Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  “Stop following me.”

  “I… I… Sorry,” I splutter. “I need your help.”

  He looks straight through me. “Wrong person.”

  Andrew turns and moves out with his brisk walk. I glance about. No one has noticed our exchange and no one cares.

  Andrew stride swiftly up the street. I have to hurry to catch up.

  “Andrew… Please… Wait.”

  He keeps moving. I need his attention and I don’t see any way of getting it other than to just blurt it out.

  “I’ve been seeing ghosts.”

  This is enough to stop him. He doesn’t look back. I hand him a print out of one of Simone’s photos.

  “I think… you… maybe see them too.”

  Andrew glances at the photo. It’s him at the party all those years ago. He screws up his face. “What is this?”

  I am not really sure what I was hoping. That he would remember the party, remember the dead girl. Now I see the photo for what it is. An old snapshot of him at a party years ago. Nothing more.

  “There was a girl there. At this party. On the dance floor. A dead girl.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t see ghosts.”

  Andrew drops the photo and moves briskly away, leaving me alone and isolated again. The picture floats slowly down the gutter and is gone.

  19

  Andrew kills his evening in his anonymous little apartment, one of the dozen identical boxes. His place is definitely set up for one. If he did ever entertain, there would be no room for anybody else to sit. The space is very functional and structured. Everything has its place and purpose.

  Mindless television drones away, the changing colours licking the walls of the otherwise dark room. Andrew watches, zombie-like.

  A noise from the other room distracts him. Andrew mutes the television and glances down the dark hallway. There is nothing there. After a moment or two, he unmutes TV and keeps watching.

  Water trickles from the tap in the bathroom sink. The dull pink sink clashes with the black-and-white chessboard pattern of the lino on the floor. Andrew stands in the limited space, brushing his teeth with a slightly obsessive monotony. The room would be cramped enough with the basin and bath, but the space issue is compounded by having a washer and dryer crammed in there as well.

  All is quiet, other than the dribbling water and a soft scrape of toothbrush bristles on Andrew’s teeth. He knows something isn’t right. He can feel it as clearly as he can feel the cold hard floor beneath his feet. He focuses on his teeth, refusing to give the sensation the slightest skerrick of attention.

  Andrew spits and rinses his toothbrush, twisting off the tap. All is quiet. He replaces his toothbrush in the holder.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  The tap continues to drip. He tightens the handle even further. A small drop of water gathers at the end of the spout, threatening to fall but not quite able to make the jump.

  Andrew examines himself in the mirror.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Andrew looks at the spout. The little ball of water hasn’t fallen.

  The dripping isn’t the tap.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Andrew allows himself a quick glance over his shoulder. Not to engage. So he knows what he is facing. A glimpse.

  A person looms behind him. Blood runs down their foot, forming a small puddle on the floor.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drawing in a deep, sharp breath, Andrew turns around.

  The plump, middle-aged woman floats between him and the bathroom door. Hanging in the air. Suspended by nothing. She has suffered some sort of blunt trauma to the head. The wound bleeds profusely. Blood gushes from her face onto her naked body, running between her breasts, over her plump tummy and off the end of her toes.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Drip.

  The woman has the expression of the dead plastered across her face. Her bewildered, half-open mouth starts to move, trying to speak to him. Desperate for Andrew’s help. Yet completely silent.

  Andrew acknowledges none of that. He acts as though she is not there at all. He strides straight past the woman and out of the bathroom.

  In bed Andrew lies on his back, staring straight up at the ceiling. He doesn’t move.

  The naked, bloody woman hangs in the bedroom doorway. Her feet dangling a few inches above the carpet. Blood pools beneath her. She watches Andrew.

  After a few moments, Andrew rolls on his side and shuts his eyes.

  20

  No sound. Why can’t I hear anything? I listen intently and hear nothing. I wait on the edge of my bed. There doesn’t appear to be anything there. Every inch of my body feels weary. I push myself up onto my feet.

  The floor creaks softly beneath my feet as I shuffle out into the corridor.

  “Hello?”

  It takes me a moment to realise I am not at Virginia’s place. I’m home. Strange. The sound of loud voices and canned laughter attract my attention.

  I shuffle down the corridor into the lounge area. Buckley is there, watching television. There is something very different about him. It’s not just that he’s watching a sitcom on TV. Buckley loathes television. I can’t remember the last time I saw him watching anything, certainly not some sitcom and certainly not vegging out in front of one.

  An uneven mess of stubble covers his chin. His hair is everywhere. His clothes are rumpled as though he’s been wearing them for a week. The room is a mess too. Dirty dishes and used pizza boxes everywhere. He gives the distinct impression of having given up.

  I haven’t been gone that long.

  Buckley completely ignores my presence. I guess I deserve that. I perch myself on the very edge of the couch. Next to him, yet not too close. I don’t want to push it. He has every right to be mad at me. The noise from the television grates in my ears. It’s some god-awful show, whatever it is that he’s watching. Loud and unfunny. A cookie-cutter sitcom for the masses. Not like him at all. He hates this stuff.

  A forced laugh escapes my lips. “Why are we watching this?” I ask a little too loudly.

  Cold sweat drips down my back. He can’t hear me.

  “Buckley?!” Why can’t he hear me? I’m right here.

  “Buckley?!”

  He glances up, but not at me. Someone is coming.

  “Buckley…”

  The approaching footsteps get closer and closer. Two people enter the room. Virginia and Bear. All dressed in black.

  “Ginny…” She can’t hear me either.

  “Come on, mate. It’s time.” Bear tells Buckley.

  Something has happened. Something awful.

  Buckley ignores them. Furiously ignores. He turns up the volume on the TV and folds his arms over his chest.

  I stand and stare at Ginny and Bear. There are tears in her eyes, pain etched on both of their faces. What —

  My breath catches in my throat causing me to open my eyes. I am standing in Virginia’s backyard. Another microsleep. I never realised it was possible to fall asleep standing up.

  I wander over to the fence in a bit of a daze, lost somewhere between the dream and reality. Guilt pools in my brain over what I am doing to Buckley. He deserves more. An explanation at least. And yet I am still hopeful this is all a mistake somehow. Everything will suddenly change back again and be exactly as they were and this nightmare will be over.

  Next door’s yard is small. There is a sprinkler on, mostly watering concrete. I watch the small metal sprinkler as it spins, spitting out drops.

  Out of nowhere, I am overcome with the feeling again. My chest constricts and I can’t breathe. There’s nothing to worry about. Nothing to be afraid of. Except I don’t believe myself. My eyes scour the yard.

  Something moves, near the back door. Someone. Dead. A dude with long hair and a beard. He looks like a grunge refugee from
the 90s who grew older but never grew up. The hairs on the back of my neck all rise. This dude is scary. Full of rage.

  I eye the back door. He is closer. Can I make it? If I run hard? What choice do I have? I’m not staying out here with Long Hair and his fork.

  I bolt for the house. He sees me go, except he reacts too slowly to stop me. Long Hair lunges as I pass, his free hand snatching. I feel his fingers brush my arm. He doesn’t manage to get a grip.

  I slam the back door shut and lock it, panting hard. Made it. He is still right there, glaring at me through the glass. Mouth half open, a mixture of confusion and anger riddling his face. His left hand clutching at the fork. The glass door isn’t great protection, but it is better than nothing. He’s stuck on that side, I’m on this side.

  I back away, not taking my eyes off him. And I back straight into someone.

  The same dude. Long Hair. Inside now.

  He snatches my throat with his free hand. I scream with all my might. He squeezes his hand, crushing my throat…

  Virginia runs in and finds me cowering in the corner, shaking. I’m pretty sure Bear is home too. If so, he simply ignored my screams. I grab onto Virginia as tightly as I can, never wanting to let go.

  Virginia and I sit on the edge of the bed in the spare room. My room now probably. There is a long silence which I know will be broken eventually. I don’t want to be the one to break it. I assume Virginia is merely getting her thoughts in order.

  “This can’t go on, El.”

  I don’t say anything. I can feel her patience dwindling, like a tyre with a puncture. A very gentle hiss.

  “I really want to help. I do. But I can’t do anything if you won’t let me.”

  “What happened with Bear’s car?”

  “That was strange. We got to where you told Bear the car was and it wasn’t there. Before we could do anything, the police rang and said they had it. Apparently some guy came across the car half on the road, half on the footpath. He decided to drive it to the nearest police station.” She raises her eyebrows.

  “And the police gave it back no worries?”

  “Eventually. They asked a heap of questions. Bear was pretty honest with them. They didn’t believe him, but it’s his car and we hadn’t committed any crime, so they let us go.”

  I nod.

  “Ellie…”

  “I know. I know.”

  “I feel like we’ve been really patient. Bear’s car is just one thing. One of many. I can’t do anything if you won’t let me in. I am your friend. Whatever this is, let me help you with it.”

  I give my head a little shake. I can’t meet her eyes.

  She sighs. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me.”

  Virginia stands. I grab her hand and hold on tightly. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re not going to lose us unless you push us away.” She sits back on the bed.

  My voice is quiet and embarrassed. “This whole thing, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Just tell me, El. Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

  She won’t understand. I have to work myself up to say this out loud. “I’m seeing ghosts.”

  She can’t hide the surprised look on her face. I pull my hand away.

  “That’s not what I was expecting you to say, that’s all.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “I have no idea. Not that.”

  Tears threatened the edge of my eyes. “I’m scared, Gin. I don’t want to be crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy. You’re not sleeping —”

  I shake my head forcefully.

  “Okay, okay.” Virginia wraps me up in a hug. “It’s okay, babe. We’ll get through this.” Her voice betrays that she has no idea how we will go about actually achieving that.

  I lie on the floor as Virginia scrolls through the photos Donnie’s sister sent. Andrew at the party.

  “So, who is this?”

  “Some random guy. His name is Andrew. He was at the party. I was certain he saw her too.”

  “You think he saw a dead girl on the floor?”

  “It was a memory I had. After being hypnotised. The memory seemed real and especially important. He saw her. I am sure of it.”

  Virginia moves to the next photo.

  “I must have just been imagining it. I don’t know what to do. I was so sure he saw this dead girl and that he could help me in some way. Or at least be somebody I could talk to about all this.”

  “Maybe he did see her,” Virginia suggests.

  “No. I went and asked him about it. He doesn’t see ghosts.”

  “So?”

  I gaze up at Virginia.

  “That’s what he says. What if he’s lying?”

  “Why would he lie?”

  “Why not? People lie all the time. About everything.”

  She’s right of course. I haven’t really considered that.

  “You’re sure he saw her?”

  The memory replays over in my brain. The dead girl reaching to me from the floor. I look for help. Andrew and my eyes meet for the briefest of moments.

  “Yeah.”

  “See, that makes no sense. It is so not like you. Just to take this guy’s word for it. If you’re sure he saw her.” Her eyes study me searchingly. “That’s what I don’t understand about this whole thing. I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you. Terrifying. But you seem to be letting it happen to you. Not fighting back.”

  She’s talking about Old Ellie. And she is right. Old Ellie would fight back.

  Virginia clicks through the photos again. “Hey, look. Is that you? Nice outfit.”

  I glance at the screen from my position on the floor. I have been so focused on Andrew I haven’t really taken notice of what else was in the photos. I hadn’t seen myself. Or any of the other people at the party.

  “What year did you say this was?”

  An unexpected sight rips at my attention.

  Virginia clicks to the next photo. “I wonder what I was doing.”

  I jump to my feet. “Stop! Go back.”

  Virginia scrolls back a photo.

  “Stop. There.”

  I stare at the screen, shocked and confused.

  The photo is another one with Andrew in it. He’s not the focus though. He’s in the background.

  In the centre of the frame, a girl poses for the camera. Not just any girl.

  It is a photo of the dead girl. Except she is not dead. She is alive and well.

  The girl looks a little different. Her eyes aren’t taped shut and there is no tube in her mouth. She’s standing and smiling, not flopping about on the dance floor. It is definitely her though. Posing. Smiling happily. I can’t stop staring. How did I not see this before?

  Virginia looks at me, awaiting some sort of explanation.

  “That’s her…”

  “Who?”

  In my mind, the dead girl flops on the dance floor. She reaches out at me from the harsh strobe light.

  I blink the memory away. The same girl smiles at me from the photo on the screen. Alive.

  “That’s the dead girl. She was at the party.”

  Virginia leans close to the screen. “She doesn’t look very dead, babe.”

  My thoughts exactly.

  21

  I call Donnie’s sister. Her tone isn’t nearly as chipper as last time we spoke.

  “Thanks for all that stuff you sent through. It’s great.”

  All I get in return is a grunt. I should probably make this quick.

  “In one of the photos you sent, there’s a girl posing. An Asian girl.”

  She gives me an impatient sigh. “He’s in the background.”

  “I know. I wanted to ask you about the girl.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  The line goes quiet. “How do you know that?”

  I don’t have the energy to lie. “I just do.”

  More silence.
r />   “You’re an odd one, lady.”

  She doesn’t know the half of it.

  “The girl’s name was Quinn. I didn’t know her all that well. She used to get bad asthma. Really bad. She was at the park one day when there was one of those asthma thunderstorms. She had a severe attack and no one could find her puffer. She was in hospital for a couple of days after that but it was too late. She didn’t make it.”

  “So, she was definitely at your party? The party I attended?”

  I am wasting her time and she doesn’t appreciate it. “You’re in that photo. You’re in the background.”

  “I know. I just… I thought she was already dead by then.”

  “How could she be?”

  I thank her again for her help. She doesn’t hear me. She has already hung up.

  I spend the entire train ride in working on my resolve. Virginia was right. I need to fight this. Old Ellie would have fought. I can’t sit back passively and let it happen to me. I need to get on the front foot and fight with everything I have.

  Yet, despite my intentions, my confidence begins to drain as I draw closer to the confrontation. Maybe this isn’t the right approach. Maybe I should try… That’s the thing though. Try what? There is nothing else I can think of to try.

  People step about me on their way to work. Everybody giving the appearance of being focused and busy. Andrew moves with the flow. Keeping to himself. Set in his routine. Just another face in the crowd. Easy to miss even when I am looking specifically for him. He gives the impression of staring at the ground but I know that he sees me. He doesn’t react at all. He simply continues moving. He is good at that. Not reacting.

  “Andrew…”

  He strides by me without a word and disappears inside his office building. That went well. For a moment I’m not sure if I’m going to follow. I know I should, it’s just whether I will.

  Andrew heads for the lifts and presses the button. As he waits a handful of people join him, including me. Once again, he knows I am here. He says nothing. I can’t stop pulling at my fingers as I try again.