by Hamill, Ike
“What do you hear from the Hoopers?” Vernon asked.
George came through the door and Mary pulled him into a quick hug.
“It’s the Harpers, Vernon. Georgie, go change your shirt, you smell like a commune.”
“It’s my cologne, mom,” George said.
“Yeah, right.”
She turned him towards the stairs and gave him a farewell pat on his back to get him going.
“Well?” Vernon asked. “The Hoopers?”
“Harpers.”
Ricky gave his father a quick shrug and said, “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess?”
“If it’s nothing, why do you have to guess?” Vernon asked.
“They don’t talk, you know? They really prefer not to say anything out loud,” Ricky said. “It’s like a… I don’t know, a superstition they have?”
“Huh,” his father said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “She’s good people. I remember her grandfather. Him, I’m not so sure about.”
“I was going to say the opposite,” his mother said. She took a seat in the booth next to Vernon. “I liked him. She seemed a little distant. I’m not sure this whole thing is such a good idea, anyway. We don’t need to dredge up the past. We’ve been living with it just fine without having to talk about it all the time. What’s the point?”
Ricky knew the question was rhetorical, but he still felt the need to answer.
“I think talking might help you get back to the way things used to be,” Ricky said. “Ten years ago, you guys were very social. Everyone was. There were parties and clubs. There was hardly a Friday in the winter when you weren’t going to one dinner or another, or having people over here.”
“That was when everyone had kids of the same age,” his mother said. “You kids were the glue that held us together. Now that everyone has moved on, we just don’t need to stay so tight. I like the privacy.”
“Do you?” Vernon asked.
She shot her husband a look. To Ricky, it seemed like she was telling Vernon that she didn’t want to be challenged on this topic.
Vernon shut his mouth, so Ricky was the one who had to challenge.
“Mom, you used to thrive with all of your organizations and stuff. The community was tighter back then and it seemed like everyone was happier,” Ricky said. “I want it to be that way when I have kids, but if the community doesn’t heal, it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen here.”
“So you’re threatening me? Go out to dinner more or no grandkids?” his mom asked.
“Ricky,” Vernon said, interrupting the burgeoning argument, “the thing with these Hooper folks…”
“Harpers.”
“…is that you’re right—they’re a bit superstitious. Doesn’t matter how much we want to talk to them if they won’t talk to us.”
“Yeah, I hear you, Dad. I think they will talk. We just might have to put a little distance between the meeting and the town, you know? If we get them out of Kingston, I think they get a lot more comfortable.”
“They picked a funny place to live then,” Mary said. “Where’s your brother?”
“You sent him upstairs to change his shirt.”
“Oh. Right. Go get him, will ya? I want to get moving.”
“Will do,” Ricky said.
# # #
“Get out of there,” Ricky said.
George was rummaging through Ricky’s closet when he finally found him.
“What did you do with those tricks?”
“What are you talking about?” Ricky asked.
“Those old magic tricks that you used to do. Where did you put them? You didn’t throw them away, did you? You sank, like, all of your ice cream money into those things.”
“Actually, I didn’t spend that much. I don’t mess with that stuff. You know that.”
“I’m not talking like demonic possession and stuff,” George said. “I just want to see your old card tricks and stuff. You never would tell me how they were done. I want to get a look at them and see if I can figure things out.”
Ricky sat down on the edge of his old bed. His dog was nosing around near the window. Ricky used to climb out through there and sit on the porch roof when the weather was nice. Tucker put his chin on the sill and looked through. His breath created fog on the glass, ruining the dog’s view.
“Most of the card tricks were done with a regular deck, George. You can’t figure out anything from looking at the deck. It was all sleight of hand.”
“Didn’t you have one deck that was different? I remember because it looked like a regular red deck of Bicycle cards, but up close the logo was different. Were they marked or something? How come you only used them for one trick?”
Ricky smiled. Sometimes, when they were back at home, he still thought of his brother as a little kid—easy to manipulate and deceive. But George was smart—really smart—and his memory was impeccable. He would remember old things that Ricky had done or said back when they were kids and he was able to analyze them again with the eyes of an adult and figure things out.
When Ricky thought about the past, he usually slipped right back into that age. He viewed those memories like he was still a helpless kid.
“Hey,” Ricky said. “You remember when Mom and Dad split up for a couple of days.”
“Of course.”
“And Mom left and Dad was supposed to take care of us?”
“Yup,” George said. He pulled down a box from the top shelf of Ricky’s closet.
“Why do you think they got back together? Was it because we were such a wreck? Did they just agree to get back together until we were both out of the house or something?”
George looked at him and set down the box on the desk. He spun the chair around and sat facing Ricky before he pulled the box into his lap.
“No,” George said. “It wasn’t because of us. I think that they figured out that their problems with each other weren’t their real problems.”
“How so?”
“Well, after that one summer,” George started. That was the way that George always referred to the incident when their world was nearly torn apart by insanity—“That one summer.”
He continued, “They were having a lot of problems feeling safe in the world, you know? When you discover how fragile everything is, and how you’re essentially unable to protect the ones you love, it makes it difficult to sleep at night or go through the motions of daily life.”
“And they blamed their marriage?”
“Yeah. When you suddenly don’t feel safe, I guess it’s natural to blame your partner. To their credit, after just a couple of days apart they came to their senses and Mom moved back in.”
“So it wasn’t just because Dad realized that it was a nightmare to be alone in the house with the two of us.”
George laughed. “Maybe that was a part of it.”
Ricky leaned forward and took a deck of cards from the box on George’s lap.
“But you’re not worried about back then,” George said.
“Sorry?”
“You’re worried about right now. You were concerned that they only stayed together because of us. Now that you’re living on the other side of the creek and I’m off at school, you think they’re moving towards another breakup.”
“No,” Ricky said, looking down at the cards as his hands started to work them. When he was a kid, he never looked at the cards when he worked. His hands knew what to do on their own—everything had to be by touch. If he looked at his hands, they would slow down and he would spot the deception. If he spotted it, then other people would too. But now, he found that his hands couldn’t remember how to move unless he was staring down at them.
“No?” George asked.
Ricky looked up. His brother was studying him.
“That’s not why you tried to start that support group?” George asked. “Your dinner party for survivors of the paranormal thing that you’re trying to get going?”
“George. It’s not like
that. I just wanted to see if I could get Mom and Dad out of the house more and I figured that they would be more comfortable talking to people who had something in common with them.”
“And they can’t talk to the immediate neighbors because?”
George knew the answer. Ricky didn’t like that his brother was prompting him to say it out loud.
“Because some of them blame me for what happened,” Ricky said.
George shook his head.
“Ricky, I know you feel that way, but you have to stop. Nobody blames you. Nobody. Except you, of course. If you would just look with fresh eyes you would see that the only reason that people don’t talk about it is because it scares them. It’s not a matter of blame, it’s a matter of wanting to forget.”
“You should change your major,” Ricky said.
“Why? I’m being perfectly philosophical. What should I change it too?”
“Pre-law. You’re too good of a liar to waste your talents on philosophy.”
“Thanks.”
# # #
After dinner, the brothers cleaned up the kitchen while their parents went off to watch TV. Usually, one of them was reading a book and the other was working on some sort of hobby, but because the TV was on they always called it “watching TV.”
“You want a ride back?” Ricky asked.
“No, I think I’ll stay here. My roommate is having company this weekend and I could use a chance to catch up on some assignments and reading.”
Ricky nodded. Their mother had predicted as much. Somehow just talking to George on the phone she had come to the conclusion that he needed some time away from school to actually do some schoolwork. It turned out that she was right.
“I really studied them at dinner,” George said as he dried a plate. “I think you’re wrong. They’re perfectly happy together right now.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it’s what you meant. Can I draw a rude conclusion?” George asked.
“When has my opinion ever stopped you from being rude?”
George smiled. He put the dry plate away and reached for the next one.
“You’re projecting. Something about that one summer is bothering you recently and it’s making you want to resolve something. What was it?”
Ricky sucked air through his teeth and looked through the window at the woods. They were filling up with snow, just like in that Robert Frost poem. He and Tucker were going to have to slog through it in the morning unless he…
“Ricky?”
“Sorry?”
“I asked why you’ve been so consumed with events that happened years ago.”
Ricky took a breath and let it out slowly as he glanced at the other room. Their mother was too perceptive. Ricky didn’t even want to talk about it when she was only a room away. He was starting to get superstitious just like the Harpers.
“Not here,” Ricky said. “Come to my place after they’ve gone to bed.”
George nodded.
While Ricky washed the bubbles down the drain, George went to the living room and announced his plans.
“I’m staying here this weekend. I want to catch up on some assignments.”
“You want a wakeup call in the morning for the breakfast buffet?” Mary asked.
“Turndown service in your suite?” Vernon added.
“Good night. I’ll be up late writing,” George said. He rolled his eyes as he and Ricky passed.
“What about you? Are you staying at Hotel de los Padres tonight as well?” his father asked.
“I thought me and Tucker would hang out for a bit before I head home.”
“You working this weekend?”
“Nope. Monday night is my next shift.”
“How about some ice fishing tomorrow? We’ll drag George out on the pond.”
“Yeah. I’m in,” Ricky said.
“Don’t count on George,” Mary said. She was still focused on her book even though she was following the conversation. “He has a lot of work to do. I don’t want him distracted.”
Vernon nodded. “Figures. Cat’s in the cradle and the silver spoon, and whatnot.”
“Oh, poor you,” Mary said. “You spent every waking moment with those boys when they were growing up. Don’t pretend like you never got any time with them.”
Vernon kept going like she hadn’t said a word. “One day, he’ll be a famous professor or whatever and they’ll say, ‘You must have had good role models growing up. A father who loved you and took you ice fishing,’ and he’ll say, ‘I honestly don’t remember him.’”
“Oh, please,” Mary said. She made a point of tucking her nose into her book to show that she wasn’t interested in hearing any more of his nonsense.
Ricky picked up the remote control. Neither of his parents were really watching, so he felt it was okay to browse through the channels. Ricky was old enough to really remember when a person had to channel surf in order to pass the time. His brother had always had whatever entertainment he wanted at his fingertips, or so it seemed. It was impossible for people George’s age to really deal with boredom. They had never been subjected to it.
“What was that?” Vernon asked.
“What?” Ricky asked.
“That program about bathrooms. Put it back.”
“It was just a long commercial, Dad. They talk for thirty minutes about bathroom trends but then you find out they’re just trying to sell their tub inserts or whatever.”
“Well, put it back. I need to get some ideas.”
Ricky sighed and changed the channel back. He should have known—nobody cared about what was on until Ricky tried to find something more interesting. His father stopped focusing on his crossword puzzle and was now glued to the infomercial.
“Those are the kind of tiles I was thinking,” Vernon said.
Ricky watched for ten minutes and then saw that the next show was going to be more of the same. His father would want to watch that as well.
“I’m going to head home,” Ricky said. “I’ll see you in the morning for fishing.”
In response, he got a nod from his father and a wave from his mother. Tucker led the way to the car and waited at the rear door.
“You know, since we’re coming back in the morning, maybe we should walk home.”
The dog danced in a tight circle. He would have been happy no matter what Ricky said.
“You want to do that?”
The moment Ricky started to turn, Tucker sprinted off towards the trail and leapt over the snow bank. Ricky followed more slowly. He never shoveled the path between his house and his parents’. He and tucker just stomped down a path as the winter wore on. This winter, they had already had a few good warm days, so the snow was shallow and hard. Here and there along the path, it had little side trails that Tucker blazed in order to check out an interesting smell. Ricky turned back to look at the house that he grew up in before they started down the hill.
The house sat in a circle of warm yellow light, spilling from the windows. Upstairs, George’s light was on. That was nice to see. His brother was visiting less and less. It wouldn’t be long before he moved far away to find his place in the larger world. That was the problem with sticking around in rural Maine—all of the interesting people got out of high school and decided to go explore the world. None of them ever came back. The friends that Ricky still had around were not his best friends, they were just the people who didn’t seem to have any ambition.
“I’m projecting again,” Ricky said to himself as he looked at George’s window.
# # #
By the time his brother let himself in, Ricky had forgotten that he had invited George over.
“That path is treacherous,” George said. “I almost fell in the creek.”
He took off his coat, tossed it on a chair, and then bent over to pull off his boots.
“Hey, George. Did you finish your writing?”
“Mostly,” George said. He kept his scarf on. Ricky couldn�
�t tell if he was wearing it because he was cold or because it was a fashion statement. Compared to their parents’ house, Ricky’s little cabin was toasty warm from the wood stove, so it was probably a fashion statement. Ricky almost told George to take it off and then decided that critiquing his brother’s wardrobe would probably sour the rest of the conversation.
“Well? What was so important that you couldn’t tell me at home?”
Tucker finally woke from his dream and went to put his head in George’s lap.
“So… Jennifer and Aaron’s wedding,” Ricky started.
George shook his head and swallowed hard. “So awful.”
“Yeah. There was some stuff that I didn’t tell you about.”
“I knew you were holding out. When we were at that vigil for…”
Ricky put up a hand to stop his brother. “Listen. I lost friends, and this is difficult for me to talk about, so just listen.”
Ricky started to tell the story.
The day had started out with such joy—watching Aaron and Jennifer get married and then a beautiful reception back at the hotel. Then, while Ricky was getting ready for bed, horrible things had happened to his friends.
By the time he got involved that night, everything was already too insane to comprehend, so he pieced together the narrative from before Nick had contacted him in his hotel room. It all started with one missing friend and the terrible choices they made when they went to look for him. Ricky couldn’t help but blame himself.
“Why?” George asked.
“Because I should have taken things more seriously. I had no business walking around through those woods near the train tracks.”
“But you found him. You brought him back. It sounds like the hospital was to blame for not keeping track of Riley.”
“You haven’t heard half of the story yet,” Ricky said. He told his brother how the creatures had systematically invaded the hotel, picking off victims from the people staying there.
Ricky didn’t have to convince his brother that he wasn’t lying or simply crazy when he talked about the weird monsters. The brothers had been through another bizarre tragedy years before. They would never doubt each other, regardless of how unlikely the story.
