Brighter, a supernatural thriller (21 page)

"Right. It's about the fact that you're a big baby." Heather opened the oven and pulled the roasting pan that contained the chicken out. She dropped it on the stove.

"That smells really good."

"You can stay. I don't care if you stay."

"Fine."

"Good. Just stop being such an ass. She's gonna be here any minute."

"I'm not being an ass. How is it being an ass for me to just want to spend some time with my wife?"

"I don't know. If you were always this charming, I'd want to be around you every second of the day."

And there was a knock on the door. Heather wiped her hands on the towel on her stove. "Be good," she said to Rick. She crossed the kitchen, went through the living room, and opened the door. Ramona was standing there, looking sheepish. She hadn't heard the two of them screaming at each other, had she? Damn it. Ramona pushed out the bottle of white wine she was holding like a peace offering.

"Hi," said Ramona.

"Hi," said Heather, taking the wine. "Come in."

Ramona came in, but she didn't follow Heather back into the kitchen, probably because she could see that Rick was still in there. Ramona and Rick had never really gotten along. In some ways, Heather thought that was good. It meant she'd never have to worry about her husband and best friend having sex. In other ways, it kind of sucked, because whenever the three of them hung out, there was always a little bit of tension. Tonight, because Rick was angry that Ramona was here, the air was thick with it.

Wonderful. Heather had invited Ramona here so that she could console her best friend. Ramona was going through some really tough shit. And now Rick was going to make her uncomfortable, and Heather wasn't going to be able to help Ramona at all. Why couldn't he just leave, for God's sake? Why did he always have to be so difficult?

"Ramona?" called Heather from the kitchen. "Would you open the wine you brought for me?"

"Sure," said Ramona, starting forward.

"I can do that," said Rick sullenly.

Ramona stopped walking. "Um," she said. "You know, I didn't mean to—"

"You're fine," said Heather. "I want you to be here. I've been trying to get you here. Don't feel weird."

Heather turned back to the stove. What else did she have to do? Oh yeah, she had to get the green beans out of the microwave. She went to do that.

Rick was struggling with the corkscrew. Didn't the man ever open wine, for God's sake? Of course not. He always drank beer. Heather snatched the bottle from Rick and easily pulled the cork out. "There," she said. "Thanks, Rick." She handed the bottle back to him.

He glared at her. "I had it," he said.

"I know you did, sweetie," she said. This entire evening was turning into a nightmare. Not for the first time, she wished she'd never gotten married. Somehow, she managed to get all the food on the table, and everyone sat down. But they just munched on their salads silently and sipped at their wine.

"This is really good dressing," said Ramona. "What is it?"

"I made it," said Heather.

"Wow," said Ramona. "That's awesome."

"Thanks."

More munching sounds. Heather had never realized how loud people sounded when they were chewing. God. This was a disaster. Why was her life always like this? Well, she wasn't going to let Rick destroy her night with Ramona. She'd talk to her about what was going on if it killed her.

"So," said Heather, "I saw Garrett yesterday."

"You did?" Ramona asked.

"I had to return a book to the Elston library, and he was working. He seemed..." Heather didn't know how to explain it. "I don't know. Creepy."

"Well," said Rick. "The dude's a rapist."

"Yeah, but he didn't seem creepy before," said Heather.

"You believe me?" said Ramona.

"Believe what?" said Rick.

"Shut up, Rick," said Heather.

Rick put down his fork. "That was kind of rude, Heather."

"I don't have time for your delicate emotions right now," said Heather.

Ramona scrunched down in her chair and became very interested in her salad.

Heather sighed. "I'm sorry," she told Rick.

"It's okay," sighed Rick. He picked up his fork again.

"I don't know what I believe, Ramona," Heather said, "but he was different."

"Can someone tell me exactly what you guys are talking about?" Rick said.

"You'll think I'm nuts," said Ramona.

"Is this more of Heather's spirit stuff?" Rick asked disdainfully.

"Not exactly," said Ramona, "but it's just as weird."

"Hey," said Heather. They were ganging up on her. "My 'spirit stuff' is not weird."

"Sorry," said Ramona. "That's not what I meant. God knows I have no right to say that whatever you think isn't real."

Heather was finished with her salad. She reached for the serving platter that had the chicken on it and put a few pieces on her plate. Then she passed the plate to Rick.

"Fill me in," Rick urged, serving himself some chicken.

Ramona began to talk as they passed and dipped their food. "Well," she said, "it's kind of hard to explain. You know Mason right?"

Rick nodded. "I used to, anyway."

"Well, one night, I hung out with him while I was tripping on mushrooms, and he told me that he thought he was a falling star."

"Wait. Who was tripping on mushrooms?"

"He said that he was an ancient being that came into existence when the universe exploded and created our universe. And he said that he wasn't Mason. He said that he killed Mason."

"That dude was on drugs," Rick pronounced.

Ramona shrugged. "That's what he said later, but at the time, he swore he wasn't. Anyway, so then last Halloween, I saw Angelica Murdock on her porch. Hours after she'd been killed. I thought she was a ghost. But then I started hanging out with Garrett, and he told me that the night that he supposedly raped Blair, what actually happened was that he saw a group of river hippies kill her."

"And you bought that?" asked Rick. "That's a pretty lame story. I can't believe he tried to tell you that."

"He wasn't lying to me," said Ramona. "On top of that, I found a picture of Dawn Trimbley from the 1950s, and she looked exactly the same as she does now. There's also a missing person investigation going on for her in Texas. She went missing in 1989, and she looked exactly the same as she does now."

Rick laughed. "So, somehow all this stuff fits together?"

"Yeah, I think so," said Ramona. "I think that Mason was telling me the truth. He and Blair and Dawn and who-knows-who-else really are some kind of ancient beings of some kind. And they fit into our society by..." Her voice got very quiet. "...stealing our bodies."

Rick looked at Heather. "And you believe this?"

Heather shrugged. "I didn't say that."

"What do you mean?" Rick said to Ramona. "How do they do that?"

"I don't know. I guess they have like power or magic. But I think they have stock identities or something. Like Dawn. Maybe she stole that body in the 1950s. Maybe earlier. But after a few years, it would be suspicious if she didn't age or didn't change, so she stole someone else's body. They've probably been doing this for a really long time. And a college town is perfect, because people come and go after just a few years. And people change in college, so no one gets too suspicious when one of their friends suddenly starts acting strange. They kill the real people, and they assume their identity. That's why I saw Angelica. Someone had assumed her identity, but they fucked up, because Angelica's body was found."

"Wait," said Rick. "Earlier you said that Garrett was different, Heather. You aren't saying that this is what happened to him?"

"Yeah," said Ramona. "They got Garrett. He's dead. Whatever looks like Garrett is the same thing that looked like Owen, I think."

"Owen?" said Heather.

"He hasn't been to work since Garrett got different, and last night I saw Blair and Garrett making out," said Ramona.

"Blair was making out with Garrett?" said Heather. "That's weird. Rick, you gotta admit that's weird."

"Yeah," said Rick, "that's weird."

"And you said that you thought Mason got different," said Heather.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I think that some monster took over Mason's identity," said Rick. "I'm sorry, Ramona, but what you're saying is really just totally crazy. It's like you're living in a horror comic or something. Of course, I could say the same thing about some of the shit Heather thinks about ghosts."

"Rick, just because you don't believe in the supernatural, doesn't mean it isn't real," said Heather.

"Just because you
do
believe in it, doesn't mean it
is
real," he responded.

"It doesn't matter whether I'm right or not," said Ramona. "Not really. It's not like I can really do anything about it."

"Well—" started Heather, then stopped. "Maybe you're right. So, you're just going to drop it? You've been obsessed with this."

"I think I just wanted to know what was going on," said Ramona. "I know now. I'm gonna leave town."

"What?" said Heather. She didn't want Ramona to move. If Ramona moved, she wouldn't have anybody but Rick. "When? Where?"

"As soon as I can get another job," said Ramona. "And I'll just go wherever another admissions department will hire me."

Ramona was going to move? And far away from the sound of it. Heather found herself not liking the idea at all. It was funny, because she'd expected Ramona to be a sort of basket case, since she was thinking all these crazy, paranoid things. But Ramona was very calm and very rational. She didn't act like a person who'd gone nuts. In fact, she almost seemed really...grown up. More grown up than Heather felt, and Heather was married, for Christ's sake. Suddenly, Heather felt frightened. If Ramona left, then she would have to grow up too. She and Rick would have to act like a real married couple. Hell, maybe they'd have to have children or something. It wouldn't be fun and games anymore. It would be adulthood. Serious. And Heather needed Ramona to be her tie to youth. Ramona couldn't go. "I don't know," said Heather. "Maybe we could try to stop them. The river hippies."

"Oh Jesus, Heather," said Rick, "you don't think what she's saying is actually true."

"It makes sense," said Heather defensively, and it did, to a point. Except for the fact that what Ramona was saying was impossible.

Rick laughed. "No, it really doesn't."

"It's okay, Heather," said Ramona. "They want me to leave, anyway. Mason keeps telling me to stay away from them and to stop digging. They sent me a message by getting Garrett. That's what will happen to me if I don't butt out. I know I can't fight what they are. I'm just going to leave."

"You can't let them run you out of town," said Heather. "You love Elston."

"I hate Elston," Ramona said. "I'm stuck there. I just want out. It's all I've wanted for a long time."

* * *

Later, after Ramona had left, Heather and Rick were washing the dishes together. Heather had wanted Ramona to stay longer, but it seemed like the longer Ramona stayed in Heather's house, the more uncomfortable she got. She kept saying she needed to get home. She had work tomorrow, and she'd been up too late the night before. So, Heather let her go, but she was really distraught at the idea of her best friend moving far away. She wanted to hang onto Ramona for as long as she could. She half-felt as if when Ramona left her house, she was leaving for good.

Things were still tense between Rick and her. But at least he was helping with the dishes. She'd expected him to go play video games or mess around on the internet for several hours. Maybe he was really serious about wanting to spend time with her. She knew that their work schedules didn't line up well most of the time. She was starting to feel warm, fuzzy feelings for him. He was her husband. She did love him. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could even get laid tonight. She and Rick never had sex anymore. He was always complaining that he was tired, or that he didn't feel well. Heather had always thought that was what women were supposed to do. She thought men were supposed to be up for having sex anytime, anyplace. But Rick wasn't a typical guy. He'd wanted to get married young. Most guys were afraid of commitment. Maybe the roles were just reversed in their relationship. He was the girl, and she was the guy. She slid close to him, put her arm around his neck. And then, of course, he ruined it.

"I can't believe you were encouraging her," he said. "You were acting like that crazy stuff she said could actually be true."

Heather sighed and moved away from him. "I know," she said. "I just...got upset when she said she was going to move. I'm going to miss her."

"Right, because Ramona is like the most important part of your life."

"Rick, please, can we not do this?"

"I don't think you should hang out with her anymore, anyway. She's obviously totally crazy, and it's rubbing off on you."

"You can't tell me who to hang out with," Heather said. She couldn't believe he'd just said that. Sometimes, she really didn't feel like she actually even knew Rick. Like he'd put on an act when they'd first met so that she would think he was a nice, well-adjusted guy, but actually he was a jealous, sexist bastard.

"I'm not ordering you to, I'm telling you what I think."

"I have known Ramona for a lot longer than I've known you. And when she and I lived together, we got along a hell of a lot better than you and I do."

"So you prefer your crazy best friend to your husband."

"I wish you'd stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Calling me your wife or you my husband. It makes it sound like you own me or something."

"I
am
your fucking husband."

"And evenings like this make me regret that."

Rick stepped back. He had a dish in his hands that he was drying, and he put it down. He looked stricken. "You don't mean that."

"You're fucking attacking me. How am I supposed to feel? And you're acting jealous of Ramona. Like you don't know that I'm married to you, and no one could ever take your place. I feel like I don't even know you."