Chapter 66

Sometimes, in wrestling, when you go out for so long, coming back is like starting over. It was. When I came back they kept it a secret didn't give me any dark matches that would let fans know that I was back, which would get all over the internet. I stayed with Saphrin for a few days before arranging to go back on the road, taking time to go back to Indianapolis first, then to Vermont.

Going to Vermont was something I knew I needed to do. I was taking a big step, it was like a spiritual thing I needed to do. I didn't tell anyone that I was doing this, either, I knew that whoever it would be that found out (Mark, Raven, Saphrin) would adamantly protest and want to come with me, but it was something I needed to do.

Actually it wasn't so bad. I went in, didn't freak out or get sick, just went in, walked to the bedroom, put my things down. I stretched out on the bed, kind of missing it. It was different than the bed in Indianapolis, more comfortable…

It amazed me that it had been so long and yet I could still smell her. Her perfume, her shampoo, everything about her. Like she was still there with me.

I fell asleep for a while, not dreaming, waking up and feeling kind of strange, since I hadn't been there in so long. It made some tingle, to instantly wake up and for half a second think that it was back when things were still good, and then I just remembered…it was just strange. Nostalgic, which still then was a gray area between sad and happy. I was too confused to translate my emotions over nostalgia. Happy to remember her, sad because she was gone, the same argument I'd been having with myself since February.

When I woke up I just sighed, looked over to her side of the bed and reached out, put my hand on the pillow. Everything in the house was kind of dusty, places in sunlight from the windows were kind of sun-stained, places with too much dust were getting dirty. The bed wasn't so bad, the pillow just felt…what's the word? Stale? I couldn't tell if it had actually physically changed or if it was just my mind. It was weird to think about it, like a ghost house that hadn't been used in so long.

My hand dug into the pillow, squeezed it. I clenched my fist, felt my body shake a little, didn't cry. I needed to stop that, and I was getting better at controlling it, partially because I was getting over what happened. Even then I knew that I'd never…let go of her. Scar tissue, you know? It'll always be there, even when the wound heals.

I sat up, listened to the house, wondering if by some chance…something would happen. It was so still that I couldn't imagine it going on forever. Silence like that never lasts.

My ghost house, empty shell of a home that we'd once shared.

Were they ghosts? Was that possible? Were they in Heaven or Hell? Were their souls even around? They sometimes say that people who die violent deaths tend to stick around, that they're confused and angry and at unrest. Was it true? Was it possible?

It would be a lie if I even said I knew nothing about psychic phenomena and clairvoyance and all that. I can't lie that I didn't know about the preternatural realm, but I can say that I tried to deny it. In my heart…I think I always knew all those things were real, but the way I grew up fixed in me that I'd rather not know, that it was all evil. I remember the things Paul used to do and say, and I remember our father always telling me and Mark to stay out of the basement…when we were little we always figured it was just because the embalming rooms were down there and he didn't want to scare us…

That didn't make sense though. Because while I remember that, I also remember this one time…it must've been shortly before the fire, Mark was only nine or ten years old. This kid was making fun of me, and Mark kicked his ass. Our father wasn't home, Mother was busy with some clients out at a cemetery looking for plots. Paul, who worked there sometimes wasn't around either, we were alone. I was watching Mark from my bedroom window, he was outside, down in the U driveway, beating the hell outta him…then, when it was mostly over with, he stood over the bleeding body, glaring…I thought Mark was done. I loved him so much just then, he made me feel so safe…

He looked up at me, smiled for just a second before turning his head down again, taking a moment before picking the kid up, dragging him into the house. I got up and ran down the stairs, sitting down in the same place where I would trip and fall during the fire in only a few months. I sat there, just watching as Mark cursed at him, then threw him down the basement stairs, slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside.

We both listened to the scream.

The thuds as he tumbled down the stairs.

The silence that ensued.

Without noise I joined Mark's side, both of us just standing there nearly unable to breathe, just waiting for something to happen. My heart was pounding, listening, hearing nothing. For a moment I thought he must've been dead.

Silence never lasts.

Just when I was starting to actually fear that my brother had killed someone, we both stepped back, startled. We both heard it. His footsteps, pounding up the stairs, all the way up in a few seconds. He banged on the door, hammered. I looked at Mark, he looked right back at me. That emerald colour has never really changed.

"Let me out!" the kid begged. Mark turned away from me and just stared at the door. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "PLEASE!" the kid screamed. The banging on the door quickened, he screamed out such a shriek that it sounded like his lungs were ripping. Neither of us did anything. After a while it finally slowed down.

We both heard his body lean against the door.

Slide down.

Hit the floor.

How morbid that for the next few years this was exactly what I would be doing, and that was exactly the way Mark would react- just staring. Not doing a fucking thing.

"Mark,"  I said, kind of scared. "Let him out…"

Mark narrowed his eyes at me just a moment, then stepped forward, flicked the lock on the handle over and pulled the door open.

I don't care what anyone says. No kid, and nine year old boy for that matter, would've looked that horrified by seeing a corpse. I lived in a funeral parlour, I know this things. Most boys are more fascinated at these things, the way they are with toilet humour. Disgusting things amuse most little boys, you know?

Even if he had seen a corpse, even if he'd gotten startled by it…I could understand him running up the stairs, I used to do that at his age when I saw rats, and when I had nightmares. But it was the look on his face, that I still remember. Horror. Just…pure horror. Something had really just scared the shit out of him.

He looked up at Mark once the door was open, then at me. His lip quivered, the tears streaked his face. His eyes were huge, face deathly pale. Like a mute his mouth opened and closed, no words or sounds coming. He wobbled up to his feet, shaking violently, nose bleeding from the damage mark had done. We both stood back, watched him stumble past us, his eyes fixed on nothing.

Mark and I have never talked about it, but I'm sure he remembers, just like I do.

Something down there…

If that wasn't enough to make me believe in all that paranormal shit…maybe Mark's mind would be the deciding factor that made me believe in the other world.

Those things were real- telepathy, spirits, magic…right?

It frightened me to no end to imagine that Amber was still around, to smell her perfume so acutely and know that the house couldn't possibly just still smell that way, know that it was her presence. My heard started racing as I stood up and faced the empty room, the silence swallowing me, the scent filling me. Vices gripped my chest.

"Amber…?" I whispered.

Warmth started to swirl around me, like hands caressing me, over my arms, over my chest, through my hair. The smell was overwhelming, almost nauseating at one point. I felt like I could've fallen down but something was holding me up. A soft pressure was on my chest, also on my back, like a hug. Benevolent forces, keeping me together, so peaceful that it didn't even make me sad.

I reached my hands out, closed my eyes, tried to feel her. I knew her by heart, didn't need to look to know where her head would be. I ran my hand through her hair. Even though I couldn't see her, I could…feel her, felt the mass of her body, the warmth, the strength.

She was with me, she really was.

"Amber…" I said again. "I love you."

The pressure around my waist got tighter for a moment, giving me breezes of thousands of memories. Was this some response?

I opened my eyes, wondering if, even for just a second, I would see her. It was so absurd, I could FEEL her! We were hugging, she was physically there. But when I looked…there was nothing. I started getting cold.

I curled my hands in her hair, felt blind. "Don't go," I begged. "Amber? Please don't leave me again! I don't have anyone anymore, I love you, I'm still…so in love with you…don't leave me again…"

But I couldn't make it stop. It got to the point where I was shivering, when I couldn't feel her anymore. In a rush I grabbed one of my jackets out of the closet, one that I hadn't used in a long time, pulled on my shoes and grabbed my keys and got the fuck away from there. I got to the garage, into the car that I hadn't used in so long. The motorcycle was there, too. I guess Mark had taken care of all of that for me.

Right then I wasn't sure where I was going, just knew I needed to get out. I turned the car on, shocked when the music came on. I guess…the CD was still in there. And the song was still on. And I heard it differently.

"My reflection wraps and pulls me under healing waters to be bathed in. Breña guides me safely in worlds I've never been to. Heal me, heal me, my dear Breña." The bile rose in my throat, I stopped the car halfway down the driveway, staring up at the house, remembering the cop car, the way the lights had splashed up on the side of the house, red and blue. I wondered if there was anything worth crying over up at the chapel…

 I searched through the CD jacket, finding all kinds of CDs that I hadn't listened to or seen in the longest time. I actually laughed out loud a little as I found Vulgar Display of Power, missing it as I put it in. I held Mer de Noms in my hand for a moment, stared at it until finally tossing it on the passenger seat, continuing to pull out of the driveway then.

Prior to that I hadn't noticed Claudette's seat in the back. I saw it in the rearview mirror. I glared at it, then just kept on driving, turning up the road to the chapel. The music was all heavy, made me happy, filled me with some kind of joy that I hadn't felt in a while. I remember we'd listened to that CD right after we found out Amber was pregnant, in the car going to Long Island.

Good to get my mind off everything though, you know?

It took me a few minutes to drive up there, I stopped the car where I had to get out and walk, where the ambulances had stopped that night. I stared through the trees, sitting there for a few minutes before stepping out. It was autumn, a few days before Halloween, all chilly, the leaves all dried and changing colours. I could see straight through to the outline of the building. I wondered if I would find something gruesome there, if anything would be left at all…which was funny because the house I was staying in happened to be covered in blood.

Finally I worked up the courage, got out of the car, crunched over the leaves to walk up to the base of the building. Every time I went up there it was more and more eroded, this time all the benches were mostly collapsed, less of the stained glass was around. The alter was still there, this huge stone altar up in the front of the skeleton of the small place. I walked up to it, my hands shoved in my pockets, cold. I looked around not knowing what to think, just curious. If anyone had been passing by, it would've been so calm. Just a man in the place where his wife had died. To me, she'd died up there. I don't care if I was out of my mind at the time, I could still feel the life in her when I got to the house.

Obviously there was nothing up there of hers, or of mine. I sighed, took my hand out and brushed off part of the altar, sitting down on it. I could actually swing my legs from there, which was a bit amusing.

There had been nothing to do in that town, ever. Nothing to ever fucking do unless we were hanging out at the house, watching movies, working out, having sex…later one when Claudette was around she took up a lot of the time, too. But before that? That place was so fucking boring, that's why I'd chosen to get a house there. It was secluded, I could keep to myself, I had a big house were I could hide from myself…it was essentially perfect.

That was why the chapel was so great. I know I didn't talk about it much, but Amber and I went up there a lot, when we got bored. To be completely honest, we'd even fooled around up there, too, back in those days when we could just never keep our hands off each other. And that filled me with curiosity as I remembered something.

One of the nearby trees was there, it always was, huge and prominent. I stood up and walked over the foundation of the building, into the woods a few feet to the tree. I reached my fingers out, grazing the bark. It was still there.

"KANE + AMBER AAF". She'd carved it there once. I laughed at her at the time, she laughed at herself, too. But…oh my God it was still there. I put my hand over it, felt the carvings tickling my hand. I turned back to look at the chapel. It was so empty, so lifeless…I turned and left without being able to think any further.

The first day, we'd come back, plopped down in the living room, and then decided to get sandwiches. I told her to stay home and relax while I went grocery shopping. Which reminded me- there was no food in the house.

I got back in the car, turned the Pantera back on, started driving down into town. People were looking at me strange there, whether it was simply because I get that everywhere I go or because they recognized me, remembered me, knew what happened. No one said anything to me, I went about my business shopping, the coming back.

The bloodstains were mostly ignored, the ones in the kitchen I managed to overlook as I cleaned up, threw out all the old food, dusted everything off and put the groceries away. I made dinner for myself some time later, went into the bedroom and watched TV as I ate. I didn't want to be anywhere else, didn't want to look at the blood while I ate.

Again I thought about those numbers that James had given me, companies that dealt with these situations, professional cleaners that specialized in cleaning up blood and such. I considered calling them, to fix the mess…I also considered leaving it there. As much as it upset me and nauseated me…I don't know. It was a part of her. It was almost sentimental.

Once I'd worked up the balls to do it I finally started fixing up the living room, vacuuming, dusting, fixing the lamp that was still on the floor. The bulb had burned out long before, but I found another one to replace it. Everything seemed in place, save for the blood. I sat down on one of the couches and stared at the stains, trying to make up my mind. It filled me with restlessness, made me keep going room to room in the house and cleaning up what I could, spending at least a half hour inspecting the hole I'd made in the wall when I'd punched it that night.

It was hard for me to go into Claudette's room, when I finally did it wasn't so bad. There wasn't any blood or anything in there, just the horrifying images of a nursery, knowing a kid was murdered in there. Horror movie kinds of things. I sat down on the floor, leaned against the wall, opened her toy box and started looking through all the things that we used to play with.

The silence killed me again, made me so afraid. I stared around the room, eyes darting from corner to corner, then to the window which was blackened with night. It was so intense, made me so afraid, made me realize that I hadn't even been paying attention to what time it was and was now lost. I was just scared and that was the bottom line. I was afraid to move, didn't want to provoke something horrible happening, felt scared of the window and that something would pop through it, same of the closet and the door and the toy trunk. At the same time I felt scared to go back into the hall. It was completely irrational but very real to me, tying knots in my stomach.

It's all the silence that fucks with your head. Nothing else. That's what freaked me out so much, made me wish that I had left some music on or something to hide all of it. Also made me wish that I wasn't such a pussy and would just get up and leave already.

I kept laughing at myself. At one point I stood, and said out loud to myself: "You are being so fucking stupid, just go to bed, you're too tired."

I couldn't smell Amber anymore, either, couldn't tell if that was good or bad. But that meant no spirits, right? I was being such a child, kept scolding myself for being a baby but honestly couldn't help it. It was scary, it really was. What made it worse was that the second I turned out of the room, had my back to the doorway, I heard this…clicking sound.

That hanging music box thing, over the crib that she'd slowly grown out of using. In my dream it had played Orestes. Now the cord was being pulled down, causing the hair to rise on my neck. I was too scared to turn around, was afraid that this must've been another nightmare, but it wasn't. I was met with the little chimes of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I stood there listening to it, thought about the hug I'd shared with Amber, turned around to see maybe if Claudie would be there, too.

She wasn't.

I could see…what was it? An aura, I could see it. Against the blackness of the room, the light from the hallway trickled in and highlighted the heat waves of an aura, the shape of a little girl, no bigger than a two year old. She didn't…seem to be angry. I knelt down on one knee and reached my hand out.

"Hey, Claudie," I said. Claudette came toward me, I could see a limb reaching out, though I couldn't see details like fingers. This was scaring the hell out of me but I had to do it anyway. She wrapped her hand around my index finger, squeezing. I smiled, listening to the music.

I remembered the insomnia she could get sometimes. Not on the road, I think since she'd been raised traveling, she wasn't used to having a house. It was when we were home, sometimes. She just couldn't sleep.

"Go to sleep, sweet pea," I said to her. "Bed time, Claudette Pearl…" all the things Amber and I used to say to her.

My eyes burned as the grip on my finger lessened. It was so surreal, it actually felt like her tiny hand there, but I couldn't see it. I bit my lip as she pulled away, as the music came to a stop. I didn't want her to be in the house, I didn't want her to have that insomnia, be stuck in limbo. Her spirit was there, though…and I didn't want her to leave. She had so much ahead of her if she just could've lived…

When I was sure that she was gone I went back to my room, curling up in bed, crying a little bit. I had totally avoided the room where I'd tried to kill myself, and planned on that. Also planned on calling those cleaners in the morning before I left. I'd have to get new carpeting and stuff, too. More than just the cleaning. Once I squared everything away then, I would leave.

In the morning I felt strangely at peace, felt like she'd been beside me all night somehow. It made the day start happy, gave me the courage to take a shower in the bathroom where the first of my string of Mer de Noms nightmares had taken place. It wasn't so bad, really. From there I had the strength to make the phone calls, to make myself breakfast, to pack some food for on the plane.

A couple hours later, when I made sure everything was tied up and ready, I was ready to leave. At the door, I paused, felt drawn into the house for some reason. Warmth passed through me.

I swore I heard her voice, in my head, around me, everywhere.

"I love you, too," she said.

Once I was in the car, I threw Mer de Noms out the window.