“And did I hear dissension in yours?” I asked, continuing up the stairs. “Are you gearing up to give me a tongue-lashing? You’re so unpredictable!”
“Get your ass over here.”
“I really need to—”
“Now!”
I let out an even breath and did my best to quell the anger that stewed inside me. I made my way down the stairs. “Yes, mother, how can I help you?”
“Retire the attitude, child. The thumping in the walls has been interrupting my talk shows. I asked Noelle, and she texted back that you planned to look into it. I’d like a full report.”
Chills racked my body. “It happened this afternoon?” Dammit! I looked into the kitchen. Had they been louder than last night? Or did they elicit noise with the same intensity?
“Don’t pretend you’re paralyzed. Your mouth is open, so let some words tumble out.”
I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t blink or breathe. All because one thought struck me motionless: could a ghost make such a racket? Sure, it may have pulled the blanket from my grasp, a task that escaped logic because an apparition had no mass, which should have made that an impossible endeavor, so if that seemed impossible, how could a spirit produce such a heavy thump? I needed to look into the subject to have a better idea of what I was potentially dealing with.
“You can be a real irritant,” my mother said. “Now can you explain why it’s acceptable to lift a hammer to help others, but when we need your assistance, you won’t use it?”
Discussion of a more mundane topic penetrated my thoughts, distracting me. I took in a breath and tried to settle my heartbeat.
“For a moment, I thought you’d gone catatonic! Now that you’ve returned from the ether, please commence with your report.”
As an academic, my mother always expected a response approximating that of an essay, so even though I’d speak, rather than write, I needed to give her an update that satisfied her expectations on an academic level. “I discovered a thumping in the walls last night. I investigated the issue this morning. Neither our heating system nor our pipes could have caused the disturbance. A rat may be the culprit.” Based on her interest in the supernatural, I didn’t want to mention the possibility of something otherworldly because it might encourage her to buy another Ouija board.
“A rat?” asked Lilah, sitting up at full attention. “Is that mere speculation? I want a statistical breakdown of the potential certainty that we may have a rat infestation.”
“I said rat, as in one, not plural. Let’s not make this into something it’s not.”
“Rats, like every organism on this planet, can breed. They might have a house full of little bastards scampering across the floorboards in no time. It’s your duty to ascertain whether this may be the problem at hand. Can I count on you to determine the cause of this matter?” Before giving me an opportunity to speak, Lilah said, “If rats are indeed the issue, some of them may be dead. Earlier, the kitchen smelled of rotten meat. If rats are indeed the cause of the knocking, perhaps they’ve been scampering across each other in such a small space, resulting in trouncing on their dead carcasses, which could potentially bring about such a wretched odor.”
Of course, I’d had the same thought…before the blanket incident. “I said I’ll look into it. But first I have to—”
“These are trying and desperate times, yet despite these circumstances, you find it more important to analyze your complexion in the mirror.”
“You’re confused: my name is Jocelyn, not Noelle.” I smiled, knowing my sarcasm would irritate her. When she got bitchy, I returned the favor, only in my own way.
“For the record, your face appears fine. Both eyes are in perfect symmetry. Your cheeks are bright pink, relaying your aggravation by my line of questioning, which, by the way, is justified.” She smirked. “Rest assured, you are not rotting.”
“Thanks for the motivational pep talk.”
“But something may be decaying in the kitchen. Please check on it.” She paused for effect as a harsh stare embellished her feral expression.
“My pleasure, Mom.”
She gnashed her teeth together so hard, her jawline protruded through her cheek.
I could have ignored her, but doing so would only end in a prolonged spat, one I’d never win because Lilah would hound me until the morning hours, if necessary. In these instances, I found it easier to attend to whatever she requested, so I crossed the family room and headed toward the kitchen.
“And refrain from the angst,” Lilah added. “I get enough of it from reality TV.”
“Yeah, I can see how female millionaires squabbling about simple misunderstandings would upset you.” I headed into the kitchen, and the closer I got, the more I realized the kitchen stank of rancid meat. I overlooked the notion to plug my nose. Maybe we did have a rat infestation.
What could have isolated the scent to the kitchen? On second thought, Lilah had just complained about it now, so the stink may eventually worsen and spread.
I opened the fridge and the freezer, but nothing smelled moldy in either place, and both gave off the requisite amount of chilliness, which told me both units worked properly. I was mystified by the overwhelming scent of rotting meat. I returned to the wall I’d inspected a couple of times before, but I didn’t detect anything that could have given off the disgusting scent in that area. I circled the kitchen, trying to find out what caused such a gross odor, but I couldn’t find an epicenter. Next, I went to each corner of the room, sniffing the walls high and low, but I couldn’t locate anything that would create such a hideous fragrance.
I exited the kitchen. “I smell it too, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.” I didn’t know what to make of such bizarre circumstances. I just wondered if it was tied to the fallen picture frame, the knocking on the wall, and my tug of war with the blanket.
“And you’re supposed to be Ms. Fix-it?” She chuckled with disdain. “Pa-thet-ic!”
“Hey, kill the attitude! You wanted me to check on things. I did. I’ll continue to do so. You may have the mortgage under your name, but if I weren’t paying it off, we would have lost it two years ago. Now, I don’t know where the odor is coming from, but I’ll find it, and when I do, I’ll tell you. Until then, talk of the scent and the pounding are off limits. I’m going upstairs.” Once more, I headed in the direction.
“Oh,” Lilah said, acknowledging her near empty glass with severe disappointment. “I’m in need of a refill.” She extended her arm, her elbow resting an inch above the mahogany end table. “Would you be a darling?”
“You have two legs. Use them.”
She grabbed an afghan and spread it over her chest and shoulders. “It’s too cold to get up. I adjusted the temperature earlier, but it hasn’t netted the preferred results.”
The same thing happened last night after the chill whipped through the kitchen and dislodged the picture frame. I hadn’t noticed it during our argument. Once again, my thoughts turned to the supernatural. Everything seemed too interrelated to be coincidental.
Heat rose, so I hustled up the steps, hoping to find out if it felt chilly upstairs as well.
The air felt lighter and quite a bit warmer up here. It led me to believe that something inhabited the lower level. Did ghosts creep around before nightfall? Please don’t let it be a haunting.
I found my sister in the bathroom, removing her makeup and investigating her pores for the slightest imperfection. I’d once disclosed that I never found it strange that when looking in the mirror, I saw both of us, whereas Noelle confided that she never saw me, only her.
The confession disappointed me in a big way. As twins, I felt we had an unshakable bond. If anything, we should’ve been able to share everything: the deepest truths, the darkest disappointments. It took a long time for me to accept that Noelle couldn’t empathize with my feelings, that what I relied on with gut instinct alone she’d overlooked. In the end, we needed to be our own person, despite my i
nterest in returning to the close connection we’d shared growing up.
“Hey,” she said, seeing me in the mirror.
My sister had lit a match to disguise the odor while using the toilet, and the scent always made me retch, but after getting so much upsetting news earlier, I held back the reflex to gag. “Damn, you could have cracked open a window.” I needed answers, and only Noelle could give them to me, so I breathed through my mouth and did my best to disregard the scent. “Do anything exciting in the last couple days?”
“No. You?”
In the past, whenever she’d tried to play off something she’d hidden from me, I’d remain silent and soon afterward, Noelle would glance my way and spill whatever she’d originally hoped to keep to herself. That didn’t happen this time. She didn’t look the least bit guilty. If anything, she looked clueless.
She glanced at me in the mirror again, her eyes widening as a visual cue for me to answer her question.
“I’ve just been working. You know the drill. Saw something interesting about me on Facebook. Did you see it?”
“No.” Noelle didn’t even flinch upon hearing my statement. She continued adding more mascara to her eyelashes. “Fill me in.”
Once again, she appeared completely unaware of what had happened. How was that possible? Her lackadaisical response obliterated my anger and frustration from seeing Noelle slap Jake and accuse him of rape on video. “It was…pretty wild,” I finally managed to say. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t accuse her of what happened, and I couldn’t explain why. It just felt…wrong.
She started working on her eyelashes and scanned her face with every stroke of the brush, looking left, right, and straight ahead. “I don’t like my nose,” she said, scrunching up her face. “Never did. It’s too big.”
“It looks fine,” I said, knowing that our noses were the same size. Where did I need to take this conversation to get her to admit what happened?
“No,” she said, snapping her head left and right. “Way too big. I could be a circus clown. Paint it red. No one would know the difference.”
Without an education beyond high school, Noelle viewed her image as what gave her a paycheck. I’d long ago realized that no matter the situation, if my sister disliked something about her appearance, it would bother her forever, even if her other, more beautiful aspects, rendered her “problem areas” irrelevant.
“I can look so ugly some days,” she said, swallowing back a distaste that had apparently become too much to bear.
“You’re not ugly.” We could spend an hour exchanging meaningless banter while I tried to broach the subject, so I decided to go with a straightforward approach. “How did you know I’ve been seeing Jake?”
In the mirror, her eyes found mine, at first seeming doubtful before a smile found its way to one side of her mouth, obviously impressed. “Wait, you’re seeing someone?” Her insincere grin tugged into one of outright happiness. “You’re dating someone?” Her smile grew even more vibrant. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She spun my way and accidentally knocked her stackable cosmetic organizer into the sink. A couple of drawers popped open, and eyeliner, as well as lipstick, slipped out of their cases. Ordinarily, this would have caused her a great deal of consternation, but her grin faltered for only a moment. Her eyes grew bright as she grasped my arms, shaking me as though irritated not to have discovered my secret on her own. “Tell me. Tell me everything. When did it happen? A week ago. A couple days ago? When?”
I hadn’t expected such a joyous response. Over the years, I’d watched her expression during every truth and lie, but her response floored me. There was no hesitation, not even a second of indecision as to whether I might believe whatever lie she’d concocted because she hadn’t told one. From every indication, she looked and acted sincerely. She seemed happy for me and wanted to know all the details.
Would someone who tried to break up my relationship look so happy for me? It didn’t make sense. Thinking back to the video, my sister had seemed perfectly aware of her actions and her surroundings. There was no hesitation in how she berated Jake. So how could she seemingly be oblivious? Obviously, something seemed off.
The best way to learn more was to keep providing details in hopes that my sister would say something that triggered the truth. “He’s a history professor at—”
“And you’re seeing him?” Noelle asked. “You’re dating a teacher? That’s sooo hot! You’re so naughty! Give me all the details!”
“It’s not like that,” I said.
Noelle lowered her hands. “Don’t deny it. There’s something about an older man, an experienced older man, an older man who—”
“For crying out loud,” I said, annoyed by her use of the term ‘older man.’ “He’s not a grandpa-age or anything. He’s seven years older than me.”
My sister couldn’t hide her smile. “Yep, totally jealous.”
I studied her expression. Could that be why she purposely destroyed my relationship? Because she wanted what I had? Doubtful. If she was determined enough, Noelle could get any man, straight or gay, single or married. It didn’t matter. So, unless she’d tried picking up Jake – assuming she’d met him – and he’d turned her down, would she have taken dramatic measures?
Only in an alternate universe. Like Jake, my sister was obsessed with chasing success, and she wouldn’t let the hint of a scandal sidetrack that inevitability. It begged the question: why had she impersonated me and torpedoed my relationship?
Did the possible ghost in the house have anything to do with her behavior?
The thought clinched my shoulders in place, making me wonder how an apparition might persuade a human to act. But again, spirits were invisible, so how could Noelle know one existed, let alone get instructions from the spirit to attack Jake?
“A professor!” Noelle repeated. “Knowing you, he’s uptight, a cranky professor, the kind that would bend you over his knee and swat you on the bum with a thick book.” She grinned, obviously letting her mind wander. “Ooh, does he wear one of those 70s style suit coats? You know, the kind with the elbow patches?”
Noelle lifted both hands as though admitting a long-held secret. “Okay, I gotta admit…” She leaned in close and set her mouth next to my ear. “Sexy. As. Hell!” She bit her lower lip, once more envisioning this scenario play out. “Mmmm. He’s surely smart, I mean seriously book smart. That goes without saying. He’s probably a year or two away from his first Pulitzer. Think of how much he’s missed. All of those hours spent reading and writing, all by himself with no female company to speak of.”
I studied her expression and not even one muscle twitch betrayed her. Noelle looked clueless about my relationship with Jake. She hadn’t spoken to divert attention from a sinister need to destroy my relationship. From every indication, Noelle had only good intentions when it came to my romantic life.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Seriously, what’s up?” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the bathroom and toward her bedroom that had a mirror on opposing sides of the room, as though if no one could keep her company, at least she could count on herself to do the job.
I sat down on her bed, glad to exchange the scent of perfume and hair spray for what lingered in the bathroom. “Have you been on campus lately?”
“No.” Noelle sat down in a chair at the desk to look at her appearance, while keeping an eye on me, since she’d positioned the mirror opposite her bed. “But you think I have,” she asked in a defensive tone, a snarl appearing in the mirror opposite me. “What makes you think so? And why would that be a problem?”
I didn’t find a way to answer without blaming her, so I thought I’d stay on track. “Have you met him?”
“No.” She swiveled in her seat, a disgusted look on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You need to see something.” I pulled my phone out of my purse, set it up to play the video that I’d found on YouTube, trying not to contemplate the
ramifications of that. “Don’t hover over me,” I said. My sister intimidated me, not because I feared she’d threaten me or attack me, but because I felt her judging me. She’d never done so in the past, and I didn’t want her to start now. “Sit down beside me.”
Noelle shook off her scowl and a concerned expression replaced it, one that made it clear she had my best intentions in mind. “Okay, you’re really scaring me, right now. What’s going on?”
“Sit down.” When she did, the surface of the bed underneath me trembled. I didn’t know what to make of that, so I hit play, and as my doppelgänger started down the stairs toward the stage, I divided my attention between the screen and my sister’s expression.
“Wow,” she said, staggering back a little as she tilted her head to the side, contemplating our look-alike. “You look…so different. Kind of sexy, though.” When the impersonator hurried down the stairs, Noelle said, “What are you…?” When the accusation came, she took in a loud gasp, and when Jake got slapped in the face, Noelle said, “Whoa!” She swung toward me, mouth wide open, sucking in air. “What the hell, Jocelyn?” She withdrew a bit from me and stared at me as if doubting I truly sat beside her. “Who was that man?”
“That was my boyfriend, Noelle.” I scrutinized her expression, searching for the tiniest shred of evidence that she might be lying, but again, I found nothing. Infuriated by this mystery, I felt as if I’d swallowed a cup of bacon grease on an empty stomach.
“What did you do?” asked my sister.
“Where were you yesterday afternoon?”
She looked at me with a blank expression, but as she consulted her memory and as the seconds ticked by, her expression turned contemplative, even aggravated. “I…I don’t remember.”
No one else on this planet looked like me except Noelle, so I had to assume that, since she wasn’t trying to deceive me, she must have suffered from some form of amnesia. After all, it’s not as if I’d asked her to state where she’d been a few months ago.
I’d spoken with Jake on the phone countless times. If a ghost had been in my room and listened to it, the entity might know where Jake taught. Had it whispered in Noelle’s ear while she slept? It seemed far-fetched, but I couldn’t rule it out.
The Possessed Page 5
