by Alex Kimmell
“Wow.” Jeremy greedily grabs the eraser. “Cool!”
“What do you say when someone gives you a present?” Emily scolds as she walks out of the kitchen drying her hands on a towel. “You know better than that, young man.”
“Thank you for the ‘raser.” Jeremy sits down on the couch, not taking his eyes off of his new prize, turning it around and around in his hands.
Emily smiles and looks up from the boys. “Hi, I’m Emily. You must be Mr. Harmon.” She reaches out a hand.
“Please, call me Gene.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “I present a few humble corn cobs, ready for grilling, ma’am. It’s my own recipe.”
Curtseying, Emily laughs. “Wow, a real gentleman.” She turns to you and winks. “Hey boys, you need to take some lessons from this one.” She takes the tray and heads back to the kitchen. “It’s nice to meet you, Gene. Can I get you something to drink? How about you, honey?”
She stops at the corner of the room and finally looks at you. Gene grabs your arm as you sway, your hand locked in your pocket around the key, arm stiff as a board. Emily runs back to you and put her hands on your waist.
“Auden? What did the doctor say?” Her face shows real concern. “What’s going on?”
“Maybe we should sit him down.”
“Daddy? Are you sick?” Jeremy pulls the hand out of your pocket and protectively rubs your arm.
“Daddy’s just a little tired, guys.” Emily sits down on the coffee table in front of you. “Jason, why don’t you take your brother upstairs and show him your new Star Wars sticker book?” It’s more of an order than a suggestion, and Jason knows it.
Deciding not to risk getting into any trouble, he gives in quickly. “Come on, Jemy. Let’s go play.” He looks quickly at you, and then they both bound upstairs to Jason’s room.
Leaning back into the couch, you push out a deep lungful of air. It feels like you’ve been suffocating. You’re queasy. It’s difficult to focus your eyes on anything, but sitting down seems to slow the spinning. You open your eyes and see Emily and Gene both looking worried.
“I’m ok. The doctor thinks it’s just too much exertion from the move.” You rub your hands on the legs of your pants to get the feeling back into your fingers. “He said I should lay low for the next couple of days.”
“Did he prescribe anything? Do you need more fluids? Did you tell him about the…” She catches herself and glances over at Gene.
He picks up on the hint and stands up. “Maybe we should do the barbeque another time.” Looking down at you and smiling yet again, he says, “I didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well. I’ll just head on home.” He nods his head a few times. “It was nice meeting you, Emily. And if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He points over his shoulder. “I’m right over there. Actually if you’d like, I can give you my number, just in case.”
“That would be great.” Emily heads toward the chalkboard on the wall next to the phone. Underneath Jeremy’s drawing of a motorcycle, she writes down Gene’s information with a piece of green chalk. “Thank you so much for understanding.” Walking toward the door, she places her hand on Gene’s arm. “As soon as Auden’s feeling better, we would love to have you come back again. You’re welcome anytime.”
“Feel better, my friend.” Gene waves as he opens the door. Emily gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he winks at her. “He’ll be fine. I’m right over there if you need me.”
With a whispered thank you, she closes the door and leans back into it. Sighing heavily, she covers her face in her hands for a few seconds, looks up, and rolls her eyes as if to say, “What next?” She doesn’t know it, but you can see everything she’s doing in the mirror above the fireplace.
“Ok mister. What the fuck?” Sitting down on the couch next to you, she puts her hand on your thigh. “Did you tell the doctor about everything that happened?”
“Of course I did. I told him about the squirrel, I told him about the dizziness and the stuff and the bath and the yadayadayada.” You wave your hands in circles in the air, which is a move that definitely does not please Emily.
“This isn’t a fucking joke, Auden. That was scary last night.” She walks around the table and looks back down at you sternly. “It wasn’t a normal yadayadayada kind of thing. You can’t just brush it off like nothing happened.”
“I know that.” You push yourself up on the couch and hold your head in your hands. “I’m not brushing it off. I told him everything that happened. They ran a bunch of tests, and the doctor said they all came back normal.” You can hear the kids wrestling in Jason’s room. “For anything more, I need to see a specialist, and you know insurance won’t cover that right now. He didn’t think a specialist would find anything different anyway.”
Emily leans down with her hands on her knees, blowing the air out of her lungs. “I need you to not get sick right now. The kids start their new school in a few weeks. You have the new McCarthy show starting on Monday, and I have to finish studying for the bar exam next month.” She looks up, clearly starting to panic.
“It’s only stress from the move. I promise.” You reach out and touch her leg. “The doctor told me to rest for a little while, and that’s what I’m going to do. Most of the unpacking is done, and the shed can wait for another time.” Leaning back in the couch, you give her a crooked smile, “You’ll just have to pamper me for a few days. Doctor’s orders, right?”
* * *
You open your eyes. It’s darker. It must be getting close to dinner time. You stretch your arms up over our head and groan at the creaks and cracks coming from your sore muscles. On the chalkboard next to the phone is Emily’s neat handwriting:
Took the kids to the mall.
Be back later with dinner.
REST...
Love, E. J. & J.
In the bathroom you splash some water on your face and use a little bit of mouthwash. On the TV, a couple of hippie scientists are trying to see if everything MacGyver did could really happen. You rummage through the fridge and can’t find anything that looks satisfying for the moment, so you take a quick swig directly from the bottle of milk. Don’t need enough to waste dirtying a cup right now.
You head back toward the couch and stop at the bottom of the stairs. You don’t want to look, but something is turning you toward that keyhole. You blink your eyes a few times, and suddenly you’re standing on the steps with the key in your hand moving it toward the lock. The key doesn’t feel heavy anymore. You can barely feel its weight at all. As you get closer to the lock, you can hear the moans again. That woman from the magazine is moaning as if she’s begging you to put it in. Your eyes glaze over, and the stair weaves back and forth. You fight to hold your arm back. It’s wrong. It just feels wrong. But the moans pull you. It is irresistible. The key slides in silently, a knife digging into flesh. You turn the key, but there is no click. It spins around and around in endless rotations. The more you turn, the louder she moans. The louder she moans, the more you turn. The man stares at you, mouthing silent words. You turn the key you turn the key you turn the key.
You…turn…the key.
* * *
Jason jumps onto the couch, waking you with a start. Your breathing is fast and heavy, and you’re covered in sweat. Jeremy comes in the room and plops down on the floor right in front of the television. Emily is on the phone in the kitchen, talking to her sister. You try to stand up. Still in a fog, you look over at the stairs. The dream felt so real.
You walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Emily waves and blows you a kiss. “No. He’s okay. The doctor thinks he’s just stressed out. Uh-huh. He’ll rest for a few days, and then I’ll put him back to work.” She sticks her tongue out at you and smiles while you fill a Superman glass from the tap. You lean into the counter and swallow.
You try to piece it all together. The strange woman with the ‘80s Aqua Net hair and makeup and the moaning. How did you get back to the couch? It had to
have been a dream. Your head is so messed up right now. Maybe the doctor was right. Just relax for a few days and you’ll feel better. You kiss your wife on the cheek and head back to the couch with the kids.
You sit down and give Jason a high five. “What are we watching, kiddo?”
“I dunno. Some show about shark attacks or something. It’s cool because all the blood ‘n stuff.” He bounces in his seat and settles in for the next attack. “Check this one out, Dad. It’s gonna be so awesome.”
A giant great white shark leaps high into the air to catch a seal and then splashes down to enjoy its lunch. They show the gruesome spectacle in super-slow motion another ten times, just in case you missed the teeth sinking into the seal’s flesh the first nine close-ups. Jason cheers, and Jeremy pretends to hide his face. Emily rolls her eyes at the boys and heads back into the kitchen. With your arm up on the back of the couch, you feel relaxed. Emily and the kids seem happy here. You look around the beautiful new home, taking it all in like a breath of fresh air.
You see it there. It shouldn’t be there. It can’t be there.
You stand up and head to the bottom of the stairs, examining each one carefully. Something’s just not right. Resting on the seventh step, you can see the key. Slowly, you climb up toward it. The key is laid out in the center of the step, but the lock is no longer there. You reach down to pick it up, but your fingers go right through it. You try with your other hand. It’s like a shadow of the key, but with all the detail of the real thing. You can see the rust and the worn-down metal of the teeth. You can see the wave pattern rolling across the rounded back end.
Emily comes up behind you and stops. “What are you doing?”
“Do you see this?” You point at the key, looking back at her.
She looks down at your hand. “See what? It’s a stair.”
Frustrated, you raise your voice a little. “The key. It’s right there.” You try to grab it again, but your hand keeps passing right through it.
“Ok, Auden. The doctor said you need rest.” She reaches out to help you stand up. “Why don’t you come back downstairs and we’ll have some dinner. Then you can take a nice long shower and I’ll rub your neck.”
You look back at the stair and slowly stand up. “Yeah… yeah, that sounds good.”
When you get down to the living room, Jeremy is still watching the sharks, and Emily is setting the table for dinner. Jason is standing on the couch staring right at you. Expressionless, he nods his head. Then he turns to the stairs, and quietly, you can hear him say, “Seven, Daddy. Seven.” He turns back to the television and sits down.
* * *
You finish singing to Jeremy. He was already asleep, but you enjoy singing to him anyway. There are only a few more years left when he’ll want you to. Making sure the fan is on for white noise, you leave the door open a sliver and head to Jason’s room.
He already has his pajamas on, but he is still putting his toys and books away. “Hey Daddy.” He picks up his favorite storybook, 1,001 Fairy Tales, and places it carefully on the left end of the top shelf. Unlike his messy little brother, Jason’s always been picky about where he puts his things.
“Ready for bed, Jas?” Leaning against the doorframe, you watch him go through his routine.
“I am now.” He puts the last Hot Wheel in its case and climbs into his racecar bed.
“Do you want a song or a story tonight?”
“I don’t want either one right now. I just want you to feel better.” At that, your heart melts. You sit down on the bed next to him and kiss his forehead.
“You know, you’ve got a really good heart, buddy.” Holding your hand up, he gives you five, and then rolls over on his side and closes his eyes. “Don’t worry, Jason. I’m going to be just fine.”
Switching the light off, you stop in the doorway. “Hey Jason?”
Without rolling over he answers, “Yeah?”
“Why did you say ‘seven’ to me before? Do you remember saying that?”
He pulls the covers up over his head. After a few seconds you can hear him say, just above a whisper, “I don’t want to talk about it, Daddy. Goodnight night.”
Suddenly you feel bad for upsetting him. “Sorry, pal. I love you so much. Sleep good okay?” You close the door almost all the way and head down the hall.
* * *
You toss and turn for what seems like forever. Finally, all the noise and static in your head quiets down, and you fade into sleep. Everything is black. No sound, sight or scent. Floating. Full, complete nothing… a pregnant emptiness. The deepest relaxation ever. You know you are flying, but there is no wind or sense of gravity’s pull to let you know direction. Not up or down. Not front or back. Slowly and gently, there are brief caresses. First, one brushes across your cheek. Another one moves softly along the nape of your neck. Your palms feel as if they are being kissed. A wetness slides across the backs of your knees. Hours later, you feel a pressure right between your eyes. Sharp and unfriendly. Pushing harder, you struggle against the pressure holding you down. Skin cracks, and the lock breaks open between your eyes. You realize now that what crushes into your head is the key. It stabs in like a drill bit, not spinning. It doesn’t stop. It will not stop. You scream and struggle, but nothing moves when you tell it to. Your body is not responding to your commands. Trapped, a prisoner to the pain. There is nothing you can do but endure. The key rams further in, all the way to the wave-engraved hilt, and stops. It turns counterclockwise, spinning around slowly. One revolution… two revolutions… three revolutions… you feel your brain being twisted and mulched…four revolutions…you can’t scream anymore, the agony is so sharp…five revolutions… everything goes dark…six revolutions…you try to think of your family…
“Seven, Daddy, seven.” Jason’s voice jolts you awake. You leap out of bed, fighting to slow your heart and catch your breath. The sheets and your nightclothes are completely soaked with sweat. “Seven, Daddy, seven.” Jason’s voice sounds far away. He stands in the doorway, holding his hand out in the dark.
“Jason? Hey buddy, are you ok?” You shake your head to get out of the dream and start walking to your son. The clock on the night table reads 12:07.
“Seven, Daddy, seven.” Still reaching out in the darkness, he begins to back up into the hallway.
Emily stirs and sits up, “Auden? What’s going on?”
You keep walking toward Jason as he backs further away. “I don’t know. Jason’s sleepwalking, I think.”
“Seven, Daddy, seven.” Arm stretched out to nothing, he moves strangely backward, floating. The image of the boy blurs in the light shining up from the bottom of the stairs.
“Hey Jason.” You clap your hands. “Wake up, pal.” Following him down the hallway, you notice he is getting closer to the stairs.
“What did he say?” Emily follows you into the hall.
“I think he’s saying ‘seven.’”
“What?”
“I have no idea. But he won’t wake up.”
“Seven, Daddy, seven.” Jason turns just before the stairs and begins backing into his room. Your heartbeat slows down a little in relief.
“At least he won’t fall down the stairs,” you say, as Emily runs past you into Jason’s room.
“Jason.” She grabs his arms and shakes him hard. “Wake up, honey.”
“Seven, Daddy, seven.” His eyes stare blankly, with black, unfocused pupils completely dilated.
Jason sits down on his bed with his eyes stretched open. Stiff as a board, he lies back and pulls the covers up to his chin. Emily stands above him crying. Putting your arms around her from behind, you can feel her shaking. You can’t blame her. You’re scared out of your shit too. You don’t even bother trying to comfort her.
“I’m going to throw up.” Emily pulls away and runs to the bathroom.
You head down the hall to help her and glance back at Jason. His head snaps hard to the right, and he stares directly into your eyes.
�
��Seven, Daddy, seven. SEVEN DADDY SEVEN.SEVEN SEVEN SEVNSEVENSEVENSEVENSEVEN…”
You launch yourself at him, cradling him in your arms. “Jason. Wake up please. I’m right here.” You rock him back and forth. He feels cold. A stone.
“SEVENSEVENSEVENSEVENSEVENSEVEN…”
You don’t want to. The very idea of doing it brings a stabbing pain to your stomach. Your hand reaches out, swings through the air, and slaps him hard across the cheek. Immediate silence. Jason looks at you, stunned. He starts to sob, tears pouring down his face.
“Why did you hit me, Daddy?” He pushes you and recoils into the headboard. “Why did you hit me?”
Emily runs in the doorway and jumps over you to get to her child. “Shhhh, baby.” She reaches back to you with one hand and grabs your wrist. “You were having a really bad nightmare and Daddy was trying to help you.” She puts her hands on his face and looks right into his eyes. “Daddy and Mommy would never hurt you. You know that, right?”
“But he hit me in the face. I was asleep and he hit me in the face.” Bursting into uncontrollable sobs, Jason buries his face into his mother’s embrace. Feeling fear and shame beyond words, you get up from the bed. Rubbing your hands on the top of your head, you pace around the room.
“Fuck!” You slam your hand down on the top of the bookshelf, knocking the soccer-ball lamp and all of the books on the top shelf to the floor. “Just great.” You kneel down and start picking up the mess.
Jason’s words are muffled by Emily’s arms. “That’s another quarter for the swear jar, Daddy.” First a moment of silence, and then the three of you start laughing. It starts quietly, and Jason looks from you to Emily and back again. When it lets loose, it’s breath-stealing, foot-stomping, rolling-around-on-the-bed, tension-relieving hysterics.
