Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island (5 page)

“Don’t even think about it, Mister
.” Paul stood up halfway from his seat.

“Veronica said I spit, I’ll show her what
—”

“No
, you won’t. Sit down.” Paul spoke through his teeth. He was tired. How did Allison do this? His mind was still reeling from the bloody room he saw at Stillwell, so he missed the growing tension between his children. He had picked up prepared food on the way home, shuttering  every so often, as the remains of the murder kept popping into his thoughts.

“I said,” Veronica spoke more calmly, “use the serving spoon
. Your fork is full of saliva—”

“It’s enough!” Paul shouted
. “You know behavior at the table. This is not going to be mob rule.”

“What’s
‘mob rule’?” Stella was never one to let something interesting pass her by.

“Mob rule is anarchy, total anarchy
,” Veronica explained politely.

“Anarchy!” Jesse was white with rage
. “I just wanted some macaroni. I am done.” Throwing his fork down, he ran to his bedroom.

Stella looked at Paul wide eyed, waiting to see the nuclear explosion at her misbehaving older brother
. Veronica sighed and got up, ready to comfort her twin. “I really didn’t mean anything. It’s just disgusting. He was drinking milk straight out of the container this afternoon.”

Paul st
opped her with his hand. “Let him cool off. I’ll talk to him later. It’s not your fault,” he assured her.

The girls chatted and
he let the conversation wash over him. Though he heard every word, none of it registered. He would deal with Jesse after he had some time to cool off. He had missed all the cues when they got home from school. Locked in what he thought he saw this afternoon, their squabbles were mere noise. Stella poked him out of his reverie, and he looked down at his own plate. Mac and cheese, rotisserie chicken, and corn bread was not what Allison had in mind for a balanced meal. He didn’t recall when he last saw Roni eat anything more than a slice of bread and butter. Stella had peeled a banana and told him that from now on, she was only going to eat foods in this color palate. Things were going to shit fast and somehow he didn’t know where to start to make it better. And on top of everything, he was hallucinating bloody crime scenes and channeling creepy radio voices.

The phone rang
, breaking the silence, and all three of them jumped. Paul started clearing the table, the phone propped against his ear.

“
Hi, Mom. Just finished. No, she didn’t eat much. OK, I’ll try that. I’m fine. I said I’m fine,” he repeated a bit too forcefully. “What did the doctor say? Of course it’s no big deal, no, I don’t want you to wait…” He watched Veronica sneak out of the room, leaving the mess to him. Only Stella stayed behind, her big brown eyes looking to him for direction. He smiled and motioned to the den, giving her permission to leave as well. “I know it will be fine. Yeah. OK, gotta go. Yeah, love you too.” He hung up with a sigh then cleaned the rest of the kitchen in silence. This time he chugged Maalox right out of its container, just like his ill-mannered son.

He
resolved to come to some sort of understanding with his children. Divide and conquer. Jesse’s room was locked, so he jiggled the doorknob. He heard a muffled “night.”

“Open up, son.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Open up
.” Then he said gently, “Please.” He rested his head against the door.

It
opened slowly and his son’s tear-stained face met his. Sitting on the bed together, they enjoyed each other’s silence. It was different between boys. They didn’t have to state the obvious. The TV was on. His breath smelled sweet from toothpaste, and a smudge left a trail on his top lip. Paul bent over and stroked his head.

“You done with that stuff in school
?”

“I dunno
. It happens. I get so mad.”

“You were unreasonable at the table.”

Jesse shrugged his thin shoulders. “Sometimes I think it feels better when I yell.”

“I know
. But it won’t change anything and it just gets you in trouble.”

“Mom wouldn’t like for me to be in trouble
,” Jesse admitted, his eyes downcast.

“No, son, she wouldn’t be happy about this.”

Jesse grunted and settled under his covers. Paul sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you want to talk to someone
? You know, like a counselor?”

Jesse thought and then shook his head
. “I don’t want to talk to anybody right now. I don’t feel like talking. It’s like the words are stuck, here.” He gestured to his throat. “You know what I mean, Dad?”

He
stroked his son’s head, noting it was matted with sweat. “Yup, I know exactly what you mean.” He paused and crouched by the bed. “If you feel you want to talk, though, you know you can come to me.” His blond hair touched the collar of his pajama shirt and curled under. He needed a haircut. Add one more thing to his list. Sighing, he thought for a minute and said simply, “You can get mad, but you can’t take it out on others. Everybody’s been very understanding.”

Jesse looked down at his fingers that were pleating the blanket
. “I just wish I could see Mom. I want to know if she’s OK.”

“Of course she
’s OK.”

“How do you know?” Jesse whispered.

Paul looked at the ceiling wondering how to answer this, his heart breaking. Nothing in the books on parenthood he read prepared for these types of questions. Was she all right? He tried wrapping his head around the idea of Allison. Where was she? Could she be as brokenhearted as the rest of them? Was she resting in peace? How could she, really, when her life was here? Instead he assured his son, “She’s at peace. Father Thomas said so. You believe Father Thomas, don’t you?”

Jesse shrugged and replied, his voice small, look
ing so incredibly young, “What choice do I have? What proof do I have? I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

“She’s
OK, I promise you, Jesse. I feel it here.” Paul pointed to his chest.

“Then how could she leave us?”

He kissed his son, backed out of the room, and shut the light.

Veronica was still in the bathroom, so he tucked in Stella.

“You’re up late, Stella Luna. Do you want a story?”

“Tell me about Mommy.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about when you met her.”

“I can’t tell you that. I don’t remember.” He had known Allison his whole life.

“Try. Please
,” Stella pleaded.

He
cleared his throat. “I never knew a time without your Mommy. If you are my stars and moon, she was my sun. You know, she lived next door to me growing up. We played together every day. Grandma and Nonni had coffee in the afternoon, and they would put us on the floor together and we would have adventures.”

“Were you her hero?”

“All the time. She was the princess and I saved her from the dragon.”

“Or an evil demon.”

“Evil demon? What are you talking about?”

“You could save her from the evil demon who tries to take her away forever
. You always save Mommy.” Stella turned her trusting face up to him.

“When we were little, not now, Stella
. There are no such things as demons.”

“I don’t think so
.” She looked up at him, her eyes earnest.

“That’s enough of stories for tonight
. Time for bed.”

“Good
night, Daddy. Now you are my hero.” She settled into her bed.

Last stop was Roni who was drying her hair in her bedroom.

If Stella was the moon and stars, Roni was a rainbow. Sweet with a peaceful disposition, she never gave him an ounce of trouble. Until now. His serene child was troubled and couldn’t find words to communicate.

“Ron, we have to talk
.” He was exhausted already.

“I’ll eat more tomorrow. I promise
.” Intuitively, she read his thoughts. Although she and Jesse were the same age, Veronica seemed years older. She was a steadying influence on her more impulsive twin. “Jesse is bothering me.” She looked at him with a grave face. “He is angry and it hurts me here,” she said as she pointed to her stomach. “I can’t feel anything else.”

“I know it’s hard.”

“He is tearing me up inside, Dad. Can I tell you a secret?”

He nodded and closed the door.

“I’m glad Mom is gone. It was too hard to watch her. She wasn’t the same person; she didn’t even know us in the end. Is it wrong to feel relieved?” Fat tears welled up in her eyes.

“No, honey. No
. I...I’m relieved too. The sickness was eating her up. She needed to leave.”

“Why can’t Jesse see that
? Why is he so selfish? It hurt her too much to stay!” Veronica was sobbing.

He g
athered her in his arms and put his chin on her blonde head.

“I know,
honey. I know. It’s hard to say good-bye.”

====

At last alone in his bed, Paul hugged Allison’s pillow close. Breathing in her light scent that lingered on the fabric, he didn’t want her to go either. His eyelids were heavy, but his thoughts were too active to rest. The bed felt vast, an oasis of loneliness, the house silent, still as death. The air was still, heavy. A loud boom rocked the air, reverberating throughout the house and shaking the walls.

He
shot up out of bed. “Jesse,” he whispered, rushing out into the hallway. He peered through the gloom. “Is that you?” He moved to the kids’ rooms and they were each fast asleep. Nothing had disturbed their slumber.

He
walked through the long dark corridor. There was a strange mist that dampened his shirt so that it clung to his body. It was cold and his skin pebbled. He heard noise, a strange growling, that got louder as he walked through the narrow passageway downstairs, his back hugging the wall. He peered into the living room. The light had a strange glow that pulsed with a life of its own. He heard laughter, recognizing it at once to be Allison. He started to run toward the sound, but each time he felt he was close by, the sound came from a different room. He caught a glimpse of something in the living room, a shadow, hairy and foul, its wickedness a palatable thing. Allison hovered before him, her hair restored, blonde locks floating behind her, her cheek dimpled. Alabaster arms reached out to him; her lips moved, but he could not hear her voice. He ran recklessly toward her, his feet slipping, moving but getting nowhere. He was stuck. He gripped the carpet and tried to propel himself but couldn’t gain any ground. He rolled toward a chair and crashed into it, taking it down along with a beautiful Waterford lamp. As the crystal shattered, it broke into tiny shards of glittering glass. He got onto all fours, and mustering all his strength, he leaped far, flying toward her. He realized out of the corner of his eye, something was catapulting toward him, a greasy ball of matted fur, huge and catlike. It collided with him. Powerful arms grabbed him, but his sweat-drenched body slid painfully out of its viselike embrace. The impact sent him crashing onto the living room floor. Allison floated away; her face turned toward him in a mute appeal, the musty odor of something evil creating a wall of interference.

He came awake with a start, his heart beating wildly, sweat
soaking his body. He got out of bed and ran to the hallway. The night was silent and all the kids were asleep. He rushed downstairs to see the living room. There was no sign of any struggle. The lamp was lit and whole; no glass carpeted the floor. No Allison. No freakishly big apish thing trying to rip him to shreds. He shook his head and went back upstairs. Acid bathed the back of his throat.

Reaching for the water by his bedside, he groaned at the pain, clasping his hand to his rib
cage. His fingers came away red with blood. Three long tracks scored his skin. It looked as if a bear's claw had grazed the smooth skin of his side.

Shaken, he stumbled to the bathroom and exam
ined his side. On closer look, it wasn’t bad or really even that painful. It was just there. Paul stared at his white face, trembling with fear, for his wife, his children, and himself.

chapter 3

Tuesday

Paul woke up with a start
. He never expected to fall asleep after that nightmare, but exhaustion had claimed him, and he slept for the remainder of the night. Glancing at his weary face in the bathroom mirror, he shaved and wondered if he should speak to somebody about it. He pulled his wife’s ring from under his tee shirt then stared at the inscription, missing her, wondering what she would tell him to do. Should he get the kids into counseling? Did he need a shrink? Was he going crazy? Hearing things on the radio, seeing bloody crimes scenes, fistfights with Sasquatch in his living room. If he shared these things with a doctor, the authorities would take the kids away. He shuddered thinking of the ramifications of them being separated. No one was going to take his kids away from him, not ever. “Get a grip, Paul,” he told himself in the mirror.