Twisted Little Things and Other Stories

by Amy Cross

  “What happened to you?” I ask. “Dad, please...”

  “I don't want to go back there.”

  “To the hospital?”

  “To that place! To that boat, and then...”

  His voice trails off.

  Outside, the storm is getting louder by the minute, and the windows are shuddering now as rain blasts the panes. I can hear the garden fence rattling, too, and I won't be surprised if there's some real damage in the morning.

  “I have to put things right,” Dad continues. “For the love of all that's holy, Annie, I need you to understand. If you don't help me, I'll have to go back there.”

  “To the place you talked about?” I ask. “With the boat and the people?”

  “I don't deserve that,” he replies, with tears streaming down his face. “I was a good person, Annie. I mean, I was no saint, but that doesn't mean I deserved...”

  His voice trails off, and for a moment he seems lost in his own thoughts.

  “Terry,” Gary says cautiously, still holding a glass of whiskey in his hands, “where... I mean, exactly where do you think you went?”

  Dad turns to him, but he seems unable to get the words out.

  “We need to get you to a doctor,” I say finally. “Do you understand, Dad? We need to get you checked over, that's the most important thing. And then we need to figure out what's going on here, because you must have been somewhere for the past six months. After that, we can do anything you want, but we need to get our priorities straight.”

  “Call Denise,” he replies. “Tell her about the dog, and tell her I'm sorry. No, wait! I should do it. I'm the one who has to make penance. And we need a priest, too.”

  “A priest?”

  “I was never a religious man,” he continues. “I was a heathen. Maybe that's what went wrong. When I was in that hospital bed and I was dying, Annie, did you get a priest to give me the last rites?”

  “No,” I reply. “Dad, you were never -”

  “That's probably it!” he hisses. “It's your fault!”

  “Dad -”

  “No, that's not fair.” Suddenly he reaches for me, putting his arms tight around me, and I instantly smell his old aftershave. For a brief moment, I'm transported back to my childhood, when Dad used to hug me any time I was upset. He seemed like he was in charge of the world back then, like he never had any doubts. Now I can feel him shivering with fear, and after a moment he pulls back.

  “Dad, please...”

  “It's not your fault,” he continues. “It's my fault. It was my life. I have to undo the lies I told, and the mistakes I made. I need a phone, Annie, and I need to get started before it's too late.”

  I pause for a moment, before realizing that he seems absolutely determined.

  “Okay,” I say finally, forcing a smile. At least I have him back. That's the most important thing. “I'll go get my phone, and we can call Denise. Does that sound good?”

  “Hurry!”

  Getting to my feet, I take a step back. I'm almost scared to take my eyes off him, in case he vanishes again in a puff of smoke, but finally I turn and hurry to the hallway. By the time I reach my bag and start rummaging for my phone, I can hear Gary coming up behind me.

  “So now can we call someone?” he whispers.

  There's a rumble of thunder in the sky above.

  “He wants to talk to Denise,” I point out, turning to take my phone back through. “He wants to apologize for what happened to her dog.”

  “I mean someone who can figure this out!” he replies, grabbing my arm to hold me back.

  I turn to him.

  “The police, maybe?” he continues. “The hospital? I don't know who, exactly, but we have to get to the bottom of what's going on! Dead fathers don't just spring back to life six months after their goddamn funerals!”

  He takes a swig of whiskey.

  “I hope not, anyway,” he adds. “I wouldn't like to see my old man again.”

  “I don't know what's going on,” I tell him, “and I know we have to get answers, but right now my father is back. Do you understand, Gary? Wherever he went, he came back from there, and now I have to help him. I'm getting more time with him, time that I thought was gone forever. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

  He opens his mouth, clearly ready to argue with me again, but finally he holds back.

  I slip my arm away.

  “Everything'll start to make more sense in the morning,” I continue, my voice trembling with shock. “We'll get answers, I promise. But right now, I have to go to him.”

  He pauses, before nodding.

  Turning, I make my way to the front room, while unlocking my phone.

  “Denise is going to explode,” I mutter, forcing a smile as I head to the sofa. “She's a -”

  Stopping suddenly, I see that Dad is no longer in the room. I look around, but he's gone, so I head back to the hallway, hoping to spot him on the stairs or maybe shuffling to the bathroom.

  “Dad?” I call out, trying not to panic as another rumble of thunder rattles the windows. “Dad, where are you?”

  I wait, but there's no reply.

  “Dad!” I shout. “Dad, say something!”

  Five

  “Do you think this is funny?” Denise asks, her voice filled with anger as tears gather in her eyes. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?”

  “I've told you everything I know so far,” I reply, stepping closer and sitting next to her on the sofa in the front room. The storm has died down now, and morning sunlight is streaming through beads of rain on the window. “I'm still trying to figure it all out, but -”

  “Or do you think I'm an idiot?” she continues. “Is that it? Do you think I'm so stupid and so desperate, I'll believe anything you tell me?”

  “Denise -”

  “I knew you were finding it hard,” she adds. “God knows, Annie, I understood that you were closer to him, but it never occurred to me that you'd actually lose your mind. You can't just phone me up in the middle of the night and start rambling about Dad coming back from the dead! Do you have any idea what was going through my mind while I was driving over here?”

  “He was in this room,” I reply. “Only for a couple of hours, but if he came back once, he can come back again!”

  I wait for her to reply, but she's simply staring at me as if she thinks I'm a complete fool.

  “Gary saw him,” I continue, turning to look at Gary as he stands in the doorway. “Tell her, Gary! Tell her you saw him too!”

  He opens his mouth, but no words come out. I can see the fear in his eyes.

  “Tell her!”

  “I saw something,” he stammers, “but -”

  “You saw him!” I hiss. “Don't back down now! You saw him as clearly as I did!”

  He pauses, before nodding.

  “I did,” he mumbles, although he doesn't exactly sound too confident. “I saw him.”

  “So you're both in this together?” Denise asks. “What kind of sickness do you have? Is it for the papers, is that it? Are you trying to rustle up a little story so you can try to get in the news?”

  “Gary took a photo,” I continue, turning and holding my hand out. “Gary, let me show her.”

  He seems a little reluctant, but finally he comes over and passes me his phone.

  “I just took it when I was upstairs with him,” he explains cautiously, “but... I guess I didn't really believe what I was seeing with my own eyes. I needed proof. After he went away again, I kinda thought the picture might be blank.”

  My hands are trembling as I bring up the photo. Sure enough, it shows Dad sitting on the bed.

  “See?” I stammer, handing the phone to Denise. “That was just four hours ago! Look at the wallpaper, it's the new one we only put up after he died! And the photo has the time and date, too. It's proof!”

  She takes the phone and stares at the screen for a moment, and I can see the shock in her eyes.

  “Anyone can fake a pictur
e like this,” she says finally, passing the phone back to me. “All you have to do is find an old photo of him and use Photoshop. There are people who know how to do this sort of thing, you could just look it up on the internet. Or if you'd planned it for a while, you could've hired someone!”

  “The photo is real!” I tell her. “We can prove it! We can get it checked out! I swear on everything in the whole world, it's absolutely real.”

  She stares at me, with more tears in her eyes, but I can tell that she still doesn't believe me.

  “It's real, Denise,” Gary says finally, although he still sounds a little reticent. “I don't know how to explain it, I know how weird this all sounds, but... The photo is real. I took it myself.”

  We sit in silence for a moment, as I wait for Denise to finally accept that this is really happening. At some point, she has to realize that I'm telling the truth.

  “I'm not a liar,” I say finally, after a few seconds have passed without any response from her. “Gary's not a liar, either. You know that, Denise. We're not crazy, either. Do you think we both somehow hallucinated the same thing? Dad was here, and maybe he'll come back again. If it happened once, who knows when he might show up?”

  “Dad's dead, Annie,” she replies, and now her voice is trembling. She seems close to breaking down, and I reach out to hug her, only for her push me away.

  “I should put the kettle back on,” Gary mutters, heading to the kitchen. “It's true what they say, isn't it? Tea really does help in a crisis.”

  “I swear this happened,” I say firmly, still watching for some sign that Denise believes me. “Come on, you know me. You know I wouldn't lie.”

  She stares at me for a moment, before suddenly getting to her feet and wiping her eyes.

  “Denise?”

  “I have to go home!”

  She hurries past me, heading to the hallway. I go after her, but she quickly opens the front door and heads out.

  “Denise, wait!”

  “I don't know why you're doing this,” she sneers, turning to me with anger in her eyes, “and I don't know whether the whole stunt was your idea or Gary's, but you're sick!”

  “Denise...”

  “You're both sick in the head!” she hisses, taking a step back. “Don't you think I miss him too? Don't you think I wish I could see him again? Don't you think there are things I wish I'd said to him, and that I wish I'd been at the hospital with you when he died? I loved him just as much as you did, Annie, so if this is some attempt to prove that you're still mourning him, just... Don't, okay? Stop!”

  “I swear -”

  “I need to get out of here,” she adds. “I can't deal with your bullshit right now. Call me when you've finally gotten over whatever sick joke or fantasy you're playing out, but leave me alone until then. Whatever you and Gary are up to, I don't want to be a part of it.”

  “He told me about the dog,” I reply. “Your dog from when you were younger. He wanted to tell you the truth. He said it didn't run away, he said he took it to the vet because it was sick and -”

  “Of course he took it to the vet!” she snaps. “I might have been eleven years old, but I figured it out for myself. If that's your only attempt to persuade me, it's pretty lousy!”

  With that, she turns and hurries to her car.

  “I'll prove it to you!” I call after her. “Denise, there'll be proof! I don't know what, but we're going to call people and figure out what really happened!”

  I wait for her to reply, but she simply gets into her car and starts the engine. All I can do is watch as she drives away, and a moment later I hear footsteps over my shoulder. As I turn, I half expect to find that Dad has come back again, but instead I see that it's just Gary with a teapot in his hands.

  “Did she leave?” he asks.

  “She doesn't believe me.”

  “Would you believe it?” he continues. “If it was the other way round, I mean. If she was the one making all these claims.”

  “He was here!” I say firmly. “Don't start backing down now, Gary! He was here! We both saw him!”

  “Maybe we just -”

  “He was here!”

  We stand in silence for a moment, until finally he nods.

  “Yeah, Annie,” he says with a sigh. “Yeah, he was here. I don't know how, but he was. I saw him too.”

  “Dad?” I call out, hurrying past him and making my way up the stairs. “Dad, it's me! It's Annie! Can you hear me? Please, Dad... Come back!”

  Six

  “We were starting to think you'd dumped the thing,” the car park attendant explains as he leads me to the spot where our car has been left since the other night. “Good job you came by today, or we might have had it towed. Now that would've cost you a few bob!”

  “Sorry,” I mutter, feeling a shiver pass through my spine. “We've just been busy.”

  “Well, there's no fine,” he adds. “You got stuck here, right? When the barrier was being all wonky?”

  I nod as I take the keys from my jacket pocket.

  “Well, it's all back to normal now,” he continues. “Took a few hours, though. About five years ago, the company installed this crazy new complicated, state-of-the-art security system in the entire building. Works fine when it's in the right mood, but it goes on the blink sometimes and then we're totally stuffed. They have these experts who come out to fix it, but if you ask me, even they don't understand it all. The whole bloody thing's too complicated for anyone to wrap their head around, so they just patch it up until the next time something goes wrong. Sorry you got caught up in it all, though.”

  “That's fine,” I reply, heading to the door and getting it unlocked, before climbing into the car.

  “Turns out,” he adds, “the problem was caused by a faulty -”

  “It's okay,” I tell him, just wanting to get the hell out of here. I need to go home and do some more research online. “Thanks again.”

  He starts to explain a little more about the problems with the building, but I pull the door shut and start the engine. All I can think about is getting back to the house and spending the day on my laptop. Gary's back at work, but I've been in contact with a few mediums and experts who say they can help me to get in touch with Dad, wherever he might be right now. I know it's a long-shot, and I can tell that Gary is already starting to lose faith in the whole thing, but I have to try. Once I have a little more proof of what happened, I can go back to Denise and make her believe me, and maybe I can find a way to bring Dad back again.

  Suddenly realizing that I've been sitting in the car with the engine running for a minute or more, I look out and see the parking attendant staring at me.

  I start driving forward, heading toward the barrier, and the attendant runs to his booth so he can raise the barrier. As I drive outside, however, I stop the car and stare out at the rainy morning, before opening the door and stepping out.

  “Forgot something?” the attendant asks, as the barrier judders back down behind him.

  “Did you figure out the cause of the fault? The one that stopped us taking our car the other night.”

  “They said they fixed it,” he replies, “but I suppose we have to believe them, don't we? Something goes wrong, it gets sorted, and that's that. I guess I shouldn't be too harsh. I mean, everything goes wrong sometimes, doesn't it? Even the most perfect system has to have a little hitch now and then. But I'm afraid the details are beyond me. I don't really have a very technical mind.”

  He turns and looks up at the building.

  “Nothing's foolproof,” he adds.

  “No,” I reply, “I guess not.”

  For a moment, despite the wind and rain on this cold morning, the attendant and I simply stare up at the vast parking building. All I can think about is Dad, and the fact that somehow the world briefly brought him back to me for half an hour, and that he was just as suddenly snatched away again. Although Gary no longer really wants to talk about what happened, I can't help thinking that some inner part
of the universe briefly malfunctioned before being set straight, and I refuse to give up hope that he might come to us another time. If the rules broke once, they can break again. There's just some hidden mechanism between the stars, and for a brief moment that mechanism let me have my father back. I might not understand why or how, but it happened.

  “Very concrete, isn't it?” the attendant mutters, as we continue to stare up at the building. “Pretty ugly, I suppose, but I quite like the place. Even if it doesn't always work the way it's supposed to.”

  Victoria

  Part One

  September 1st, 1963

  “Victoria, meet Emma. I'm sure you two are going to get along just famously!”

  Barely even daring to look at the other girl, Victoria remained behind her mother. The adults had been talking for a while now, ever since they'd all filed out of church, and she just wanted to go home. Now she just hoped she could be forgotten, so that she could silently follow her mother to the car as soon as all the discussion was over. Church was fine, she liked being at church, but the chatty time straight after was always excruciating.

  “Don't be shy, Victoria,” her mother continued, reaching down and taking her hand before gently forcing her to step forward. “Sorry, Melanie, Victoria's just a little shy sometimes around new people. I'm sure she'll be fine.”

  “Hello, Victoria,” said the other girl, who was a little taller than Victoria, maybe a year or two older.

  Victoria flinched, seeing the smile on the other girl's lips and instantly feeling a sense of mistrust.

  “Now Victoria,” her mother continued, crouching down and putting a hand on her shoulder, “I have a special job for you, okay? It's the kind of job that's only given to really good girls. Every Sunday after church, Emma goes back inside and cleans the silver. She gets a coin for doing it, and she also gets the satisfaction of knowing she's doing something to help out. I thought that maybe you're old enough now to join her, and help out too. Doesn't that sound like fun?”

  Victoria stared at Emma for a moment, before turning to her mother and shaking her head. She did not, in fact, want to go with the other girl.