Dead Reflections (12 page)

“What’s happening?” Gina screamed, her face registering terror. She squeezed Cory’s hand hard, wrenching the bones together. Then, they came all the way through as if birthed, and fell to the floor on Jeffrey’s side.

“Ow'! I’ve hurt my knee…” Gina rocked back and forth, pressing her left knee, her face crunched against tears.

“It’s okay. We’re here.”

“
Where
are we?”

A woman’s soft voice answered them from the next room.

“In our house. It’s so nice of Cory to invite you over. Are you okay?”

Ruth stepped into the small room, her crisp grey skirt matching her jacket, a fitted outfit cinched tightly at the waist. Sharp black shoes with laces and thick heels adorned her feet over heavy-looking hosiery. Her dark hair was swept up in a ‘do that looked gelled into curls near her cheeks and her lipstick was a fresh, claret red. Gina stared at her, forgetting about her knee.

“You look different,” Gina said. “You don’t look like everybody else.”

Ruth laughed. “And neither do you. We all look like ourselves.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Gina interrupted. “I meant you don’t look like people from our town.”

Ruth studied her, then reached a hand out to help Gina up. “I’ve lived in this town all my life, just like you have.”

Gina hesitated, then reached and grasped Ruth’s hand. Ruth gently hauled her up from the floor. “I’ll get that cleaned up for you. Come downstairs. We have plenty of that strawberry ice cream, Cory.”

Cory went to follow and saw that Gina wallowed behind.

“We can come back soon. We go back the same way we came in—through the glass.”

“I don’t understand,” Gina’s voice trembled. “It doesn’t make sense. How can we walk through something solid?”

“It’s only solid until you touch it. Then it changes.”

“
How
?”

“I don’t know. But you don’t have to worry, and they told me that, when I’m ready, they’d explain why things work like that here. Come on. You’re with me. We’ll be fine.”

Her lips trembled, but she followed him and Ruth who waited in the upper corridor, her mouth curled in an amused smile.

* * *

The doors to the bedrooms were shut this morning, probably because everyone was sleeping. Ruth ushered them down the stairs.

“This house looks exactly like yours, except it looks like something from long ago. And
where
is this part of the house anyway? You can’t see it from outside.” Gina twisted her head to take it all in.

“I think it’s inside our house,” Cory said.

“But it has windows.”

“It has an outside, just like yours,” Ruth said. “You saw it last night, Cory. You stepped into our yard. It’s a grand place, Gina.”

“Why can’t we see your place from the street, then?”

“You’ll eventually understand why,” Ruth said.

They reached the kitchen, which was empty of others this morning.

“Take a seat and I’ll get you some of that ice cream.” Ruth left the room.

Gina sat beside Cory, moving her chair closer to his. “I don’t know if I like it here,” she whispered. “It feels weird. It’s like being in an old movie in black and white film. You know, how people dressed and talked from a long time ago. My parents rent them. They like Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall.”

“Who are they? Why do they rent stuff like that?”

“They’re actors. I don’t know,” Gina stared around the kitchen, at the high wooden cupboards and an old stainless steel stove with copper doors and lids. “My father says his parents always watched them. He grew up watching them.”

Cory lost interest. “This place is full of antiques. They must have a lot of money.”

Gina shook her head. “My ears feel full, like when they get water in them and when you breathe in…” She took a deep breath. “It feels almost like I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I don’t think I want any ice cream. I’d like to go back to your house.”

Ruth returned, carrying two bowls piled high with pink ice cream.

“Just eat some to be polite,” Cory whispered.

“Where’s Jeffrey this morning?” Cory asked. “Everyone’s gone.”

“Everyone’s out doing what they’re supposed to be doing,” Ruth said. “We lead busy lives. I stay behind to look after the baby. Someone has to, you know. Enjoy.”

“Ruth?”

Ruth paused in her step. “Yes, love?”

“Can I show Gina what Jeffrey showed me last night? Out there?” He motioned at the back porch and its odd screen door, which displayed a brilliant summer day of greenery on its other side. He saw Ruth hesitate.

“I suppose,” she said. “Jeffrey is usually the one who likes to do that.” She cocked her head as the baby cried upstairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t go too far through that door.” She hurried away quickly. Gina watched her go. She didn’t touch her ice cream.

“She has a baby?”

“I guess so. She’s always holding it and taking care of it.”

Gina sat quietly. She prodded at the ice cream with her spoon. She watched it and noted that it didn’t melt, not even after what felt like minutes passing.

Cory ate a few mouthfuls, then put his spoon into his bowl. “I’m not as into it today. I hope she doesn’t mind. If my mother was here, she’d tell us to eat it all, just to be polite.”

“I don’t want to touch it.”

“It isn’t poison. I had some last night, and I’m still here.” Cory shook his head at her. “You don’t have to treat them like this. They may like old stuff, but everybody’s different.”

“Something about here isn’t right,” Gina whispered. “I feel like she can hear us talking, even though she’s upstairs. It feels like we’re being watched.”

They glanced around.

“You want to see something neat that Jeffrey showed me last night? This is the real secret part.”

“I don’t know if I want any more secrets,” Gina said. “I want to leave.”

“We will, but you have to see this first.” He took her hand and led her up to the screen door.

“It looks like your backyard, only different.” Gina peered around herself. “I don’t get this. How can it be a house inside a house, but it has a yard that we can’t see from your house? I feel like I’m in a dream. Let’s go back.”

“Okay, we will, but this is the best part.”

Gina’s breath became fast, scared. “Hurry. I’m afraid that if she comes back, she won’t let us go home.”

Cory waved his hand. “Ruth won’t hurt us. Imagine your house,” he told her. “And your yard.”

“Why?”

“Just imagine it in your head. We’ll both think of it at the same time, okay? Just do it.”

She sighed. “Okay, I’m imagining my house.”

Cory opened the screen door and they saw the front of Gina’s house, its flowers looking parched in their window boxes, her bicycle lying on its side on the front lawn where she’d left it the night before, her mother sitting inside the small, screened porch, reading a paper and drinking a cup of tea.

Gina’s mouth fell open. “Being here is like being awake in a dream.”

“Come on. We’ll walk over to it.” He took her hand and led her down the steps and onto the street directly in front of her house. She stooped, reached down and touched the road; her finger came up dusty.

“I can’t believe this,” Gina said, except now she sounded a little more excited and less scared.

“I don’t want my mother to see me,” Gina said. She scooted behind a cluster of trees on her neighbor’s lawn. Cory ran with her, giggling. The neighbor, a heavy middle-aged woman, paused in her lawn watering to glance around.

“Hi, Mrs. Dylan,” Gina said. The woman didn’t answer. She stood with water issuing from the end of her hose, her face confused.

“What’s wrong with her?” Gina asked him. They watched the water hit the side of her house, soaking a window and creating a muddy current in the soil of her garden.

“I don’t know. Let’s go.” They ran between the two houses until they reached Gina’s back yard where her swing set waited.

“How can you just step out from someone’s porch door and be all the way over here?” Gina wanted to know. “What kind of a secret is this?”

“Beat’s me, but it’s too cool. Jeffrey showed me this last night. I even got to go back to my old house. I was in my bedroom, looking out my window at my friends playing in the street.”

“That’s impossible.”

“I swear, it’s true. We can go back and you can imagine something else if you don’t believe me. You’ll see for yourself.”

“Let’s go inside for a minute. I’d like to get a drink of juice. You thirsty?”

“Yeah.”

They let themselves in through the back door of Gina’s house. A large orange cat lounging on a kitchen chair stood up on all fours to hiss at them, its hair rising into a ragged tuft along its back. It took off into another room as if it had been doused with water.

“What’s with your cat?” Cory asked.

“That’s Bobbins. He can be weird at times.”

They let the back door shut softly behind them. Gina took two small glasses from the cupboard and filled them with orange juice. They gulped the liquid down.

“Gina?” Her mother called. “That you, hon?”

“Yeah,” Gina said. “I’m going back out to play.”

“Gina?”

“Yes!” Gina yelled, irritated. “Let’s go back out, otherwise she’ll find an excuse for me to stay in.”

They stepped out, leaving their glasses in the sink and making their way over to the swing set.

“At least swinging will give us some breeze.” Gina settled herself onto one of the swings, taking it higher and higher each time. Cory didn’t feel much like swinging. He took a seat on the one next to her and twirled himself around, allowing the chains to interlock, then unlock again.

“We should head back there soon,” he said.

“We can just walk up the road to your place.”

“I think we need to go back through Jeffrey’s house first.”

“Why? I don’t like the place.”

“I think it’s the only way to get back to my house.”

Gina laughed. “You just walk up the road and in through your front door. I don’t want to go into their house again. That woman…her lipstick almost looks like blood.”

Cory rolled his eyes. “I think they’re just lonely for company.”

“I’d still rather not go back there. Maybe they’re magicians or something.”

“Maybe.” They watched Mrs. Dylan drag her garden hose along the side of her house. “That would make some sense.”

* * *

Linda Dewar placed her teacup on the table and listened as the back door of her house open and shut. Her husband, Rod, was at work. It had to be Gina, back from the library, although the reading group was to be going on for another hour. Perhaps her daughter had become bored. It happened sometimes. All these years later, she wished she’d had another baby, someone who could have kept Gina company. Too late now.

“Gina? That you, hon?”

Silence, other than the impression that someone had just stepped inside the house. She stood up. “Gina?” She saw their cat, Bobbins, fly towards her, moving in a curve around the stairwell, his tail thick like a section of fire hose.

“What’s gotten into you?” she mumbled. She stood by the door, looking in through the screen at the dimness of the corridor. She swore she’d heard the back door open and shut. She let herself inside. A delicate shiver danced up both arms, lifting the hairs along the skin as if something in the house was different. Linda made her way into the kitchen and glanced around the room. It was empty.

“Gina? I heard you come in.” She waited, then irritated, moved towards the hallway, wondering if the girl had gone upstairs to her room. She caught sight of dishes in her clean sink. She walked over. Two small glasses with remnants of orange juice sat there. She’d just washed up all the dishes before she’d gone out onto the porch. So, Gina had come in with a friend, gotten drinks, and they’d left again without saying hello. She wondered who Gina’d brought home. She didn’t have many friends. Occasionally, one of the kids from school might come around to watch a television show or to work on a homework project during the school year, but mostly, Gina was alone, a quiet girl who spent a lot of time reading, playing out in the yard by herself, writing in journals and tinkering on her computer. Sometimes it made Linda feel sad. She loved her daughter more than anything else in this world. The fact that the child was growing up so fast made her feel teary at times. She walked back to the stairs and called her. “Honey, are you up there?” Silence. She sighed and climbed the stairs. She found Bobbins crouched beneath a basket chair at the far end of the hall. He hissed again and dashed past her, growling.

“What has gotten into you?” she asked him. The cat tore down the stairs, his growl a low whimper. On impulse walked into Gina’s bedroom, which faced the back yard. It was a small room with an angled ceiling. Her daughter’s bed sat kitty-corner to the higher wall, its comforter decorated with several big, colorful cushions and some of Gina’s favorite stuffed animals. A soft cover book lay, spine-up, in the center of the bed. Linda walked over to see which one it was: one of the
Twilight
books. She smiled. The girl was smart, pretty, but shy. Who knew what she’d grow up to be? Sometimes, Gina’d talked about becoming a teacher. She was bright with words and ideas and she possessed a vivid imagination. She was too preoccupied with ghost stories, vampire stories, and tales of the eerie. The girl was drawn to the topic of the macabre. It wasn’t Linda’s idea of reading material, but then, Gina was her own person. The book brought her mind back to the boy who’d shown up at the house yesterday afternoon. Cory something. Quiet young fellow, but living in that house! It gave her a chill. Even when she’d been Gina’s age, that house had come with a history.

She and her girlfriends would walk past it on their way to school because the fields behind it had once contained a footpath. And then odd things had begun to happen on that footpath when she had been fifteen. A couple of girls had complained about strange men appearing on the path behind them, asking them to come over to the house and visit some time. One of the girls had been groped and the man who did it had never been found or charged. The girl, a kid Linda remembered by the name of Amy Dickson, had told the police that the man who’d grabbed her had been old. Old as in elderly the police had wanted to know? No, Amy had insisted; he’d looked old, like he’d been from another time. The police shook their heads, but had conducted a search around town for any man of that description. They’d written her statement off as the imagination of a hysterical young woman.