Part 7 (1/2)
She nodded weakly. Her head sank into the pillow. I brushed her hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead.
”It would be easier if it had just been the darkness by itself,” she said. ”If there hadn't been anything out there in it.”
I wasn't sure about that, but I kept it to myself. Thinking about it, I actually preferred the ghosts-not that I believed they were ghosts-and the sounds to nothing at all. The darkness was creepy enough, but to have it be silent, too? That seemed scarier somehow. It would have made it even more mysterious. More unknown. And fear of the unknown is almost as strong as a fear of the dark. Combining the two might have been too much for anyone to handle.
”Go to sleep,” I urged again. ”You need to rest.”
”What about you?”
”I'm not sleepy yet,” I said. ”I'll sit up for a while, just in case the chief sends someone around with news.”
She grabbed my wrist. ”Don't leave me here in the dark, Robbie.”
”I won't. I'll bring you a candle.”
I did and set it on the nightstand next to her. She relaxed after that, and I sat with her until she fell asleep. It didn't take long. The worried lines on her face gradually softened and smoothed. Her lips fell slightly open. Soon she was snoring softly. Her warm breath lightly grazed my face. Her eyeb.a.l.l.s moved beneath their lids.
”Good night, Christy,” I whispered. ”I love you. And I promise that I'll take care of everything.”
She murmured, but remained asleep. I moved slowly so as not to wake her and returned to the living room. Then I waited. I don't know for what exactly. I just waited. There wasn't anything else to do. n.o.body to talk to and no television to watch. No radio. I didn't even have enough light to read, and didn't have any books even if I'd wanted to. Even though I was still physically exhausted, my mind was now awake and alert. To make matters worse, my internal clock was all f.u.c.ked up. I couldn't shake the feeling that it seemed later in the day than it really was.
Later for us all, just like Christy had said.
My mind wandered to the line of salt and the weird graffiti spray-painted in the middle of the road. Again, I tried to figure out what the picture had represented. It had sort of resembled a door. The ghost-the thing that looked like my grandfather, but wasn't-had told me to get rid of it. It had said that once the symbols were gone, we could be together again. What had it meant by that? Nothing had happened to the firemen until they pa.s.sed over the salt and symbols. What was it about them that kept us safe?
Footsteps thudded overhead. The disturbance caused the light suspended from the living room ceiling to swing slowly back and forth. Russ was awake too apparently. I checked on Christy one more time, making sure she was sleeping soundly. I was a little nervous about leaving her alone after everything that had happened to us, but I wanted to talk to Russ and see if he'd gained any new perspective or come to any conclusions. In truth, I'd always been in awe of Russ's intellect. I mean, he was one of us. But he knew a lot of s.h.i.+t-s.h.i.+t you only learned in college or elsewhere. Not the sort of things you learned living in a small town in Virginia.
I crept out of the apartment and went upstairs. The stairwell was dark, and I hadn't brought the flashlight; I'd left it behind for Christy in case she woke up. (The batteries in her flashlight were fading already, and the beam had grown dim on our way home.) I walked slowly, navigating blindly. I kept a firm grip on the rail with one hand and let my fingertips brush along the wall with the other, until I came to Russ's door. He answered on the second knock. He looked even more disheveled than he had earlier in the day. Smelled riper, too. He barely acknowledged me-merely nodded a greeting and stepped aside to let me in. I wondered if, despite his apologies earlier, he was still p.i.s.sed off about the woman and the baby.
I walked through the door and caught a whiff of tea brewing. I'm a coffee person and not much of a tea drinker, but the scent revitalized my senses. I inhaled through my nose, breathing deep. Then I coughed. Beneath the aroma was a sharp hint of kerosene. It made my eyes water a little.
”Want a cup?” Russ asked. ”I got Irish Breakfast or Darjeeling.”
”Darjeeling? What the h.e.l.l is that?”
”Man, you've never heard of Darjeeling?”
”No.”
”It's the champagne of teas! You've really never had it?”
I shook my head. ”No. Can't say that I have. If I did, then I didn't know it.”
”Well, we'll fix that soon enough. I'll make you a cup right now.”
I followed him into the kitchen. ”How the h.e.l.l are you heating it?”
”Got out my old kerosene heater and there was still fuel inside of it. I'm putting the kettle on top of it until the water boils. Heated up some noodles earlier the same way.”
Sure enough, the kerosene heater sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, casting a soft, orange glow on the walls and cabinets. The room was noticeably warmer than the rest of the apartment. Russ grabbed a cracked coffee mug and plopped a tea bag in it, then poured some hot water into the cup. Not bothering to let it steep, I sipped the hot tea and sighed. Immediately, I felt the caffeine kick in, though not as much as I'd have gotten from a cup of coffee.
”Thanks, man. I needed that.”
”Don't mention it. Here, add some of this to it.”
He pulled a pint of bourbon from a drawer and poured some in my mug.
”Now we're talking,” I said, grinning.
”Special occasion. And listen, Robbie-I'm sorry about earlier. I don't know what came over me. I was p.i.s.sed, but still...”
”Don't worry about it,” I said. ”We were both out of line.”
We fell silent for a few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts.
I took another sip and sighed. ”This is really good, man.”
”Thanks. My ex-wife, Olivia, turned me on to it.”
”You've never really talked about her.”
He shrugged. ”No, I don't guess I have. You'd think that after so many years, it wouldn't bother me to talk about her, but it still does. We got married right after I got out of the Air Force.”
”I didn't know you were in the Air Force. You never talk about that either.”
”s.h.i.+t, Robbie. There's a lot of things I don't talk about. The past is the past, you know? We can't change it, so I don't see any sense dwelling on it. Anyway, we got married after I got out. We were too young, I guess. Never had any kids, thank G.o.d. Not that I wouldn't mind having kids someday. I'm just glad I didn't have them with her.”
I wondered if, with everything that had happened outside, Russ would ever get the opportunity to have kids, but I didn't voice my doubts.
”It's not that we ended up hating each other or anything. h.e.l.l, I never cheated on her and as far as I know, she was faithful to me, too. We just sort of grew apart. I know that sounds like a f.u.c.king cliche, but it's true. We were twenty-five when we got married and thirty when we split up. Five years doesn't seem like a lot of time, but there's miles of difference between twenty-five and thirty. You'll see.”
Again, I wondered about that. The way things were looking, there was a chance that neither Christy nor I would ever reach thirty.
”Anyway,” Russ continued, staring at the mug in his hands, ”we split up. She moved to North Carolina. Started a new life. One that didn't involve me. I think about her a lot. Even after all this time. I thought that would change. Figured over time, the wounds would heal. If they did, they left behind a lot of scar tissue. Especially at night. Sometimes I wake up and pat the other side of the bed, wondering where she is. Then I remember.”
I wanted to respond, but didn't know what to say.
”Anyway,” Russ said, ”I haven't seen or heard from her until today.”
”So...she didn't die or anything like that?”
”No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
”Christy thinks that what we saw today were ghosts. She saw her dad. I saw my grandfather. Both of them are dead. But your ex-wife was alive. So they couldn't have been ghosts.”
”Far as I know, she's still alive. But who knows for sure? What if what happened to us really did happen everywhere else? What if she died and I didn't know it? Then it could have been her ghost, I guess.”
Something in his tone told me that he didn't believe that. I asked him, and he confirmed it.
”I don't think they're ghosts.”