Well, yeah, if you put it that way.
“Son, you need to fight it. You need to think about the future. Son, do you hear me?! You need to be strong. I know you can be strong.”
He’s shaking me and it’s making me dizzy.
Tell him to stop.
“Dad,” I start, “you won’t want to keep shaking me or else I’ll…”
Were those your words or mine?
A little of both.
Well, it worked. Dad’s taking a step back. That look on his face, he’s so damn worried.
Would you like to know how your dad’s going to die?
Die due to worry?
Your dad will remarry after the passing of your mother. Your dad will attempt to move on, but his attempts will ultimately fail to render anything but guilt from the fact that he had spent much of their marriage running away from intimacy. Your dad will find himself alone one night, unable to free himself from the thoughts dealing with your mom’s death. He’ll die much like so many have done before, a deadbeat with dull eyes staring blankly at the TV.
You just made me depressed.
I apologize.
It’s okay. I mean, I guess it’ll be hard for Dad, but he kind of ran away from things.
Indeed.
Dad’s shouting at Mom right now. He’s telling her that I’m in need of help and that this can’t wait. Mom’s not saying anything though. I don’t know what’s going on. See, they are the ones who are crazy.
Perfect example of hysterical.
That’s probably it, but they’re doing it to themselves.
Becca agrees with my dad. “He needs help. Like right now.”
Oh, is that so? And she’s the one who’s going to do that? After years of being treated like a child, she’s trying to get back in and stay. You know what? I’ll run with it. I’ll say, Fine, then make it happen. Fix me. I apparently need a lot of fixing.
“Then help me.” Just… help me.
Dad shakes his head. “I’m trying to but you have to let us.”
“I just did. Help me. Right now. Help me.”
What can they really do?
Mom in tears, Becca pretending to be concerned and afraid, Dad being suddenly a caring, loving father… it’s all so ridiculous.
They can’t do anything, you know? They are all just afraid.
“You’re going to what, call a priest?”
Becca says, “We’ve called Father Albert who told us to call Father Andrew. We left a message.”
“Left a message.”
Hope they caught the sarcasm.
Becca frowns. “Hunter…” It’s how she says my name that makes it sound like she’s really saying something like, Don’t be stupid.
I’m really not. It’s just the situation, you know?
Would you like me to step in?
Actually, no, I think I have this.
Perhaps then you’d like to know how Becca dies.
Tell me. Does she drop dead right now?
Rebecca Mazarin will graduate with honors and pursue a second degree in literature. Mazarin will spend most of her twenties single and focused on her work. She will meet a man she will marry. Three months after their engagement, Mazarin and her fiancé will drive home from a party drunk and will be involved in a car accident. Though not fatal, Mazarin had been in the front passenger seat without a fastened seat belt. The collision will result in her falling into a coma. The fiancé and Mazarin’s relatives will choose to pull the plug after failing to regain consciousness for ten months. Mazarin will have been thirty-five that year.
So you know all this how?
It is information. Information can be procured without too much trouble.
I guess. It’s crazy and wild that you can know the future.
It isn’t the future. It is a person’s life.
Okay. Then tell me if Father Andrew’s actually going to call back.
Indeed he will.
Dad starts crying too. “Son, I can’t believe you didn’t turn to us…”
Becca says, “He’s going through a lot. He is being influenced by the demon. That’s what Father Albert told me.”
Mother chimes in: “What happens if we can’t help him?”
Becca shrugs. “I… don’t know.”
Everyone looks at me.
They’re afraid.
Yes. They assume you’ll become a danger to them.
I’m just going to nod and smile.
Mom starts bawling again.
I say something like, “Tell her to stop crying. It won’t fix anything.”
But they react in a way that makes it sound like I told Mom to drop dead or something. It’s like what I’m doing doesn’t match what they see.
Dad sighs. “You play with fire and then you get burned.”
I’m like, “You’re not a poet, Dad.”
Man, this is going nowhere. What’s keeping me from leaving?
You. You haven’t yet left.
Well, let’s leave now.
Yes. Let us.
I need to get the hell out of here.
Let us go.
Where?
Let me lead and you will discover one of the few wonders I am privileged to experience.
I need to start carrying around a dictionary so I can talk better than you.
If I speak, I am using your voice. You are deemed the one that speaks. Therefore, you shouldn’t need a dictionary. I am your dictionary.
You’re right.
I get up and walk right out the door. It’s as easy as that and I don’t know why I never thought about it. They yell after me. Dad tries to grab hold of me like I’m about to do something really bad. But pushing him aside is actually easy. I guess you helped with that.
He fell down. He’s probably fine. Either way…
This time we’re driving. No walking a billion miles.
I mean, I don’t even really need to go back home. There’s nothing left for me there. I don’t need to, but at the same time, home calls to me. It’s something that tends to spiral around like a command: Go home, you’re drunk. You know? That kind of thing.
Indeed.
So you’re telling me to park two blocks away?
You do not want anyone to notice your vehicle.
Yeah, but this is actually kind of crazy, what we’re doing. Even if it’s someone we know; it’s still out of this world.
This is what I do. Yet now I have you. It affords some new possibilities.
Can’t believe I’m about to haunt Blaire.
Blaire is an interesting individual.
I’ve known her since grade school. We go way back. Like everyone else, she’s the one that stuck around. I definitely didn’t make a point to keep in touch. But even so, she’s a friend, I think. She definitely cares about what’s happening to me. If she’s really a friend, she’ll know that you’re here.
Would you allow me to be the one that speaks?
Yeah, that’s cool. How are we going to, you know?
It will begin by maintaining distance. Look to see whether a back door is capable of being opened. Typically I muster up the courage by simply manifesting near where I’ve been wanted.
You can’t just go somewhere?
It does not exist without there being first a phrase, a notice of some sort.
Yeah, we can get in through the back patio door.
Listen carefully. You make a sound, then you must be quiet.
I am.
Upstairs, second door on the left.
I thought we were going to haunt the place up.
I would like to speak to Blaire first.
Okay.
I knock on the door.
Okay. The door’s opening…
“Hunter, what are you doing here?”
Let me talk.
Yeah, then talk… you’re not talking. She’s looking at me weird!
“Hey, I needed to get away from things.”
Blaire bites her lower lip. “And you chose me?”
“We’re friends. Where else would I go?”
Blaire opens the door all the way, and I notice that she’s in a nightgown. What time is it, anyway? It’s all the same day since this really started. It’s like I don’t even sleep anymore.