by D J Monroe
“Are we a pair or what,” Nate said, a playful smile curling his lips. “Of course you can stay here. If you don’t mind having me as a roommate.”
Their eyes met and Nate burst into laughter. Creed began to laugh as well and for the first time that day wondered if things might work out after all.
Creed wiped tears from his eyes while he struggled to stop laughing. Having Nate as a roommate was more than he’d ever hoped for. In answer, he simply said, “I think we’re going to be great together.”
Finally, with their laughter down to hiccups, Nate got back to business. “I spoke with Rick about an hour ago. He’s already contacted the water company to get that turned back on. Luckily, we won’t need heat so I think we’re all set in that department.”
“I can spring for some groceries,” Creed said, remembering the check Rick had written him.
“Nope, that’s on me, too. You said room and board.”
“Okay, but only temporarily,”
“Agreed,” Nate said, extending his hand. “Let’s get unpacked.”
The two men shook hands and Creed was more than aware of the energy in the house kicking up a notch. As Creed carried his belongings into the house, he was sadly aware of how little he actually owned. Clothes and a sleeping bag only took a couple of trips.
“I think the library is our best bet for a place to sleep,” Nate said, dropping the box containing his air mattress on the floor.
Creed nodded and backed out of the room. “I’ll find a place for my sleeping bag-”
“Right here,” Nate said. “You don’t have to sleep in another room.”
Creed smiled. “I don’t want to impose-”
“It’s not an imposition,” Nate said. “Besides, I’m afraid if you slept in any of the other rooms, you might get killed during the night under an avalanche of boxes or newspapers.”
“Or books,” Creed added, looking around.
“At least, if we’re both in here and something happens-”
“I understand,” Creed said, finally dropping his sleeping bag on the floor beside the air mattress.
“Now, let’s go get some groceries,” Nate said.
As the two men shopped for minimal groceries and a coffee pot (Nate had forgotten his) Creed felt like he’d stumbled into some amazing dream. He’d been so worried about being homeless, he hadn’t dreamed Nate would make him an offer like this.
Groceries consisted mostly of frozen, microwaveable food and Creed noted that they liked most of the same things, right down to the same flavor of ice cream-vanilla. It occurred to Creed that they had not checked out the refrigerator or freezer at the house to see what horrors they might contain. As it turned out, they had been cleaned out completely by someone.
With living arrangement settled and food in the house, Nate and Creed took a moment to relax on the porch with a beer. The sun was just beginning to slide below the horizon reminding Creed that the days were getting longer. He had a hot, arduous job ahead of him but for now, he had a roof over his head and food. He would prove to be a good employee to Nate.
“So, where do you want me to start inside?” Creed asked.
“I really have no idea,” Nate answered. “Part of me feels like we need to start at the top and work our way down. Part of me wants to get at least one of those bedrooms and the kitchen cleaned out.”
“We can do both,” Creed said. “You work on one. I’ll tackle another. If I have any questions about things, I’ll ask.”
Nate nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”
It was nearly dark when they went inside. Creed was as tired as he could ever remember being and went about preparing his sleeping bag. Nate, on the other hand seemed restless, roaming through the house with no obvious destination. Thinking that maybe Nate needed some time alone, Creed stayed downstairs, listening to him walk through the rooms above his head. He heard Nate on the stairs again and realized he was going up to that big room at the top of the house.
He had just stretched out on his sleeping bag, hands behind his head when he heard Nate on the stairs again. “Hey, Creed, look what I found.”
Creed got to his feet and started up the stairs. He found Nate in the attic room, squatting beside several open boxes.
“What are you doing?” Creed asked. “I thought-”
“Look at that,” Nate said, motioning toward a camera he’d placed in an open spot on the floor.
“It’s an old camera,” Creed said, grinning at the find. “They were really popular in the seventies.”
“Do you think it’s worth anything?” Nate asked and then frowned.
“I don’t know,” Creed said, reaching for the camera. “Depends on if it still works.”
It was heavier than he imagined it would be and the first thing he did was turn it over. It looked almost brand new and he hesitated before opening the compartment where the film would be. Now that would have been a find, if it had survived all of these years and could be developed.
The body of the camera was empty.
“Is it broken?” Nate asked.
Creed lifted the camera to his eye and looked through the viewfinder. What he saw there shocked him so badly, he almost dropped the camera. Speechless, he took the camera away from his face and turned it over several times. It looked like someone’s initials had been scratched onto the bottom of the case. He walked out onto the landing where there was a bit more light. He was right. They were initials. TP.
Thinking what he’d seen must have been a trick of the light or something, Creed remained on the landing. He aimed the camera at the window where the last faint rays of the days sun streamed through. At the same time he was very, very aware of the energy or whatever it was swirling around him. The temperature dropped about ten degrees and he shivered.
Holding his breath, he looked through the view finder again. And, again, he saw the same thing but this time he didn’t look away so quickly. In fact, he found that he really couldn’t look away. The sepia toned scene was the same. A big tree, sunlight streaming through the branches.
And a pretty girl who looked to be in her mid-teens smiling and waving at him.
Ten: There’s No Such Thing As Ghosts
Nate heard Creed say his name from the top of the stairs, just outside of the doorway. He sounded anxious or upset about something.
“Yeah,” he answered, already absorbed in some yellowed newspaper clippings he’d found from the nineteen fifties. “You know, this is going to be like a treasure hunt-”
“Nate.”
This time Creed’s voice held a note of alarm causing Nate to look up. Creed was as white as a sheet.
“What?” Nate asked, standing, feeling a little alarmed himself. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I think- I may have- I don’t know-” Creed couldn’t seem to finish a sentence. He handed the camera to Nate with shaking hands.
“What?”
“Look through the viewfinder,” Creed said.
Frowning, Nate did as he was told.
A dark haired teen-aged girl smiled and waved at him. She had the camera (maybe the same one) in her free hand and she wore what appeared to be a locket around her neck that sparkled brightly. She was surrounded by a halo of bright sunlight that made her look almost translucent. As she danced and twirled under the branches of a large tree, Nate saw that she was wearing clothes from a past decade, maybe the seventies.
“What the hell—” he whispered.
“Please tell me you’re seeing it too,” Creed said quietly, rubbing his arms with both hands. The chill in the air had grown worse.
Nate lowered the camera and met Creed’s eyes. “A girl?”
“Good,” Creed said, sounding relieved. “I thought I was going crazy there for a minute.”
“You know more about cameras than I do. What could this be?” Nate asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
Cr
eed shook his head. “Do you have any idea who she is?”
Nate looked through the camera again. He managed to concentrate on her face. Yes, she looked somewhat familiar but he wasn’t sure why. “Not really,” Nate answered. “I mean, I guess she could be a relative but-”
“A haunted camera?” Creed asked, running both hands through his hair. Could this day get any more surreal?
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Nate said, sounding more stern than he meant.
Nate had no idea of Creed’s feelings on the subject. He was skeptical by nature, trained to question everything. What had happened to them that day at school had been a fluke, a trick of time or something.
Not a ghost.
Definitely not a ghost.
Nate looked through the view finder again, clicked the shutter. It hadn’t worked when he’d tried it before but it did now with an audible ‘thunk’ sound. And that pretty young girl continued to dance and twirl happily under the big tree, arms outstretched as if trying to soak up all of the sunshine. Or as if she had not a care in the world.
“I don’t know how else to explain it,” Creed finally said. “Unless we’re both going crazy at the same time.”
“It’s almost like I’m watching an old movie,” Nate said, not taking the camera away from his face. “Not quite black and white but-"
“That’s what I thought, too,” Creed said.
To give himself a minute to think, Nate handed the camera back to Creed, noting that Creed’s hands still shook a little as he lifted it to his face. “She seems happy, almost carefree,” Creed reported. “But then she comes up close and looks directly into the camera. When she does that, she frowns just slightly, like she might be seeing something that worries her.”
“I didn’t see that,” Nate said, puzzled by this strange turn of events.
“Maybe she likes me better,” Creed said, grinning at Nate.
Nate elbowed him in the side.
“Ouch,” Creed said, flashing a quick smile at Nate and then he asked, “Do you know who this might have belonged to?”
“No.”
“I guess it would be a good start if we could find out who the camera might have belonged to. Might help us figure out who the girl is.”
The joking had relieved some of the tension in the small space but it could take months to get to the bottom of this.
Months that Nate didn’t have.
“It looks like someone scratched their initials onto the bottom,” Creed said, turning the camera over to show him. “Says TP.”
“I guess the P should stand for Palmer.”
“What’s your dad’s name?” Creed asked.
“Everett,” Nate said. “Everett Palmer.”
“So it wasn’t his,” Creed said, after checking to make sure what he thought was a T wasn’t really an E.
“Your grandmother?” Creed asked.
“Her name was Joyce.”
Creed checked again. “No, this is definitely a T.”
Nate and Creed stood there in silence for a moment, their gaze roaming over the room overflowing with boxes and trunks.
“There’s bound to be a clue here somewhere to tell us who owned this camera,” Creed said, still holding onto it as if it might fly away or suddenly disappear.
“Yeah, somewhere,” Nate said, suddenly too exhausted to be overwhelmed. “But I’ll be damned if I can figure it out tonight.”
“Agreed,” Creed said. “Let’s sleep on this and see what we can come up with tomorrow.”
“Leave that up here,” Nate said, motioning for Creed to place the camera back on top of the nearest stack of boxes.
“Wait, I want to try something first,” Creed said.
Nate stood at the top of the stairs and watched Creed run down to the second floor landing. In spite of himself, he could not take his eyes off of Creed’s broad shoulders and way his jeans hung on his slim hips. Creed looked into the camera, nodded and gave Nate a thumbs up. Then he continued on down the stairs.
Nate waited. Just when he began to get worried and thought about following Creed downstairs, Creed came bounding back up, taking the stairs two at a time.
“Did you see it down there as well?”
“Yes,” Creed said, placing the camera carefully on a box just inside the room.
Together the two men went down the stairs. Nate went into the only downstairs bathroom leaving Creed alone. Once alone in the tiny room in dire need of updating, he studied his reflection in the mirror. The young girl in the camera did indeed look familiar. She had his nose. The Palmer nose, his dad called it and a similarly shaped face. She had to be a relative.
Which relative. Could this have been his grandmother when she was young? No, the camera was too new for that. His father had a half-sister, Judy, but she definitely didn’t resemble his dad in any way.
The one thing he was absolutely sure of was that camera was not haunted. It had to be some kind of trick of the light or some residual-something. There was no such thing as ghosts.
Changing into shorts and a t-shirt, he turned the doorknob intent on making his way to the library. It didn’t budge. He rattled it a few times, stepped back and stared at it, as if that would help. When he tried the knob again, the door opened easily.
“Old houses,” he muttered and headed for the library where Creed was already curled up on his side on his sleeping bag.
“Are you going to be comfortable there?” Nate asked, eyeing the sleeping bag that looked like it had seen better days.
“Sure,” Creed said with a little grin and then he sat up.
Creed was shirtless and the sight of his well-developed chest and upper arms sent Nate’s senses reeling. Before he could get past that, the thought came to him that Creed might be completely naked inside that sleeping bag. He looked away quickly and busied himself making up his own bed.
“I’m not too close am I?” Creed asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, no, you’re fine,” Nate said, noting that Creed didn’t have a pillow. “Here, take one of these pillows,” he said, tossing one to Creed who caught it easily.
“Thanks,” Creed said with a smile. He lay down, tucking the pillow under his head. “I hope you don’t mind. It was a little stuffy in here so I opened a window.”
“That’s fine,” Nate said, turning out the lamp they had placed on the floor nearby and crawling onto the inflated mattress.
“It’s sort of like camping out,” Creed said with a little laugh.
Nate heard movement coming from Creed’s direction in the darkness a s he settled into the sleeping bag. He covered himself with a blanket and wondered how in the world he was going to be able to sleep with Creed right there beside him, practically within reach.
Eleven: The Next Day
Nate awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed. Confused and disoriented, he gazed around the dimly lit room. Why was he sleeping on the floor? What were all of these boxes doing here? The scent of coffee brewing grounded him somewhat as he noted the windows in the room were filled with gray dawn.
Movement in the doorway to the room drew his attention there.
Creed, appeared holding a steaming cup of coffee in each hand-wearing nothing but boxers and a smile.
The memory of the events of the previous day flooded his brain.
“Good. You’re awake,” Creed said coming toward him. “I hope you don’t mind. I made coffee.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Nate said, trying to keep his eyes focused on the cup being offered instead of Creed’s muscular legs.
“When you’re ready, I want to show you something upstairs,” Creed said.
Nate nodded, a little annoyed by Creed’s energy. He was definitely not a morning person and preferred to start the day slowly. Finally, he asked, “Something different about the camera?”
“Yeah,” Creed said.
The coffee was good, hot and not too strong, just the way Nate liked it. As the caffeine hit his bloodstream, he began
to feel better. Taking a chance, he glanced at Creed who was sitting in a dark green wingback chair by the window. That sprinkling of dark chest hair, narrowed to a single strip working its way straight down his flat stomach until it disappeared into the waistband of his shorts.
Nate adjusted the blankets covering him so Creed wouldn’t see his physical reaction to that delicious sight.
“Did you sleep well?” Creed asked. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed one bare leg over the other, apparently completely unaware of the effect he was having on Nate.
Nate nodded. “I did but I was confused as hell when I woke up.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Creed said, sipping his own coffee. “I guess both of us made some pretty big life changes yesterday.”
Nate chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”
“I had some thoughts this morning when I woke up and made notes. Just some things we might need to take into consideration,” Creed said and then held up a hand. “No rush. When you’re awake and ready to talk.”
“Good. I’m not used to talking about anything this early in the morning,” Nate said, a little smile softening his words.
“I get it,” Creed said with a nod. He stood and then left the room. As Creed passed through a shaft of early morning sunlight, the thin fabric of the boxer shorts disappeared.
To Nate’s hungry gaze, Creed might as well have been completely naked. He took a deep breath and shook his head. After a few moments, he heard Creed moving around in the kitchen, humming softly and smelled toast. Taking a chance while Creed was busy, Nate grabbed his clothes and raced for the bathroom.
The last thing he needed was to have to explain his current physical condition to Creed.
A quick shower and some special attention with his hands helped Nate get himself under control. In the kitchen, he discovered that Creed had cleared one whole end of the table so they would have a place to eat. Creed had put on jeans but remained shirtless. Nate found that even more attractive than the boxer shorts.
“Toast?” Creed asked, getting up from the table.
“You found a toaster?” Nate asked, not used to all of this attention-or food in the morning.
