by Val Crowe
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve missed you too.”
Her eyes shone, and she looked away.
I picked up a piece of bacon. “But about the mirror maze.”
She shook her head, wandering back over to her griddle. “We’re here for Molly Fletcher. That’s what we should be concentrating on.”
* * *
And that was her final word on the matter. I tried a few other times to convince her, but my mother wasn’t having it. She was focused on her job and that was that.
Even the friction between us about that couldn’t dampen my mood. I felt good. After I finished my breakfast, I stayed outside her motorhome and drank my coffee.
Oscar came back and got some food and coffee. He and my mother made small talk for a bit.
He told a story about a podcast he’d done about a haunted house that had only started to manifest after the owner had rented out a room to help out with paying off her mortgage.
“When she bought the house, she moved in with her late husband. But then, a few years later, her husband was killed in a tragic car accident, leaving her there alone,” said Oscar. “She naturally thought that the spirit was her husband, and that it was manifesting because it felt threatened by this new roommate, who was male.”
“And that wasn’t the case?” my mother said.
“No,” said Oscar. “You see, the two of them were attracted to each other, but she was holding back on making any moves toward the roommate, because she didn’t want to anger her late husband. But I came in and observed a bit, and it became clear to me that the spirit wanted the best for the two of them. It was acting up because it wanted them to get together. Once they did, all the mysterious occurrences in the house stopped.”
“Oh, what a lovely story,” said my mother, who was still cooking even more food at the grill.
“What you’re actually saying is that a haunting started and then mysteriously stopped, and you don’t really know why,” I said. “You have an interpretation, but you can’t be sure.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” said Oscar. “Because I know that the haunting stopped once they were romantically involved.”
“That could be a coincidence. You didn’t see the ghost, I guess?”
“What, a full-bodied specter?” Oscar chuckled. “This isn’t a Hollywood movie, boy.”
“I see them,” I said. “And they talk to me. They tell me what they want. And I’ve never met a ghost who gave a flying fuck about the living. They’re very obsessed and selfish. They have something that they have to do or to see or take care of. It’s never about being a matchmaker.”
Oscar eyed me. “You see them? With your eyes?”
“No, with my toes,” I said sarcastically.
“I only meant that sometimes people refer to a sort of metaphorical seeing, in their minds’ eye—”
“The ghosts are out there,” I said. “I can see them.”
“And you haven’t seen Molly?” It was Lily’s voice.
I turned to see her at the edge of the awning that was attached to my mother’s motorhome. Patrick was coming out of their RV, heading this way as well.
“Oh, good morning,” said my mother to Lily. “Are you hungry?”
“It smells amazing,” said Lily. “Really, you didn’t have to go to this much trouble.”
“Have some coffee,” said my mother.
Lily turned back to me. “You haven’t seen Molly, have you?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t seen any ghosts here.”
“Oh, why do you think that is?” said Oscar, lifting his chin.
“I really don’t know,” I said. “I know there’s power here. I can feel it.”
“Well, so can I,” said Oscar, his voice lowering in pitch as if daring me to challenge him.
I decided it wasn’t worth it.
We passed a pleasant breakfast after that. I had another cup of coffee and just sat out with the others while they ate. After we were done, we all sat out for another hour or more, taking in the morning air and chatting about pointless things like the weather and musicians. I was struck again by how comfortable it all seemed, how civilized, how welcoming.
Finally, my mother said that we should attempt to contact Molly. “We’ll need to clean up breakfast,” she said. “And then set up for a seance. I think I can pitch my tent over there.” She pointed to a stretch of uncracked asphalt not too far away. “Maybe you can help me with that, Deacon?”
I arched an eyebrow at her. “Oh, I don’t know, Mom. I think maybe we should do the seance inside the park. Maybe near that roller coaster.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” said my mother.
I chuckled. “No?” Because if we did that, she wouldn’t be able to rig her tent to spit out smoke and make fake sound effects. She needed to be close to the motorhome and a power source to make it all work.
“Trying to carry all my equipment out to that roller coaster would be ridiculous.”
“But you don’t need the equipment, do you, Mom?” I said.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Well, it does help.”
Lily spoke up. “Um, I think that it makes sense to try to make contact with Molly inside the park, too.”
I spread my hands. “Well, there you go, Mom.”
She sighed. “Oh, fine, we’ll do it your way, Deacon. You’re a little shit, you know that?”
I stiffened.
And she winced. She cleared her throat. “Um, we need to clean up after breakfast regardless.”
“Oh, I’ll help out,” said Oscar, already on his feet.
“Me too,” said Lily.
“I’ll bring your table and your crystal ball out to the roller coaster,” I muttered. “Patrick, maybe you could give me a hand?”
“Sure,” said Patrick.
* * *
While Patrick and I dragged a table and some chairs—enough for all of us—out to the area in front of the roller coaster, he talked to me about what my mother would be doing.
“She can get in touch with Molly?” he said. “Ask her anything?”
“Well, that’s what she says, anyway,” I said.
“You and your mom have some kind of family drama, huh?”
I decided to leave it at that. If it had been Lily asking me pointed questions, maybe I’d have blown my mother’s cover entirely. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t. Maybe I had more loyalty toward my mother than I realized. Or maybe I realized if I sabotaged all this, everyone would leave, and I’d never convince my mother to go out to the mirror maze with me. And I needed that to happen.
Pretty much as soon as we had everything set up, the other three appeared, having finished the breakfast cleanup.
My mother took her seat at her table, which was a round table with a crystal ball in the middle. The table was swathed in a tablecloth covered in swirling symbols and designs, which had no particular meaning but looked authentic, which was what my mother was concerned with. There were two seats at the table for Lily and Patrick, opposite my mother.
Oscar and I took seats a few feet back, looking on.
My mother closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she had taken on her medium persona, which was like a character she played. Whenever she spoke in that persona, she made her voice a little richer and she spoke with a tinge of a British accent. I wasn’t sure if she did that on purpose or not, but it always set my teeth on edge. It was so ridiculous that I didn’t see how anyone fell for it. “I will attempt to summon the spirit realm,” she said solemnly, “but I must admit that I can’t be sure how successful I will be without my supplies.”
“That’s okay,” said Lily. “Just try to reach Molly.” She looked around. “I have to admit, the last time we were here, I felt something… and I don’t know if I feel it anymore.”
It was true.
Last time I’d been in the park, I’d had warring feelings of being drawn to the place and then being repulsed. Now, I felt nothing at all. It looked l
ike a rundown amusement park. There was nothing here.
I looked up at the sky. There were storm clouds on the far horizon.
My mother reached out her hands to Lily and Patrick. “Let us join hands,” she intoned.
They all linked their hands.
My mother bowed her head. “I seek the spirits here in supplication. Please give us a sign if you are present.” I had to admit the line did better in a darkened, candlelit tent. Here, in the bright sunlight in front of a rusted out roller coaster, it sounded pretty silly. That had been my intention, I suppose, to out my mother, show off her weaknesses. I thought it would make me feel triumphant, but it only made me feel ashamed. Why had I done this to her? It was as if I had stripped her dignity away.
I had a lot of things to be angry with my mother about, even if she hadn’t abused me. But I now realized that getting back at her was an ultimately hollow act. I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t want to take away from her. I wouldn’t do this to her again. I bowed my head.
My mother raised her head and I could see that she was going to attempt to pretend to channel someone. She had that odd look of confusion in her eyes.
So, I was glad when there was the sound of thunder in the background.
I stood up. “Um, I think it’s going to rain. We should probably pack it in for now.”
“Oh, yes,” said my mother, turning to me gratefully. “I think the seance would be more effective at night, anyway. Spirits are far more active then.”
* * *
But that night, it was still raining.
The rain rolled in around lunchtime, and we were all confined to our respective campers for lunch, the first meal that we’d had alone. I had a fridge full of food, but all of it required a lot of preparation.
I was actually a decent cook. I had gotten a job washing dishes at a restaurant in high school, and had managed to work my way up doing prep cook work as well, and then finally filling for the cooks there. I watched what they did and asked a lot of questions. Also, it maybe didn’t hurt that the head cook, the guy who owned the restaurant and ran the kitchen was gay, and I think he thought I was cute.
I mean, he was very professional. He never so much as winked at me. But, you know, one thing I learned from my mother was to use any advantage you have, because life isn’t fair, and trying to pretend it is only means that you lose.
Maybe my mother went a little overboard with the pressing of advantages.
Anyway, I could cook. But I didn’t much feel like it, so I ended up eating a really sorry lunch of chips and rolled-up cheese slices.
As the rain pounded down outside, all the comfort I’d felt before seemed washed away. I peered out at the wet parking lot and the gate didn’t seem that far away after all. It would be nothing to go, and I should. Under the pounding downpour, the park seemed bedraggled and sad. That feeling of horribleness that I’d noted before, it was stronger.
I didn’t like the way the forms of the old Ferris wheel and the free-fall tower cut into the horizon. A pervasive feeling of wrongness slashed into me when I looked at them. They made me feel physically uncomfortable, almost ill. I wanted to get away from them as soon as possible. This soggy, dilapidated place was dreadful. It was… abominable.
As darkness began to fall, the hint of the sun through the rain clouds cast a final greenish hue over everything, and it all appeared sinister and knowing, keeping its terrible secrets in the rain.
Around that point, I noted Oscar darting out of his tent and over to my mother’s motorhome to knock on her door.
She let him inside.
I didn’t like it.
I had to admit that Oscar had probably been miserable in that tent. No tent is truly waterproof, and I was sure that he was wet and cold and needed a dry place to escape to. But I didn’t like that guy. I wanted him away from my mother.
“I wish you’d go,” I whispered to the growing darkness.
And that was when I decided I’d go over there. I mean, if I was there, Oscar couldn’t make a move against my mom. She probably wouldn’t like it, but screw it. She could do better than Oscar, anyway.
I dashed out of the Airstream and scurried over to my mother’s motorhome. I didn’t bother to knock. I threw open the door and hurled myself inside.
My mother looked up from the back bedroom, where she was rummaging through some of her shelves. She had a sweatshirt in one hand. “Deacon,” she said. “Hi. Is everything okay?”
I brushed wet hair out of my eyes. “Yeah, great. I… uh, I was bored.”
She smiled, and then held up the sweatshirt. “I think this will fit you, Oscar.”
Oscar, soaked to the bone, was shivering and dripping next to me.
My mother snatched up a pair of sweatpants. “These might be short on you, but it’ll be better than what you’re wearing.”
“Thank you so much, Cora,” said Oscar. “I really tried to stick it out, but the water is coming in through the sides of the tent. The rain fly just doesn’t cover enough.”
“It’s not a problem,” she said. “There’s a bunk here.” She gestured. “It pulls down. It’s where Deacon used to sleep.” She smiled at me. “You can sleep here tonight, Oscar.”
I folded my arms over my chest. Yeah, I wasn’t real pleased with that either. But I didn’t want him sleeping in the Airstream with me, and I couldn’t insist he sleep in a wet tent.
“We’ll get your tent dried out,” said my mother. “And then it’ll be fine to sleep in tomorrow night.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be here tomorrow night,” said Oscar.
“That bad?” I said. “Roughing it too much for you after all?”
Oscar didn’t answer. He just went to take the clothes from my mother and disappeared into her bathroom.
“It is a little grim, isn’t it?” said my mother, looking out the window into the darkness. “I don’t know what it is. Everything seemed so good this morning, full of promise. But now…”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I said in a soft voice.
“Too bad it’s raining,” she said. “If it wasn’t, I’d be tempted to pack everything up and get out of here.” She laughed a little, almost nervously. “I mean, is that silly? It’s just that ever since this rain started, I’ve had a feeling, an awful feeling, as if this is a bad place and something bad will happen if we stay. I usually wouldn’t put stock in something like that. I mean, like I said, I felt great this morning. It’s only the rain, I suppose. Rain makes everything so gloomy.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I felt the same way, but there was a knock at the door.
She went to open it up and there were Lily and Patrick.
“Sorry,” said Lily, coming inside. “We don’t mean to gang up on you, it’s only that we saw that everyone else had come over, and…” She took a bottle out of her coat. “I brought wine.”
“Come in, of course,” said my mother. “We’ll all fit around the table. I’ll pour some wine.”
Compared to the previous night, when we’d been boisterous and laughing outside, sharing delicious food and feeling at home, this was a somber affair. Everyone sat around the table and drank too much, and no one seemed to have anything good to say.
For my part, I was sitting at the end of the table, on a chair that my mother had pulled up, and my back was to the park. I could almost feel it there, behind me, somehow penetrating the barrier of the motorhome, as if the pieces of metal and twining vines had come free of their moorings and were coming to wrap themselves around me and drag me back inside there, kicking and screaming.
“Look, we’ll pay you for your trouble,” Patrick was saying, “but I think we’re going to get going in the morning. Lily and I were both talking about it, and we have a bad feeling about this whole idea.”
“We’re sorry. I know we wasted your time,” said Lily. “But it’s as though the rain out there washed away some facade, and now we can see the truth of that park and it’s… well, I hesitate to say evil
, that sounds ridiculous.” She made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh, but it didn’t quite sound like one. When she spoke again, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “It did something to my sister. It probably killed her. Maybe it… chewed her up somehow, in its rusty metal teeth.”
We all shuddered in spite of ourselves.
None of us pointed out that the park didn’t have teeth.
My mother put a hand on Lily’s. “Don’t you worry about it. I completely understand. Honestly, I don’t know why I was so eager to be here in the first place.”
“As soon as the rain clears, we’ll pack up,” said Oscar.
Everyone murmured their assent and we sucked down our cups of wine.
But a little before midnight, the rain stopped.
We all went outside. The air was humid and still a little warm. The sky cleared up a bit and we could see a hazy moon hanging in the sky, bright and nearly full.
I yawned. I felt a gentle sense of sleepiness at my temples. I couldn’t think of anything nicer than climbing into the Airstream and sleeping.
“Well, it’s late,” said Patrick. “There’s no point in trying to pack up now.”
“No,” said Lily. “We’ll leave in the morning.” Her voice sounded dreamy.
“The morning,” echoed my mother. “Good night, everyone.”
“Night,” I said.
“Good night,” said Oscar, who was yawning too.
“Sleep tight,” said my mother.
CHAPTER FIVE
When I got back to the Airstream, I realized I hadn’t taken my cell phone over to my mother’s place. There was a voicemail from Wade.
I got ready for bed and then slipped between the covers. Snuggling in, the covers at my chin, I called Wade.
“Sorry,” I yawned. “I was away from my phone.”
“How’s it going?” he said. “You find out anything yet about Negus?”
“No,” I said. “I guess I won’t. We’re all leaving in the morning.”
“Seriously?” said Wade. “Well, maybe that’s good. I mean, if that place was trying to draw you in, it could have been bad news. The spirits there might have had plans for you.”
“Yeah,” I said, yawning again. But I felt a niggling bit of doubt at the back of my brain. Should I leave? I hadn’t found out anything about Negus, after all. That was the entire reason that I was here. Maybe, after we got packed up, I could convince my mother to go into the center of the park with me, back to the maze. I still had a strong feeling that we needed to go there.
