by H. R. Holt
Reverie knew he was trying to prolong the conversation, but she wasn’t in the mood. She looked at the fork heavy with greens and felt like vomiting. Since they were sitting in lantern light, she knew he could hardly see her to tell what was on her mind.
“Virginia came by today,” she said for the millionth time. When he’d come in today, this fact was what she had revealed to him first. He had merely nodded. “What did the paper say?”
Reverie stared across at him, but couldn’t make out his face anymore than he could hers. She sighed in exasperation. He wasn’t in the mood to talk tonight…at least, not about what was going on with him. She was familiar with this part of him, attempting to find some normalcy after a hectic day. If he knew his daughter at all, he would realize she was anything but normal.
“How was work?”
Emmanuel didn’t answer the question, merely mumbled and dismissed himself from the table. She rolled her eyes and continued eating her greens, reaching out to pull the lantern closer to her. If there had ever been someone born to read, it was Reverie Reagan. Seeing her without something recreational to read was very rare, as her father often said when they went out, and she had the animal book tonight. She hadn’t read as much as she’d planned to read.
“What’s your fascination with animals?”
Hearing her father’s voice again so suddenly made her jump. She looked beyond the lantern light, saw his silhouette in the doorway.
“I love animals,” she answered simply, returning to her book, “just as you love Virginia.”
He didn’t respond for a second. Although she didn’t look up, she figured he had left her alone. He did that when he didn’t know how to respond back.
“You are too young to know of love,” he answered assertively. “You are just beginning high school. Wait until you are older before you can say what love is.”
Before she could look up and respond, he disappeared again, leaving her to ponder his last statement. She waited for his return but he never did, so she closed her book and went about doing her chores. Emmanuel didn’t seem to know as much about love as he thought he did. As a matter of fact, he thought that her affections for Clark Gable were genuine, but she knew that would never be the case. After all, the actor who portrayed the swashbuckling Fletcher Christian didn’t know she existed. Or was her father merely fooling around? It was hard to tell sometimes.
When she finished washing the dishes, she blew out the lantern, picked up her book, and stepped out of the kitchen. It had been a long day, but it was only minutes after seven, so she knew it was far from over. She planned to study until nine or so, reading by the lantern in her room. After spotting her father, who sat in the living room with the only light coming from his cigarette, she began making her way upstairs.
“I’m going to have to buy eyeglasses for you one of these days,” had become Emmanuel’s final words to her each day since she was eight. He didn’t bid her good night and tuck her in, always lacking the genteel approach for a parent. There were times Reverie wished he would, but she didn’t feel that way anymore. She was independent, almost, and couldn’t imagine being anything but.
Before she could reach her room, she heard scurrying in the attic. She paused. The attic was the only room she had always been kept from, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think about going there. When she was outside looking up, she often tried gazing into the room via the window but had never been able to see anything. It was the largest room in the house, spanning the space of the rooms beneath it, which Reverie doubted was a familiar trait with Victorian architecture. Hearing the noise, she walked in the gathering darkness towards the inaccessible room. Just as she reached it, the scurrying stopped.
Reverie stepped closer and pressed her ear to the door, breathing calmly. She heard the opposite on the other side. Whoever was standing there, taking refuge in the attic, was gasping harshly. She jumped away, fetched a candle from the nearby stand in the hallway, and lit it immediately.
“Who’s there?”
She spotted something coming from beneath the door and jumped back when it slid across the floor. Looking hard, she realized that it was a key. It was dirty because it hadn’t been used in a long time. As she bent down to get it, she heard banging on the door.
“No! No!” the voice wailed plaintively. “No! Give it back!”
Reverie didn’t know how to react and stood staring from the door to the key and back again. The banging continued and the voice, now inaudible, was only sobbing. As she was bending down to retrieve the key, she heard someone coming up behind her. The footsteps became all she heard and the crying and banging stopped, causing her to focus on whoever was approaching. She stood up straight and turned around, backing up so that her foot was on the key. Standing at the end of the hall with a candle much like hers, Emmanuel stared at her with what she could only assume was rage.
“What are you doing here?” he asked furiously. “You know the attic is forbidden!”
She gulped, unable to say anything for a second. As he approached, she began wondering if she had been the only one to hear the creature in the attic. He stood in front of her, checking the doorknob to make sure the attic was still locked, and then grabbed hold of her wrist.
“You, young lady, are in serious trouble!” he stated.
With eyes still full of fury, he realized he wasn’t threatening in the slightest. He had never lost his anger with her, often thought she was his gift from Heaven, but tonight was different. He had to show her he was serious, outraged, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. She looked so innocent.
“What? For being curious?” she asked, stammering. “I’ve been here several times before, but you never said anything. If just being here makes you put me in serious trouble, I’ll never come here again.”
“Of course you won’t, Reverie. You’re grounded,” he said calmly. He glanced at the door, away from her eyes. They were her mother’s eyes, always serene and able to calm him no matter what mood he was in.
“That’s not fair,” she whined. She couldn’t understand why he was so angry, and it hurt her more that she probably never would. He never explained himself, never had to, and she was always going to be the one to blame. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Life’s not fair,” he said absently before turning to her. “Life’s never fair. Go to your room, to your studies. I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight.”
“Fine!” she exclaimed, throwing her nose into the air indignantly. As she placed the candle on the table to blow out the candle, she knocked the matchbox into the floor. Although it appeared as though she was clumsy, she had committed the act on purpose. When she picked up the box, she snatched the key and stood up quickly. “Good night, father.”
Emmanuel caught hold of her wrist, and she knew her ploy was wasted. He looked at her and smiled, “Sleep well, daughter.”
She walked away, pocketing the key. Although she was usually a well behaved child, she had lived in the cloud of this secrecy for much too long. Tomorrow, when she was alone, she would venture to the attic. If he caught her this time, at least he would blame and punish her for what she was doing besides what he assumed. She only hoped he wouldn’t catch her until after she was finished exploring.
***
The following day went by like butter melting into warm bread, almost as if the universe was letting the day slip away. She wasn’t focused on her studies much, which made her pleased that there weren’t any quizzes, and she didn’t answer as many questions as she did the day before. The teachers looked at her with concern, wondering if she’d slept last night, debating on what could keep her awake. Most of them thought it was because of something that happened between her and her father or her excitement for starting high school and striving to be the best. Others thought it was because of boys, particularly Isaac Partridge, which was a rumor that was spreading around.
When lunchtime came, Reverie decided she would eat outside. Of course, s
he had planned on eating outside since this morning, when she wondered if she could handle seeing Isaac, so her lunch was packed. She sat on the campus lawn, letting the late summer sun cast itself down on her, reading her animal book while she thought about what (and who) could possibly be in the attic. Every now and then, she would look at the key on the string around her neck to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. It wasn’t, she knew that, but knowing it existed made her giddy.
“Ignoring me?”
She looked up and saw Isaac looking down at her. With how he was standing, his books in front of him in one hand while the other hand held his wrist, he looked as if he’d been standing there for a few minutes. He smiled when she at last glanced at him, and then moved to sit beside her when she reclined against the tree.
“I’m not ignoring you. I’m thinking, that’s all,” Reverie answered honestly.
She wished that she could tell him what was going on, but she doubted if he would be interested. As she looked at him, staring across the lawn towards the other girls as they walked by, giggling, she realized he was something of a prince. Why would he be interested in what was going on in her meager life?
Isaac turned to her and realized she was in deep thought, saw how beautifully her hair went with the red sweater she was wearing, and wished that he was the only thing on her mind. He knew that he wasn’t, nor would he ever be. She was a complex girl, filled with thoughts and ideals, and he knew somehow that being a perfect girlfriend wasn’t on her list. She was younger than he, surely, but there was something old about her, and he knew by her eyes that it was her spirit.
“You know, there’s a rumor going around,” he said and reclined beside her.
The tree was a large old oak that had been growing since before the American Revolution, or so it was claimed by the local historians. He wondered if this little bit of information would interest her, if she was even into history. She was no doubt into animals. He had pet Gable last night and this morning just thinking about that fact, wondering if the dog knew if his intentions were good.
“The rumor about us?” she asked casually. “Yeah. Your girlfriend told me more than once when I came to school this morning.”
“Who told you?” Isaac asked as he turned to her, feeling the rough bark behind his head. He looked at her hands as they held the book, wishing they would go through his hair. He blinked. How could he have these feelings for a freshman? He’d never had them for anyone before, much less a fourteen year old.
She looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “Who do you think?”
“Penelope,” he said and looked across from him. As if speaking her name had conjured her, he saw her sitting on the steps leading up to the school. “I don’t know why she would believe that I’m dating a freshman.”
Reverie rolled her eyes, then gathered her books together and stood. She looked down at him and raised an eyebrow, which only resulted in a wide smile forming across his face, then turned and began walking across the lawn. If he didn’t want to be seen dating a freshman, surely he didn’t want to be seen with one. She would make sure she avoided him from now on.
“I thought about you last night,” he said sincerely, causing her to pause. “I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. I think I’m falling in love with you.”
She turned around and glared at him, seeing that he was still reclining, his head still pressed against the bark. He met her eyes with his while a solemn expression covered his face. Looking like this, Reverie realized that he almost looked mature, but knew he wasn’t. There was mischief in his plans, from the very way he held himself, the way he gazed at her.
“You are too young to know of love,” she said, quoting her father. “We both are. These… thoughts you have… they will pass in time. They will. Everything passes in time.”
Isaac blinked, opened his mouth to say something, but closed it without ever saying a word. He watched her walk away, wishing he could understand her better, but knew that wasn’t possible. She was a girl with layers, and he was too young to take the time to peel them all back. He glanced absently at Penelope, watched her throw her nose into the air and march inside, and then he turned to where Reverie had been seated. He felt the ground, seeking her warmth.
“Does everything need to pass or be known? Can’t it just exist?” he asked the wind.
Cool winds from his left made him stand, realizing how cold he was becoming by her absence. He started walking across the lawn, feeling as if he were being watched. He looked over his shoulder and saw a bosomy brunette staring at him from the road where the lawn ended, smiling mercilessly. He had never met her, and he knew most of the women in York County. She was dressed like an ordinary woman, as full of life as anyone in black could be. But, when he stared into her eyes, he felt as if he had never been happy in his entire life and he knew something about her wasn’t right.
“Who are you?” he asked aloud.
She put her finger to her lips, signaling for him to be silent, then gestured for him to come towards her. Isaac didn’t want to, but he took one step and then another. He had no control of his body. As he made his way, he wanted to turn from her but he couldn’t. She was using some sort of power on him, and he knew there was nothing he could do. Even when she pulled a knife from the sheath on her hip, he continued on without hesitation. He knew she was going to kill him, and there was no way he could scream for help.
“Isaac? Isaac?”
He heard a voice calling him and turned around. He was standing merely feet away from the road, sweat dripping down his face, neck, and back. He saw Reverie staring at him, her innocence as radiant as ever, and said a silent prayer. Looking over his shoulder, he realized that the brunette was gone. He doubted for an instant that she’d ever existed, but then he felt a weight in his hand. The knife! How could he have gotten the knife?
Quickly hiding it behind him, he walked towards Reverie who was staring at him, concerned. He hoped she hadn’t seen him with it. How could he explain himself if she did? He didn’t understand it himself, much less explaining it to someone else. What would he do if she saw him with it? In a flash, a vision passed through his mind and he saw himself stabbing her over and over again. When the frightening thought ceased, he looked at her and forced himself to smile although he was shaking.
“I’m sorry for being such a disagreeable person today,” she said and returned his smile. “I’m just not really into socializing or anything right now. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I know you think that I’m a terrible person… again… but I’m trying not to be. I mean, I understand if you like girls that are older than me. I don’t care about that, not really. I was just hoping we would be friends. I’ve never had a boy for a friend before…”
He nodded. “It’s ok. I was being a jerk. I’d like you as my friend.”
Reverie smiled and he gulped, trying to stop himself from crying. He succeeded and she turned around, walking back into the school. The lunch hour was over, which meant he had to get back to class, but he couldn’t budge. If he went in thinking about murder, he knew he would be tempted to do something terrible. He felt evil growing through his heart, blackening it, so he shut off a corner of it for her. Reverie, his dream come true.
***
Emmanuel thought about the attic throughout the day, wondering if Reverie detested him for being so cruel to her. He didn’t know. When it came time for him to have lunch, he drove to the house and parked, sitting in silence. He had forgotten what was in the attic because it had been so long, only remembered that he wasn’t supposed to go inside the room. He took hold of the skeleton key that he kept with him and walked in, but not before he spotted another car in his yard.
Virginia’s note had been simple, but he detested the fact she’d given it to Reverie to deliver to him. She was lonely and wanted to meet him. Here he was, unintentionally, and not prepared to face her. He didn’t want to deal with anyone, least of all this woman. If anyone could be an actual nightmare, she
was definitely it. Hell, he wasn’t young anymore, and she was hardly thirty-five.
Emmanuel stepped out of the car and headed for the house, but he knew she was already inside. Her scent clung to the crisp air of August, overpowering it and making him want to retch. Although he told Reverie not to criticize Virginia by her perfume, her character was so dreadful that he wished he took his daughter’s advice. After all, hadn’t Esme’s jasmine perfume been as welcoming as a ray of light? He was sure he’d been right about a life partner once, but that was long ago.