I Have the Sight

by Rick Wood

  “Eddie!” her mouth opened to scream, muted by the rawness of her throat, an empty breath of air protruding from her tender lungs.

  “No!” Eddie wept, filling his never-ending surroundings with his love for his sister. “Cassy!”

  His eyes scrunched as he screamed, heaving on his restraints with everything he had. It wasn’t enough.

  It all went blank.

  He awoke with a shriek. In a hospital bed, plugged into machines rapidly beeping. A dozen doctors burst into the room, laying him down, encouraging him to relax. But he couldn’t, the image of Cassy was burnt onto the forefront of his mind.

  He would soon learn that the coma that felt like minutes had lasted weeks. He would soon find out that his sister was dead. He would soon know that his chase on their bikes through the estate killed her.

  He would soon have to grow up with the overwhelming guilt of knowing his sister could have been alive if it weren’t for him.

  But it would take him far longer to know what happened to her soul.

  3

  7 December 1987

  Eddie sighed at his fumbling hands, feigning sincerity. Another day, another lecture; it got old, and he was tired of it. It was always his fault. It was never them. Never.

  “And, you little rat, if I catch you thieving again, I will wallop you so hard you’ll go right through that soddin’ wall, y’hear me?”

  He lifted his head up to his father, fractionally raising his eyebrows and keeping his face otherwise blank; purely, as he knew his lack of reaction would incense him. He was far too much of a hypocrite to dare teach him right or wrong.

  “Please, just stop fighting,” piped up his mother, cowardly positioning herself at the back of the room.

  Eddie snorted. He couldn’t help it. His mum was trying to make it seem like she had the balls to stand up to him, but Eddie wasn’t deaf, nor was he blind. He heard the fights pounding through the walls at 2.00 am as he buried his face into his pillow. He saw the marks on her face that she passed off as “nothing, just a little disagreement.” He saw the look in her eyes, the look that said she wished she loved him enough to stand up to the bastard she shared a bed with, but was simply too weak.

  They weren’t the only ones still suffering from Cassy’s death. They weren’t the only ones who needed support.

  “I just can’t believe you were so stupid,” continued the overbearing, prematurely bald phony towering over him. “To pocket a chocolate bar. A chocolate bar, of all things, you steal.”

  “It’s not about the chocolate bar…” Eddie muttered. He spoke inaudibly, flinching with hope that his dad hadn’t fully comprehend that he’d just dared say something to oppose him.

  His mother edged closer and took hold of her husband’s arm, attempting to edge him away. His face was getting redder and his voice was increasing in pace; in addition to this, he was invading more and more of Eddie’s personal space by the second, breathing his alcoholic breath all over him, turning into his natural, intimidating self.

  “Please, don’t,” she requested feebly.

  “Get off me,” he replied, raising his arm, forcing her off balance and onto her back. As she hit the ground, her head hit the wall. She stayed down, rubbing it, her eyelids fluttering.

  “Mum!” Eddie rose to help her, but found himself shoved back down by the bulky fist of his egotistical dad.

  “Dad.” As if.

  Eddie didn’t stick around to see what would happen next. As much as he wished he could help his mother, she wouldn’t let him; she would succumb to him once more, allow herself to get pushed around. As much as he would love to help, it just hurt more to watch his mother cower in front of the man who had once been such a devoted father-of-two.

  Three years ago, this man was loving. He held Eddie in his arms and Eddie felt secure. No one would harm him. Then, since she died…

  Dodging his dad’s swipe, he darted through the hallway and out the front door. His bike leant against the garage on the driveway. He leapt upon it and shifted into second gear, spinning the pedals around and around as fast as they would take him.

  The wind pounded against Eddie’s eyes as he built up speed. His hair was unwashed and unkempt, greased into a firm position, and it felt nice to have a gust flowing through the strands. It was liberating.

  Drops of rain flickered in the air. Specks patted his face every few seconds. He stopped pedalling and allowed the downhill tilt to carry him to his destination, enjoying the damp security rain had always given him.

  He dismounted and hastily dropped his bike into the hedge. He grabbed the gutter in his hands and shifted his way up the brick wall of a warm, suburban family home, taking the route to the bedroom window he had taken so many times before. All it took was one knock on the window and it opened, allowing Eddie to climb in.

  His best friend, Jenny, beheld him, her eyes filled with concern. It was more than he could take. He gave in. Finally. The tears fell from his eyes, drenching his cheeks and dampening his collar.

  “It’s okay,” Jenny assured him, guiding him to the bed. She allowed him to lay himself down, leaning his head on her lap. She stroked his rain-smeared mop with genuine fondness. She didn’t care nor complain about the grease of his hair that came off in her hands, she rubbed his hair back nonetheless.

  She let him in the bed with her and kept her arm around his waist as he cried himself to sleep, never questioning or contesting his need for her help.

  It didn’t mean anything more than a moment of comforted release to either of them. Eddie was the only person in the world Jenny had trusted enough to know that he wasn’t of the gender she fancied. It was more than that. It was a silent, mutual understanding that they had an unwritten knowledge of each other’s predicaments.

  They were outsiders, but they were outsiders together. In Jenny, Eddie found the family he needed. He found the sister he had lost.

  4

  10 January 1991

  Eddie could see the perspiration dripping down Jenny’s forehead. He squeezed her hand in his.

  “Relax,” he urged her, so quietly only they could hear his assurance. He smiled at her, but she couldn’t bring herself to reciprocate. Her look was full of dread, her eyes conveying nothing but worry. He noticed her leg shaking and he put his hand on it, trying to steady it.

  Her parents came into the living room with a tray and gave Eddie his cup of tea, and Jenny her black coffee with three sugars.

  “There you go,” her mother spoke gleefully, a smile planted across her face. She reckoned she knew what this was about. She took her place next to Jenny’s father and sat on the edge of the seat in anticipation.

  “Well?”

  Eddie glanced at Jenny and saw her struggling to find the words. She began to stutter, then looked away to the ground, avoiding eye contact.

  “Jenny has some news she wants to tell you,” Eddie prompted her, doing his best to help, holding her hand in his. “And it’s something I’m really proud of, and she – we – are hoping you will be too.”

  “You’re a couple!” the mother declared, clapping her hands together, bursting it out as if she couldn’t hold it in. “We are so pleased for you. We said it, didn’t we say it?” she prodded her father, who wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways. “Ever since you’ve been staying here you’ve been such a calming influence over her, Eddie, and we couldn’t be more thrilled.”

  “No,” Eddie shook his head, blushing in embarrassment. “No, that’s not what it is.”

  On another occasion he may have found this hilarious, he may have sniggered uncontrollably, told the tale for years. But not this time. It was just too awkward.

  “Me and Jenny aren’t together,” Eddie consoled her mother. “Unfortunately, because of reasons you’re about to find out, that would never happen.”

  “You’ve found someone else?” the unbearable fool interrupted. “Whoever it is, surely he isn’t as right for you as Eddie?”
>
  “Please.” Eddie closed his eyes and lowered his voice, trying to make himself sound calm. “Please, would you just let her speak?”

  Her mother realized what she was doing and nodded, faking a smile.

  “Very well,” she confirmed, and turned her head to Jenny. “Jenny?”

  Jenny sighed, closing her eyes. She pointed her face away from her parents. She took in a big, deep breath and, keeping her eyes focused on the corner of the door, she let the breath out.

  “I’m gay.”

  Silence. Vocal blankness so tense Eddie began to fidget, shooting looks between Jenny and her stunned parents.

  Jenny changed the focus of her gaze from the door to her mother. She needed to see a reaction. Not knowing what looks were on her parents’ faces was getting even worse than looking away.

  Then she wished she’d just kept staring at the door.

  Her mother was still poised on the edge of the sofa, but not with anticipation; instead, she was frozen there with shock. Tears accumulated in the corners of her eyes that she was clearly fighting, but they were there nonetheless.

  Her father sat back in the chair, away from his wife. He looked emotionless. Whilst her mother was staring solemnly at Jenny with a face of hurt, her father was looking away, staring gormlessly at the arm of the sofa beside him, forcing his face to remain vacant.

  Jenny urged them to speak. She mentally pushed them, wishing, desiring them to respond. She became envious of the rapid-speaking enthusiasm her mother had shown, just moments ago.

  “You’re…” her Mother tried, but as she went to speak nothing came out and her mouth kept moving like a demented duck.

  “She’s a lesbian,” Eddie interjected boldly and confidently. “And I am so proud of her for having the strength to finally be honest with herself, and with others.”

  He prayed her parents would agree. He knew how much this meant to her, how much she required their approval. What they did in these moments were vital, and something Jenny would remember forever, and he was afraid they were abusing that.

  Despite giving them the opportunity to agree with him, to say something positive, reassure her, breaking her out of the despair they were causing, they didn’t. They just sat there, in the same positions, unmoved.

  “Can’t you… not be?” her mother finally spoke.

  Jenny’s eyes filled with rabid tears and she fled out of the room, covering her face. You could hear her sobbing growing vaguely distant as she stormed through the corridor, ending with the slam of the door.

  “I hope you’re happy,” Eddie spat at them as he followed without hesitation. He marched through the hall, out of the front door and found Jenny marginally rocking back and forth on an aged, rusty swing set. Her tears were still flowing and she made no effort to cover them. She never needed to, not in front of Eddie.

  Eddie perched on the swing next to her, gazing above him at the evening air. It was chilly, and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He was crying now, hurt at seeing Jenny so distraught, and even more hurt at knowing there was nothing he could do about it. The cold air made his tears harsher on his face and he wiped them off with the shoulder of his t-shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” he offered. He knew “how are you?” wouldn’t cut it, nor would “well that sucks.” It was a situation she was so desperate to have go well and he knew how much it meant to her.

  She gave him a vague smile of acknowledgement and returned her face to her solace. Her tears subsided and her upset manifested itself into a longing stare at the ground before her.

  “I really didn’t think it would go like that,” Eddie admitted. He wasn’t lying, he really didn’t.

  “Me either,” she concurred, not breaking her stare or changing the tone of her voice.

  “I still love you,” he smiled, this time genuinely. “I know that isn’t the same, and it doesn’t amount to much, but… it’s true.”

  She nodded. He reached his hand across to her and stroked her hair lovingly. With how close they were, he wasn’t surprised her mother had thought they were together. It was likely most people did. But in truth, he loved her like a sister. Like the way he had loved his sister before.

  “Don’t worry, we’re going to amount to so much more than them,” Eddie announced triumphantly.

  “Sure,” she snorted.

  “No, we are,” he urged. “I mean, what do they do? Some dead-end job? Forget about it. We are going to do amazing things. I mean that.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Yeah we are. I’m going to get a job that will save millions and change lives. You’re going to, I dunno, become some activist for gay rights. And we are going to stick together throughout all of it.”

  “An activist for gay rights?”

  “Okay, maybe not… a teacher then. Or a doctor. Or something that matters. And when that happens, they are going to rue the day they didn’t respect you.”

  Jenny nodded, gazing him in the eye. She really did love him.

  “You’re so sure, huh?”

  “No doubt in my mind.”

  “Sounds great… though to be honest, I really would just settle with my parents accepting me for who I am.”

  Eddie pulled her swing closer and put his arms around her, holding her tightly.

  “I know.”

  5

  20 July 1993

  Derek was so excited he could barely keep his thesis still in his hands. Years of work, an accumulation of study, hard work and, at times, extreme controversy, were summed up in a wad of paper between his fingers.

  “The Relation Between Demonology Theory and the Evil in Modern Europe Today.” A 119,000-word document containing research, experimentation notes, evidence, his hypotheses, first-person accounts; all together in a fascinating piece of reading he was hoping his mentor would be thrilled with.

  When he first said he wanted to look at a strand of parapsychology as his thesis in his psychology master’s degree they had laughed, claiming there was no such area of study; not really, anyway. Now he was stood there, outside the university doors, with the result of his PhD in his hands that had explored the correlation of real-life psychological trauma and the paranormal.

  As he began to fill in the cover form, Jonathon Kume walked over to him and gave him a grand pat on his back.

  “Well, this is it, is it?” he smirked, feasting his eyes upon the ring-bound piece of printed work Derek displayed in his hands.

  “Yes, sir, it is,” Derek smirked back.

  “I read the version you sent me, went through it all in one night… fascinating. Truly fascinating stuff.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I mean, I won’t lie to you, at first I read it out of sheer curiosity for such a bizarre subject matter. But the empirical evidence you have put forward and the depth into which you go, it’s spellbinding stuff.”

  “Mr Kume, honestly, I…” He was speechless. He opened his mouth and audibly fidgeted around his words. The dean of the university was stood before him, endorsing the research that had initially been labelled ‘ridiculous hippy bullshit.’

  “I can’t believe you even read it, never mind appreciated it; it means so much.”

  “In fact, do you have a minute?” He opened his office door and gestured Derek inside.

  “Of course, Mr Kume, of course I have a minute.”

  “Please, call me Jonathon. It makes sense, seeing as we are going to be working together.”

  Derek’s face turned to utter confusion as he slowly lowered himself to the seat beside the desk, watching Jonathon make his way to his side of the desk, returning a knowing smirk in Derek’s direction.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Derek, I want to fund you and your research.”

  “Really? You mean you want me to do some tutoring here?”

  “Not just tutoring. I am going to fund you in setting up your own parapsychology department. We will offer it as a
course; limited numbers in the first year of course, just as we get it off the ground. You will be able to employ someone else to carry out your research and will be eligible to apply for grants for particularly interesting projects, same way any other department would.”

  Derek could barely move, yet was tirelessly giddy at the same time. He was rooted to the spot, yet shaking with delight. His own department? His own students? Funding for his own research? It was beyond a dream, beyond what he had ever aspired to.

  “I was just so fascinated with your research, Derek, and I want to see what else you can find. Assuming you’re on board, yes?”

  “Why, of course! Not even a question! I can’t believe this, Mr Kume, I –”

  “Jonathon.”

  “Jonathon, sorry. I can’t believe this.”

  Jonathon held out his hand and Derek took it firmly, grasping it in a confident handshake.

  “It’s a pleasure, Derek. An absolute pleasure.”

  6

  1 May 1995

  Eddie awoke and instinctively hit an irritating twitch on his face. Looking at the hand he had just swiped himself with, he found that it was ants. He hit his face harder, wiping them away, before looking down and realising his face was plastered against an ant hill. Leaning up, he surveyed the area. The lawn, an open front door to the house behind him.

  “Damn it,” he muttered to himself with agitation. He clambered onto his knees and shook his head. Before he could sneak back to his bed, Jenny appeared in the doorway with a huge smirk across her face.

  “Sleep-walking again?” she asked, wearing nothing but a shirt that glided off the curves of her body in a goddess-like way.

  “Looks like it.” He spoke to the ground as he stood, bashing the dirt off his hands. Still, they remained covered in soil, so he rubbed them against his pyjama shorts; an item of clothing he was glad he chose to wear last night considering where he woke up.

  Lacy appeared behind Jenny, slipping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist and giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek. As soon as she saw Eddie gathering himself in the front garden, she chuckled uncontrollably.