by Maria Quick
‘Dad, she’s using you. She only wants your money.’
It was the first time I’d ever told him outright, and it killed me. Up until now I’d only ever suggested that we’d never gotten along. My poor father. He only wanted a mother for me, and he’d never get that wish.
He was too nice, that was his problem. He only saw the good in people instead of their dark, twisted souls. I hadn’t even heard him say a bad word about my mom, even though she’d abandoned us both right when we’d needed her most. That was the kind of guy he was, and people took advantage of that. It was my job to stop them.
‘Bree, listen-’
‘No, you listen, Dad. I can’t watch them hurt you anymore. They’re manipulating you, and you’re too kind to see it. But I do. I can’t let it happen again. I’m not letting them hurt you anymore.’
Taken aback by my outburst, he spluttered as he tried to think of something to say. In the end, there was nothing he could. He took me in his arms and held me like I was his little girl again. With a pang, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d done that.
Eventually, he let go, and I think we both felt lighter afterward. It’d been brewing for months but neither of us had acknowledged it until now.
‘Okay. I won’t see Stacy again, if it makes you happy.’
‘This isn’t for me, Dad. It’s for you. I love you.’
He smiled, holding back happy tears.
‘I love you too, Bree. I’d do anything-’
‘Ann,’ I corrected, gritting my teeth. Seriously, was it that hard for people to remember?
‘Ann. Of course, I forgot. I’m going to go box up Stacy’s stuff, okay?’
‘Need a hand?’ I offered, knowing how difficult it might be.
‘No, but thanks. Why don’t you head on upstairs and get back to whatever it is you’re doing?’
‘If you’re sure. I’ll see you later, I guess.’
He nodded and headed into the lounge, the room where the majority of Stacy’s ugly candles were kept. Distracted, I walked through George before I even noticed he was on the stairs behind me.
‘I thought I told you to stay in my room,’ I hissed, whipping my head around in case my dad heard. Luckily, the lounge stayed shut.
‘I wanted to see what the fuss was about,’ he shrugged, staring at the lounge door anxiously. ‘Is he alright?’
‘He’ll be fine. How much did you hear?’
‘Enough.’
‘What does that mean?’ I asked as he skipped past me.
He didn’t answer, so I guess he didn’t hear. It wasn’t important enough for me to repeat. I followed him into my room and put on another movie. This time there were no complaints at all.
4
I yawned, loudly and laboriously. It’d been a hell of a day. I went into my bathroom to change into my pajamas and brush my teeth.
‘Uh, should I leave or something?’ George called out nervously.
‘Go on the balcony, I’ll be out in a second.’
‘What about after then?’ he shouted back, a little more muffled.
‘Then, I’m going to bed. You go do whatever you want.’
‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. What did you do last night?’ I asked, spitting into the sink. Must’ve been loud. I didn’t catch his reply.
‘What did you say?’ I yelled.
I probably shouldn’t have been screaming all over the house, but Dad coaches early. He’s a heavy sleeper. I was in the clear, for now.
‘I don’t think I was here last night.’
‘Huh, strange. Must’ve been a delay. Well, I hear the park looks pretty cool at night. There’s an abandoned bunker there. Take a detour at the woods where the busted tree is. You’ll know it when you see it. Or so I’ve heard,’ I shrugged, turning off the light. He stayed on the balcony for some time, looking out into the world.
‘I can’t sleep anymore?’
‘Nope. Sorry. Though on the other hand, you don’t feel sleepy, so...’ I made a weighing movement with my hands, which he missed.
‘What are you looking at?’ I wanted to know, but not enough to get out of bed.
‘Everything. I can’t do anything now, can I?’ he asked softly.
I felt for him, I really did. I almost got up to join in his melancholy but he seemed content to stay on his own. I didn’t want to make him more upset.
‘No, but you can see things. Hear things, still. You can go anywhere in the entire world, with no restrictions whatsoever. You can see things that no living person has ever seen, or ever will. You can-’
‘I get it, thanks,’ he said, smiling wryly at me. ‘I can’t even think where I’d want to go.’
‘Come on, use your imagination,’ I prodded, sitting up as I thought about it. ‘The Pentagon. The White House. Mariana Trench. The Vatican Library.’
‘Mariana Trench?’ he repeated.
‘Sure. Maybe spot a new animal or something.’
‘I thought it was pitch black down there?’
‘I’ll toss you a flashlight.’
Clearly unimpressed, he turned away to think some more.
‘Are you upset?’ I called out.
‘No. It’s hard to explain. It’s sort of like my feelings are diluted, in a way. Clouded, maybe. I want to feel things, but I can’t.’
Lucies have told me that before. I wasn’t sure they were supposed to stay here for a long time, if at all. In an ideal world, maybe people were supposed to die only when they were ready to. With their affairs in order, and their goodbyes said. Instead of randomly and unexpectedly as usual.
‘It’ll get better,’ I told him, the first thing that came into my head that wasn’t totally negative.
‘Yeah, right. What age was the oldest lucy you’ve ever met?’
‘Ninety-one. Wait, did you mean how old they were or how long they’d been a lucy?’
‘The latter.’
‘Oh. Then, 150ish.’
He spun around so fast in sheer shock that he fell off the balcony. Barely managing to stifle a laugh, I shouted for him to run through the wall and back up the stairs. He joined me a minute later.
‘Smooth,’ I applauded.
‘150?’ he asked, still astonished.
‘Yup. From the Civil War, he was. Name of Edward or Edwin or something.’
It’s been about ten years since I’d spotted him in a zoo. That was all the information he’d managed to tell me before he’d asked to speak to my father. Apparently six-year-old girls didn’t hold much weight back then. I’d told him my father couldn’t speak to him, and then I’d been dragged away before I could freak out any more people. I always wondered if I’d see him again.
And if he was still a little sexist.
‘That’s insane.’
‘I know.’
‘What did he want?’
‘Never got the chance to tell me,’ I yawned, explaining what my dad did on an hourly basis, and still does, on occasion.
‘Wow. That’s harsh. Does he not know about you or something?’
‘Sure he does. I did tell you I had years of therapy and psych sessions, right?’
He shuddered. That was usually my reaction to my memories, too.
‘He doesn’t believe you?’ I shook my head. ‘That’s pretty cold. I thought parents were supposed to support their children no matter what. I can’t imagine my own father acting like that. Or my mom, for that matter.’
‘Really?’ I challenged. ‘Even if, as a kid, you asked them where Mary’s doll was? And when they asked who Mary was, you pointed at an empty corner?’
That stopped him in his tracks. He backed away a little, eyes darting in every corner just in case.
‘Okay, that I get. Creepy dead child with a doll is one the most terrifying things in the world.’
‘You see many of them?’
‘Do you? Cos if you do, I am out of here. I mean it.’
I laughed through my tiredness, thinking back to that first l
ucy. Or one of the first, anyway.
‘Naw, not really. The doll was totally eerie, too.’
‘You found it?’
‘It was in the attic,’ I giggled, nodding. He immediately started looking under my bed and searching the shelves for it.
‘Don’t worry, we got rid as soon as. There was no way they were keeping that in the house. Especially since I’d never been in the attic and I suddenly knew it was in an unopened box at the back. They were freaked, big style.’
‘They?’
‘Yeah, my- huh,’ I chuckled, completely thrown for a loop. ‘My dad, I mean. That was weird.’
I could’ve sworn- Must’ve been the lack of sleep, and all that talk with Stacy and my dad. I must’ve been thinking about my mom because George had mentioned his parents, and then falsified my memories somehow-
‘I need sleep,’ I deduced from that mess.
He stood awkwardly as I settled into my bed.
‘The Pentagon awaits,’ I mumbled.
‘Maybe another night. Mind if I hang around on the balcony tonight?’
‘Sure. But if you watch me sleep, then there’s not much I can do because I’m a super heavy sleeper. I’ll glare at you in the morning, though.’
‘Duly noted.’
I switched off the light and closed my eyes, hoping I’d fall asleep before the day’s events began to haunt me. Maybe I’d been wrong about Stacy. Maybe she did love my dad like she said. But if that was true, then why did she leave so quickly, without even a hint of a fight?
Nah, I was right about her.
‘Are you still awake?’ George shout-whispered from the balcony.
‘No. Go away,’ I replied.
‘I have an important question.’
‘Fine,’ I lamented, slipping into a sedate state. ‘Burden me with your troubles.’
‘Can I change my clothes?’ he asked unexpectedly.
‘Really? That’s your important question?’
‘Yup. Really, really.’
‘No,’ I sighed.
He burst into laughter. Annoyed, I half-crawled out of bed to chastise him.
‘Why was that so important?’
‘Because- oh, I can’t breathe.’
‘You can’t anyway. You want a slumber party or something?’
‘No.’
I couldn’t make out any more intelligible words through his laughs so I looked to where he was vaguely pointing.
It was a lucy. A half-naked, overweight, middle-aged lucy.
‘Oh, delightful.’
The lucy was wandering aimlessly through the woods that my balcony overlooked. From what I could tell, he appeared to be barefoot and wearing speedos. That was all.
‘Do you think he’s seen us?’ I asked, as his head snapped up and looked directly at us.
‘Nope,’ George said.
‘Great.’
The dead man was overjoyed at the sight of us. He tripped in excitement, which was bizarre enough, and enthusiastically pointed at us, jumping up and down.
‘You! You can- you’re like me! I- don’t move, I’ll be right there.’
We watched him waddle through my house, George still snickering at him. Sleepily, I took one last lingering look at my bed as I came to the realization that I wouldn’t be in it any time soon.
‘This is not how I thought my night would turn out.’
‘You and me both. Where do you think he came from?’
I wondered at that. My area was pretty nice, but not many people had pools or hot tubs. Besides, it was almost 2am. On a Thursday night. Or Friday morning. Which reminded me, I still had school tomorrow. Today. Ugh.
I searched my bag for what lessons I had in about six hours’ time. History, double gym, double math – okay, I was skipping. I only had a week left anyway, it was pointless to even turn up. What was I talking about? Right, the random half-naked dude.
Nearest lake was a couple hours’ drive away, so he’d been walking a long time. If he even came from Ohio, that is. Had a lucy walk from Hawaii once. Over land, underwater, at the bottom of the ocean. They’d said it was an experience they’d never forget.
So, maybe our guy had done the same thing.
‘I don’t know,’ I said in a late reply, perplexing George. He’d obviously forgotten he’d even asked a question.
‘I’m going to go make a coffee,’ I sighed.
5
Turns out the guy was British. I heard his booming voice resonate through the entire house as he guffawed at something with George. I was on the first floor, they the third. Maybe I didn’t need the coffee after all.
Still, I trudged upstairs with my double espresso and wondered what I was getting myself into this time.
The guy was kicked back on my bed, completely relaxed. I know he wasn’t physically touching it, but it still made me cringe. I was definitely sleeping in a guest room tonight. He was telling some story whose main characters seemed to be a daiquiri and a certain appendage of his. Heroically, George tried to avert his eyes, but to no avail. Sighing, I jumped in to rescue him.
‘Alright, who are you?’
Little rude, but I was severely lacking in sleep, remember?
He turned to me, looked me up and down, taking in my bedraggled appearance and pretty unicorn mug. Then, he turned back to George and continued his story.
‘If you’re going to ignore me, get the hell off my bed.’
‘I’m trying to finish a story here,’ he cawed, shaking his head. ‘Jeez, she’s like my wife. I told you about my wife, didn’t I, Johnny?’
‘Sure, why not?’
‘And I probably told you about Dave, too?’
‘That...also could have happened.’
‘Right. So, as I unzipped my-’
Thankfully, he halted his story to glare at me, as if I was the offender here.
‘Is she always like this?’ he groaned in disgust. George blinked.
‘Uh, are you?’ he asked me, completely baffled.
I wasn’t certain how much coffee I put in my cup, but I guess it was way too much.
‘His name is George, not Johnny. And I’m not like anything. So, for the last time, who the hell are you? And if you don’t answer, get out of my house. I’m giving you five seconds.’
Surprised by my outburst, he raised his hands in placatory gesture and backed off the bed toward George. George looked longingly at the balcony, presumably wanting to throw himself off again.
‘Whoa. Alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I was only having a little laugh with Johnny- Jerry?’
Johnny-Jerry-George nodded, accepting the baptism of the lucy.
‘See? No harm done. Now, we appeared to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Name’s Ronald, you can call me Ronnie if you like. Only person to call me Ronald was my wife, and she was- well, I thought she was only a cheater, but it turns out she’s a killer, too.’
Now, we were getting somewhere. I settled into my armchair, resigned to the state of my poor bed, and listened to his tale of woe.
‘We’d been married almost thirty years. Both lived in Hackney, never left the place, et cetera. I was a stockbroker; a really good one, actually. Made a lot of money. She was- Angela was a kept woman. She showed no interest whatsoever in getting a job, and why should she? I was making enough money for the two of us. It was all fine and dandy until it wasn’t.’
‘What happened?’ I asked, reaching for my trusty notebook.
‘She met someone else. Thirty years I’d been working my socks off, not taking holidays, taking all the overtime, and for what? I was getting ready to retire-’
‘Wait, how old are you?’ I interrupted, scrunching my eyes as I checked his face. He didn’t seem to be retirement age yet.
‘Fifty-one.’
‘Man, I should’ve gone into stocks instead of history,’ George sighed, shaking his head. ‘Doesn’t matter now, I suppose.’
Ronnie gave him a sympathetic look.
‘Right. You were
saying?’ I prodded, leading him back to his story.
‘Of course. I was about to retire when I started seeing the signs. New perfume, suddenly wearing makeup again. Her whole appearance changed, but she didn’t change. It was clear that she was hiding something.’
‘Maybe you were wrong?’ George suggested, reaching out to pat his knee. He balked as his hand went straight through.
‘Could’ve been a mid-life crisis,’ I added, trying to save him from that awkward moment.
‘Could’ve been, indeed, but it wasn’t. When you’re married to someone for that long, you know them. You know what’s going through their mind, and when they’re not really thinking about you anymore, but someone else. You’ll understand when you’re older. Well, you won’t,’ he said to George.
‘Thanks for that.’
‘You’ll have to come to terms with it sooner or later, mate.’
‘I choose later. So, did you confront her?’ George asked, getting back to the story.
‘No. It would’ve been rather foolish, since I had no proof. There was still a niggling doubt in all of this, somewhere at the back of my mind, that maybe I was wrong. I’d spent my whole life focused on my work. I took loads of trips away, leaving her at home. Maybe she’d always dressed like that and I simply hadn’t noticed before.’
I was starting to see a different side to Ronnie that he hadn’t exactly advertised. He gave off the impression of being a brash, bolshie guy; someone I really couldn’t get along with. Now that he knew we could help whatever his predicament was, he was calmer. Gentler, even.
He obviously loved his wife, that much anyone could see. And she’d done him in. His story was about to get a whole lot murkier.
Ronnie cleared his throat and sat up straight. They couldn’t feel anything physical, but some lucies preferred mortal movements.
‘About three months ago, we booked a fortnight in Miami. It’s a place she’d always wanted to go, and my retirement was a sure thing. For me, it was a last-ditch effort for the marriage. I planned to talk things through and forgive any of her transgressions, if they existed. She had other ideas,’ he finished, gesturing to his ghostly body.