Glimpse

by Renee Wakefield

  “What’s the common factor? They seem stunned or angry, but mostly they look scared.” I stare searchingly in his eyes and get nothing. “ You said it yourself - they want our attention.”

  Andrew takes another sip of beer. It looks forced.

  “What if we can help them? What if we see them because —”

  Andrew has heard enough. He doesn’t say a word. He merely stands and makes his way towards the exit. It takes me a moment or two to process what he’s doing. I watch, mystified, before realising he’s leaving.

  I jump to my feet and intercept him before he makes it out the door. “Andrew… What?”

  He looks incredulously at me. Something different in his eyes, as though he no longer recognises me. Or that I am no longer who he thought I was. He shakes his head, struggling for the words.

  “I… I can’t help you.”

  He turns to leave again. I grab his arm.

  “Wait… What? What have I done?”

  His eyes narrow. “They’re not people. How many times do I have to tell you that? These things we see. They’re not people.”

  “Okay.”

  “You haven’t listened to a word I said.” He shakes his head again. “I tell you not to fixate on them, so what do you decide? You decide that you’re going to help them? Why do I… You don’t listen.”

  My words tumble out fast and urgent. “Andrew, please. I do. I listen. I am just trying to…” My sentence has no destination. I can’t see anything on his face besides hurt and disappointment. “Please. Please don’t go. I need to talk to somebody about this. Someone who understands.”

  He is not impressed, but he’s not walking out either.

  “Just hear me out. If what I’m saying makes no sense, we will go our separate ways. I won’t bother you any more. I just need…” My voice trails away. I can see him considering that we’ve been here before. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that’s it. If he leaves, never to be seen again. “Please, Andrew.”

  Reluctantly he joins me at the table once again, eyeing me with distrust and suspicion.

  “Do you want another drink?” It’s a stupid thing to ask and no surprise when he says no. I am trying to get us back to where we were when he sat down. My mind races, trying to think of the best place to start. It all seemed so clear and obvious a few minutes ago. Now everything is a garbled mess at best.

  “There has to be a reason. There has to be a reason why we see these peo…” I catch myself mid-word and correct. “Why we see these things.” I can see in his eyes he doesn’t agree at all. “What if I could have saved the woman on the bike? The little kid you told me about. The one with the bad neck. What if you could have helped him?”

  “Helped him how?”

  Good question. Under examination, it is clear my plan has less substance to it than I had hoped.

  “I don’t know. I… Just help them. Somehow. Make it better for them.”

  I’m losing him. Any hope I had that he would agree this was a significant breakthrough and a great idea seems a long time in the past.

  “There has to be a reason…”

  Andrew gives his head a terse shake. “No, there doesn’t.”

  “There has to be a reason for me…” I ignore the tears welling in my eyes. “There has to be a reason for me.”

  Andrew takes in The Royal Arms. He always liked this pub. A pleasant place to have a quiet drink and be left alone. Now he doubts he will ever come here again.

  Ellie sits opposite, pouring out her heart, all manifesting into this harebrained scheme.

  “I need to find the good in this. I know you will say there is no good, but I need to find some,” she informs him.

  The level of emotion he is feeling surprises Andrew. The whole situation is a pity. He really quite liked Ellie and despite himself, it was nice to have company. Nice to have someone who has some idea what he is going through. Someone to share with. All that is over though. If this is how she is going to approach things, then she is on her own. He can’t be any part of it, for his own well-being. He tried to warn her. She wouldn’t listen. Not his fault.

  “That’s how I cope,” Ellie goes on. “You can push it aside and move forward. Cut it out. I can’t.”

  Andrew does his best to listen. It’s not easy. His mind is already adjusting to this new information. Plotting the new way forward. Perhaps this is for the best. Nice as it has been having another like him, she has been nothing but trouble. Stirring all of this up again, bringing it all back into focus. He was in a good place simply ignoring it. She was going to drag him down sooner or later. It was inevitable. On top of that, there was the big guy coming to his apartment. That wasn’t strictly her fault, yet it wouldn’t have happened —

  Andrew stops, detecting a distinct change in the atmosphere. They are not alone in here. Usually, he wouldn’t acknowledge it all, just get on with things. However, this situation is a little different. He examines Ellie, his interest piqued. How will this work? Will she be able to see them too? Will they both sense this presence at the same time? How will she react? Will she freak out? Andrew has never known someone with the same abilities before, so has never experienced ‘these people’ as she refers to them with anyone else.

  “And that’s great that you can do that. I wish I could. I just… It’s not me.”

  Ellie shows no sign of reacting at all. Is she too caught up in what she saying? Too busy talking to notice? That doesn’t seem right. Even with his many years of experience that’s not how it works. Andrew may try to ignore them, yet he always knows all too well when they are around.

  A figure appears behind her and immediately it becomes clear why Ellie hasn’t reacted.

  The dead person - it’s Ellie. Standing a few feet back from her living counterpart.

  Seeing dead Ellie causes a powerful shock, even for the hardened Andrew.

  Dead Ellie is fully clothed and doesn’t have any apparent injuries. She is wet though. Soaking wet. Water pours off her. Her mouth hangs half open, the bewildered expression of the dead covering her face. She sees Andrew and attempts to speak. No sound comes out.

  Meanwhile, living Ellie continues pouring her heart out, completely oblivious. “Even if I can help just one person. Make things easier for them.”

  Behind Ellie, her wet doppelgänger’s mouth moves in silence.

  “At least I’ll have done something. Got some use out of this.”

  Andrew does what comes naturally. What he has worked hard and trained himself to do through countless years of toil and practise. He pays no attention to the dead Ellie. No attention at all.

  “Is any of this… Does that… Does that make some kind of sense to you?”

  Behind alive Ellie, the wet version fades away.

  “Andrew?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

  Disappointment soaks Ellie’s face. She lingers, looking at Andrew. Hoping for something else. She gets nothing.

  “Okay, I guess. If that’s how you feel.”

  Ellie gets to her feet and walks out, leaving Andrew alone.

  33

  I make the long journey on public transport, except for the first time in a long time I don’t head to Virginia and Bear’s.

  I go home.

  There is no point pretending I’m not disappointed in Andrew’s reaction. It’s one of those things. I was so sure of myself going in and now I wonder how on earth I thought he’d react any differently. It is a minor setback though. One that really doesn’t matter. The more I think about what Buckley said, the more I know he is right. I need the Ellie solution.

  I need to follow my instinct and do what is the best course of action. It’s the only way. Besides, Andrew isn’t necessarily correct. He has his own ideas and methods and sure, they have worked for him, but probably because he has been too scared to try anything else. Just because he believes what I am doing to be a bad idea doesn’t mean it is.

  So, the Ellie solution it is.
Except it will be more than that. It will be the Ellie solution with Buck’s love and wisdom. The promise fills with me with hope. What’s more, I am going to come completely clean to Buckley. Tell him everything about seeing the dead or the premonitions or whatever they are. I should have trusted him all along. I should have realised he wouldn’t just dismiss me as crazy.

  As usual, best intentions appear increasingly challenging the closer I get to the moment of truth. I dawdle down our street, less and less convinced heading home is a good idea. The dark is closing in by the time I arrive. Our house sits there, imposing and ominous. No lights on. Buckley’s car parked in the drive.

  I do my best to prepare myself for what I will see when I get inside. Three rabbits, standing in a boat. The thought makes me break out in an icy sweat. On the surface, many of the other things I have seen recently have been far worse. Severed torsos, eyes poked out, people dying in front of my face. I want to believe the rabbits are not that bad, yet I know it’s not true. I just don’t understand why.

  I stand outside for a long time, working up the courage to go in.

  The front door eases open with a slight creak. The rooms are dark except for the crisp white moonlight spilling in through the windows.

  “Hello.”

  Nothing greets me except silence. I edge my way in.

  “Buckley?”

  No response. I guess he’s not home. Great. That just makes things harder. There won’t be any leaning on his bravery as I had planned. Maybe it’s a good thing. Get this over with. I am going to have to face the house alone at some point.

  I perform a quick perusal of the rooms, confirming Buckley isn’t there. It feels odd being back here, both familiar and foreign all at once. Where would Buckley be without his car? I contemplate giving him a call or sending a message until it occurs to me I am avoiding the issue. I am home. There is something I need to do.

  My breath shortens and my heart rate quickens. I tell myself I can do this. There is nothing to worry about. I almost believe it too.

  Gnawing on my cheek, I shuffle down the hall. Towards the kitchen. Towards the window to the backyard.

  It’s dark enough now that I can’t make anything out through the glass except black. I stare at the window, breathing deeply and urging myself on. The faint outline of my reflection stares at me, backlit by the hall light. There is no easing into this. Like ripping off a Band-Aid or jumping into a pool. It requires swift, decisive action. I finger the light switch.

  Click.

  The backyard lights up to reveal… Absolutely nothing. The normal backyard. No rabbits. No rowboat.

  After a few moments staring at the emptiness I turn the light off. I quickly switch it back on again, just in case. Not surprisingly there is still nothing.

  Click.

  The backyard gets sucked away, into the darkness. I feel oddly let down.

  “Where are you, rabbits?”

  Out and about somewhere the three rabbits wander down the side of the road. Two of them collapse to the ground for rest. The third one watches as the traffic goes by.

  A car pulls over. The rabbits open the back door and all three pile into the back seats.

  The car drives off into the night.

  The house is still. Quiet. I potter about with no idea how to amuse myself. This is my home and yet I am completely lost. I didn’t really think much past the rabbits. Their presence has so concerned me it never occurred to me what I might do without them. Same with Buckley. At least if he were here, I would have a focus. I should have let him know I was coming. Except I didn’t want to jinx it. The prospect of me losing my nerve and not being able to make it through the front door seemed quite probable.

  I perch awkwardly on the edge of the couch. Being home doesn’t feel right, although not in the way I imagined it would. More like a nagging thought snagged in the back of my brain. A thought I can’t quite reach. An idea that I can’t manage to form.

  The silence surrounds me as I sit, doing nothing. Where could Buckley be? Somewhere without his car. Which means he was picked up. If Buckley was picked up it suggests he is planning a big night.

  An awful possibility occurs to me. I jump to my feet and bolt to the kitchen. I find the invitation stuck to the fridge, right where Buckley left it. Macca’s party. It’s tonight. I hurriedly reread the invite. Macca’s fancy dress party. Come dressed as your favourite wild animal.

  The revelation strikes me like a punch to the solar plexus.

  I dash back to the window. No building myself up now, just action.

  Click.

  The backyard illuminates. And there they are. The three rabbits in the rowboat. Two of them turn their faux-furry heads in my direction.

  “No… Please.”

  The third rabbit stands in the boat and turns.

  Desperate, I struggle to unlock the door. Until now I have done everything in my power to get away from the rabbits. Now it is the opposite. I get the lock open and run outside, dashing up to the boat.

  The rabbits are all wet. The standing rabbit watches me as I approach. I reach forward to one of the sitting rabbits and remove their mask.

  It’s Buckley. The helpless, confused expression of the dead plastered across his face.

  “No… No!”

  The other two rabbits remove their masks. The other sitting rabbit is Virginia. The standing rabbit is Bear. All dead. All three of them.

  It’s all I can do not to break down there and then. My eyes flit desperately between the faces of my dead friends. Buckley tries to speak, only succeeding in regurgitating a large stream of water.

  And then they are gone, fading away, leaving me alone and afraid. This can’t happen. They can’t fade out of my life like this.

  34

  The car drives along a lengthy driveway towards the country house. It’s a large, two-storey, French provincial inspired mansion. From the backseats, the rabbits murmur and point.

  The car swings around to the main entrance. The three rabbits get out and the car drives away.

  The rabbits are met at the front door by the Angry Pig from the invitation.

  Inside the mansion is spacious and opulent. All the guests have entered the spirit of the evening with gusto, either wearing full body animal costumes or formal attire with animal masks.

  A wide variety of animals talk and dance and stumble about, the party well and truly in full swing. Everybody having a good time.

  My phone quivers in my hand as I make the call. I hop from foot to foot while it connects, no hope of staying still.

  “Come on, Buckley. Pick up.“

  It takes a moment to process that something is not right as I hear the ringing sound in one ear and Buckley’s bubbly ringtone in the other. His glowing phone vibrates across the kitchen table directly in front of me.

  I hang up and try Virginia. Her phone isn’t on our kitchen table at least. It rings and rings. “Hi. This is Virginia. Leave me —”

  I grab Buckley’s keys and bolt from the house.

  The spectre of sin and debauchery looms large over Macca’s party. Copious amounts of alcohol abound, mixed among a variety of drugs on offer. The animals indulge to excess, determined to have a good time.

  The lounge resembles a nightclub, with its loud music and array of coloured lights. Animals that are less keen on dancing occupy themselves in the other rooms, lying about, and generally having fun.

  Very out of it, the three rabbits lurch from the back entrance of the house and past a handful of other animal guests. They have no plan other than to amuse themselves, stumbling about and being stupid.

  The property backs on to a lake, complete with boatshed and small pier.

  The rabbits wander up, still fooling around.

  Bear removes his mask. Virginia and Buckley follow suit.

  “Gotta take a piss. How do I take a piss in this thing?” The other two giggle as though this is hilarious. Bear stumbles away.

  Tied to the pier is a small rowboat. />
  “Hey, Ginny.” Buckley points to the rowboat. Virginia laughs.

  Bear comes stumbling back. He can’t see his friends. “Hey… Where’dja go?”

  He looks about. Buckley and Virginia sit perfectly still in the rowboat, rabbit heads back in place.

  “Cool,” Bear sniggers. He replaces his rabbit head and stumbles down the pier.

  The countryside hurtles by as I zoom down a deserted road, travelling far too fast. Flippantly I wonder what would happen if I was pulled over for speeding. I doubt they would believe I was endeavouring to save my friends’ lives.

  I try to call again, hitting redial.

  “Hi. This is Virginia —”

  I hurl my phone across the car.

  A sea of stars twinkle in the night sky. So many more than are usually visible closer to the city and all of its lights. Way down below the rowboat drifts silently through the water. The rabbits relax, sitting and lying in the small boat, enjoying the solitude.

  Peaceful. Content. Out of it.

  I tear down the road. Damn this stupid house. Why does it have to be so far away?

  As Macca’s party progresses more and more animals spill outside, standing about chatting and laughing and generally having a good time.

  The Angry Pig emerges from the back door, hand-in-hand with a Sexy Cat. In his other hand he clutches a large bottle of whiskey. The Pig and the Cat laugh and drink and fool about, paws and trotters all over each other.

  There are too many people around for the Pig’s liking. He leads the Cat away from the house and down to the boat shed.

  They slam up against the side of the weatherboard structure, kissing and fondling each other through their costumes. The twosome become pretty passionate and involved when the Angry Pig’s eyes drift open. His eyelids only open for a fraction of a second, but it is enough. He stops and pulls away from the Cat, breaking their embrace.