Psyched (15 page)

The woman put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips angrily. “You steal those from my neighbor’s window box again, Jed? And you had to come right now, of all times? I’m so close and you ruined it.”

He sighed and closed his blue eyes with the air of someone who had this talk many times before, and it always ended in the same bad place. “Charlee, I told you before, that crap ain’t worth it. I don’t know why you keep messin’ with it. My brother and his buddy started foolin’ around with a spirit board once and before you know it, his buddy’s house is haunted. Crazy stuff happens there, man. I won’t go anywhere near the place.”

Charlee snorted and folded her arms as she got up and stalked into the kitchen. She pulled open the fridge and bent down to get out a couple of sodas. She tossed him one, slammed the door shut, and then joined him on the couch. Monica knelt on the ground between the table where the board rested and the couch where they sat. He cracked his can open and put his arm around her, but she tossed it off and scooted away.

“I mean it, Charlee. You shouldn’t be messing with that.” His voice softened as he looked at her with concern etched on his face. “You don’t know what you’re letting in, and with a kid around there are some things you just shouldn’t do.”

“Since when are you an expert at raising kids?” she snapped. “You got a few I don’t know about?”

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that,” he said angrily, leaning away to look at her. “This is the only night all week I don’t have a grave shift at the factory. Can’t we play nice?” He leaned in to kiss her. She turned away so he nuzzled her cheek instead. “And you know I love Monica like she’s my own. I’d kill for you. Both of you.” Charlee softened, and leaned over to kiss him back.

“Momma, it keeps saying something,” Monica interrupted. Her small hands with chipped orange nail polish rested on a magnifying glass just visible beneath her fingers. She started to spell out the letters she saw. “I-H-A-V-E-H-I-M.” Charlee jumped off the couch and knelt down, watching the glass glide effortlessly under her daughter’s touch. “It spelled that three times. What does it say?”

“Baby, ask it how we can find him. How can I find my daddy?” she shouted.

The object slowed down. “C-O-M-E-G-E-T-H-I-M.”

“Where? Where?!” she asked desperately. She shoved Monica’s hands off and took control, but the board fell silent.

“Baby, you’re never gonna find your daddy that way,” Jed said irritably. He tossed his empty can across the room, making it into the garbage can next to the fridge. He got up and grabbed the flowers he left on the dinner table, leaving some dirt where they rested. “Call me when you’re done with all this crazy evil board stuff.” He slammed the door behind him as he stalked out.

Monica peeked out the window and watched Jed toss the flowers away. Charlee kicked the garbage can in frustration as she stomped into the kitchen and rested her hands on the edge of the sink, taking a few deep breaths.

“Momma, what’s going on?”

Without replying, Charlee walked back in, lips tightly pursed, and kicked the coffee table as well. It tipped over and the board slammed to the floor. Monica burst into tears and ran to her room.

Vance and Aisi stood in the living room, glancing awkwardly around. Even though they only saw shadows of a past that didn’t belong to either of them, Aisi still felt like an intruder. She tipped her head thoughtfully. “You know, I never thought I would say this, but I think I get Monica now.”

Vance looked out the window at the stadium lights across the street, which turned off abruptly. The only light in the room now came from a lamp with a missing shade, resting on top of a couple of milk crates stacked up in the corner of the little room. The glare from the naked bulb burned Aisi’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Her mom is as crazy as mine,” she replied. “Just in another way.” She suddenly pitied the girl and her mother, who had no idea where the old man went. Unlike Aisi, they had no way of seeing the possibilities beyond the grave. “They lost someone they love without a trace.”

Vance jumped back as the light changed and sunlight suddenly streamed through the window. An older Monica walked through the door and tossed a glittery pink backpack onto the floor by the couch. “Mom?” she called. She opened the fridge and grabbed herself a can of generic brand soda. She popped the top, guzzled, and then looked around curiously. “Mom? Where are you?”

She walked down the hall and peered into the empty rooms. She went back to the kitchen and found a note she missed before, taped to the fridge. Her mother had written loopy cursive in green crayon, “
It worked this time. I found him! Be back soon with your granddaddy!
”

Monica rolled her eyes and picked up the phone from its charger on the counter. After dialing, she said impatiently, “Jed, did you see the note she left? She’s gone again.”

The filthy apartment slowly faded around them, and Aisi and Vance found themselves standing in another grimy room in a different, smaller apartment. No curtains covered the smudged window, which faced a parking lot flooded with light from street lamps as the sun’s dying rays burned the twilit sky a deep purple.

A few bean bags lay haphazardly across the floor under a flat screen TV propped up on saw horses against one wall. Piles of dirty dishes cascaded out of the sink, onto the counters and over onto the floor next to the bean bags. The Monica Aisi knew walked in with a sigh, looking in disgust at the dirty room. She heard a flush and the rush of running water, so she peeked down the hall.

“You home, Jed?” she called. She stepped back in surprise when a strange woman emerged from the bathroom instead. The woman looked startled to see Monica, too, but she quickly recovered and put on a bright face.

“Hello there! You must be Monica. Jed’s told me all about you, sweetie.”

Monica looked at the woman with disdain as the smiling stranger reached over to shake hands. Monica glowered, refusing to touch the intruder. The woman pulled her thin hand away with uncertainty and wiped it nervously on her threadbare black leggings.

“I know you,” Monica said accusingly. “You work at the snack bar in the gas station.” She didn’t bother trying to hide the contempt in her voice. “Rita. You make those nasty burritos that always give Jed gas.”

The woman blushed. “Yes,” she stammered, “I’m Rita. You have such a good memory. I see you and your friends in there all the time. I hope—”

“Why are you here?” Monica asked sharply.

At that moment, Jed opened the door. “Rita,” he called, “I got you the fancy deli potato salad that you like. Monica will be home soon, so…” His voice trailed off as he saw them together in the living room. He stood lamely, his arms full of plastic grocery bags. “So…I, uh, see you two met.”

The girl’s glare was so icy the room felt like a sudden chill had blown in. “Rita, huh? Is this your new woman? You are so worthless.” She shook her head in anger. “You’re sick, you know? You’re still married to my mom! You lying, cheating piece of—”

He raised his voice, despair lacing his tone. “She’s gone, Monica! I can’t bring her back. We did all we could, but she vanished. Just like your grandpa.”

“My mom never gave up on him,” she spat. “She’s only gone, like, two years and you’re done?”

“The police say there’s not a trace! If I thought there was any hope I could bring her back, I would do it. I loved her, but she’s gone. And don’t forget,” he added bitterly, “she’s the one who walked away from us.”

Monica glanced over at the unfortunate Rita, who looked like she might cry. The thin woman twisted the ends of her flannel shirt nervously between her fingers and backed slowly toward the door. “Don’t bother leaving,” she snapped at Rita. “If he really wants to give up on my mom—even though she’d never give up on him—for some burrito-making freak with nappy leggings and a bad perm, whatever. I’m out of here.”

Rita touched long, frizzy brown waves tied back in a low ponytail, looking horrified. Monica bent down to pick up the bag she dropped just moments before and ran out, slamming the door behind her.

Aisi moved to follow Monica. As she left, she heard Jed trying to soothe a hysterical Rita, who sobbed something incoherent about Monica hating her and him not liking her burritos. “It’s ok. I can find her and we can work it out, Rita. It just surprised her, that’s all. I know where to find her. She’s into a boy named Kalen these days, and he lives just down the street.”

Aisi jerked her head to indicate Vance should follow, and he rushed out with her. They ran down the stairs of the building, trying to find which way she’d gone. Spotting her, they sprinted across the parking lot and turned past the last building in the complex to catch up. They lurched to a quick stop when they saw her standing in the middle of the street.

Washed in the bright light of the street lamp, Monica stood motionless. She dropped her bag on the road, staring at something down the street. Aisi, a well-trained runner, stopped lightly next to her and tried to see what Monica saw. Vance came lumbering up behind her, panting for air and clutching his side. He huffed and puffed for a moment, and then straightened up with a jerky stretch.

“What is it?” he gasped.

Aisi tried not to smile at him. “You need more exercise, that’s what.”

“Why did she stop?”

Aisi looked around. “Not sure. She must see something we don’t.”

A familiar laugh rang out from down the street. She spun and saw Kalen sitting on the front porch of a small but cheerful clapboard house across the street from the apartment complex…with Zinnia cuddled up next to him. Aisi looked back and forth between Monica and the two sitting side by side on the steps, holding hands, shoulders touching, and suddenly she understood why Monica was particularly fierce in her hatred of Zinnia for the last few weeks. Hesitantly, Aisi stepped around to see the face of the girl she just caught. She thought she’d see an expression of anger or disgust. She never expected to see a look of such devastation on that face. Monica was broken in heart and spirit.

Chapter 16 Calm Before the Storm

Aisi’s eyes fluttered open. Monica and the street vanished, and she found herself back in the foyer of the little church. Rain still hammered the tin roof and streaked down the windows. Vance stood beside her, his hand crushing hers in a white knuckle grip. His eyes were still clamped shut, his forehead knotted in concentration. She tried to pull her hand free but he refused to let go.

“Vance? Can I have my hand back?” she asked gently, wondering if he could hear. At her words he clutched even harder, squeezing her fingers so hard that a small birthstone ring, a gift from her dad when she turned sixteen, dug into her flesh. “Ouch! Dude, let it go!”

Vance couldn’t seem to hear her. The more she tried to free her hand, the more agitated he became. Aisi glanced desperately at Father J, who reached over and slapped Vance soundly across the cheek a little too eagerly.

Vance’s eyes jerked open. He glanced around, looking wildly confused. “Is this another vision, or are we back?”

“We’re back,” Aisi informed him. She held up her hand, still locked in his, so he could see her swelling, bluish fingers. “Feel free to let the blood back into my hand. You know, anytime.”

He let her hand go sheepishly. “Sorry…but that was….yeah. That was crazy intense!”

Aisi turned away. She hoped he couldn’t tell from her expression that she really didn’t mind him holding her hand as long as he didn’t crush it, but she cut the thought short. She didn’t have time to be distracted by cute boys. She needed to put all the pieces together in this messed up puzzle.

“Father J, I get some of it, but not all of it. What does it mean?”

“I think you know, or you will after you think it over,” he said quietly.

Aisi rolled her eyes. “What’s up with all the cryptic stuff tonight? First my dad pulls it on me, and now you.”

Father J smiled. “You have everything you need know. You can go.”

Vance raised his eyebrows, surprised. “That’s it? No help? Just a ‘don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya?’ Nice. Remind me not to visit you in confessional, man.”

Father J surprised her by laughing out loud. “Vance, you have the knowledge. Aisi has the ability. You don’t need me. Why should I wipe your nose for you if you already have the tissue?”

“Again, cryptic,” Aisi muttered. She shoved her hands in her back pockets and bit her lower lip in frustration. “So not helping!”

Father J put a hand on each of their shoulders, guiding the two toward the door. “Talk it out, and trust each other. And remember, don’t always believe what your eyes show you.” He opened the squeaky screen door and ushered them onto the rickety wooden steps. When they got outside, he looked up. Droplets of rain illuminated by an orange glow from the frosted glass of his porch light fell on his upturned face. His eyes closed for a moment, and he smiled as he looked back at them. “The rain is letting up,” he said. “In folklore and legend, this is a good omen.”

Aisi became more confused every time he opened his mouth. Before she learned about Monica, Father J seemed so helpful. Now she felt like she crawled to the top of a mountain to seek advice from a wise old hermit, and the wise old hermit only spoke Babylonian. “What does that even mean?” she pleaded.

“After the rain comes the rainbow,” he said simply. The screen door slammed as he stepped back in, and the door squeaked shut behind him.

Vance stood uneasily. He sighed as he fished around in his jeans pocket for the keys to his truck. “Well, what now? Should I…uh…should I take you home?”

Aisi buried her head in her hands. “I don’t know.” Part of her was convinced this trip had been a total waste of time, even while her head throbbed with everything she had learned. She understood why she needed to know about her father. At least, she thought she did. But Monica…where did she fit in? Aisi’s dad accidentally killed her grandfather, but how could that be connected? It was an unrelated accident, wasn’t it?

She shook her head and ran her fingers over the top of her head, tugging gently at the rubber band which held her ponytail high on her head. She yanked it out and dragged her disobedient curls behind her head, twisting them back into a low ponytail.