A Haunting of Words

by Brian Paone et al.

  “Later, babe. We’ll go out after Daddy comes.”

  “Can we swim, then?” Jimmy had the loveliest pout, and she was putty in his hands.

  The June air was still chilly, but Jimmy had been begging for a swim for days. Cheryl opened the pool gate and squatted beside the pool. Rob had ordered a dozen six-foot circular solar blankets guaranteed to warm the water, but so far, the sun had been too weak. She flipped over one blanket and dipped her fingers in the water.

  “Still cold, hon.”

  Another week of warm sunny days was sure to do the trick.

  The phone rang. Cheryl hoped it was Rob and ran inside to answer it. Jimmy followed her to the brick patio and knocked on the glass double doors. “Come out, Mommy. I miss you!”

  She smiled at him and waved. The call was from her college roommate, Amanda. She was coming to LA on a business trip and wanted to catch up.

  Amanda had never married. She had a successful career as a hospital administrator in Arizona. Since Rob had been working late for days, Cheryl craved company.

  They chatted for a minute as Cheryl looked out the patio door and saw Jimmy playing the fool in the backyard, flexing his knotty little biceps.

  He shouted, “Look at me, Mommy! I’m Superman!”

  Cheryl grinned at the enormous shadow his tiny body cast on the lawn in the slanting afternoon sun. She nodded at him.

  He asked, “Play hide and seek?”

  She covered the mouthpiece and said, “Yeah! You go hide. I’ll be right out.” After giving Amanda the address, Cheryl hung up and went outside. “Jimmy! I’m coming to find you!”

  A giggle usually gave him away, but there was no response. He must be hiding behind the massive gardenia bush, his favorite hiding place. She crept up to the bush but didn’t see him. For a moment, her heart stopped. Where was he? Then she told herself to stop worrying. Rob was right. Why did she always expect the worst?

  She looked behind the detached garage, his second favorite hiding place. Then she noticed the pool gate. When the phone rang, she had left in a hurry and forgotten to close the gate. Could Jimmy … ?

  She sprinted to the gate, calling his name. “Jimmy! Baby, where are you?”

  The solar blanket was pushed aside, a small pool of water on top of it reflecting the fluffy clouds above. A few ripples distorted the view of the tiled pool bottom.

  Blood drained from her body and her knees buckled. “Jimmy!”

  She tugged at the blanket and saw him trapped below, his blond hair swirling around his head like a halo. He wasn’t moving. Cheryl jumped into the pool, the ice-cold water piercing her skin like a million needles. She dragged Jimmy to the edge, hauled him over, and got out. His body was limp and cold.

  “No! No! No!”

  Shaking with racking sobs, she started CPR. She pinched his nose, blew into his mouth, and compressed his tiny chest as she’d learnt at the Red Cross. She heard the ominous sound of a rib crack. But Jimmy didn’t take a breath. He didn’t cough. He didn’t wake up. His eyes were half-open, the blues reflecting the heavens above.

  She ran inside and called 9-1-1. Then she went back and continued CPR, trying to pump oxygen into his lifeless cyanotic form.

  The coroner called it an accident. Jimmy must have fallen into the pool when he ran to hide behind the deckchair inside the pool enclosure. He was trapped under the six-foot solar blanket for all of five minutes. Five minutes for which she would trade her own life. The five minutes that changed everything.

  When she and Rob had bought the house, Cheryl got the pool fence installed for safety. She’d been a swimming champion in high school and had sworn to teach Jimmy how to swim this summer. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Inconsolable, she had begged the police to take her away, lock her up for good. She was a terrible mother. Who leaves a child unattended for five minutes? She was cold and wet, sobbing and screaming to deaf ears. Why wouldn’t the police arrest her? Instead, the woman police officer wrapped a blanket around her as a paramedic gave her a sedative.

  They called it a terrible tragedy. Cheryl was not arrested for negligence or child endangerment. But something inside her broke that day. She was never the same again.

  Autumn reddened the maple trees lining the street, carpeting the sidewalks with golden foliage. Days were still warm, but the nights turned cool. It had been four months since Jimmy passed, and Cheryl had tried her best to avoid seeing a therapist to deal with her sorrow.

  Jimmy’s absence was a living, breathing entity, haunting Cheryl and plaguing her with guilt and regret. She had torn up her chapter on potty training; anything to do with childcare was a farce.

  Guilt imprisoned her in its vice-like grip, draining her blood, drop by treacherous drop, until she was but a shell, cold and blue on the inside. Her heart, shredded by grief and agony, could hold no more love. Her marriage teetered on the verge of collapse.

  She returned from her part-time job in the local supermarket where she spent four hours a day running inventory and manning the cash register. As an employee, she got a twenty-percent discount on everything.

  She opened the front door and brought her groceries inside. The house was a single story Spanish-style with beige walls and a red tiled roof. A white picket fence with merry white roses rimmed the front yard. She and Rob had dreamed of bringing up a lovely family here.

  Dropping her keys on the coffee table, she took the grocery bags into the kitchen. Then she took out the all-purpose flour and a mixing bowl. She whisked three eggs in the bowl, added sugar, molten butter, vanilla extract, baking powder, flour, and lastly, the baking chocolate.

  She baked Jimmy’s favorite cake for thirty-five minutes as she sat at the dining table and looked through the glass patio door into the backyard, imagining a happy little boy playing outside, casting Superman shadows on the lawn. But the sun blazed on the neglected browning grass. Not a bird twittered.

  The oven dinged as the aroma of chocolate wafted through the house. She wore oven mitts and took out the perfectly baked birthday cake and left it to cool on the kitchen counter.

  After a shower, she changed into a nice dress and decided to wait for Rob before cutting the cake. Once it was cool to the touch, she added the frosting and wrote in her best cursive: Happy Birthday, Jimmy. Then she pierced it with four candles and waited for Rob, a glass of wine in her hand.

  The sky darkened outside as she refilled her glass, and another. Finally, she fell asleep on the couch. When Rob opened the door, she woke up with a start, her head throbbing, her mind muddled from the wine.

  “Ready for dinner?” she asked as she staggered to her feet and banged her knee into the coffee table.

  Rob nodded and followed her into the kitchen. That’s when he saw the cake. She hadn’t told him about it and was utterly unprepared for his reaction.

  He clenched his fists, and a vein throbbed on his forehead. “What the heck’s wrong with you?”

  Her eyes widened. “It’s his birthday, Rob.”

  “You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. And to me.”

  “I … I don’t understand.”

  He grabbed her by her arms and shook her. “Cheryl. This is the last time I’m telling you. Jimmy’s gone. He died. Because of you. Do you understand?”

  A massive sob escaped her lips. “I’m sorry! I tried my best!”

  “That’s the problem! Your best isn’t enough. You let our only child drown. Can’t you see? I can’t live like this anymore. I’ve been thinking long and hard, but I cannot forgive you. I’m really sorry … I’m leaving.”

  Rob left that night, leaving a rent in her heart that nothing could fix.

  Alone in the kitchen, Cheryl sobbed over the cake. The words, Happy Birthday, Jimmy, seemed to mock her. Jimmy was never coming back. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t celebrate the four wonderful years of his life. She lit the candles, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  A blast sounded outside, startling her, as the house plunged int
o darkness, save for the glimmering light from the four little candles. A transformer must have blown. The house suddenly felt cold and loveless. Despite the closed patio door, she felt a breeze wash over her as goosebumps rose on her arms.

  That’s when she heard a soft voice.

  “I’m five years old, Mommy.”

  Cheryl gasped and turned toward the patio door, her hands trembling.

  Jimmy was standing with his hands in his pockets. Even in the dim light she could discern the blue-and-white-striped T-shirt, the same one he was wearing that fateful day. How could this be? Was her mind playing tricks on her? Had it all been a bad dream and Jimmy was really here? She wished she hadn’t drunk so much wine. She blinked twice.

  Something was strange about his eyes. His gaze penetrated her body, as if he was looking right through her.

  I’m going insane!

  She rubbed her eyes and looked at the door again. He was still there. He looked neither happy nor sad. Just a wistful look in his eyes, his shoulders hunched.

  She whispered, “Oh my God, Jimmy!” Her knees buckled and she clutched the edge of the table for support. Her blood turned to ice.

  “I miss you, Mommy!” His eyes were bright blue, glistening in the light of the candles, his body bright against the dark outside.

  She stood rooted to the spot, trembling.

  He crept closer. “Light one more candle, Mommy.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck pricked as she turned away from him and walked to the cabinet, her body shaking unbearably. She pulled out another candle, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t imagined it all.

  But he was watching her.

  Her breath came short and raspy, and her hands shook as she tried to light the fifth candle using one of the others on the cake. But the candle would not light. As a pool of wax formed on the frosting, ruining the cake, the flame singed her finger. She threw the candle down. Why wouldn’t the damn thing light? She sobbed and glanced at the patio door.

  Jimmy was gone.

  She opened the double doors and ran to the patio. “No! Jimmy! Come back! I’ll light another one.”

  But it was pitch dark outside. And still. Did she imagine a movement near the pool? She squinted at the pool as the lights turned on again with a thrum.

  Back inside, she locked the double doors, blew out the candles, and threw the cake in the trash.

  Only after four months of terror and tears had Cheryl made her first appointment with Dr. Raddick. But she hadn’t taken the pills the doctor prescribed. Her migraines had worsened. Barometric headaches, someone told her. A storm had drenched the town, and the streets sparkled with pools of rainwater.

  Cheryl was back for her follow-up appointment, struggling to find a way to tell the doctor why she was really here. A goldfish bowl stood on the desk with a single fish swimming round and round in calming circles. Cheryl hadn’t noticed it before.

  “New fish?”

  Dr. Raddick said, “Yeah. A patient gave it to me. He said watching it gave him peace and may help others. How are you doing? Did the medicines help you sleep?”

  “Not really. I miss my son.”

  Dr. Raddick looked up. “Is he with your husband?”

  Cheryl shook her head, twirling the hem of her skirt, her palms sweating. Tell her the truth.

  Dr. Raddick said, “Where is he?”

  Cheryl felt tears sting her eyes as she realized she couldn’t hide it anymore. “He’s gone. He’s dead. And it’s my fault.”

  Dr. Raddick frowned and picked up a pen from the desk. “When did this happen?”

  “Eight months, twenty-two days, and fifteen hours ago.”

  Dr. Raddick’s mouth fell open, and Cheryl wondered if she should have told her during her first appointment. The doctor noted something in her chart. “What happened?”

  Cheryl told her how she found her son’s body. “I never imagined he’d go near the pool. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go by himself. He didn’t know how to swim … I tried everything …”

  “I’m so sorry. After a devastating loss like that, it takes time to recover. Did you get any grief counseling?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t like therapy, Dr. Raddick. I got books from the library. I know all the stages. Denial, anger, bargaining … blah, blah. But … but that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here?”

  Cheryl looked up at Dr. Raddick’s blue eyes, eyes that reminded her of Jimmy. “I didn’t tell you everything before. I um … I can see him.”

  Dr. Raddick folded her hands on her lap. “Him?”

  “My son. He waves to me from the patio door. Tells me he misses me. Dr. Raddick, I know he’s dead. But he’s still here. I … I need to make sure it’s not my imagination.”

  Dr. Raddick said, “When did you see your son? Like a vision? Dream?”

  “Just this morning. He looked so real. He was wearing his blue-and-white-striped T-shirt and blue shorts. As always. The sun glinted off his blond hair. He was smiling at me from the patio door. I tried to blink him away, but he said he misses me.”

  “Just once?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “Almost every day since his birthday. The day Rob threw a fit and left.”

  “Did Rob hurt you?”

  “No, he’d never do that.”

  “Go on.”

  “Rob said I’m crazy. He blames me for Jimmy. He just left. He didn’t even pack a suitcase.” She told Dr. Raddick how she’d seen Jimmy for the first time. “I’d been drinking. I found another candle like he asked, but it just wouldn’t light. I looked again and he was gone.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Almost five months.”

  “Did you tell Rob?”

  Cheryl nodded. “He couldn’t deal with it. He filed for divorce two weeks ago.”

  “Are you sleeping well?”

  Cheryl shook her head. “A couple hours max. What do you think is going on?”

  Dr. Raddick looked at her with kind eyes. “I think you’re still in denial.”

  “No, I went through anger, bargaining, and depression. I experienced such abject sorrow … I was crying all the time. So I must be way past depression. I should be at the acceptance stage.”

  “Cheryl, everyone goes through grief in different ways. Let me give you something stronger for sleep. And for anxiety and to um … stop the hallucinations. See me again after a week.”

  Cheryl hated the medicines. She couldn’t perceive Jimmy anymore and didn’t even know the time of day. Why, she didn’t even know what day it was. She walked around in a fog, making mistakes in the inventory, and giving customers too much change. After a week, her manager forced her to take time off.

  Cheryl stopped the medicines and skipped her appointment with Dr. Raddick.

  She poured herself a glass of wine, although it was early in the afternoon. Just to soothe her screaming nerves.

  “Come play with me, Mommy.”

  Cheryl looked at the patio door, and her heart skipped a beat. There he was in his resplendent glory, solid as flesh and blood. Maybe he was real. Maybe she had found an alternate reality where he hadn’t died. Where she wasn’t guilty. Where she had a hope to be happy.

  When she was a kid, her social worker had said, “If you wish hard enough, maybe it will come true.”

  She gulped down the wine. Then she asked, “Are you for real, Jimmy?”

  “Do I have to be?” he asked, taking a step back.

  Cheryl stepped onto the patio as Jimmy giggled and led her into the backyard. He ran around the pool as she chased him. Laughter filled her backyard once again. She’d never been happier. She chased him around in circles, but try as she might, she never reached him. Cheryl didn’t want to wake up from this blessed dream.

  The doorbell rang and she glanced at the patio, wondering if the spell would break and she would wake up. She pinched herself and winced. She was awake.

  Jimmy’s smile disappeared.

/>   She bent over, hands on her knees, panting. If it was a phone call, she would have let it go to voicemail. “I’ll be right back.”

  He was looking at her with those big blue eyes. Then she noticed something. Jimmy was standing in the exact spot where she’d seen him being Superman, when he was truly with her. In the bright sun, Cheryl’s own body cast a sharp shadow on the grass. Jimmy didn’t have one.

  The doorbell rang again, urgently this time, and she took a step toward the house.

  “I miss you, Mommy,” he said.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, in two minds. Maybe this is a dream. Then she heard the splash. She turned to look, but Jimmy had jumped into the pool and disappeared.

  Without a ripple.

  Jimmy did not visit for a few weeks. As if he was punishing her for answering the door. It wasn’t even important. Just some salesman pushing a new fiber optic internet service. Once again, she’d allowed the trivial to take priority over what was important.

  But hope forced her to spend all day in the dining room, watching the patio door. She cooked box after box of mac-andcheese, not eating any of it. The whole house smelled of cheese, as she hoped the aroma would entice him inside the house.

  Cold wind blew the last fall leaves into the backyard as winter set in. She heard a rustling sound outside and decided to check yet one more time.

  She stepped into the patio and called, “Jimmy! Are you there?”

  There was no sound. The air was thick as soup.

  Cheryl shivered and pulled her sweater closer. “Jimmy! I’m here for you, baby! Come out!”

  But it was quiet.

  She went back inside, changed into a bathing suit, and came out shivering as she stood beside the pool and waited for him to appear.

  A faint voice called, “I miss you Mommy.” It came directly from the pool, but she didn’t see him.

  She jumped in. The water was icy cold, just like the fateful day when she’d pulled him out of the pool ten months ago. Holding her breath, she swam to the bottom and looked around, brushing the tiled floor with her fingers. The sun’s rays penetrated the depths, sending glowing, gliding circles on the bottom, outlining the shadow of her slender form. But she was alone. When her breath couldn’t hold any longer, she came out of the pool, quivering and disappointed. Her teeth chattered as she dried her hair in the backyard.