Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (7 page)

Standing up, he looks out of the window above the sink. At least it got him to think, though I’m almost certain he won’t let me stay here now.

“It shouldn’t have been Sammy,” he mutters. What he really means is that it should have been me. He’s said that before. “Take this from someone who has been through it, Nathan. Fix your marriage. I haven’t seen your mother since she left that day and it still hurts just as bad now as it did when she walked out that front door.”

I shift my weight in the kitchen chair and it creaks beneath me. “I know, Dad. I haven’t seen her since then either.”

“You’re messing up your marriage just like you messed mine up. She couldn’t handle Sammy’s death. She always hated when I’d blame you. We’d fight for days because she stuck up for you, Nathan. She left because she grew to despise me for it all. And now here you are, kicked out of your own home for something I’m certain you did to Rose. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it, Son?”

I’m not even sure what to say to him. I don’t even know if I want to stay here now. I didn’t expect anything less from him, yet it still stings like he’s slapped me right in the face. Standing up, I go toward the front door, but he’s quick to follow me, placing his hand on it before I can open it.

“You’re free to stay here, Nathan. Just don’t expect me to be that hospitable. And I hope you’re true to your word when you say you won’t be here much.” He lets go of the door. “I’ve never been close to Rose, and I’ve never gotten to know my grandson, but whatever is going on, work it out for them, or you’re gonna end up just like me.”

I shake my head. “No, I think you’re wrong about that.” I start up the stairs, headed for my old bedroom. Looking over my shoulder, I say, “I will never hate my own flesh and blood.
I will never blame Rusty for something he had no control over. And I sure as hell won’t leave him in charge of something that should’ve been my responsibility. So no, Dad, I will never end up just like you.”

“You’re halfway there already, Nathan.”

I ignore him and go into my room. It’s bare with a twin sized bed and a desk in the corner. He was quick to take all of my stuff down the day I moved out. Lying back on the bed, I feel the room spin beside me. I close my eyes and place one foot on the floor, fighting off the vertigo. Maybe I shouldn’t have left the hospital so suddenly, but I will not get institutionalized for something that isn’t happening to me.

I grab my phone and send Rose a text, informing her that I’ll be at my Dad’s, but just as I expect, she doesn’t respond. Tossing the phone on the nightstand, I feel my body relax into the mattress. Maybe I can catch a little sleep. Maybe it’s all one big nightmare and when I wake up, I’ll be next to Rose in my own bed, safe and sound, with a hell of a story to tell everyone.

Chapter Seven

When I finally wake up, I feel hung over. I grab my phone and am shocked when I see that it is seven AM the next day. I slept all afternoon and through the night? I don’t remember waking up once, and with my father not caring what I do, it’s likely that he didn’t even check on me. Sitting up, my head is swimming. I still feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, but I can’t continue to lie around and sleep all the time.

There are a few texts from Rose and even a missed call. Judging by what she said in the texts, she’s still not happy with me and I have no desire to call her back. Walking to the bathroom, I can’t believe what I see. Huge gash marks are on my forearms. They are deep enough that if I don’t clean them, they’re definitely going to get infected.

Sifting through the medicine cabinet, I’m glad to find a bottle of peroxide and some cotton balls. It stings as I apply it and I cringe as it bubbles around the wounds. What plagues me the most is how in the hell did this happen? How did I not feel it? I’m exhausted, but am I that tired that I’d sleep through someone doing this? I’m so freaked out that I’m a step away from calling Rose to help me get an appointment, but I can’t. I still don’t think that it would help me. I’ve got to figure this out and get to the bottom of it myself.

I take a shower, washing away the peroxide that hurts probably more than it should. The hot water is amazing and I close my burning eyes, savoring it for a few minutes. I’m stalling – I don’t want to go downstairs and deal with my father. Maybe he’s not home, but where else would he be? He’s retired and pretty much a recluse.

After my shower, I dig through the clothes that Rose packed for me. I’m glad there are a few long sleeved shirts – I don’t want to have to explain the gashes on my arms. My phone buzzes on the nightstand and it is Rose. This time I answer.

“Hey Rose.”

“Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”

I lie back on the bed and somehow I still feel like I could sleep for another day. I don’t have the energy to fight with her. “I’ve been catching up on rest. Is something wrong? I figure I’d be the last person you’d wanna speak to since you kicked me out and all.”

“Well, you’re still the father of my kid. He’s worried sick about you.”

“I’m sure you’re not helping with the ideas of putting me in an insane asylum.”

She’s silent for a second and I can tell the comment got to her. “I never said that, Nathan. I just want you to talk to someone. There’s a difference.”

She’s sucking what little energy I have away. “Did you call just to tell me my son is worried about me?”

“You need to call him. See him. I don’t know. He won’t say much to me. He looks at me like I’m the one doing this to you.”

“I’ll call him. Tell him to keep his phone on.” I hang up, not giving her another chance to say anything. It’s killing me inside that we’ve gotten to this point, but with the way she looks at me and the way she doesn’t support me, I can’t be very talkative with her. It’s painful when you have to do that to the person you love most in this world.

I dial Rusty’s number and he answers almost immediately, as if he’s waiting by the phone. “Hey Dad.”

“Hey Rusty, your mom told me you’re pretty worried about me. Wanna talk?” My son is at the stage in his life where he thinks everything about his parent’s is annoying, so him wanting to talk means that Rose’s claims are legitimate.

“Dad, I don’t know what to think. You get put in the hospital, you leave, and now you’re not staying at the house. Mom is vague about things and I wish someone would just tell me why and how this is happening.”

I really wish I can tell my son why it was, but I don’t even know. The emotion in his voice is so thick that I feel myself choking up. “It’s a rough patch. I’m gonna get it all fixed.”

“Get what fixed? Can I see you? Can we do lunch or something?”

I realize that it is Saturday, and I’d love to have lunch with him, but would my appearance freak him out? Or would declining make him worry even more?

“Sure, Rusty. Let’s meet for lunch. There’s that Mexican place down the street from the house. Meet you there in like thirty minutes. Will that work?”

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll see you in a few.”

I fight my exhaustion and force myself out of the bed. The cuts on my arm sting against the fabric of my shirt. I walk down the stairs and my dad is in the living room watching TV. Pausing at the entryway, I give a slight nod at him, but he acts like I’m not even there. I’d love to make amends with him, but right now, my son is what is on my mind.

The fresh air feels good. It wakes me up and I actually feel like I’m part of the human race. I’m a little early to the restaurant, mainly because I don’t want to be in the same house with my dad, but also because I’m anxious to see Rusty. I’ve only been kicked out for a day, but not getting to be around my family drives me crazy, especially with my son. I should be his role model, not someone he has to worry about.

He arrives shortly after and we grab a table out on the patio. Neither of us orders food, but the water feels so good against my parched throat. I can tell he’s observing me and it makes me feel uneasy.

“So, what are you worried about? What do you wanna talk about?”

“Mom is saying that you’re mentally ill. Is that true? Do you need help?”

I’m not sure if I’m mad at her for saying that, or if she cares, but regardless of her intentions, it’s clear that Rusty is very concerned about me, and that doesn’t sit well. “I’m fine, Rusty. I really am.”

“You don’t look it.”

“If you’re gonna sit here and lecture me about this like your mother does, I don’t have time Rusty. I wanted to meet you here to clear some stuff up and let you know that I’m fine and you don’t need to stress about it.”

“Dad, I’m not here to lecture you. I’m here to tell you that I believe you. I’m on your side.”

He hits me blindside, and for a second I have to make sure I heard him right. “What?”

“I believe these are ghosts or something supernatural. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

I sit up in my chair, relieved that someone is finally on my side. “I’m glad to hear that. Have you, you know… Have you seen something?”

Rusty hesitates at first. “I’m not sure. I think I see or hear something, but then I wonder if it’s just my imagination playing into what is going on with you. I can’t tell.”

“Does your mother know?”

“No. I’m scared to tell her. I don’t want her thinking we both have something wrong. I don’t think she slept at all last night. I’m not on anyone’s side, Dad, but what would be the harm in talking to someone like she wants? I know you don’t need it, but if it meant coming home, why not do it to make amends?”

He has good questions and ones I’ve thought about. “If I go into a shrink’s office and tell them what’s going on, they’ll have me in a padded room before I can even finish my story. And they can hold me as long as they want. I don’t see how that would help any of us.”

“Then what, Dad? How are we gonna get back to the way things were?”

“I’m trying to figure that out, Rusty. I’ve got a little time off from work. I’m gonna get it all sorted out.”

“So what, we’re just gonna be the Addams family and live with this happening? I believe you. I really think you’re seeing this stuff. I just don’t see how we’re ever gonna be the family that we were again. Not with Mom thinking the way she does.”

“I’ll get it fixed. Trust me.” I’m trying to convince my son when I can’t even convince myself. He’s right – I could just go talk to someone and be back home, but what happens the next time I see something? Then Rose would want me on medication. Where would we draw the line? The best thing to do is stick to my plan. Something will click, I know it will.

Rusty doesn’t say anything and stares at me, almost as if he can’t believe the man sitting across from him. I feel so vulnerable, like my own kid thinks his father is going insane, but what else can I do? I have to work fast and I don’t even know where in the hell to begin. I try not to get angry – Rusty is the only one who has showed even a remote chance that he is on my side through all of this. I can’t lose my only supporter.

“You say you think you hear or see something. Can you remember what some of it is?” Maybe I can open his mind a little. Maybe if he sees the stuff, I can prove I’m not crazy and we can work together to figure it out.

Rusty rakes his hand through his hair and arches his eyebrow as he thinks. “It’s like a dream. I can’t even put it into words. And like I said, I don’t know if it’s really happening, or if it’s from all the talk happening with you.”

“That’s how it started for me too. I thought I was just dreaming.”

“And then what?”

“And then I realized I wasn’t dreaming. And then I got my ass kicked by one of them. Your mom thinks I did this to myself. Do you think I could be capable of doing something like this?” I point to my face.

Rusty shrugs and sips on his water. “I’m not here to take sides. I don’t want to get between you and mom. But I also want you to know that I’m here for you. I think it’s shitty that she kicked you out when you obviously need us the most.” He chews on some ice. “Where are you staying?”

“My Dad’s.” I’d refer to him as Rusty’s grandfather, but he never really has gotten close to him. Of course he hasn’t. He’s a miniature Nathan. My father never gave him a chance, all because of my past and not his.

“Seriously? I thought you guys didn’t get along.”

“We don’t, but at least it’s a roof over my head and not some alley.”

“What about the guys at the firehouse? Someone would take you in.”

I let out a deep breath, attempting to stay patient. He’s concerned about me and I need to keep telling myself that, even though it makes me feel guilty. It’s my job to worry about him, not the other way around. “It might get to that, but right now I gotta separate this stuff from work if I ever wanna get back on the truck. You understand, right? They think I’m crazy and that’s when I hit rock bottom.”

Rusty nods. “So they don’t know any of it?”

I leave out the bit with the little girl, hoping that is something that has blown over. “They don’t know much. And I’m taking some time off while I get it cleared up, before I let it all overlap with work. The last thing I need is getting a brother killed over something like this.”

“I agree. I just wish this would all go away. I wish it really would be a dream.”

“Me too, Rusty. It’s just a speed bump. I appreciate you understanding me and giving me a chance.”

“Just don’t let it get any farther out of hand. I don’t want us to end up like you and your Dad.”

His statement hits me hard and I’m at a loss on what to say back. I don’t want us to end up that way either, which is why it is so pivotal for me to get this mystery solved, before it ruins everything in my life.

***

I walk toward my father’s row house slower than usual. The fall air is chilling, but feels good against my skin. The breeze blows through my hair and I enjoy the surreal beauty of the leaves changing colors. I pass a park and see kids laughing, running, and playing with their parents. I see several lined up along the shore of the pond with fishing poles in the water. What I’d give to just sit back, relax, and do something like that myself.

I continue down the sidewalk, but am stopped dead in my tracks by a young boy, no older than four who is staring up at me. He doesn’t budge as I try to move, and his cold, dead stare makes the hair on the back of my neck raise.

“Are you lost?” I ask him, but he doesn’t say anything. His expression doesn’t even change. “Hey kid, where’s your mom?”

He laughs at the question, but it’s not the cute child like laughter I just heard at the park. Instead, it’s bone chilling and it seems to echo. “Why, mister fireman? Why?”

“How in the hell did you know I was a firefighter?”

He shakes his head. “You had the hat. You had the coat. You came to my house.”

“When?” My pulse is beating fast and I wipe my clammy palms down the side of my jeans. “When was I at your house?”

“You didn’t save me.” His eyes turn completely black and he says it again, only this time, with more anger in his voice. “You didn’t save me.”

I want to run. I want to get as far away from this kid as possible, but I hold back. How am I going to put the pieces together if I don’t get more information?

“Where was your house at? When did it happen?” I reach out to touch him, but he backs away so fast that I don’t even realize it.

He points his small finger at me. “I want you to answer me first, Mr. Fireman.”

For the second time in the past half hour, I’m left speechless. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you. Are you a ghost?”

Just as he goes to answer, I hear a familiar voice close by. “Nathan?”

Turning, I see my dad out at his mailbox. I didn’t even realize I was that close to his house and now here he stands, eyeing me just like Rose does. I turn back, but the kid has disappeared and the chance of getting any answers is gone.

“Who in the hell were you talking to?”

I cross the street toward him, avoiding eye contact. I can only imagine how that must look to people. It didn’t even occur to me that I was in public and that others are not seeing what I am.