by Aly Noble
He noticed that I was eying him and eyed me back.
I grimaced in return before looking at the water bottle in my hand and heading for the kitchen. I half-expected there to be something to see inside the plastic vessel when I unscrewed the lid, but it was still just water—it sloshed demurely, lit by the sunlight filtering past the plastic across the window above the sink.
“What’s up?”
I startled out of my reverie, throwing an accusing look at Jonah, who was leaning against the counter directly beside me and craning his head to see inside the bottle. I got a look at the top of his head for the first time, and there was a gnarly, spidery mark across his crown—it was like someone had bashed his head in. Maybe that’s how he died.
“Well?” he persisted, and I moved my gaze back to his eyes before he noticed I was staring at his head.
“I was running yesterday,” I explained, frowning back at the bottle, “and I took a drink, but my water tasted like blood.”
His brow arched. “Bite your cheek?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No—and when I spit it out, it was red. But it’s just water in here.”
“You’re sure you didn’t bite your cheek? Your tongue?” he insisted. “Internal bleeding?”
“Ugh, don’t freak me out,” I grumbled. “Besides, I think I’d know. In fact, I’d be dead by now. It happened over twenty-four hours ago.”
He nodded. “Weird,” was all he said as he hooked a finger in the rim of the bottle and tipped it toward his face, glancing over the interior before leaning away with disinterest.
“No suggestions? Ideas? I’m not being ghosted again, am I?”
Jonah shook his head. “No, you’re not being ‘ghosted.’ I would know.”
“And I should trust you when you didn’t notify me the first time?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s ultimately up to you. But there’s not another ghost in your house.”
“And the first one is definitely gone?”
“Yes. She's gone.”
I frowned, nibbling the inside of my lip before nodding. “Okay.” He measured me with a glance before leaving the kitchen. I watched him go before adding, “Windows are getting fixed.”
A sardonic “thank god” came from the living room.
• • •
It crossed my mind as I was swirling temporary dye in a plastic pot that the chemical smell of the hair product shouldn't necessarily comfort me. Regardless, it did, and I could only assume it was because the pinchy scent took me back to my adolescence—when dyeing my hair was the most reckless thing I did.
I ran the brush through the dye before plucking a foil strip off the counter. “And you’re sure you want purple?” I confirmed with the little girl practically bouncing on the closed toilet.
“Uh-huh,” Bethaline insisted, emphasizing her answer with a nod. “Then we can match!”
I smiled as I settled in on the edge of the tub. “You’ve thought this through really well—that's good,”" I complimented her. “Is a strip right here okay?”
She started to nod her head after I sectioned off a hank of her hair, but then thought better of it and verbally acquiesced instead so she could stay still for me. Axil was utterly at ease in his carrier on the floor nearby, watching us with wide, but relaxed green eyes as he sucked on his pacifier.
I started painting dye onto the strip we’d decided on, almost sad to be coloring her baby-soft, entirely undamaged hair even though the dye I’d bought wouldn't hurt it a bit. I meticulously covered the entire lock up to the roots until I'd used every drop of the tiny pot of dye, then I occupied myself with keeping my hand steady under the gloppy purple foil while the product did its job.
“How long does it take?” she asked and I almost groaned, knowing this would be like an “Are we there yet?” style car ride.
“Fifteen minutes,” I replied, getting comfortable. “You comfy?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, swinging her legs a little as I tried to keep my hand steady and in place. “Where’s Jonah?”
It still unnerved me some that she could see him and knew him by name. “I don’t know. I saw him earlier, but then he disappeared.”
“Are you friends?” Bethaline asked hopefully.
I eyed her before replying, “Sure.”
“That’s good,” she said. “He needs friends.”
I smiled a little and stretched my wrist. “Yeah?”
“He was here by himself a lot,” she told me. “Before you lived here. It was sad. And Mama didn’t like me coming out here by myself.”
“Because of Jonah?” I asked.
“No, she doesn’t think Jonah’s real. She told me not to go by the river.”
“Oh, yeah,” I murmured. “That’s good advice.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It doesn’t look like much.”
That made me laugh. “No, but that’s what makes it dangerous. It’s easy to slip on wet rocks and hurt yourself. Or to fall in.”
“Have you been there yet?”
I was ready to answer her until I realized the “yes” I’d been about to deliver was inaccurate. Amidst everything else that had been happening, I hadn’t actually explored much of the grounds outside my property. “No, I haven’t.”
She nodded knowingly. “It doesn’t look like much,” she said again as if assuring me that I wasn’t missing anything.
“If it's not much, why play there?”
“I saw Jonah there one time and that made it interesting,” she divulged. “But mostly because I like the way it sounds. And there are treasures in it sometimes like pretty rocks.” She paused a beat before adding, “Plus, Mama told me not to go there before I wanted to go. I didn’t know why.”
“She worries. Moms do that,” I said, thinking about my own mom.
“Especially my mom,” Bethaline said emphatically.
I smirked. “And we're done,” I said, carefully standing. “Come over here, I'll wash the extra dye off.”
She proceeded to start bouncing again, her excitement contagious as I rinsed out the strand of hair, peeled the foil away, blew it dry, and placed it amongst the rest of her hair. I picked her up so she could look in the mirror.
The look on her face made the impending carpal tunnel worth it. “I love it,” she said in awe, touching the purple in her hair as if she wasn't sure it was real.
“Good,” I laughed softly, setting her down and picking up the baby carrier. “Now how about some dinner?”
“Yes, please!” Bethaline replied, holding her hair in front of her face to stare at it. “I’m starving to death!”
“Same,” I admitted. “Let’s just—”
My phone started ringing then, and I carefully juggled the carrier to free a hand to dig it from my back pocket. Once I finally maneuvered it out, I answered the call. When I scouted out and selected the button for the audio to go to speaker mode, I saw the screen read “Unknown Caller” again.
I doubted I’d hear anything back, but I still answered. When I was once again met with silence on the other end, I mumbled, “I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling—you can take my name off your list,” and hung up.
“How did you know someone was there?" Bethaline asked.
“I don't really. But in case there was someone there, I at least tried to get my point across. Right?”
She nodded. “Right. My daddy hates those calls.”
“Your daddy and I have that in common,” I remarked as we stepped out of the guest bathroom and worked our way to the hall. “How does macaroni-and-cheese sound?”
“It’s my favorite!” Bethaline squealed delightedly.
“Great, we’ll get it started,” I replied with a smile as we entered the kitchen and I set Axil’s chariot on the counter. “Are you hungry, too, baby?” Axil made a bubbly cooing sound in response that went straight to my ovaries.
I filled up two pots with water—one for the macaroni and the other with scalding hot
water to warm up a bottle. I ran a hand through my hair and turned around to ask Bethaline if she wanted to watch TV—only the words died in my throat when I saw she wasn't there.
My brain defaulted to a steady stream of excuses. That stream transitioned into curses after I peeked around the counter and realized she really wasn’t in the kitchen. I looked at Axil and then at the doorway, deliberating whether or not to uproot him from his carrier just so I wouldn't have to worry about something outlandish happening to him. You're dealing with pure paranoia right now, I told myself. He's fine. She's fine. You're all fine.
“Bethaline?” I inquired down the hall.
No answer.
It didn't surprise me so much that she didn't respond—I supposed what surprised me more was that I wasn't hearing any noise from her at all.
I started to get uncomfortable and decided if something was up, it was better for Axil to not be in my arms and to continue fussing in the bright, undisturbed kitchen. At least while I was in the vicinity.
“Beth?” I tried again, less confidently this time as I tried the other doorway to the living room, rounding the jamb to peer past the wall. “Bethaline, where are you?”
I was starting to get a little pissed rather than uncomfortable—even though she was just a kid doing kid things probably, this wasn't funny.
“Bethaline, come on,” I said with a little more bite in my tone. I tiptoed into the living room and thought I heard a scuffle near the couch. I took one long step to the side and whirled around the back of the couch with an exclamatory, “Gotcha!”
But, frankly, I didn't “get” anything. Or anyone. I'd imagined the noise apparently because Bethaline wasn't there.
I chewed on my lip and straightened up, my hands cupping against my hips. “Huh,” I murmured under my breath. I raised my volume. “Bethaline?”
I heard a soft noise on the stairs.
After waiting a beat to see if she came down, I peeked my head into the kitchen. Axil was idly waving his chubby arms as if nothing were amiss. I told myself it'd be okay to leave him down here for a moment or two while I scouted out where his sister had run off to, but anxiety got the better of me and I went to get him from his carrier.
“We're gonna go find your sister,” I murmured in a voice that sounded more upbeat than I felt. I would have been lying if I didn’t note that some of my motivation for taking the baby with me was because I was nervous.
Axil jabbered as babies do while I moved down the hall and turned the corner at the staircase, measuring the visible space at the top before starting to climb. I reached over to flip the switch for the lights in the upstairs hallway as I passed it, but they didn’t turn on. I tried turning it off and on again as Axil tried to grip a hank of my hair, but to no avail—at least, my venture was to no avail. Axil, on the other hand, was riding a strong wave of success.
“Ow,” I griped as my head was yanked to the side. After I’d extracted my hair from his tiny hand, I reprimanded him in my most babyish voice—which really wasn't much of a reprimand, but it wasn’t as if he’d understand me if I tried—and walked up the rest of the stairs.
I looked down both ends of the dark hallway once we were at the top, immediately stepping away from the top step. If anxiety had any upsides, it was usually being mentally ahead of the danger. My brain took one-way trips to worst-case scenarios and anything less that manifested was good fortune.
Axil had gone quiet and stared blankly toward my bedroom door. More worst-case scenarios budded in my gray matter. “See something?” I whispered. Instead of answering me, he tapped my collarbone with his open hand three times in an arrhythmical pattern. “Unsettling, but valid,” I mumbled, adjusting my hold on him as I made my way toward the door.
As we got closer, I noticed the door was ajar. I couldn't quite remember if I’d left it that way or not. I nudged it open with my foot and tried the light switch inside—no luck. That’s the real horror story of this house... The shoddy electricity.
It simultaneously amazed and concerned me that I could joke about this house after everything that had happened. It was probably the worst type of fate-based temptation, but how else was I supposed to cope?
Therapy, an internal voice that sounded eerily like my mother’s replied.
Too expensive, a voice that sounded more like mine countered flippantly.
I tried the switch one more time before walking into the dark room, scouting out my flashlight for some temporary illumination. I reached unseeingly forward to fumble around once I neared my desk. When I expected my hand to meet cool metal, I touched something else instead.
Something that felt like human hair.
I shrieked and yanked my hand away. Seconds later, the lights flickered on and a lightbulb popped its filament down the hall.
Bethaline looked back at me with gray eyes rounded by surprise.
“Oh, goddammit,” I huffed as the breath rushed out of me. My outburst had startled Axil and he wailed in my arms, his fingers coiled in my shirt.
“That’s a bad word,” Bethaline informed me with a frown thinning her lips.
“What are you doing up here in the dark?” I asked her instead, looking around the room.
“I wanted to see my friend,” Bethaline replied, a pinch between her brows. “Is that bad?”
“It’s not bad that you wanted to see him, but you should’ve just told me. I could’ve come with you or at least known where you were before you disappeared on me. You kind of scared me, kiddo.”
“Sorry,” she said. “He didn’t want you to come though.”
Ungrateful ghost, I snarked grumpily to myself. Aloud, I said, “Well, at least give me a head’s up—that means tell me—next time you guys want to chat. Okay?”
“Okay,” Bethaline said softly.
I felt bad for scolding her, even though she needed it and I was having heart palpitations just so she could talk to Jonah, wherever he was. He’d probably ducked out as soon as I screamed and was currently laughing somewhere I couldn’t hear him. “Your hair turned out great,” I pointed out, offering the proverbial olive branch.
That was enough. “I really like it,” she said with a grin.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Good. Let's go downstairs.”
Once I remembered I had water on the stove, I half-ran down to the kitchen, trying to soothe Axil along the way. The pot was bubbling over, and I took it off the burner to let it cool down—in the meantime, I took Axil’s warm bottle out of the other pot to feed him. I had the baby contented and Bethaline seated on the couch with a bowl of macaroni-and-cheese within the next ten minutes, for which—after the tension of the ten minutes before that—I allowed myself to feel accomplished.
When I went back into the kitchen to get Bethaline more juice, I noticed Jonah was perched on the counter next to Axil, who was fast asleep in his carrier. He glanced at me when I walked in. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I replied, glancing at his shoed feet pointedly.
He rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”
I supposed since they were ghost feet, it wouldn't make a difference, but it still bugged me a little. “Not really.” He seemed surprised by that but didn't comment. I set Bethaline's cup on the counter and took the apple juice her mom had brought with them earlier from the fridge. As I poured, I said, “By the way, don’t be creepy like that anymore—got it?”
Jonah regarded me warily. “Creepy like what? This?” He gestured down at his long legs, still folded into a crouch. He kind of reminded me of a tree frog.
“No, don’t be the ‘luring children off by themselves to talk shop’ brand of creepy,” I said, tilting the bottle back and screwing the cap back on.
He played dumb pretty convincingly, but I noticed that he didn't hesitate to excuse himself when Bethaline called to me from the living room, asking if I was talking to Jonah. He disappeared from the counter and was sprawled out on one end of the couch when I went to give Bethaline her juice.
“Thank you,” she
said, kicking her feet as she went back to gluing her eyes to the television where I’d set her up with my copy of The Little Mermaid.
“Careful, don’t spill,” I warned her lightly, glancing at Jonah. He wasn't looking at me—he was watching Bethaline's sloshing juice as if waiting for my half-formed prophecy to come true.
I left the room to clean up the kitchen, carefully taking Axil out of his carrier and bringing him with me when I returned to the living room. I heard my company before I saw them again—Bethaline was explaining the mechanics of merpeople as only a five-year-old could. When I got close to the doorway, I peeked around to see how Jonah was dealing with the babble-stream.
Bethaline was all gestures and animated arm-flinging as she talked about the story, basically spoiling everything that happened before the first twenty minutes of the movie were up. And Jonah was completely focused on what she was saying. Whether it stemmed from actual interest or polite obligation to a child's passions, his gaze remained trained on her face, on her gestures, and his absorption of her words lacked any kind of façade. Regardless of the why, he was giving her every ounce of his attention.
Axil yawned loudly then, and Jonah reflexively looked up at us standing half-inside the doorway. He acknowledged that we were there and then looked back to Bethaline, who hadn't missed a beat at the interruption.
I felt a little strange at being caught lingering, but not enough to play it off. I walked over to the couch and settled in on Bethaline's other side as Axil fell asleep against my chest. For the first time in weeks, I dozed off without preceding anxiety to the sound of Jonah attempting to impress upon Bethaline the ramifications of taking such a shoddy deal from a lady with tentacles.
Chapter 15
Jonah was lying to me about something.
The casual paranoia was gone. At least, as much as it could be after everything that had happened. At least, the casual paranoia about him was gone. He lived in my house, he lurked around, but I felt safer with someone else in the house—even if that someone else was already dead.
