The Turner House (25 page)

The second sighting of something extraordinary is not supposed to live up to the first. Cha-Cha expected to feel less bothered, less fearful in the presence of his haint on subsequent nights. The opposite was true. Still no fanfare, no boogieman theatrics. The light and the sound remained the same. Was it a hallucination? He'd read online that when a person's vision failed—from cataracts, say—the brain could transmit images that mimicked actual seeing. Colorful shapes. People in elaborate costumes. Scenes remembered, and even some never witnessed before. Our brains could be that generous to us. But Cha-Cha thought his eyesight was fine. He'd never even worn reading glasses. For three nights he moved from room to room in his house, hoping each time he would be able to sleep. Insomnia was its own kind of haunting. He became familiar with the clicks and sighs of the house, the soft breathing of his wife, which he hadn't paid attention to since the nights they slept in shifts with newborn babies nearby. Viola seemed to sleep in two-hour intervals. He'd hear her wheezing breath settle into a steady snore, then sometime later her TV clicking through channels, the volume raised a few decibels.

The haint was a large and fathomless unknowing. A challenge. A taunt. On the third night, when Cha-Cha tried to sleep in the basement, he found the nerve to get up and put his hand to it. The blue light felt like nothing, the same temperature as the air around it, and his hand glowed as it might in front of his big screen when he switched the input to DVD. A spotlight from nowhere.

The following afternoon he decided to contact his siblings. He had no friends, and the sleepless nights made him desperate. Plus, Alice had told him several months before that he needed to start “tapping into his resources” for emotional support, seeking help from the people he helped all the time.

Francey, Second Child, Sixty-Two Years Old:

“You wanna know what I remember from the actual incident? Hmm . . . Honestly, I been thinking about this more since you came over and put in my filter. Now that I stopped eating meat, I feel like I can remember all sorts of things better, you know. Like it's all high-def now. Of
course
I remember
thinking
there was a haint up in your room.”

“And?”

“And what, Cha-Cha? We were young, and when I moved into the big room I didn't have any problems, so I don't know. You been reading that Zora book?”

“A little. I been reading up on hallucinations too.”

“Jesus, don't read that, Cha. You're not hallucinating.”

“According to Alice I might be. I don't think I am, but—”

“You need to let go of that Western mindset, I keep telling you. Had I listened to them after I got sick, I'da ruined my liver and kidneys by now, taking a million pills a day. These white folks don't know everything, trust me.”

“Alice isn't white.”

“Still. You know what I mean. Anyway, what's going on with the house? Rahul told me that you could maybe get some type of tax write-off if you short-sell it.”

“Francey, do you remember what it looked like? It was blue, right?”

“He didn't show it to us yet. He said it's called an MI-X form or an MI-2 maybe, if you want to look it up.”

Quincy, Third Child, Fifty-Nine Years Old:

“The problem is all those
women
up there with you. You know I love our sisters, Cha, but they're
hysterical.
I don't doubt they'd drive me crazy too.”

“I'm not crazy, Quincy.”

“Of
course
you're not crazy. You're my big brother, and a Turner man. Listen to me though: that haint might be real, it might just be in your imagination, I don't know. But your reaction to it is a
choice.
All this hysteria over a ghost? You can
un
choose that, Cha. Turner men don't choose hysteria.”

Russell, Fourth Child, Fifty-Seven Years Old:

“Tina said you upset Mama, and every time I call Mama she say she ain't up to talk.”

“Mama's confused, Russell, and that's not what I called to talk about.”

“Well, what you call for then?”

“I called about that haint from the big room. I want to know what you remember.”

“All I remember is what Daddy said.”

“I know what Daddy said, Russell. Come on, now. You remember the haint as being real, don't you?”

“Sure it's real. Or
was
real. No one ever saw it again, so that's got to mean something too.”

“I saw it on Sunday, and every night since. Plus that time when I had my accident.”

“Aw, nobody thinks you really saw it when you had that crash. Tell you the truth, we all thought it was them painkillers.”

“So you're telling me it could happen only once on Yarrow, and then never again?”

“Sure. Isn't that how the world works? We were all just at the wrong place at the wrong time back then, or the right place at the right time, depending on how you look at it. You should read the emails I send out, Cha. They're all about miracles and chance encounters. Things like that only happen once.”

Marlene, Fifth Child, Fifty-Five Years Old:

Via text message:

(Part 1 of 2): I'm too upset to pick up the phone. I hear you're moving forward with the short sale. If you sell the house I will never forgive you. I don't put down my

(Part 2 of 2): foot on anything in this family, not ever. But you do this, and you break my heart. Not trying to be dramatic, just how I feel.

Lonnie, Sixth Child, Fifty-Three Years Old:

“That was the only time I remember peeing on myself. Ain't that impressive? I was what, three? And I just stopped cold turkey after that night. I could never forget that.”

“What would you say if I told you I saw the haint again here in my own house?”

“I believe you. Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know. Thank you, Lonnie.”

“Lonnie?”

“I'm here. I'm looking for the back of my earring. I figured out it's easier to locate things when I take a minute to be quiet.”

“Oh . . . well, can you stop looking until after we hang up?”

“Sure, Cha.”

“Thank you. You're the first person out of everybody to really say they believe me.”

“I am? God. You know, sometimes our siblings disappoint me, Cha.”

“I know, but I don't think they mean to. I hope they don't. But anyhow, I'm glad
you
believe me. The problem is now I can't sleep anywhere in the house without seeing it. I'm not really talking to Tina, and I'm sleepin on the couch, so my back and hip is hurting. I even tried the basement and it's there too, no matter where I go. It's still only showin up at night though. I don't know what to do.”

“You only got one option. Or two, actually. You could pray really hard, but knowin you and Tina, y'all already tried that. So two: you could try to talk to it.”

“And say what?”

“Shit.”

“Lonnie?”

“Lonnie, are you all right?”

“Huh? I'm here. I just lost the stud. I wasn't thinkin and I kept the stud in my ear while I was looking for the back and it fell out too. Shit. I bet you this ear's gonna close up. This is my third try this
year
, Cha. First time I got the wrong ear. I had forgot that the right ear's for sissies. So then I took that out and got another one put in the left ear, but then I was visiting some girl in Hawthorne and—”

“Gotdamnit, Lonnie, I'm trying to talk to you about something important!”

“Hello?”

“I'm still here, Cha-Cha. I'm sorry. I haven't eaten all day, and you know how I get when I'm lightheaded.”

“It's fine. You were sayin I should talk to the haint. What should I say? I'm not tryna fool around with any séances or them Ouija boards. Francey's acting like I need to take it back to Africa to figure this out, but I don't know how she expects me to do that.”

“To tell you the truth, this sounds like some kind of reckoning. And you've got to take heed of it, not be scared of it.”

“A reckoning for what? Why haven't you eaten yet? It's already three o' clock in LA. You need some money?”

“Money? No, I mean, I get my check on the first, so that's what? Couple more days. I still got some stuff around here I can eat.”

“I'm gonna send you a hundred dollars.”

“Thank you, Cha-Cha. I really appreciate it.”

“It's nothing.”

“I just been a little down lately is all, and I'm tryna figure out why. This girl from Hawthorne, Lily—”

“Lonnie. What's that you said about taking heed?”

“Huh? Truth is, Cha-Cha, I can't call it. Maybe you shouldn't even talk to it. Just listen harder. If you need to go someplace for a while and think, you know you can come here. It's just me in this apartment. And I get paid on the first.”

Netti (Antoinette), Seventh Child, Fifty Years Old:

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: I need to talk to you. [Auto-reply: Vacation Away Message]

Namaste,

I am on vacation in India, will return May 29th. If this is work-related, please contact my second-in-command LaShelle Dozier.

Kisses from the Taj Mahal!

—Antoinette Turner

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.”—Gandhi

Miles and Duke (Donald), Eighth and Ninth Children, Forty-Eight and Forty-Seven Years Old:

“Cha-Cha! What's goin on?”

“Hey, I uh, what's all that noise?”

“I'm up in Oakland with Duke! It's Padres versus A's. Hold on, let me put him on the phone.”

“Never mind, I'll—”

“CHA! Miles is over here talkin about a blowout. He thinks the Padres are finna win by
three
runs. I got fifty says he's talkin out the side of his neck. You wanna put in?”

“Gimme the phone back. That's enough of that. Cha? It's Miles again. Don't listen to Duke, he's drunk. You need to come out here during football season. Me and the girls usually drive up from San Diego the night before. Everybody starts partying at eight in the morning. Y'all try to tailgate like that over around Ford Field, somebody's liable to end up shot!”

“Cha-Cha?”

“Cha-Cha? Hey, Duke, whyn't you tell me he already hung up?”

Berniece, Tenth Child, Forty-Five Years Old:

“Funniest thing, Cha-Cha. I wouldn't have believed you a few years ago, but did I ever tell you about the last time I visited Mama on Yarrow? Last June right before she got real sick and I stayed a whole week?”

“No, what happened?”

“Well, we were driving to church, or I was driving and Mama was riding, and I was gonna go up Seneca to Gratiot, I don't know why, I just felt like it. But Mama said, ‘Don't you go up Seneca, Niecie,' and I said, ‘Why, Mama? What difference does it make?' I think I sounded kinda smart, but I didn't mean to, you know Mama is the queen of backseat driving, even though she was up front that day, but you know what I mean. Anyway, so I asked her why and she said, ‘They killed two boys on Seneca and Medbury and I don't wanna pass that corner by. It's like there's haints over there now. It don't feel right.' And I said, ‘What you mean, haints on the corner of Seneca and Medbury?' cause all I know about haints is that joke y'all all used to say about Daddy. Mama didn't answer me, and I didn't push it because I was scared Mama was having a senior moment, you know? Now I guess I should've asked more questions, like did she actually
see
ghosts there or was she just being dramatic, but like I said, I was scared, so I left it alone and went up Maxwell instead. A couple days later I was driving to the store by myself and I took Seneca. Sure enough, right on the corner in front of the light pole somebody had set up one of those shrines with the stuffed animals and the candles like they do when somebody's been shot or hit by a car.”

“My God.”

“I know, right? It's scary. I mean, it could have also just been a figure of speech. She could've read about the shooting or saw it on the news. I don't know. But let me say this too, Cha. You be careful who you go around asking about this. Everybody ain't so open-minded. Hell,
I
wasn't open to this before last June, and I still have my doubts. No offense.”

Sandra, Eleventh Child, Forty-Four Years Old:

“You check your mail today?”

“No, why?”

“I sent you a check for five hundred dollars.”

“For what?”

“For the house. Marlene told me you were trying to sell it, and that seems like a mistake to me, so I just sent you what I had. Go ahead and put it in the pot to keep the house.”

“I haven't decided anything, but five hundred ain't nearly enough, not even if all thirteen put in five hundred.”

“Shit, I
know
Francey and Richard got more money than me, and Netti and Rahul, and Russell and what's-her-name, Julie, Julia? And probably Miles and Duke too—California ain't cheap. I'm just putting in what I have to give. Problem with black folks is that we're too quick to cut our losses and let white folks decide what happens in the cities we live in. Sure the mayor is black, damn near the whole council is black, but we don't have the real money or the
property.
That's how they keep us on the run. Speaking of running, I gotta go. I'm driving and I don't have no headset with me. Don't want a ticket. Keep me posted!”

Troy, Twelfth Child, Forty-Three Years Old:

“You patrolling? I can call back.”

“Patrolling? I'm not a slave catcher, Cha. Just ask if I'm at work. You say patrolling and I feel like it's the 1800s.”