by Dana Pratola
*****
Someone was in the kitchen. Someone, not something. Ghosts, demons, what have you, didn’t eat. They weren’t subject to this world’s limitations so had no need of air, light, or food. A spirit of any kind certainly had no business rummaging through my leftovers. Someone was. That had been a stomach growling at me a little while ago, not a force of darkness.
Whoever it was, tried to be quiet as a ghost, but—and I was convinced this was a result of the head injury—I heard everything. I’d say my hearing was about thirty percent better than normal and I’d had excellent hearing to begin with.
A shuffle of shoe on the kitchen floor. Foil. Some kind of scrape, like a chair leg, or … no. That metal stool I’d found earlier. Maybe. I didn’t hear chewing, but I thought I detected breathing. Through the nose when your mouth is full and you’re in a hurry.
I’d been laying here for half an hour, pretending to listen to music, keeping my ears open to absolutely anything, and now I had my chance. For what, I wasn’t sure. Knowing someone was in the house wasn’t very helpful. Once they became silent again, I would still have no idea of their location or intent. I had a few bucks on me, and my cell, so it wasn’t robbery, and if they just wanted to mess with me or hurt me, they could have already.
I waited a few minutes, bobbing my head to the nonexistent melody pumping in through my headphones, but heard nothing. No, wait. There was something. Water? Running water. Well, more like trickling. Muted, as though there was something under the stream, to muffle the splash of it in the sink. If I didn’t know better, I would think my ghost was washing dishes.
Realistically, how much more of this could I take? Convinced beyond question that I was sharing this house with a person … now what? Just go on as though everything was normal? What harm could come from denial, right? Just to test my theory, I cleared my throat. The kitchen faucet turned off in a fraction of a second.
I started to hum again, this time tapping my toe on the floor for believability, then stopped humming, but continued tapping intermittently. At last, I heard some indefinable sound from the direction of the kitchen, followed a few seconds later by a creak, closer, midway up the hall. My heart pounded, though I didn’t show any sign I’d heard.
Another sound. Whoever it was squeaked a stair on their way up to the second floor. I intended to let them go on their way, but denial had never sat well on me. Besides, I’d been accused so often of being a control freak that … well, I guess I was more comfortable defining the terms of this strange affiliation than waiting around for it to make a move. And, hey, why not add another challenge?
“You just going to float around here without talking?” No answer, though I would bet my life I had its attention. “You do speak, right?”
For a second, I thought it might, and that I would not like what it had to say. I had this instant image of a goofy horror flick with a raspy, demonic voice demanding I ‘get out.’ Ridiculous, I know.
“I don’t believe in ghosts. Sorry if that offends you,” I said. “You’re not a demon, because you’re still here. I’m not convinced you’re a real person, either. I’m not sure what you are. That’s why I’d like to hear your voice.” I paused, hoping it would answer. It didn’t. “Wanna hear something crazy?” I asked, finally. “I don’t care what you are. I’m glad I’m not alone. Ordinarily I wouldn’t mind, but not being able to see is….”
There was a shuffle that sounded like the same spot I’d heard the last noise, so it hadn’t moved. Whoever it was, was listening.
“They say it’s temporary. The blindness. Well…” I turned a palm up. “Maybe. Either way, it sucks though. My head’s fuzzy, kind of dizzy, with this crazy pressure….” I gripped the sides of my head to illustrate, unaware if I was garnering sympathy or just confirming my status as an easy target.
After another few silent seconds, I sighed and sat back. “Just don’t murder me in my sleep, okay? I’ve always wondered what my last words would be and I’d hate to depart this world without finding out.”
My visitor stayed quiet. Maybe talking out loud helped, but the action gave me a renewed boldness. My heart thundered, yeah, but at the same time, conversation was familiar even if one-sided. It was something anyone could do, even the blind.
“Okay then. I’m trusting you.”
The strange part … I really was. Whether from the prayer earlier, or just simple desperation now, I had to trust this person. This time when I lay back on the couch, I did turn on my music. They would talk when they were ready.
*****
I passed some time reading—well, flipping pages. My mind raced too fast to identify, much less process, words. Josiah had spoken directly to me. The fact that he hadn’t known he was looking into my eyes didn’t change the fact that I felt a connection with him, a strange intimacy surely conjured out of my own anxiety and desperation, and one-sided, but real nonetheless. We had a common bond, after all. That simple act of speaking to me revealed not only his need for companionship, but mine as well.
How I longed to be able to answer him, to have a conversation. I’d ask what had happened to him, and assure him I wouldn’t hurt him. I wouldn’t have to tell him how lonely I’d been. Although he’d only been here a couple days, I think he’d understand.
The sun had just set, and with a satisfied stomach and a heart somehow simultaneously full and empty, I set aside my book, curled up in my corner to rest my eyes and began to pray.
I was struck with the strangest thought. What if God had me here for a reason? I mean, I don’t believe He caused me to be homeless, or alone, but He did have a way of working things out. What if I was supposed to look after Josiah?
The thought gave me pause, as my mind wandered back to the events leading me to this house. With that pause, came an odd sense of … peace, I guess, whether directly from the Holy Spirit, or of my own making. If I had God’s leading to be here, then it must follow I had His blessing, so He would see to it I wasn’t chased away, either by Josiah, or one of his visitors. Right?
It also meant God was willing to overlook my having stolen Josiah’s food. I laughed to myself. I’d been feeling guilty, and while it seemed a silly thing to be concerned with considering everything else, I planned to reimburse him for what I ate when I was able.
It was early still, but my eyelids drooped and I gave myself over to sleep.
CHAPTER 9
It was full night when my eyes sprang open and I turned my head toward the slice of light seeping in beneath the door. Something had woken me. Maybe the cats again. A small community of six or seven strays enjoyed hanging out around the house, often squalling under my window.
I listened for a few seconds, then must have drifted off, only to be jolted once more by something I couldn’t pinpoint. I tuned my ears in, and still heard nothing, so tried to go back to sleep. Nope. I was wide awake.
It was strange, but I walked to the door with no worry of the floor creaking or door whining as I pulled it open. I must have been half asleep to be so careless, but I felt led by an unignorable urgency. I went into the corridor, glancing into the bathroom before turning to the staircase landing.
I saw Josiah immediately. His feet anyway, jutting into the foyer, toes pointing upward.
“Oh God,” I whispered, hurrying down the stairs to discover him sprawled across the parlor floor on his back, eyes closed. If he heard me coming, he gave no sign, no movement. “Oh God,” I repeated, hurrying to his side. I stared at him for a couple seconds, immensely relieved to see his chest rise and fall with breath.
Even though I wasn’t supposed to be here, I had to do something, try to wake him or … I didn’t know … anything. The lay of his hair exposed a healing crescent-shaped wound on the side of his head and I wondered how he’d gotten it. More so, the round, dime-size ones near it, barely obscured by his hair.
It almost appeared—to clarify, I know nothing about brain surgery other than what I’d seen on medical dramas—like he’d had holes d
rilled in his head! Ok, they appeared to be healing nicely, but…holes! Dear Lord! He must have had some kind of horrific head trauma, and now he was unconscious on the floor!
Following my first instinct, I gave him a nudge with my shoe. Then I stretched my leg out and tapped his ankle with my foot. No response. I checked his head again. I didn’t see any blood, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Though, if it wasn’t so bad, shouldn’t he have woken?
“Hey,” I whispered. Still no response, so I nudged him again. “Hey,” I repeated, slightly louder. Not so much as a twitching eyelid. “Josiah.” I figured if he heard his name it might trigger him. I had no idea how long he’d been like this. What if he was in a coma and never woke up?
“Lord, what do I do? What do I do?”
Wringing my hands for several seconds did nothing to bring a solution.
Ah, 911! Of course!
I didn’t have a phone.
He did. I looked around, spotting it on the table in front of the sofa. But if I used it to call 911, they would ask my name. I couldn’t tell them that! And I couldn’t be here when they came in case they looked around. All I needed was for the owners of this property to catch wind of it … no, that mustn’t happen.
I stood with the phone, staring at him. Leaving him like this wasn’t an option. Every second he wasn’t receiving help could be critical! I had to get him help, so I pushed the buttons and set the phone beside him. Sure, they would think he’d called before he passed out!
The hospital was ten minutes away, but there was an ambulance station nearby. That wouldn’t give me a lot of time to make myself scarce. Where would I go? The only place I could think of was the hollowed-out root of an overturned elm just over the back fence. I’d hidden there once before.
“Nine, one, one, what is your emergency?” a woman’s muffled voice squeezed through the tiny speaker.
I stopped myself just before blurting, help, there’s an unconscious man on the floor!
“Nine, one, one, what is your emergency?” the woman repeated. “Are you unable to respond?” she asked after a moment.
A ridiculous question. If he was unable to respond, could he tell her, yes, I’m unable to respond? She asked a few more questions, and I heard her say something in code to someone, but my mind had jumped ahead to, what if, for some reason they couldn’t track his phone, or find him? Or what if they did track him, took him away and he never regained consciousness? Someone should know where he was and be with him.
I had to call Ben, but hang up on the operator? She’d never know where to send the ambulance! Going by sheer instinct, I took Josiah’s phone, gave a soft groan to seal the severity of the situation, and hung up. Then I found Ben’s number, called him, and waited for him to answer.
“Hey Kash, what’s up?”
I felt awful, knowing he would panic when he didn’t get an answer. Unfortunately, I had no choice.
“Kash? You okay?”
I swear, right then I almost said something.
“Kash! Can you hear me?” Long pause. “Kash. Did you butt dial me? I’m gonna be really pissed if this is a mistake.”
Man, I regretted the fear in his voice.
“Kash!” Ben let out a desperate sigh. “I’m coming, buddy. I’m in Sommerville, but I’ll be there as soon as I can. Don’t hang up. Stay with me, Kash, I’m on my way!”
Instead of hanging up, he kept talking, encouraging Josiah to hang on, but 911 called back and I had to click over, hoping Ben might not even notice. When the same operator repeated her questions, I set the phone down beside Josiah.
He would be fine! They would send someone. At the very least, Ben would arrive and take him to the hospital. Yeah, Josiah would be fine.
Well just in case, I couldn’t bear the thought of him spending his final moments on a cold floor, alone. I knelt beside him and did the unimaginable. I held his hand. Although his fingers didn’t grip mine back, they were warm. That was a good sign. It was probably the wrong time to notice, but he had nice hands. Rugged, slightly calloused, not gnarled or busted up like some cowboys I knew, young and old. I would have loved to feel him squeeze my hand, or at least twitch. Nothing.
The operator was still talking, and I didn’t want that to be the only thing he heard, if indeed he could somehow hear. I got low and whispered in his ear.
“Josiah, you’re not alone. I’m here, so is God. He’ll take care of you. I’m going to pray for you now.”
I prayed for him, murmuring close to his ear so that the operator didn’t hear. Keeping my voice low and steady was hard to do, since my heart was overflowing with barely contained emotion.
“I’ll be close by, just stay with me. Don’t you dare die, Josiah,” I warned him. I couldn’t take it if he did, especially here with help so close by. My eyes were wet with tears by the time I lifted my face to look at him.
He really was handsome, even with his facial hair starting to advance under his nose and across his classic jaw. I couldn’t resist the urge to stroke my index finger down the side of his stubbled face. Under the circumstances, I wished his eyes would pop open and he’d ask me what had happened. He didn’t.
The wail of a siren in the distance had me tearing upstairs to shove my meager belongings under the bed in a ball. I raced back, but before I fled to my hiding place, I leaned down to whisper in his ear once again.
“I’m here. If you come back, I’ll be waiting for you.” On a whim, I kissed his cheek, then scurried off.
*****
As the sky lightened with dawn and the birds stretched and set out on the business of the day, I watched from my hiding place in the tree roots, wringing my hands until the medical team wheeled Josiah out. The relief at seeing his face was not covered by a sheet, was so intense and immediate that tears spurted from my eyes and my breath caught like a big ball in my chest. I didn’t want him sharing my house, only now that he was leaving under such extreme circumstances… Yes, it had only been a couple days, but I didn’t want to think I’d never see him again.
The police did a quick search of the house, turning lights on and off as they went. Finding no signs of struggle or criminal activity or whatever, they wrapped it up. I continued crying as the police cars rolled away behind the ambulance.
Thankfully, Ben arrived then, stopping his silver truck in a flurry of gravel half way up the drive to lean out his window next to a patrol car. His anxious voice carried clear through the still night air, asking what had happened, would his friend be all right, and receiving blunt answers in return. When the police officer pulled off, Ben spun his truck around to follow.
Aside from being upset, I was freezing in my light jacket! Now that they’d gone, I sprinted across the lawn like a skittish doe, letting out a huge sigh as the warmth of the house embraced me.
Yet the heat on my skin was no match for the chill that crept inside me. Not only did Ben’s terrified voice echo in my head, stirring sympathy for him, it also rekindled my own feelings of concern for Josiah. What if he’d had a stroke or slipped into an endless coma? Did he have family anywhere who would mourn him? Was he an organ donor?
I went to the living room and sat in his place on the sofa, running my fingers along the fabric of his pillow before falling back on it, closing my eyes with a sigh. I remembered his heart-wrenching tears, as if he’d lost something very precious, and found it strange that I suddenly related. On a different level, yes, but I already felt lonelier than before he had come here, and like him, I had no idea what my future held or what would become of me. If I died in this house, who would know? This was no way to live.
The sound of the cats making a ruckus made me lift my head, my ears instantly picking up the rustle of gravel, right before the knock at the door. My heart fled to my throat fearing discovery, but before I could react, Eliza barged inside.
“El! You scared me to death!”
“Brenna! Oh, thank God you’re not dead!” She slapped a hand to her chest. “My mom drove by and saw the ambulance and cop
cars! I practically had a heart attack! What happened?”
“Someone was hurt.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t tell you because you worry.”
“Tell me what?”
“We both know how you are,” I said.
She closed the door and followed me inside. “Tell me what?”
“The last thing I need is you worrying over something that doesn’t need worrying over.”
Eliza took me by the shoulders and gave me a rattle. “Tell me.” She held a finger up. “Wait, I have to call Mom and let her know you’re okay.” Eight seconds later, she hung up and turned back to me. “Tell me.”
“I haven’t been here alone. Friday, someone … moved in. He’s staying for a while I think.”
“What?!” Eliza blinked, looked away, then swung her head back to me. “You have a guy staying with you?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“You have a boyfriend and didn’t tell me?” she asked, horrified. I’d never kept her out of my private life, not that anything was private when she was around.
“No!” I pointed at her. “You see, that’s exactly what I thought would happen, you, jumping to conclusions. It’s not like that. He just showed up and doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“What do you mean he’s staying? Like a squatter? You’re squatting already, you have rights! First come, first served. Who is he? Is he dangerous? When were you going to tell me?”
“I wasn’t,” I told her honestly. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You—” she shook her next words out of her head, finding others. “I think it’s my business what worries me, isn’t it?”
