The Waiting Page 6

  Alice smoothed her daughter’s hair and waited for Brian to return.

  The Devils season opener gave Brian something light to focus on and forget things for a couple of hours. The TV was still in his bedroom and he settled in the chair next to Cassandra to watch the game.

  Despite the changing of the port and the clearing of her infection, she didn’t seem to be getting any better. She’d been awake a few hours earlier and he’d tried to talk to her, but her eyes were like frozen, muddy puddles and there was no recognition of her husband.

  When she was in the hospital, even Dr. Stepka had said he was surprised she wasn’t more awake, more lucid.

  The sole positive Brian could see at this point was that the mysterious boy hadn’t made an appearance since Cassandra’s return from the hospital. It bothered him that he couldn’t stop from fixating on their child visitor, not when Cassandra’s life was in the balance. Maybe it was the ghost’s, for lack of a better word, own fixation with his wife that kept the wheels churning in his brain.

  “Pad save and a beaut!” the Devil’s play-by-play man exclaimed. It shook Brian from his troubled thoughts.

  “You should have seen that one, Cass. What a save,” he said.

  They were both Devils fans, a pair of nonconformists living in Ranger territory. He tried every season to get to at least five or more games. Cassandra loved hockey, and even more so at the arena.

  The score popped up on the screen. Devils 2—Flyers 1. Brian hit the mute button before the commercial started. If he couldn’t skip through them, he damn well didn’t need to hear them.

  He picked up the empty popcorn bowl on the floor by his feet and got up to put it in the sink. Alice was upstairs reading, so the bottom floor was bathed in darkness. He padded across the floor and banged his knee on the edge of the kitchen table.

  The voice came from directly behind him.

  Brian whirled around and almost smacked his nose into the refrigerator.

  Again, he couldn’t tell what had been said. It sounded like the voice of a woman, whispering a few short words.

  Or a child.

  Creeping dread prickled the base of Brian’s skull.

  Was the boy here? All he had to do was peer around the edge of the kitchen doorway to see.

  The thought of walking back to his bedroom made him lightheaded. He knew he’d have to get past the boy.

  The floor creaked above and his shoulders hitched.

  Has to be Alice moving in bed.

  He took a hesitant step, pausing to listen for more barely audible mumbling. The hush of the house was overwhelming. It was like surfing; that moment when you lost your balance and tipped into the cold, wild spray. Until you broke the surface, you were smothered by the merciless ocean, helpless in its grip.

  Brian sucked in a ragged breath.

  I’ll just poke my head into the hallway and see if he’s there. If he is, I’ll deal with it.

  His body wasn’t as gung-ho with the idea as his mind. It was an effort to take another step, to place a steadying hand on the kitchen counter, to move his back and neck those precious inches so he could see into the hallway.

  A dark yet empty hall stretched out before him. The flickering blue light of the TV bled across its walls. There was no boy, no expectant specter or guardian angel.

  “Jesus Christ,” Brian said, exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “This is getting ridiculous.”

  A low, stressed moan came from the bedroom. It was Cassandra.

  Brian forgot his fear and walked down the hallway to check on his wife.

  Halfway through, something came close to his ear and whispered, “Briiiiaaaaannnnn.”

  His joints locked and the hairs on the back of his neck went rigid.

  It was a boy’s voice, high, soft, almost playful.

  He was either right by his side or behind him. This time, Brian couldn’t make himself look.

  The sudden blaring of the TV made him jump back, breaking his paralysis. He ran the rest of the way into the bedroom and hit the mute button again. The remote control was where he’d left it, on his chair and out of Cassandra’s reach.

  Brian’s insides burned hot with terror but his skin was cold and clammy. Fumbling with the remote, he turned and again saw nothing but an empty hallway. His breath came in short, pained gasps.

  “Uhhhhh.”

  Cassandra’s eyes were open, glazed and bloodshot, the once vibrant color faded, washed away by the sickness eating away at her and the drugs used to keep her comfortable and alive. Brian crouched over her and cupped the side of her face in his hand.

  Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile.

  “Hey you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Did you wake up to watch the Devils game with me?” He smiled and knew how terribly false it must look.

  Cassandra turned her head, each inch seeming to take an eternity. Brian stroked her cheek, wiping a small tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye. When her gaze fell upon the open doorway, she sucked in a great lungful of air, closed her eyes, and fell back into limbo.

  Still keeping his hand on her to let her know he was with her, Brian reached out with his foot and pulled the door closed, shutting out the hallway.

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Tony got the call from Mrs. Torre to take Brian out, he was only too happy to oblige. She answered the door and pulled him by the arm, closing the door quickly behind him.

  “Brian’s in the back room with Cassie. Here’s fifty dollars,” she pressed the bills into his hand. “Take him to a bar and have some drinks. He needs to blow off some steam.”

  Tony handed the money back to her. “You don’t have to pay me to take him to a bar. I’m just glad he’s finally ready to go out for a little bit, you know. He’s gotta take care of himself, too.”

  Alice Torre bit her lower lip and scrunched her eyes. “The thing is, he doesn’t know I called you over. I want you to go in there and convince him to get out of the house for a bit.”

  “Oh boy. This sounds like a forced blind date.”

  She placed her hands on his back and guided him to the back bedroom. “Go.”

  Tony knocked on the door. Brian said, “You can come in, MIL. We’re just watching TV.”

  He opened the door and was stunned by the appearance of his two closest friends. Cassandra was in bed, eyes closed as usual, but her skin color was off, a shade between gray and yellow. The flesh of her face had been pulled tight until she looked like a tribal death mask. It scared the hell out of him, seeing her that way.

  Brian was no better. He’d lost weight. His eyes were ringed by dark circles and it even looked like his hair was thinning. If Tony didn’t know better, he’d swear Brian was the one who’d been in and out of the hospital.

  “Holy shit, what are you doing here?” Brian said.

  Tony couldn’t tell whether his friend was happily shocked or perturbed. Maybe both. He pulled him in for a hug, felt the new frailty in Brian’s frame.

  “I’ve come to whisk you away for the night, bro. Mrs. T has the graveyard shift. I’ve met a lot of people who need a drink, and none of them needed one as bad as you do. Come on, we’ll head over to Doug’s and have a few.”

  For a moment, a frightening pall washed over Brian’s face. He looked like an animal trapped in a corner. Then it was gone, replaced by a skeletal smile that would scare the pants off of little trick-or-treaters.

  “I don’t know if I should,” he said.

  Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “You should and you will. Now go make yourself presentable. Can’t believe I have to say that when I’m taking you to Doug’s dive.”

  Brian’s shoulders sagged and he nodded. “You’re right. I’ll just be a minute.” He left to head to the bathroom.

  Tony looked down at Cassandra and his heart broke. “What’s happening to the both of you?” he whispered.

  Something flickered out of the corner of his eye and he turned to face an e
mpty room.

  He bent forward and kissed Cassandra’s forehead. “I promise not to have him out late tonight. You get better. We all miss you.”

  Brian woke up in the middle of the night with an aching bladder. It was nice, Tony taking him to Doug’s, but the beer was crying to be let out. Getting off the air mattress and erect was no easy task. The room spun in a half circle and his temples felt like firecrackers had exploded beneath the surface.

  He stumbled around Cassandra’s bed and made it to the bathroom, each step an angry punch to his dehydrated skull. Not trusting his aim, he sat on the toilet, dropping his head into his hands.

  They had run into a bunch of people he knew at the bar, including Andi, Cassandra’s friend from the office who’d been in their wedding party. For brief moments, he forgot about Cassandra and the boy, but no amount of beer could take him completely away from his troubled thoughts.

  Shambling back into his room, he collapsed on the mattress. It made a ton of noise but Cassandra didn’t move.

  Settling back to sleep, his ears still rang from the loud music at the bar and everyone shouting to be heard above it. A little white noise always worked to take his mind off it so he could sleep. Tonight, it was too quiet to drown out the whining in his ears.

  Wait, why is it so quiet?

  He shot up on the mattress and it felt like his head took an extra second to catch up with the rest of his body.

  Looking over the bed, he saw that the infusion pump was dark.

  “Dammit,” he muttered.

  No matter what buttons he pressed, it was dead.

  “What the hell?”

  Did we have a power outage?

  He flicked the overhead light and the brightness seared his eyes. Okay, so power wasn’t the problem. Maybe the machine just died. Brian turned on the small Hello Kitty lamp, went to wash his hands and came back to disconnect the hyperal. Cassandra would be all right until morning without it.

  When he opened the medical waste bin, he saw a good length of the power cord snaking out from under the bed. Dropping to his hands and knees, he followed the path of the cord until he came to the outlet.

  It was unplugged.

  Did he trip across it during his drunken walk to the bathroom? But that would have been impossible. The cord was kept out of the way so just that kind of thing couldn’t happen. And what about the backup battery?

  He got up and checked the battery compartment. The battery was connected, but there was no way to tell if it had any juice left in it.

  The headache that had been building had reached an intolerable crescendo. It hurt too much to concentrate on getting the hyperal hooked back up. He set the alarm for six a.m. and tried to get a few hours’ sleep. His brain wouldn’t shut down.

  How did it get unplugged? It would have tripped me if my foot got caught.

  He’d taken to closing the door day and night, not wanting to even glance into the hallway by accident.

  No. Not possible.

  He shuddered under the blanket, staring up at Cassandra’s bed until dawn.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Louisa had asked Brian if she could take his blood pressure but he’d refused. Instead, he’d said he had to get something out of his car. He didn’t look well. She’d often seen caregivers fall into worse situations than the patients because they didn’t take proper care of themselves. Stress took years off their lives.

  She replaced the battery on the infusion pump and took Cassandra’s pulse. Weak but steady.

  “All fixed?” Alice asked.

  Louisa was equally worried about Cassandra’s mother. If Brian was in free fall, Alice was buoyed to the point that Louisa was concerned she could no longer see the present situation with any sort of clarity. The higher she went, the worse the fall should Cassandra take a bad turn.

  And last was Cassandra. By all rights, she should be better by now. Less and less of the infection was draining from her and the worst was in the rearview mirror. But still, she slumbered on like Sleeping Beauty, with one twist; her prince was by her side and even his kiss couldn’t bring her back.

  “Yes,” Louisa replied. “I tested it several times and the battery is fully charged and switches on if I disconnect the AV power. There shouldn’t be any problems.”

  Brian entered the room looking harried. He said, “I had some signed forms for you, Louisa, and I thought I left them in the car but I guess I didn’t. Maybe they’re on my dresser.”

  He riffled through a stack of paper-clipped documents. She sidled next to him and asked, “You want some help? I can spot my company’s paperwork from a mile off.”

  Alice said, “You know Brian, I thought I saw you put them in that box in the closet. Aren’t they the ones you were working on the other night?”

  “Yeah, those were the ones,” he said.

  Alice walked to the closet and pulled out a plastic tub. It was filled to the top with medical and insurance forms.

  Louisa heard the floor pop twice behind her and turned to see if something had fallen out of her bag.

  She saw a young boy turn his back on them and walk silently out of the room. She took three quick steps to see where he went, but he’d disappeared.

  When Brian yelped, “Found ’em!” she gasped.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  Louisa finally understood. She needed to talk to Brian, alone.

  “No, I’m fine. My mind just wandered off for a bit. Why don’t you walk me to my car and I’ll make sure I get everything to the office?”

  “Sounds good. Let me get my coat. I have to head out to the store anyway.”

  The air was unseasonably cold and damp. It felt like the dead of winter, not mid-fall. Louisa pulled the zipper on her leather coat as high as it could go, took Brian’s medical forms and dropped them in an accordion folder she kept in her back seat.

  She wasn’t sure how she was going to break the news to him or how he would take it, but she couldn’t leave and not say anything. He needed to understand what was in his house and why.

  The direct approach would have to do.

  “Brian, I hope you don’t mind if I tell you something very important.”

  She saw the color drain from his face and had to address the alarm in his expression.

  “It’s nothing bad about Cassandra,” she said, and his chest deflated.

  “You scared me for a second there.” Vapor tailed from his mouth in winding wisps.

  Louisa gathered her resolve, took a breath and said, “I just saw the boy.”

  His eyelids lowered and she could see his jaw tense. His lips pulled tight and he leaned against her car.

  He’s seen it too!

  When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I watched a boy leave the room while you and Alice were looking for the paperwork. Brian, that isn’t a guardian angel.”

  He looked down at the cracked sidewalk and said, “I know. I’ve seen him a few times. There’s nothing angelic about him…or it. I haven’t told Alice because I don’t want to bring her down.” His eyes locked with hers and she could see the fear and sadness behind them. “Do you know what it is?”

  She nodded. An older woman pushing a metal cart walked between them, on her way to the markets along Katonah Avenue.

  “In my country, we call what’s in your house a bhoot. They’re trapped souls. For one reason or another, they can’t move on to the next phase of death. I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to be afraid of him. That boy, you only see him because he suffers. He can’t harm you or Cassandra. Maybe one day, when you’re both well, you can help relieve him of his pain.”

  Brian snorted. “That sounds crazier than seeing a ghost boy walking around the house. How the heck can I help the suffering of a trapped soul?”

  Louisa placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I understand how you feel. To you, this is the stuff of bad movies and TV shows. In my culture, bhoots are common. There is so much suffering in India, and som
e souls can’t shed the pain they endured in life. This boy is either attached to the house or one of you. Maybe he sees something in you or Alice or Cassandra that feels comforting.”

  Brian’s stare was far away. “He keeps going to Cassandra. Ever since I started seeing him, things have been happening to her life support machine. You say a bhoot can’t harm us. I’m not so sure.”

  “A bhoot is incorporeal, Brian. That boy is not part of the physical world. It’s frightening to look at, but when you realize what you are seeing and what he really is, there’s no need to fear him.”

  She didn’t feel comfortable not telling him the entire truth, but he was in no state to hear about the varied aspects of the bhoot. It was true that the vast majority of bhoots were as harmless as they were formless. There were also stories of bhoots, shades of evil people, who were malicious, eager to strike out at the living. Sometimes it was directed at a person who they felt had wronged them in life, other times, they took nefarious pleasure in terrifying anyone in their sight.

  The chimera of the boy could not be this way. Children, even the naughty ones, were innocent by nature.

  An icy gust of wind swept through the narrow street like the rushing tide of a tsunami. The chill cut through her heavy coat.

  Brian’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. She could see there was more he wanted to say. Maybe more he had to reveal? This was a delicate subject and she knew not to prod him. He would tell her what he wanted her to know, in his time.

  She said, “You have my number. Please call me any time. It doesn’t only have to be when you need help with your wife. I don’t want you to be afraid.”

  “I’m not convinced, but I am glad you saw him, too. It makes me feel less crazy.”

  He sputtered a sad, short-lived laugh.

  “I’ll be back the day after tomorrow,” Louisa said. “The next time you see the boy, try talking to him, let him know you’re not afraid. Ask him what he wants. He just may answer you, and give you the key to putting him to rest.”

  Brian looked skeptical. He said, “You better get in the car. It’s freezing out here. See you in a couple of days.”