by Dan Dillard
Chapter 4
I scooped Robin up and ran out of that place like something was chasing me. I’m not sure it wasn’t. I felt the freaky blue-eyed stare of the little Russian girl coming from that house. Her pinpoint pupils traced an icy line down my back that seemed to freeze the sweat as it rolled between my shoulder blades.
I regret that my only concern as I ran was for Robin. I didn’t give a second’s thought to Matt or Sean, or even Danny. I didn’t give a second’s thought for myself. I only knew I had to get her out of there, back to someplace warm and safe, a place that wasn’t haunted. I had to make her well again before mom and John saw this quivering mad person with insane in her eyes.
Robin tucked her face into the crook of my shoulder and didn’t make a sound as we scampered across that field. The crescent moon was choked off by the clouds and the world was hazy and dark and the street lights on US 49 seemed a mile away. I could have tripped, breaking an ankle and maybe tumbling and taking my sister with me as I moved across the uneven ground. Something carried me along and for whatever it was, I was grateful. I don’t know why that guardian angel wasn’t watching during our stupid game and during Robin’s…possession is the only word that fits. I just know it got me away from there—got us away from there. Maybe it was scared too. I wish that something had stayed with me as I got older. I wish it could have stayed with all of us.
Even though I didn’t check, and never looked back, Sean, Matt and Danny had followed close behind us. They passed Robin and I and went on ahead, running where I could only walk with her added weight, little as it was. When we reached it, Danny held the fence wire while I ducked through with Robin. Afterward, Sean and Matt came through and Sean held his hand out to stop me before we crossed the road. We were all panting, our breaths thick, smoky puffs in the dim light of the street lamps.
“How is she?” he said.
“I dunno, scared? We’re all scared,” I said.
Sean put his hand to his forehead and paced in a small circle. He lit a cigarette from his pocket with a plastic lighter. It was black and had a decal on the side of orange and yellow flames. As the flint and steel sparked and then a flame rose in his face, I saw the brilliant red flush of his cheeks contrasted against the sour-cream white of his face. It looked like I felt. I took a step toward their house. I could see the lights on and knew his parents were waiting up for us. There was no doubt in my mind that my parents weren’t doing the same. John would've finished a twelver, maybe fifteen and mom would've been worn out, passed out, or knocked out by then.
Sean put his hand on my shoulder. When I looked at him, his eyes were moist and a tear spilled over. That shocked me almost as much as the whole encounter. He was older. He wasn’t scared of anything. He blew smoke out of his nostrils and clamped the cigarette between two fingers, dropping it to his side.
“Not a word about this, okay? It was just a joke. I played a joke is all, and nothing else happened.”
“You expect us to believe that was some joke?” I said.
“Damnit, Todd. You heard what I said, right?”
There was anger in his eyes. Something ferocious that told me to agree with whatever he said or I might not get home in one piece. I wasn’t afraid of fists, not his anyway, but something in his eyes mixed with the desperation in his voice made me agree. He was frightened and not just of the ghost and the weirdness. He was afraid of getting in trouble. I was traumatized, Danny was still shaking and Robin, who knows what Robin was going through. I couldn’t believe it. After all that had happened.
What had happened?
After all of that, he was just covering his ass. I must have looked like I was about to disagree and plead my case because he grabbed my shoulder.
“You gotta fuckin’ swear,” he said. His voice quivered. “All of you. You gotta swear, not a word. Not even to each other. We never talk about this again.”
I looked at the others, and down at Robin. She was calming down, her pupils back to their normal size, much of the crazy gone, but she was still panting. All I wanted to do at that moment was get her home and take care of her. Her and Danny. If we went home and never spoke of The Russian House again, it would be forgotten. I nodded.
Sean looked at Matt and Danny who looked at me and they both nodded. That was the end of the conversation.
When we got to the Chambers’ house, Sean’s mother navigated the steps down to the living room in a heartbeat and was rubbing Robin’s hair and glaring at her sons before any of them could breathe. According to their mantel clock, it was after 2:00 am.
How was it after 2:00 am?
It felt like we’d been gone no more than a couple hours—three at the most, but in fact, it had been almost seven. I guess time flies when you’re losing your ever-loving mind.
“Are you okay, honey?” Mrs. Chambers said.
Robin nodded but didn’t speak, she just kept clinging to me.
“What did you boys do to her?”
Danny secured his arm around me and his little sister and gave me a look that was equal parts fear and confusion. I looked at Sean and his eyes darted from each of us to his mother and back to Robin, always back to Robin.
“Nothing. We just scared her a little,” Sean said. “Guess she’s too young for ghost stories.”
He gave me a hard look. I wanted to spill it, but didn't, couldn't somehow. I'm ashamed of that now. So many things might be different.
“Yeah. She’ll be okay. We’re going home now,” I said.
“Let me call your mother, she’s probably worried.”
I looked at Mrs. Chambers with as much honest hope as I could and said, “Please don’t, ma'am. I’ll take care of this—of her.”
She made a face that told me she understood—a frustrated smile is the best way to describe it. She’d seen the bruises on my arms, on my back, and occasionally on my face. I think everyone had. She understood that I was taking a big risk just by going home. Then her face brightened, but just a little.
“You can stay here tonight. All three of you. We’ll have a big pancake breakfast and get you kids home first thing in the morning,” she said.
“No, it’s all right. Really, I’ll take care of it. We won’t make a sound. They’ll never know we came in.”
That much was true. We could’ve walked in with a brass marching band and John would not have known the difference. Mom might have come to check, but out of habit instead of concern. Getting inside our house safely and quietly was the least of my worries.
Sean was quiet and Matt just stood there with his jaw hanging like a porch swing. I just wanted that awful memory—that taste out of my brain. I wanted some sort of soap that would remove the cackling laugh of that ghost from the Russian House…her terrible hissing voice and dead face with pupil-less eyes. It was all right there in my own neighborhood and I wanted to scrub all of it away.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?” I said, voice quivering, trying to be tough.
Sean nodded and Matt stood there, still dumbfounded. Sean smacked him on the back and he finally closed his mouth and gave us a halfhearted wave.
“I’m not so sure these two will be up for any visitors tomorrow,” Mrs. Chambers said, giving a scornful look to each of her sons. “But I’d like to know how Robin is feeling.”
“I’m okay,” Robin said in a pitiful voice.
I was glad to hear her speak. I hugged her a little tighter to my chest and said my final goodbyes, letting Danny open the front door and then close it behind us. Through the door, I could hear Mrs. Chambers shouting at her sons. I hoped they didn't get it too bad. None of us could have imagined those results. It was just a game.
It was just a game.
I repeated those words in my head all the way as we hurried home and snuck in through the back door. Going through the kitchen was better than the living room. Dad did his best passing out in the living room. He might have slept off just enough of the drink to be able to wake up and hurl some obscen
ities, but it wouldn’t have been enough for him to throw fists. He was snoring when we passed by the doorway to the living room. No doubt slumped over on the couch with his work shirt unbuttoned and a stained v-necked t-shirt catching his drool. I didn’t look, but I was glad he was in there. That might've meant mom hadn't taken any of his shit that night. One good thing.
Instead, I ushered my siblings up the steps and found Robin some pajamas. She put them on without much hassle or discussion and then grabbed her toothbrush and looked at herself in the mirror. Danny stood beside her. He had calmed down enough to make goofy faces and she relaxed a little at that, but didn't act like an almost seven year old. Her face looked much older—not wrinkled, but wise in some way. Some of the clarity had left her eyes. I knew none of us would sleep that night.
We camped in mine and Danny’s room, the three of us. Danny asked me to read a book. He carefully picked one where nothing remotely frightening happened. Poems by Shel Silverstein, who was still kicking at the time, always took the world away and made life a little lighter in our very heavy home.
Danny said, “Can we make a tent?”
“Yeah. That’s a great idea,” I said.
Robin smiled and within moments, blankets had become the roof of a magical place, far from shrieking Russian ghost-girls and fake funerals. They propped chairs against the wall and used the bed frame for a tent pole. One corner was tied to a doorknob with precision and strength any sailor would be proud of. We quietly gathered stuffed animals, action figures, pillows and most of all, each other. Inside that make-shift palace, they felt safe. Even as a burgeoning teenager, I felt a little better as well.
I opened the book and read just above a whisper taking us all to that place “Where The Sidewalk Ends.” It was a favorite of ours. I remember when Mr. Silverstein died and how much his books had meant to me and my siblings on that night when we were scared out of our wits, to take comfort in a makeshift tent and live in his magical world for a little while. We’d heard the poems so many times that we didn’t have to stifle the giggles, but we smiled and even recited many of them by heart.
It took a while before their eyelids grew heavy and their little heads started to bob—maybe an hour. Once they appeared good and asleep, I folded the book closed, sat at my desk and stared out the window until the sun came up. I was glad that it had because for much of that night, I wondered if I would ever see it again.
I was still sitting there awake when Danny tugged on my shirt sleeve.
“Todd?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“What happened over there...at that house?”
I thought about it, but I didn’t have a good answer. If he’d asked me today, I would tell him we’d all made a grave mistake that night and I’d give him a hug. Then I would try to make it right. I still don’t know how I might do that, but that’s what I would do if he was still here.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You think Robin’s okay? Are we okay?”
I thought before I answered. I felt fine. I was tired and a little shaken, but not physically harmed.
“Yeah. I think we’re all fine. A little freaked out is all.”
That seemed to satisfy him. Robin still slept with her teddy bear in her pink jammies. I heard the rustle of my mother waking. She stopped by our room on the way to wake my father and fix his breakfast.
“You’ve been busy,” she said. “I thought you were staying at Sandy and Bob’s.”
“Robin got scared, so I brought them home,” I said.
“Oh.”
Her response was Oh. No sympathy, no follow up on the well being of her almost seven year old child. Just Oh.
“Come on down for breakfast. I’ve gotta get your dad off to work.”
Robin stretched and sat up with a yawn.
“Hi mommy,” she said.
Then she smiled. “It’s my birthday in two days!” she said.
“I guess it is,” my mother said. “What was it you wanted?”
“The pink bicycle with the basket so I can carry things,” Robin said without blinking.
“Right. The bike,” mom said. And that was the end of the conversation.
We felt okay the rest of that next day, although a bit shaken and tired from lack of sleep. Danny and I tossed the pigskin around all afternoon pretending to be John Riggins (we knew he'd be back) and Tony Dorsett or maybe it was Joe Theisman and Danny White. The rest of the weekend followed business as usual. Robin seemed distant, not her normal plucky self, but dreams of a pink bicycle kept her focused on that birthday. She wore a blank expression and sadness in her eyes. I chalked it up to being tired.
She and Danny both had nightmares Saturday and Sunday night, so we all camped together in the tent in mine and Danny’s room. When Monday morning came, and Robin woke up one day older, she was back.
