it. I know what I’m doing.”

  “That’s comforting.” He noticed Raymond’s hair was still wet and dangling in his eyes, and his clothes—a badly worn brown leather jacket, old jeans, scuffed boots and a sweatshirt—looked damp as well. He hadn’t been in the apartment long. “You’ve become an accomplished thief, congratulations.”

  Quiet draped the room as the brothers stood looking at each other awkwardly.

  Rain tapped the windows, filling the silence.

  Raymond stepped closer. “It’s good to see you, man.”

  Before he could prevent it a slight smile crossed Seth’s face. “It’s good to see you too, Ray.” He leaned into him, and they hugged. “But you could’ve waited to come in until I got home.”

  “It’s raining out.”

  Seth stepped back, looked him over. “Are you all right?”

  He shrugged.

  Seth moved to the couch and sat down, his nerves finally settling a bit. “Are you in any trouble I should be aware of?”

  “Depends on what kind of trouble you’re talking about.”

  “I’m not joking, Raymond. I’m sorry I have to ask these things but I don’t want any problems.”

  “You mean additional problems.”

  Seth shook his head. His brother had always been one of his weaknesses. No matter what he did and no matter how Raymond aged or hardened, Seth couldn’t help but see the young boy he’d once been. To him, Ray would forever be his innocent younger brother, the tiny sidekick who had once followed him around and idolized his every move, the terrified little boy running through the night as if for his life.

  I don’t deserve your reverence, Ray. I never did.

  “The police—or worse—won’t be knocking on my door, will they?”

  “I’m not on parole or probation or anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

  A few months prior, Seth had received a letter from Raymond while he was serving time for car theft in a county jail in Indiana, but hadn’t heard from him since. “Is that business in Indiana over with?”

  “I got hammered one night and pinched a car—real box of crap, couldn’t outrun a paperboy on a fucking Schwinn with this sled. The judge threw me in county for a couple months because of all my priors. I did my sixty days and walked.”

  “And decided to come see me?”

  “I got a job for a while so I’d have a few bucks ahead of me, but then, yeah.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I rented a car.” Raymond shuffled about nervously. “Well...more borrowed it really, but you know what I mean.”

  “Jesus Christ, Ray, you’re thirty-one years old, when is this going to stop?”

  “When’s what going to stop?”

  “This nonsense.”

  “This nonsense is my life.”

  “Only because you choose it to be.”

  “I don’t need this shit from you right now, man, OK?”

  Seth looked away as another wave of uncomfortable silence filled the room.

  Raymond gathered his hair into a ponytail and secured it in place with a small rubber band he pulled from his pocket. “I told you in the last letter I sent I was coming home when I got out. Well abracadabra, motherfucker; here I am.”

  “I could’ve sent you the money for a bus or a train ticket, Ray, you didn’t have to—”

  “Jesus, I figured you’d be happy to see me. Should’ve known better.”

  Though his hair reached his shoulders when loose, once pulled back and away from his face Raymond’s attempt at mysteriousness all but vanished. Just shy of his thirty-second birthday, upon closer inspection he could have passed for someone ten years older. Worn, tired, and battle-weary, Seth realized his little brother didn’t look so little anymore. “Don’t be an ass, of course I’m happy to see you.”

  Raymond looked edgy, like he hadn’t yet again become accustomed to open spaces. “In case you’re interested, on my way into town I stopped at the cemetery and saw Mom and Dad.”

  Raymond could revert to innocence in a flash, Seth thought, effortlessly referring to them with the wide-eyed wonderment of a little boy, as if they had died quietly in their sleep. Memories of their parents came to him then, and Seth embraced them. But they faded rapidly, banished to a netherworld of vague yesterdays that often seemed more fantasies born of wishful thinking than the literal history he believed them to be.

  “I brought flowers for Mom,” Raymond said.

  He pictured Raymond standing in the rain at the cemetery, a bunch of wilted, dying flowers in his hand he’d probably stolen from a nearby headstone.

  “I haven’t been in years,” Seth told him.

  “Yeah, I could tell.” Raymond eventually wandered back toward the couch, closer to his brother. “Don’t they have any upkeep at that fucking place?”

  “Ray, we need to talk.”

  His face revealed nothing. “You think?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Can we have an intelligent conversation or are you going to crack jokes all night?”

  “Some people whistle in the dark,” he answered. “I’ve learned to laugh.”

  “Neither one are genuine.”

  A glint sparkled in Raymond’s dark eyes. “You got me there.”

  Seth drew a deep breath. It suddenly felt as though the apartment had closed in around him. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not since yesterday.”

  “Let’s go get something then, you must be starving.”

  Raymond looked at the rain against the windows just beyond the shadows still covering the far wall, and cocked his head as if he’d heard something odd. “You still live here alone?”

  A rush of fear slammed Seth’s chest. “You know I do, why—”

  “Can I get a glass of water? I need to take a pill.”

&nbs
p; “What kind of pill?”

  Raymond sighed, reached down to his duffel bag on the floor and rummaged around in it until his hand came back holding a small prescription bottle. When Seth still looked at him questioningly, he tossed the bottle to him.

  Seth read the label. “Accupril?”

  “It’s for high blood pressure.”

  “Since when do you have high blood pressure, Ray?”

  “About a year now.” His answer hung in the air between them. “Can I get that water? I’m supposed to take one every day.”

  Seth handed the bottle back, disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a bottle of water.

  Raymond took his pill, polishing off most of the bottle in the process. “Thanks.”

  “Why do you have high blood pressure, Raymond?”

  “They’re not sure.” His face remained neutral. “But they think it’s probably stress-related.”

  “Horrible thing, stress.”

  Raymond nodded slowly. “Guess you’ve had plenty of your own lately. I was real sorry to hear about you and Peggy, man. How’s she doing?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I always liked Peggy.”

  “Me too.”

  Raymond’s face didn’t even hint at a smile. “You still see her?”

  “We talk now and then.”

  “Only now and then? It’s gotten that bad?”

  He shrugged.

  “You still in love with her?”

  “Love’s overrated,” he said flatly.

  “Only when you have it.”

  Both men remained still and quiet for a time.

  “Why did you ask if I still lived alone, Raymond?”

  “I thought I heard something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like fear.”

  Seth felt a shiver cross his knees. “You don’t hear fear, you feel it.”

  “But then we’re all different, aren’t we, bro.”

  “We need to talk, Ray. I can’t—I can’t keep doing this.”

  Raymond nodded. “Sure could use a drink first.”

  “I know a place.”

  Their eyes met as both men tried their best to quiet the echoes of screams bellowing in their minds—screams of relentless agony and terror—all the while ignoring the shadows growing along the walls and everything hidden within them.

  Beyond their protective walls, the rain continued its assault, determined to wash the world clean.

  CHAPTER 7

  Seth couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so many drinks in one sitting. He and Raymond had gone to a quiet Chinese place for dinner and ended up staying for hours, talking and reminiscing about everything and anything but what was really on their minds. At one point Seth confessed to Raymond that he’d recently begun seeing a psychiatrist to help him sort through various issues. The more he drank the easier expressing himself became, and though it had been years since he’d been in the habit of having more than a glass of wine or perhaps a single mixed drink in a sitting, it felt good to cut loose a bit, to just let his mind and worries go for a while.

  “Have you ever been?” Seth asked at one point.

  “To a shrink? Been evaluated a few times when I was doing stretches inside, those types are always around. I haven’t met one yet that knew what they were talking about, though. Bunch of witch doctors, if you ask me.”

  “That’s Dad talking. You’ve never experienced it outside of a jail or hospital setting.”

  “Why would I?” He grinned helplessly. “I already know I’m fucked up.”

  “You shouldn’t joke about things like that,” Seth said softly.

  “I’m not.” Raymond studied his brother like he had only just then noticed him sitting there. “You ever talk about me?”

  “With Doc? Now and then.”

  “What do you say?”

  “We’ve just started talking about the night terrors you used to have.”

  The restaurant was dimly lit, and when Raymond leaned back in the booth, away from the candle on their table, darkness swallowed him. “What’s that got to do with you?” he asked in a way that sounded curiously like a challenge.

  “Ray,” Seth said hesitantly, “I need to ask you something. You don’t have them anymore, do you?”

  “Night terrors?” He shook his head in the negative. “Not in years.”

  “Do you ever wonder what they were, what caused them?”

  “Emotional problems, remember?”

  “I never believed that and neither did you.”

  Raymond leaned closer, allowing the candlelight to again reveal his face. “Maybe it was just the boogeyman.” For the second time his tone made the words sound like a challenge. “Maybe it was a monster in our closet.”

  “Sometimes I wonder.”

  “If you’re looking for something that’ll make you feel better, I got nothing. Sorry.”

  “That’s not what I meant, I—”

  “Is that what you needed to talk to me about, nightmares when I was a kid?”

  The candle flickered, and shadows licked the table between them.

  “That all that’s on your mind, Seth?”

  “I’ve been having the strangest feelings.” Seth looked down into his drink. “About Mom and Dad, and when we were kids. About your nightmares and all the weird things that happened when you were younger.” He smiled feebly. “And that night at the cabin last year.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Raymond’s face remained stoic. After a moment, he powered down most of his drink. “What do you think they mean? These feelings.”

  “I don’t know what any of it means.”

  His expression grew darker just before he fell back, away from the table and into shadow. “Seth, listen to me. Most days I figure it’s a miracle I’m not stuck in some loony bin drooling into a bucket, OK? The way I see it, every time I roll out of bed and make it through without completely losing my mind—or realizing it if I already have—it’s a good day. You hear me? That’s a good day.”

  Seth gripped his glass tightly. “Something happened, Ray. Something…”

  “We can’t change the past.”

  Seth sipped his drink; felt the warmth slowly spread through him. “Maybe we can. Maybe we can change the past by remembering it differently, more accurately.”

  “The future’s the only thing you can fix, and even then—”

  “Maybe the clearer certain memories become the more truth they reveal and the more truth that’s revealed the more those memories can change from what we thought was the past to what was really the past.”

  “You think we’re dealing with some encounter group psychobabble, is that it?”

  “I don’t have any fucking idea what we’re dealing with, Ray.”

  “And you think I do?”

  Seth stared at him.

  Flashes of the blood blinked in strobe-like bursts through Raymond’s mind. Blood on the walls, on the floor—everywhere—congealed into sticky pools mixed with sprinklings and smears finger-painted into three blurred words. Then just as quickly it was gone, replaced by Seth staring back at him from the other side of the table.

  “When I was a kid,” Raymond said, staring at the table, “right before all the bad stuff started, I met someone. It was this beautiful summer day, sunny and warm, but with a nice breeze. I was sitting on the ground in the field behind our house playing and Mom was in the kitchen and the screen door was open. She was singing one of those really beautiful hymns she used to, remember? Sounded just like an angel…or what I always figured an angel should sound like. I was playing and listening to her, when all of a sudden something moved in front of me and blocked the sun. I looked up and there was this…this guy. I could see him but not totally because the sun was behind him and sort of washed him out, you know? But I could see his eyes real clearly. I was afraid at first but when I saw those eyes I
knew I didn’t have to be. I knew he was a good man, I could tell. He wasn’t there to hurt me. There was something about him that made me want to go with him, to be with him. And it was like he read my mind or something because he reached down and he touched the side of my face. Not in a bad way or anything, like a parent, you know? He smiled and told me I couldn’t go with him, because if I did, he wouldn’t be there…right there…right then…and neither would I.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who was this man?” Seth asked. “Did he hurt you, Raymond?”

  “No.”

  “Did anyone else see him?”

  “No. Mom was in the kitchen and Dad wasn’t home from work yet. You must’ve been at a friend’s or something, maybe in our room, I don’t know. But this guy, he looked down at me and he told me not to be afraid. He told me he’d protect me. He told me not to come to the field at night, and I didn’t know what he meant because it was before the nightmares started so why would I be in the field at night? He said one day I’d understand. He said not to go to the field at night, but that I should hide. Hide, he said. Make sure you hide.” Raymond rubbed his eyes. “And then he was gone, just—just gone. Like maybe I imagined him or something.”

  “You never saw him again?”

  “No, but I still think about him sometimes. I call him the man in the sun.” A brief smile blinked across his face. “Kind of stupid, I know, but I used to wonder if maybe he was an angel, you know? Maybe he came down to be with me before all this fucked-up shit started. Or maybe I thought it all up. I don’t know.”

  “Ray, how does any of that tie into—”

  “This is through-the-looking-glass shit, man. I can’t—I can’t talk about this right now. I thought I could but I can’t.” Raymond signaled the waiter for their check. Despite his attempt at cool, traces of the terrified little boy he had once been—and still was in many ways—lingered in his eyes. He was on the run again; it was all he knew. “I need to get out of here, I need to—I got to get some air.”