Cursed

by Jeremy C. Shipp

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  Abby sighs. “You’re just saying that because you don’t know me that well. It’s my fault Pete died. I could’ve stopped him, but I didn’t. When he was alive, he was a really angry person. He hated my parents and eventually he started taking out his feelings on the house. I knew that defying Eco was dangerous for his body and his soul, but I never tried to stop him, because I liked seeing someone stand up to her. One day, Pete refused to brush his teeth, and Eco tried to force him. He struggled around so much that she accidentally forced the toothbrush into his brain. I mean, I think it was an accident. But either way, I could’ve prevented it. I let him die.”

  “You’re not responsible for what happened.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, Nick, but I know better. I’m not the naïve little woman I pretend to be.”

  “I don’t think you’re naïve, Abby. I think you’re harder on yourself than you should be.”

  “That’s not true. I don’t even hate myself for what I did to you and Cicely. I’m just glad I got to spend some time with you guys.”

  “I still think you should stop blaming yourself for what happened to Pete.”

  “Then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

  I:

  1. Want to save her from her guilt.

  2. Can’t even save myself.

  “Anyway,” Abby says. “You were wondering about Kin too. The reason why I didn’t curse her is because she’s not real.”

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  “I made you believe Kin was erased from reality and Ruth was one of Pete’s creations, but Kin never existed in the first place. Ruth was always the real one. She’s a neighbor of mine, and I kidnapped her and brought her here, and filled her with my intentions. Like how my parents imprinted Eco, you know? I put an imaginary person inside her.”

  And suddenly, I remember how Ruth:

  1. Recovered memories of being Kin.

  2. Remembered lying on a couch as Abby read to her from a book.

  So this was probably the imprinting process.

  And I remember how Kin:

  1. Performed a psychic reading.

  2. Advised that we stop trying to find the one who cursed us.

  So this was another one of Abby’s attempts to keep us off her trail.

  “You used her like a puppet,” I say.

  “Yeah,” Abby says. “I considered keeping her like that forever. I even thought about controlling you and Cicely that way. But I decided I wanted something more than that. Something more real.”

  “I see.”

  And I:

  1. Think about Abby’s abilities and powers.

  2. Feel helpless.

  3. Wonder if I’m going to survive.

  Then Abby says, “I know this doesn’t make what I did right or anything, but I want you to know, I wasn’t gonna keep you guys cursed for long. You’ll go back to normal as soon as I die, and I’m gonna die really soon.”

  I imagine Abby taking too many pills, the way I did, years ago.

  “I’m not gonna kill myself or anything,” Abby says, like she read my mind. Maybe she did. “The world’s gonna keep attacking me until I’m dead.”

  And I:

  1. Say, “Who did this to you?”

  2. Think of her parents.

  Then Abby says, “I manipulated the energies in order to hurt people, and my wounds are the consequence. I’ve done a lot of bad stuff, so it’s only a matter of time before it all catches up with me.”

  Once again I feel:

  1. A strong desire to comfort her.

  2. Afraid that she’s trying to deceive me again.

  But then I:

  1. Remember when Abby described the funeral she said Kin wanted, with streamers and cake.

  2. Realize Abby probably wanted this goodbye party for herself.

  “Maybe you’ll survive the curse,” I say.

  “I won’t,” Abby says. “I’m really connected with the energies and everything, and I can feel the world’s anger closing in on me.”

  “I’ve felt that way before, Abby. And I don’t think that feeling has anything to do with curses.”

  “No offense, but I’m talking about forces that you don’t understand.”

  And maybe Abby’s right.

  Or maybe this has:

  1. Nothing to do with the Universe or God.

  2. Everything to do with the road to redemption Abby’s constructed in her mind.

  So I say, “I don’t doubt that you cursed yourself by hurting us, but maybe you’re the one attaching blame to these consequences. Maybe you’re not being punished. Maybe you can give yourself another chance.”

  “Life doesn’t work that way, Nick.”

  “You don’t know that. Maybe if you start doing good in the world, your curse will break.”

  “That would never happen.”

  “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Alright.”

  “I think I’m ready for sleep.”

  “Alright.”

  After a long silence, Abby says, “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You drank part of Pete’s corpse, so now Eco thinks you’re him. And I keep thinking about how you couldn’t escape the house unless I broke you out. I could let you stay trapped here, like Pete used to be, and you could keep me company until I die. Then you could read through the books my parents left behind, and eventually you’d become powerful enough to create a gateway. But I decided I’m not gonna make you do that. I’m gonna let you go.”

  And I can’t think of anything else to say but, “Thank you.”

  #32

  Eco won’t give Abby and me any free time until after we:

  1. Take a bath.

  2. Brush our teeth.

  3. Comb our hair.

  4. Change into clean clothes.

  5. Eat a non-vegan breakfast.

  So we do.

  Then I:

  1. Follow Abby into her parents’ bedroom.

  2. See Pete with his legs inside a generator. And this must be the rumbling I heard from the basement before.

  3. Notice the exhaust funneling into a point near the dresser, and dis-appearing.

  4. Beam.

  5. Hug Cicely.

  6. Say, “Are you alright?”

  “Fine and dandy,” Cicely says. “Like a unicorn on a rainy day.”

  “Unicorns like rain?”

  “Not especially, but they consider rainbows a delicacy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Are you OK?”

  “I am now.”

  Pete:

  1. Steps out of the generator.

  2. Says, “You can turn this thing off now.”

  Cicely turns off the machine.

  And Abby says, “Are you sure you don’t want more? I can barely see you.”

  Pete:

  1. Drifts closer to Abby.

  2. Says, “I only wanted enough juice so I could talk to you before I pass over.”

  “You can’t!” Abby says. “You’ll go to hell.”

  “Cicely thinks hell’s just another idea our parents put into Eco to control us. And I think she’s right.”

  “But what if you’re wrong?”

  “Then I’ll spend eternity getting tortured or living alone in some void. And of course I’m terrified of those possibilities, but I’m willing to take the chance. I’ve decided to trust there’s something better waiting for me on the other side.”

  Then Abby:

  1. Cries.

  2. Says, crackles, “Please, Pete. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I know, Ab,” Pete says. “But Cicely’s right. This place isn’t good for me. I was getting off on playing the psychopath, and I think I’m starting to become one.”

  “That’s not true. You’re a good person.”

  Pete laughs. “How can you say that after how I’ve treated
you?”

  “You only treated me that way because I killed you.”

  “What are you talking about? Eco killed me. Our parents killed me.”

  “If I tried breaking out of the house sooner, we could’ve escaped, and you’d still be alive. But I liked being trapped here with you. I knew how much the house bothered you and hurt you, but I didn’t care. You’re right to hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Ab. I’m just a bitter asshole of a phantom. Being near you reminded me of everything I lost, so I avoided you as much as possible. It’s not your fault I couldn’t cope with being dead, and it’s not your fault I died.”

  “But I—”

  “I don’t have much time left.” And he sounds muted, like he’s speaking from somewhere far away. Maybe he is. “I want you to know that I love you and I didn’t mean…”

  At this point, I can’t see or hear Pete anymore.

  And Abby:

  1. Stares at the spot where Pete was floating.

  2. Says, whispers, “Come back.”

  He doesn’t.

  “I’m sorry, hon,” Cicely says. “I’m sure he’s in a better place now.”

  Then Abby:

  1. Glares at Cicely.

  2. Looks at the floor.

  3. Bites her fingernails.

  4. Says, “I’ll open a gateway for you guys.”

  5. Walks out of the bedroom.

  Cicely and me, we follow.

  And in the kitchen, Abby:

  1. Presses her hands against the back door for a few minutes.

  2. Trembles.

  3. Weeps, soft.

  4. Opens the door.

  5. Says, “You better go before it closes.”

  Cicely:

  1. Touches Abby’s arm.

  2. Says, “Come with us.”

  Then Abby:

  1. Steps away from Cicely.

  2. Leans against the wall.

  3. Says, “I know what you want, and you don’t have to worry. I’ll unravel your curses soon. I can do it from here. I just need a few hours to prepare everything.”

  “I appreciate that, hon,” Cicely says. “But I’d still like you to come with us. You need help.”

  “I don’t need anything anymore.”

  “Please, Abby. You don’t belong here.”

  “This is my home. This is the only place I do belong.”

  “I can help you.”

  “Like you helped Pete? I don’t want to see you ever again, Cicely. You sent Pete to hell, and I could steal Nick to replace him, and I told Nick I wasn’t gonna do that. But if you don’t leave right now, I might change my mind.”

  So Cicely and me, we:

  1. Walk through the threshold.

  2. Turn around.

  And Abby says, “Don’t bother coming back. I’m gonna put up a barrier so strong, nobody could ever break through.”

  Then the door slams shut.

  And I wonder if the chaos of the last 32 days is finally over.

  Maybe Abby will keep her word.

  Or maybe she’ll:

  1. Never remove our curses.

  2. Kidnap me.

  3. Treat me like a puppet.

  4. Imprison me for years.

  But I decide to hope for a happy ending anyway.

  Outside of the nightmare created by Abby’s parents, I escape to Sol’s house. In this house, there’s:

  1. No alcohol.

  2. No swearing.

  3. No surprises. Usually.

  Sol:

  1. Hugs me, tight.

  2. Says, “My son, my son.”

  “Hi, Dad,” I say.

  “Let’s sit down before I collapse, hm? My new exercise routine is a killer.”

  I nod.

  We sit on the couch.

  And Sol says, “Before you tell me what you came here to tell me, I want you to know that I’ll always love you. I’ll love you no matter what. Even if you’ve started drinking again.”

  “I haven’t,” I say.

  “OK.”

  “I want to talk about Mom.”

  Sol doesn’t speak for a few heartbeats. “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sol:

  1. Rubs his legs.

  2. Says, “I miss her.”

  And I:

  1. Feel tiny flames all over my body.

  2. Say, “Me too.”

  “She was a good woman,” Sol says.

  “Yeah.”

  “I didn’t appreciate her enough when she was with us.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  Sol:

  1. Looks at me for a long while.

  2. Shudders.

  3. Closes his eyes.

  4. Covers his face with his hands.

  5. Cries.

  6. Says, “I’m sorry, Nicholas. I did everything wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” I say.

  Sol stares at his hands. “I did everything wrong when your mother died. That’s why you started drinking, and that’s why you tried to kill yourself. I’ve always tried denying that to myself, but it’s true. I hurt you so deeply.”

  “You never hurt me, Dad.”

  “I did, Nicholas. Whenever you spoke about your mother, I reminded you that she would return to us someday. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping our hope alive. But all I did was keep you from grieving.”

  “You didn’t stop me, Dad.”

  “But you felt alone because of me. You were alone. I lived in my fantasies, and I did everything I could to talk you out of feeling your sadness, because I didn’t want to feel my own. I betrayed you, because I didn’t want to accept the truth.”

  “I wanted to believe she was coming back just as much as you did.”

  “I should have given her a funeral.”

  “We don’t know what happened to her. She could still be alive.”

  “If she is alive, then I’m sure she left because of me. I was a terrible husband.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “I didn’t spend enough time with her. I was obsessed with my job.”

  I wipe my eyes. “Stop blaming yourself, Dad.”

  “I barely knew her, Nicholas.”

  “Even if you two had problems, she didn’t have to leave you. You could’ve worked things out a different way, but she didn’t give you the chance. That’s not your fault.”

  Sol takes a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re right.”

  I study my broken watch.

  “Do you need to be somewhere?” Sol says.

  And I:

  1. Say, “No.”

  2. Look at Sol for a long while.

  3. Say, “Sometimes I wish Mom were dead.”

  “What?” Sol says. “Why?”

  “If she were dead, then maybe she loved me.”

  “Why do you say that? Of course she loved you.”

  “But if she’s alive, then she really did abandon me. And I don’t think a mother who loved her son would do that. So sometimes part of me wishes she were dead.”

  Sol:

  1. Holds my hands.

  2. Says, “Nicholas, she loved you with all her heart.”

  And I:

  1. Feel my eyes watering.

  2. Shake my head.

  3. Say, “There’s no way Mom could’ve abandoned me and loved me. Those contradict each other.”

  “You mother loved you,” Sol says. “She was a passionate woman. A very passionate woman. I never knew what she was thinking, but I always knew how she was feeling. She adored you, son. I promise you that.”

  And maybe he’s only trying to make me feel better.

  But I decide to trust him, fully, like a child.

  Sol:

  1. Squeezes my hands.

  2. Says, “I’ve never told anyone this. Not even Brienda. But I used to imagine your mother talking to me.”

  “Yeah?” I say.

  And Sol:

  1. Looks at the last photograph of my mom in the
house.

  2. Says, “She would tell me that she was safe. And that she would come back to us someday, and we would become a family again. I would apologize for every terrible thing I did to her, and she forgave me. She hasn’t spoken to me for years, but now she’s telling me something new.”

  My heart beats fast, as if my mother’s going to speak to me from my father’s mouth. Maybe she will.

  “She says she loves us,” Sol says. “And she wants us to be happy. And I don’t know if you know this, but your mother wasn’t treated very well by your grandmother. Your mother says that she left us because she was afraid of hurting us the same way. Your mother knows that this was a terrible reason to abandon us, and she regrets doing it. But at the time, she didn’t know how else to protect us.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  And this story is far from the fairy tales I imagined as a child.

  But maybe it’s enough.

  #127

  After cicely drops the tennis ball, the world as we know it comes to an end.

  She:

  1. Divorces John.

  2. Quits her job.

  3. Moves to the mountains.

  And in this dream home, Cicely’s my girlfriend. I try to open up and tell her how I feel, even when I want to hide under our pastel bed, and she always listens. She never ignores me.

  Tonight, I try to repay her kindness with some of my own.

  “What’s this?” Cicely says.

  “A present,” I say.

  “Is it a pygmy chimera?”

  “You’ll see.”

  She opens the box. “Wow!”

  “Is that a happy wow?”

  “Are there unhappy wows?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, this is definitely a happy wow. I love him. He looks just like you.”

  “I wanted to make you something that symbolizes how much I trust you, so I thought, what about a voodoo doll? Now you can hurt me whenever you want, but I know you won’t. You’d never hurt me on purpose.” I sigh. “Is this romantic or just creepy?”

  “A little of both. But that’s not a bad thing. Thank you, Nicholas.”