Chapter Seven
“The first thing I will ask you is are you okay?” I was totally irate with Chaz.
“I’m fine. Why, honey? What’s wrong?”
“You said you were coming at ten to meet Andjela. Now that I know you’re okay, where the hell were you?”
“Oh, shit. That was today?”
“Were you drinking last night? Did a hangover fuzz up your brain calendar?”
Chaz started laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one. My brain calendar.”
“Well, I know you don’t write anything down. You put it all in that phone of yours.”
“Yes, and if you were to get one of the smart phones, you would too.”
“I break too many of them lately so an expensive phone that I would constantly be replacing is not a good choice for me right now.”
“You’re right on that one, darling.” We both started laughing. “Yes I was drinking last night, and yes, I forgot about this morning. I slept in late and I didn’t check my phone all day today. I’m sorry. So, how did it go?”
“You really should have been here. I’ve never seen anything like it. She might have even shattered your disbeliefs.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I was talking to James about it. He’s got me back to thinking it’s all a farce.”
“Well, you’ll get the chance to see firsthand.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re having a séance, although she didn’t call it that. Andjela said it was a session for receiving messages—something about spiritualism. I was in the middle of looking it up when you called. Anyway, Andjela said we needed someone else. I want you here. She also asked if Mr. Princeton could join us. She said he has always been interested in what she does and he liked Matthew, so she thought he might be of some help.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.”
“So when is this ‘séance’ taking place?”
“Next Saturday. You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Sure. Hey, we should do it at the funeral parlor. It’s got all the makings for a séance. You know, caskets, dead people.”
“Very funny. It’s going to be here because this is where, as she put it, all the action is taking place.”
“So tell me about this mysterious Andjela. What was she like?”
“I could say mysterious because you’re not standing next to me.”
“Really? That’s not even funny; no joke potential whatsoever.”
“Yeah, you’re right. She was enigmatic. Really. I’ve never met anyone like her.”
“Wow, you’re using big words now. She must have had an effect on you.”
“She did, not to mention she was truly beautiful. She fit the description of what I thought a psychic would look like. Long, silky, jet-black hair. Beautiful, smooth white skin and the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen. She seemed…” I struggled for the right word. “Almost magical.”
“Why, Quinn, this is the first time in a long time I’ve actually heard you sound a little animated about something. My girl is coming alive!”
“Stop. When you meet her, you’ll know what I mean. I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s…” I thought for a moment. “She’s like a bright light in a really dark room.”
“Ooh, sounds divine.”
“Chaz.” I scolded. “She brought me hope. I haven’t felt that in a long time.”
“Okay, okay. Tell me what she said that’s got you so enamored with her.”
“Sometimes it wasn’t only what she said, but it was the way she said it, with such conviction. She didn’t even blink an eye at the locket morphing through the apartment and changing pictures or the doors slamming—”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh. I didn’t tell you about that?”
“When’s your next appointment with David?”
“Chaz!”
“I mean it. Now you’re telling me that the locket is morphing. What the hell does that mean?”
“It moves between the bedroom dresser and the end table in the living room and each time I find it, there’s a different picture in it.” He was silent. “Chaz?” I waited for a response. “Chaz? Come on. I am not crazy. Doors have been slamming too. Kathi was here the first time that happened, and she thought I had some guy over. Can you believe that?”
“Frankly, I’m having a hard time believing any of this.”
“Then come next Saturday. Okay?”
“Fine,” Chaz said adamantly. “What time?”
“Nine o’clock. I appreciate it.”
“You sure better, girlfriend. You owe me big time.”
“I know I do. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yes, you will,” he whined. “And not next year or the year after. I expect some type of payment in the very near future.”
“Why don’t you write your suggestions down on paper, and I’ll consider them.”
“It’ll be on your desk in the morning. You are coming to work, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t going to admit his question hit me hard. It hurt, but he had every right to say it. I’d been ignoring the one thing that at this point I felt was all I had left: the business I started with the help of Matthew. Even though he was gone, it was all mine, the one thing that was only in my name that the Shikmans couldn’t force me to sell. But if I continued to hang on to the properties that at this point I couldn’t afford on my own, I could very well lose my business.
If Chaz hadn’t been my assistant and there every day I was not, my business would have failed already. He kept it going. He kept me going. Yes, I owed him a lot.
“Make it a big list, Chaz.”
“See you in the morning, Boss.”
“Definitely. Thanks, Chaz. Again and again.”
“You’re welcome.”
I hung up the phone and went into the living room to settle in for some prime time television. My apartment seemed eerily quiet tonight. It had been that way since Andjela left early afternoon.
I thought about how Andjela walked around the apartment after we talked as if she was taking inventory. If Mr. Princeton hadn’t recommended her, I would have worried she was staking out the place for a robbery. But as I watched her, I noticed each room becoming disconcertingly noiseless as she moved about. That’s the only way I could explain it.
For weeks, my apartment had been pulsating with subtle whispers. Very seldom had my apartment been quiet, but when it was, it was just…quiet. This was different.
With my glass of wine, and some cheese and crackers, I turned on the television and channel surfed for something to watch, but I wasn’t able to concentrate. I stopped on a channel and turned the volume down. I couldn’t help but notice the stillness of my apartment.
I switched to another station and found myself not even knowing what was taking place on the screen in front of me because I realized I was scanning the apartment, kind of like Andjela had done. What had she been looking for? What was I looking for?
SLAM!
I jumped up off the couch and started swearing as I noticed the plate of cheese and crackers all over the carpet. Standing still, I cocked my head and literally tried to stretch my ear as far out as I could to try and make out what the loud noise was. Sounded like a door, like the one Kathi and I experienced the other day.
BAM!
Without thinking I ran to the back of my apartment. Every door was shut—the door to the bathroom and the doors to the bedroom and office. The only door that was always closed was the one to the outside. I never shut the other doors.
I couldn’t move. My feet felt glued to the floor.
What should I do? I hadn’t grabbed my phone or my bat. Shit. I took a deep breath, and then abruptly held it. Whoever was in my apartment might’ve heard me. I mustered up enough courage to slowly back up step by step. I was hoping to get my phone and leave out the front door before they came charging out at me.
The bedroom door started to open. It
creaked like a door opening in a scary movie and you just knew something bad was behind it.
The bedroom door never creaked before.
I stopped. Here was the part in the movie where you knew the heroine was going to go forward to face whatever danger lay ahead and you would yell at the television Why are you being so stupid? You know whatever is in that room isn’t good. Run! And like the heroine in the movie, I didn’t run but started moving forward toward the bedroom.
The door stood halfway open. The apartment was quiet again and unnervingly cold. It was cold like a January day in the Adirondack Mountains where the temperature would dip to forty below zero and your breath turned to icy mist as soon as you blew it out your mouth.
I stopped at the doorway and tried to peer around it into the bedroom. At the angle I was standing to the bedroom door, I couldn’t see the whole room. I couldn’t see the closet. I wanted to see the closest. In the movies, things always jumped out at you from the closet.
What I could see was the middle of the room and the far wall. The floor was covered in fog like I’d see on a day where the ground was warm and a cool air ran over it. I have a mix of seasons in my own apartment, I thought. Oh God, Quinn, be real.
I wasn’t afraid, but I didn’t feel like a conqueror or a superwoman, so I didn’t move forward. I waited. I hoped maybe the fog would dissipate so I could see the floor. I might feel a little better about walking into the room to investigate what was going on if I could see where I was placing my feet. Maybe the window was open. But I knew that wasn’t the case.
BANG! All the doors slammed with a fierce energy that deafened my ears and produced a large swoosh of air that made me fall backward. My first thought was there would be panicked knocking on my door at any minute. The other tenants in the building had to hear the doors slamming.
Before I could get to my feet in anticipation of pounding on my apartment door, the doors in the hallway opened once again, slowly, each one creaking like the hinges were rusty and the wood was warped. I sat on the floor, leaning back on my hands, too scared to move. I waited for whatever or whoever was slamming and opening the doors to appear in the hallway, but there was nothing.
My breathing grew rapid as fear seeped into my being. I hadn’t been afraid, until now. “I don’t even know what I’m afraid of!” I shouted to no one, or at least I hoped I was shouting to no one. I got up off the floor and took one step toward the bedroom door. The fog was gone, and I realized I wasn’t shivering anymore. I blew out a breath. I couldn’t see it. My apartment was warm again.
I charged into the bedroom, ready to confront whatever was assaulting me, knowing full well I would find nothing. The windows were closed; everything was in its place. It was as if the last few minutes never happened.
Now what? Should I call someone?
I started to cry, purely out of frustration, as I realized no one in the building had even come to my rescue. There was no panicked pounding on my door, no phone calls, no Mr. Princeton checking on me to see if I was okay. I rationalized that maybe the other renters in my building were all out for the evening.
I looked over at the dresser. The locket was there lying open but the picture inside didn’t look right. I took a step closer to the dresser and saw that the picture of Matthew and I on the dock was torn in half. His half was gone.
I ran to the living room to get my cell phone. I had to call someone—Chaz, or maybe I might just run out in the hall and do some panicked pounding of my own on Mr. Princeton’s door. As I flew through the dining room, I heard my cell phone ringing. I grabbed it off the table without looking to see who it was and pressed the send button.
Before I could answer, a voice asked, “Are you okay?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. I recognized the voice in disbelief. “No, not really.”
“I’ll be right over.” The phone clicked dead, not just the phone call is ended kind of dead, but the battery is dead kind of dead. I looked at it. It was blank and dark. I sat down on the couch with the phone in my hands and waited with trepidation of having to wait. Andjela was on her way.