Past Tense

by Samantha Hunter

  The room grew a little dim, the ghost disappearing and her body feeling heavy and slack in the chair. She tried to keep watching the coin, but her eyes closed. She could hear everything going on around her, footsteps outside the door, voices down the hall, a car alarm going off down in the parking lot. She was keenly aware of it all, as if her mind had become hyper-sensitive.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you see?”

  Sophie paused, not wanting to go there.

  “The glass is dirty. I can’t see through it.”

  “Can you clean it? Like you would the windows at the store?”

  Sophie frowned, and stepped closer to the glass, a cloth and bottle of spray materializing in her hands. She rubbed vigorously at the dirt on the glass. It started to come clean, and she worked harder, determined to get the window clean.

  “There’s a clear spot now.”

  “That’s excellent, Sophie! What do you see?”

  “I’m in my room, fixing my hair for the trip.”

  “What trip?”

  “Our junior class trip to Mystic Seaport. It was Saturday, and I would normally be helping out at the register down in the shop, but Aunt Doris was taking care of the shop alone until Dad got back from dropping me off. Dad’s calling me to get going.”

  “You don’t want to go?”

  “I’m afraid. I don’t want to do this,” she said, gripping the hands of the chair again, the glass starting to fog over.

  “Sophie, it’s okay. You’re just remembering. Remembering is good. What do you see?”

  The clear spot on the glass had become a little smaller, but she was able to make out images. Like looking through a window at her life. Her past.

  “I can’t decide what shoes to wear. The heels show my legs off. I want Andy Harrison to notice me, but they are going to give me blisters if I wear them all day. Still, they look really good with the new skirt I’m wearing. . . .”

  “Okay, once you decide what to wear, you go out to meet your father?”

  “Yes, but. . .”

  Sophie lost track of Gabe, forgetting everything but what she saw through the glass as the past became more real in her mind. She watched herself reached for the knob of her bedroom door and walk out into the apartment as her father turned to rush down the stairs. Sophie heard him yell and she ran to the edge of the landing to check as well. As she stood in the doorway, she saw him pushing on the door into the shop, trying to get through.

  “Dad! What are you doing? What’s wrong?” she heard herself shout.

  “Sophie, what’s happening?” Gabe’s voice interjected, pulling her back again.

  “Dad is trying to get into the shop, but he can’t. Someone is blocking the door. There’s a weird noise, like a popping, and,” Sophie saw it all so clearly, and her breathing became shallow and fast, her hands turning to ice. “No, no. I don’t want to see,” she said, shaking her head, but the clear spot on the glass was getting bigger now, like frost burning away from the center of a windshield, and she couldn’t help but look.

  “Sophie, focus on my voice. This is just a memory and it can’t hurt you. You’re safe and here in my office. What’s happening?”

  “There are little explosions, blowing the wood out the other side of the door. I know it’s a gunshot, but I can’t really believe it. I don’t know what to do. I want to run, to help, but I can’t. Then, one of the little explosions hits Daddy, and he just. . .jumps, and then again. There’s blood. Too much. His knees bend as he falls, and then I hear Aunt Doris scream. There are more tiny explosions. I need to get down there, but my heel catches and I fall forward, down the stairs. . . that’s all I remember.”

  “You didn’t see who shot them? You never saw who was on the other side of the door?”

  “No. I don’t open the door. I’m hurt, the pain is so bad, and I can’t move.” Sophie paused, sucking in a breath, tears spilling, feeling as if she could feel every slam and jolt of her body as she felt the tumble down the steps, cringing in the chair. “So I just hold on to Dad and stay still, because the killer could still be out there.” She was sobbing now, and asking her father to wake up, her voice pitiful, as Gabe tried to calm her down.

  “You’re okay, Sophie. You’re safe. You’re not hurt anymore. You can look away now. It’s all over, and in the past. You understand?”

  Still lost in the past, she opened her eyes and looked around wildly, seeing Gabe and the office, but it was all mixed with images from her past, and she couldn’t tell what was what, past and present mixing together. “I don’t want to do this anymore!”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” a loud voice interrupted them from the doorway.

  Sophie saw Roger burst into the room, and she sucked in a harsh breath as reality returned with a crash. Everything around her spun for a moment.

  “Sophie? What did you do?” he demanded of Gabe.

  Sophie looked away, her memories crashing in. A wave of grief folded her double in the chair, unable to breathe, choking out sobs that pulled from her core. Never had she felt such pain, like someone suddenly shutting off anesthesia, she felt it all, everything she had been blocking for years. Roger and Gabe were both at her side, and she pushed them both away, trying to get air.

  “It’s what you did,” Gabe accused. “You pulled her out of it before she was ready. Who do you think you are, busting into my office like you have a right?”

  “When I heard Sophie yelling, that’s all the permission I needed,” Roger growled, facing off.

  Sophie pushed away from them both, rushing to the window and pushing it up to get some air, taking in large, gulping breaths before her hands stopped shaking and her mind started to clear.

  Everything she’d just seen and remembered played through her mind in a tangled string of impressions along with new things that seemed to pop up at random. It was as if her mind was splitting open, everything pouring forth at once, and she couldn’t process it all amid the chaos. Everything was painful, every single nerve ending in her body and mind reminding her of what she’d seen, the experiences of years forgotten.

  The men behind her were snarling at each other, and she turned on them both.

  “Stop,” she commanded, and miraculously, they did. She turned on Gabe first, furious. “You tricked me. You said you wouldn’t hypnotize me.”

  Gabe shook his head. “I said you couldn’t be hypnotized unless you wanted to be. And Sophie, I didn’t even try. The coin rolling really is a habit. I had no idea you’d fall under that easily. Once you were there, I thought it was worth pursuing.”

  “Give me a--”

  “Roger. stop” She turned away from Roger, staring accusingly at Gabe. “You thought it was worth pursuing?”

  “I made a judgment call, Sophie. You wanted to remember, you just needed something to distract you from the fear. The coin wasn’t the hypnotic instrument, I swear, but it worked because you wanted it to. You were ready. It took me a minute to even realize what happened, but I stand by what I said. You wouldn’t have been able to remember anything that you weren’t ready to know. These memories were determined to come up. I’m just sorry I couldn’t have brought you out of it in a more peaceful fashion,” he said, glaring at Roger.

  Sophie frowned. She was furious at him, but he was also right. She had wanted to know, even if she’d feared the knowledge.

  “How dare you mess with her mind like that? And you,” he said, looking at Sophie. “I don’t know what to think.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was more angry or. . .something else. Jealous? Betrayed? Frightened? For her or for himself?

  “Roger, I needed to know.”

  “All the times we discussed having the department expert put you under, and you wouldn’t even consider it,” he went on. “You never trusted me that it would be okay, that it could help. Then you do this, with him, the equivalent of a back alley abortion of your memory?”

  Sophie flinched at t
he harshness of the words, but she wasn’t about to back down. “I did what was right for me. I wasn’t ready then. I also didn’t want half the police department and God knows who listening to my private memories.”

  “Even if it could have helped find their killer?”

  The pain gripped her again, but she pulled herself up straight. “I never saw the person who did it. I never got past the door. I didn’t hear anything but gunshots and my aunt’s scream.”

  His expression tightened in response, as if feeling pain for her, but her emotions were too raw to deal with his pain, too. She wasn’t even sure she could deal with her own.

  “I have to be alone,” she said, grabbing her jacket and heading for the door. Roger turned to follow, but she put out her hand. “Alone,” she re-emphasized. “I have to think. I’ll call you later,” she added, needing to offer him something.

  “Sophie, it’s not safe for you out there,” he reminded her, stepping forward.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, wondering if she ever had been safe.

  She remembered all too well from her childhood, the haunted souls who were drawn to her, what they wanted and how they’d suffered. She knew why her aunt never encouraged her abilities – how else to deal with a child who attracted the unsettled spirits of murder victims? The consequences of growing up with that burden, and of finding the answers they wanted her to find, were mind-boggling. But Sophie had to wonder, what did that make her, that her spirit could open that particular door?

  She shared a quick look with Gabe that promised nothing, but she knew whatever they were doing, it wasn’t over. Without another glance, she left. She had no idea where she was going, but at the moment she just had to find some way to understand where she’d been.

  * * *

  Two days later, Sophie maneuvered Margaret’s small car through the pretty archway guarded by pillars at the opening of Locust Hill cemetery, about forty-five minutes north of Boston proper. It was a dry day with an inkling of real Spring warmth in the air, making her feel slightly hopeful as she drove. She’d holed up in her apartment since she’d left Gabe’s office, speaking to no one, trying to sift through her thoughts and feelings. Life had hit the pause button for her.

  The investigation was in progress but stalled, the shop was closed, school was done for now. Roger did as she asked and had left her alone, only one message on her cell. Even the media had backed off a bit.

  Driving slowly along the gravel roads that curved throughout the place, she found her way to the familiar spot and parked her car. Walking down to the grassy knoll where her father and aunt were buried next to each other, she stood and looked around. She was the only one here. She hadn’t visited since before school started, last August, for her father’s birthday, when she’d come with lunch and read the baseball news to him. He’d never believe the Sox had won the series—twice—and it still made her eyes burn that he hadn’t lived to see it.

  Reaching down, she brushed dead leaves from the small, flat markers and checked the ground to make sure it was mostly dry before she sat cross-legged between the two stones.

  “Hey there, sorry it’s been a while,” she said, looking up as the cool breeze caressed her face and sun shone through the budding branches. A few of the crocuses and daffodils she’d planted by the grave site were starting to push their way up. Aunt Doris loved crocuses.

  “A lot has happened. I got engaged to Roger, and I’m almost done with school, but there are some problems with both. I was hoping maybe you could give me some advice.”

  She often talked to her family, even though they never talked back. Maybe that could change, she thought with a small spark of hope, pulling her tarot deck from her pocket.

  She’d spent a long night digging out the memories that had been dredged up by Gabe’s hypnosis, writing them down furiously in case they faded again. But while she was grateful to have her past back, she also had more questions than ever. Unfortunately, the only people who could answer them--her father, her Aunt Doris and Patrice--were gone. Or maybe not, given her newfound abilities. It was with that hope that she came today to talk with them.

  Her amnesia had been more far-reaching than the day of her family’s deaths. She’d forgotten, in many ways, who she was. Now she had to fold it all into who she had become.

  “You know that thing you used to say, Dad? Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans? I never got that, really, until now. I guess I’ve been making other plans, and now life happened and I’m not sure what to do with it. I think everything has changed, and I’m not even sure how. I wish you were here, so you could tell me what to do. What the right thing is,” she said, sadness choking off the words, and she paused, looking at the sunshine again.

  She heard her Dad’s teasing voice in her head as she often did, saying “Buck up, junior.” She’d never known exactly what that meant to “buck up,” either, but it always made her laugh.

  “Anyway, I met someone who helped me remember what happened. His name is Gabe. It’s all still a little confusing. But I remembered that the ghosts of people who’d been killed, like you were, come to me for answers. What I don’t know is why, or what it is about me that would attract that kind of. . .energy.”

  She paused, taking a breath. “I know you tried to stop it, Auntie. Probably figured if I don’t use it, I’d lose it, but guess what? I didn’t. They can still find me, I guess, but I don’t know what to do, and I’m in a little hot water here. I never did learn exactly how this works, but I’m going to give it a try, okay? If you can help me out, that would b e good,” she said lightly, shuffling cards while she spoke. “After all, you were all murdered too. So why haven’t you come to me?”

  She heard crunching on the gravel somewhere in the distance but paid it no mind. Her focus was on her cards, her shuffling. She chose one from the top, seeking a straightforward answer, but it barely hit the ground before the breeze delivered a gust of wind that blew it away. She had to scramble to catch it as it flew over the surface of the grass. When she caught up and looked at it, it was the Ace of Wands, which didn’t tell her much. Some inkling of her nascent abilities, maybe. A budding creative or psychic talent, but Sophie received absolutely no impression that could answer her question.

  “Okay, I get that this is kind of beginning for me,” she said, trying not to sound too frustrated.

  She shuffled, trying to find the quiet place in her mind and letting the question settling, the energy run through her. She cut the deck, looking down at the card that came to the surface this time.

  Ace of Wands, again.

  Usually when cards repeated, it meant something. Sophie had seen a card appear over and over again in different readings for weeks or months if a person wasn’t addressing the issue that they should. However, in this case, she had the distinct impression of being stonewalled. The problem was that she didn’t know if the block was coming from outside or inside. She didn’t even know if she was doing this right, if they could hear her at all.

  She remembered the few times she’d done it as a child, when she chose cards to communicate for the dead. Then, it was their influence, almost a voice in her head, that guided her, much like had happened when she’d been reading for Patrice. It was almost a physical connection. Now, she didn’t feel anything but frustration. It was clear that the ghost allowed the connection; she couldn’t initiate it, apparently.

  If her family was communicating with her, they weren’t going to say much, it seemed. It left her hollow and depressed. Was there anyone she could turn to for answers?

  “I thought you might be here.”

  Spinning around in surprise, she saw Roger standing about ten feet away.

  “Followed me, huh?” she said with a surprising lack of anger at the fact.

  “You had to figure I would. Someone has to keep an eye on you,” he said without rancor.

  “Actually, I’ve been a little preoccupied. I figured maybe you were giving up on me,” she said with a litt
le smile.

  “You should know better. I never give up, especially not on you. Are you okay?”

  He was being careful; she could see it even in how he hung back, how he kept his distance verbally as well. Guilt besieged her. Roger had been there for her all these years.

  Her rock. Her lover. Her friend.

  And she’d been pushing him away, treating him badly as she took out the mess she was inside on the last person who deserved it. Pushing to her feet, she closed the distance and threw her arms around him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? Babe, you have nothing to apologize for,” he said, kissing her hair and seeming genuinely bemused at her reaction.

  “For being such an ass the last few weeks. It’s just been. . .difficult.”

  “First, you’re never an ass,” he said, and she quirked an eyebrow, making him smile. “Well, no more often than I am. Believe me. If I could spare you any of this, I would,” he said gruffly, tipping her head up and looking down with kind eyes before he kissed her hard and pulled her back close. “I’m afraid for you, Sophie. I don’t always know how to tell you that, but I just need you to be safe.”

  “I know,” she said with a deep sigh, feeling like they were reconnected again for the first time in a while. “I know this has been hard for you. But I can’t ignore what I know, and I can’t pretend none of it is happening. I know you hate the idea of psychics, and everything I do, but-”

  “I don’t hate it. I just don’t. . . believe it.”

  “But don’t you see how that feels like you don’t believe in me?”

  He frowned. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s because I do believe in you—in us—and what we can have together. When you start going down this path, I feel like I’m losing you.”

  “You’re not,” she said quickly and definitively. “But you have to let me be whoever I am. I need to figure this out.”