Part 19 (1/2)
”I don't know who broke the door,” she said. ”But I know there are other people here. I don't know if something bad happened here or what, but there's at least two up there and I thought they were gone, but they're not.
”You've probably heard them, too, but the way you are, you convince yourself it's something else.”
He shrugged.
”Like at night, when you're lying in bed and you wake up and you can hear them upstairs, or sometimes out here in the hall. They seem to like going up and down the stairs, that's for sure.”
”And when was the first time you noticed these . . . other people?”
”Don't patronize me. Unlike talking to you, Jack, you can say 'ghosts' and I won't think you're stupid.”
”I don't think you're stupid. You know better than that. But there's--”
”There's no such thing, right?”
He didn't reply.
Liz took another sip from her tea. It had cooled a little, but she still had to blow on it first.
”The first time I noticed them, now that I think about it, was our first day here. You'd gone to the store and Joey was asleep in here. I laid down in the bedroom and fell asleep, too. A little bit later, I woke up when I felt someone climb onto the bed with me. I a.s.sumed it was you or Joey, so I went back to sleep. But when I woke up, you were just coming home with the groceries, and Joey was still in here.”
”And you didn't think that maybe he'd just come back here again after going in there?”
”No, I did think that. That's what I a.s.sumed for a long time. But in retrospect, I don't believe for a second now that's what it was. It was someone else.”
Jack got a c.o.ke from the kitchen and sat on the arm of the couch, holding the can in his lap. ”And that's it?” he asked. ”That's your big proof there's . . . ghosts . . . in the house? Because you felt someone climb onto the bed while you were, as you said, asleep? Yeah, they call those dreams in the real world.”
”f.u.c.k off,” she shot back. ”I've seen them. I've seen the man walk past me. I've seen them in the bathroom, and upstairs in the middle room, two different ones. I've heard their voices. I've felt them. Whether you buy it or not, that's who broke your precious f.u.c.king door, and, unfortunately, not believing in them isn't going to be enough to get rid of them.”
He stared at her, took a drink, and asked, ”So you're the expert. How do you get rid of them?”
”I don't know,” she said. ”I had the house blessed a couple weeks ago, and I thought they were gone. I didn't hear them or anything for a long time. But the other day, there was a phone call--”
”Oh no, not a phone call. Well that cements it for me. I'm convinced.”
”Forget it,” she said. Liz went into the kitchen, away from Jack.
He sat for a second, then got up and followed her.
”I'm sorry, okay? I know, I said I wouldn't interrupt. I'm not trying to make light of what you're saying, but you know I can't buy any of this without actual proof.”
”I'm not saying you should buy anything. I'm just telling you what I've seen and heard.”
”All right. Go on. I'm sorry. Please.”
She set her cup on the counter and turned to him, but she kept her eyes down.
”The other day, the phone rang and I answered and it was this little girl's voice. She was yelling something like, 'Why did my daddy kill me?' Now, whether it was for real or just some kids playing around, I don't know, but it freaked me out and it fits, I guess, with the house. I mean if there's ghosts here, that means someone died here, right?”
Jack didn't answer. He was thinking about the story Charley Clark told him about the house. And then he understood.
”I get it,” he said, smiling. ”You read the book, didn't you?”
”What?”
”Yeah, you read the book and now, because I didn't tell you about it in the first place, you're coming up with this c.r.a.p about ghosts. I know, I learned my lesson. I'm sorry. I should have told you in the first place.”
”What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?”
Jack was looking at her, trying to gauge her reaction. Maybe she hadn't found the book.
”The Outsider's Guide to Angel Hill,” he said. ”The chapter in there about the house?”
She shook her head. Then she remembered the book.
”Wait,” she said, ”I do remember a book. It's under your side of the mattress. What is that? Angel Hill p.o.r.n, and that's why you hid it?”
”No,” he said. ”I didn't hide it. I just hadn't gotten around to showing it to you yet.”
Liz dumped the rest of her tea into the sink, rinsed it, and set it on top of the dirty pile of dishes.
”And why not?”
”Because of the house,” he said. He was beginning to regret mentioning the book. It didn't seem Liz had read that chapter, after all.
”What about the house?” she asked.
He turned back to the living room and leaned back on the couch. Liz followed and stood in front of him, staring at him, almost daring him to answer.
”The house,” he said. ”The book is all about weird c.r.a.p that's happened in Angel Hill since the town was founded. There's a chapter in there about our house. Apparently some guy a few years back killed his kids and himself up on the third floor.”
Liz's mouth dropped.
”Oh, my G.o.d,” she said. ”You mean you knew about that and we moved here anyway?”
”No,” he said, leaning toward her. ”I swear, I didn't know a thing about it. I didn't find out until we moved here. Then Charley mentioned this book to me and, honestly, I didn't have any intention of getting it. I don't even know why I did. But I didn't find out about the house until weeks after we'd been living here.”
”And you didn't think this information was the least bit important to the person who's stuck here all day by herself?”
”No,” he said. ”It's not that. But I knew it would freak you out. I mean, come on, Liz, people die all the time. You think every house that anyone has ever died in is haunted? That'd be almost every house anywhere. There was no point in getting you all freaked out--like you're getting now, I'd like to add--over something that happened years ago.”
Liz sat in the chair across from him, listening, but not looking at him.
”You should read about some of the c.r.a.p that's gone on in this town. It's so crazy, I can't even accept most of it. I keep arguing the logic behind it all with Charley at work, but he insists it's all true. But true or not that someone killed himself in our house, that doesn't make it haunted.”
”You're right,” she said. ”That doesn't make it haunted. But the footsteps, and the voices, and all the other s.h.i.+t I've heard around this place, that does make it haunted.”
”Houses make noise,” he said.
”f.u.c.k you, all right? I think I know the difference between a house settling and a voice calling my name.” She stopped, closed her eyes, and took a breath. After a second, she continued. ”You don't have to believe me--I never thought you would anyway. I only told you now because you think I broke your stupid door and I know I didn't. You need an explanation for it, and that's the one I'm giving you because that's the only one I've got.”