Chapter Eighteen: Debutant
Wendy wakes from a surprisingly restful, dreamless sleep the next morning, early considering their late arrival and bedtime the night before. The smell and sound of food cooking wafts heavy up the stairs, so she wakes Milo and Otto, getting them dressed quickly. The sooner they make it to Missouri, and then to California, the better. And besides, the kids can sleep in the car. The Reynolds family makes their beds and re-packs their bags, going downstairs to enter the kitchen, sleep-mussed and yawning in the pale morning light.
They find Jonah, clad in an apron, frying bacon and eggs, a plate of fresh pancakes keeping him company as he cooks. He has the radio on low, a cup of coffee in hand and a spatula in the other. Wendy can see the appeal—domesticity with Jonah must be nice, as capable and quick to please as he is, but even that thought sits slightly unwell with her. It just seems highly exploitative of her cousin, to reincarnate this teenager, playing house in this place, Jonah's very own tomb of over a century.
"Good morning!" Milo chirps, and Jonah seems to startle before turning to her with an easy smile, bending down to accept her hug.
"Good morning, little bug! Good morning, too, to you, Otto, Wendy."
Otto just grunts, a surly ten-year-old with not enough sleep, but Wendy replies kindly, awkwardly waving at Jonah, who nods back. It seems surreal now, their conversation last night, the agreements and understandings they've come to, empathizing with each other despite the circumstances. Jonah brings her a cup of coffee, gesturing to the cream and sugar on the table, and the kids sit, Jonah dishing up food for them. Wendy finds her appetite is back, and apparently Jonah's is too, as he eats two of everything, delicate and well-mannered with a knife in one hand and a fork in the other.
After breakfast, they all clean up together, an assembly line of washing, drying, and putting away, with Milo supervising and giving little orders. Jonah gathers Rusty in his arms and loves him up, quietly cooing to the cat that he loves him, that his Auntie Angie—whoever that is—will take care of him, and that Jonah will be back eventually. He refills the cat's food and water before checking the back door, making sure it's locked, and slinging a bag over a shoulder, an old cotton duffle Wendy recognizes from Matt's childhood trips to summer camp. The teen has changed into something a little more acceptable, but he still looks odd and old-fashioned. He's wearing slacks, dark blue, with suspenders too, in black, though they sort of blend with the black t-shirt he's wearing—Matt's old Rush t-shirt, too big on him for sure, tucked into the slacks. His shoes look like Converse, though white and tan.
Visible on his chest is a pocket watch, hanging from Jonah's neck from a braided cord and metal clasps. Stricken, Wendy steps forward to touch it. Jonah flinches hard, a hand coming up to protectively wrap around hers.
"This is Aunt Sarah's father's pocket watch—"
"Yes, I'm sorry. Matthew, ah…gave it to me. I have to wear it, it's—it's what's going to be able to let me leave," he states, his voice a whisper.
"How so?"
Jonah tightens her grasp on the pocket watch, removing his hand from hers.
"Can you feel it?"
And Wendy can. The pocket watch is pulsing, not at all subtly, and is warm to the touch, almost hot.
"What is that?"
"My soul," he tells her quietly, voice pitched low so the kids can't hear, "it's in this watch. It lets me walk freely, but if anything happens to it, well. There I'd go."
"Fuck," Wendy simply replies, stricken, and Jonah laughs.
"It's so warm," Wendy states. Jonah gives her a half smile and pops open the front casing, revealing the watch case, and the glowing beam peeking from the triangle the watch hands come out of. It's a beautiful light, bright as a flashlight's beam, the same sort of icy white-blue.
"That's you soul? In there? Causing that?"
"Mhm."
"It's…beautiful, Jonah."
"Well, ah, thank you, Wendy?" He replies, awkwardly, and Wendy suddenly steps back, releasing her hold on watch, still feeling Jonah's fucking heartbeat in her palm. He closes the watch and turns away, a strange expression on his face. Wendy gets the feeling she just crossed some sort of boundary, done something perhaps a little too intimate. But then Jonah gathers his bag back up and smiles at her, his expression morphing to excitement.
"Well, is it time? Shall we go?" The tone of his voice is hopeful.
"Yeah. Let's get you out of this fucking house."
Jonah is awkward, all limbs as he gets in the car. Wendy reminds the kids to put their seatbelts on, and then reminds Jonah, who stares at her blankly. She reaches across him, pulling the seatbelt strap across his chest. His eyes are wide, a deer frozen in headlights at the unfamiliarity of the action. Wendy ignores his awkwardness and shows him how to buckle and tighten it.
"It's to keep you safe and secure as we drive, especially if we get in a wreck."
"Oh, I, uh…I see. Thank you."
Wendy turns on the radio as she backs out of the driveway, telling Jonah he can pick the station. To her surprise, he settles on a rock station. He bobs his head along, and Wendy can't help but wonder if some of Matt's music tastes had rubbed off on his captive. Jonah's gaze, still just as wide as ever, soak in his surroundings, his head turning this way and that, as if on a constant swivel, looking out the windows.
"How much has town changed? A lot, I bet."
"Um…yes and no. A lot has changed, but it's still the same layout, some of the same buildings. It's still the same town." Something in his voice seems rueful, almost disdainful, so Wendy drops the subject. Milo is already asleep again in the backseat, and Otto is playing a game on his GameBoy. Jonah asks him about it, and Otto shows him.
"Oh, goodness! It's a game, then, a video game? Just…portable?"
"Uh-huh! I'm playing Minish Cap right now, you'd like it! It's another Zelda game!"
Jonah considers the device, messing with the controls for a few seconds, eyes keen, before handing it back to the child.
"Wow, it surely is the bee's knees, kid. I don't know how you're playing that in a moving automobile, though. Sick-inducing, if you ask me."
"You sound like an old man!" Otto laughs, leaning up to bump his head into Jonah's fondly, so Jonah knows he's just picking. "Seriously though, with your lingo and accent? You sound like an old movie."
"Oh really?" Jonah's voice is quiet, uneasy-sounding as they get on the interstate. The look on his face has shifted to one of concern.
"Might wanna hang on, Jo. I'm not even up to the speed limit yet."
Jonah obeys, his hands clutching his seatbelt as, his eyes somehow even wider as Wendy speeds up to sixty, then seventy, then eighty.
"Christ." He simply says. He's closed his eyes, his face a good three shades paler than his usual paper-white pallor, turning just about blue-green.
"You okay?" Wendy asks, her voice laced with concern.
"Fuck." Jonah replies, his voice a whisper.
"Oh! Joan's said a bad word!" Milo shrieks, unhelpful. Wendy keeps sneaking glances at the reincarnated teen, watching as one of his trembling hands comes up to his mouth, pressing it there in fist.
"Do I need to pull over?"
Jonah shakes his head no. But then, he opens his eyes, watching the scenery blur around him. He suddenly gags. To Wendy's endless surprise, and thankfulness, Jonah is able to hold his cookies until she's able to pull over, coming to a halt on the shoulder of the highway, not even three full miles out of the Goatswood exit. Jonah opens the door and lurches forward, trapped in the seatbelt, which Wendy hurriedly unclasps for him. He staggers out of the car only to get violently sick, his breakfast coming up barely-digested.
"Ew!" Milo shrieks, unhelpfully, again.
"Is he gonna be okay, Mom? What's wrong?"
"He's just not really used to cars, sweetie," Wendy lamely replies. Watching the kid puking his guts out in one of Matt's t-shirts, Wendy's reminded of so many drives with Aunt Sarah and Matt, coming back from chemotherapy, stopping every few miles for Matt to puke.
As Jonah finishes up, Wendy gets out of the car, handing Wendy a purse-procured wet wipe. Jonah accepts it gratefully, his hand shaking as he cleans his face and hands.
"I'm so s-sorry, Wendy—"
"No worries," she interrupts, reaching out to squeeze Jonah's shoulder in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. Jonah gives her a weak smile, still looking pale, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Do you want to try again, or do you need some time?"
Jonah's shaking his head before Wendy's even done speaking.
"If I gotta make it all the way across this damned country, I've gotta get used to it sooner or later."
Back in the car, Wendy gives Jonah some gum, saying it might help with the car sickness. She gets back on the road, staying in the far right lane, going about sixty-five in a seventy. Jonah keeps his eyes closed for the next few miles, before finally opening them, watching out the window with an uneasy look of fear and wonder on his face.
"When did cars get so fast?" he whispers.
"Well, uh. After interstates became common, like this one. The usual speed limit is seventy, sometimes seventy-five or eighty."
"Seventy? Eighty? My God."
"What, ah…what was the standard speed limit, then?"
"Ten. Fifteen, if one wanted to get reckless."
Good lord. No wonder the kid was nauseous, he might as well be on his first rollercoaster.
"Don't look out the side windows. Instead, look out the front, towards the horizon. It might help."
Jonah looks, stock-still, out the front window. Slowly but surely, his grip on his seatbelt unclenches, his hands coming to rest in his lap instead, wringing them together. He lasts another four hours like that, entirely silent for the most part. He replies to Milo's happy chattering once in a while, his voice pitched low and tight. They stop for gas, the kids quickly and easily getting out of the car to run into the gas station, both of them having to pee. Jonah, by comparison, moves like an elderly man, slowly but surely undoing his own seatbelt, opening the door, stepping out onto the pavement with shaking legs.
"How you doing, Jo?"
"I'm alright, just…tired. And still a little nauseous." He replies, "I'm sorry again for causing such a fuss."
"Really, Jonah, it's nothing. I used to get carsick all the time, when I was younger."
He just nods, awkwardly standing there with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trousers. He leans in then, curious, watching Wendy pump gas. She sets the little metal bar in place to automatic pump, turning to the teen.
"I have to go pee, too. Do you want to go inside with me or do you want to stay with the car."
"I'll go inside with you. I should probably go, too."
With that, they make their way across the parking lot, Wendy leading with Jonah close behind her. He jumps about a foot when the automatic door slides open on its own, so Wendy grabs his hand. He's shaking again, silent as they walk through the store. He looks honestly scared, looking around at everything. He seems particularly freaked out by the lights, bright buzzing fluorescents, looking up at them every few moments as they're going to come down upon him at any moment.
"Okay, kid, men's is right there, women's is right here. Wait for me if you get out first, okay?"
"Okay." His quiet, scared voice, paired with his expression, suddenly drives home for Wendy just how actually young the boy is.
When Wendy comes out, he's waiting for her with Otto and Milo at his side. His hands are wet, rubbing his trousers as he quietly talks with Milo, asking her about her favorite candy, which, Milo says, she's going to talk Mommy into buying for her. Too scared to use the electric hand dryer, for sure.
She buys them all drinks, and buys herself, Milo, and Otto burgers from the attached Burger King. She extends the offer to Jonah, who declines, probably afraid to eat anything, lest it come back up. He does accept a drink, though, and Otto leads he and Milo off to the drink section. They come back with three Cokes, and, God fucking bless, Jonah's finally smiling again, looking just a little more like the self-assured teen she'd observed in his own home.
"They still have Coke!" He informs her, a giddy smile on his face.
"You'll have to let me know if it tastes the same."
"I'm a little surprised you're letting Milo have some…this shit'll get you wired, you know?"
Wendy laughs, walking them all out to the car. Back in and seatbeated up, Wendy shows him how to unscrew the plastic lid.
"Huh," his nose is wrinkled, eyes scanning the label and ingredients, "it is different."
"It is? How so? Is it still good?"
"Yeah, it's definitely still good. It's just really, way sweeter. But yet, I don't know…it's missing something."
Oh, Christ, is he talking about the cocaine being missing?
Wendy decides not to explain that little historical fact to the medium, instead hitting the road.
"Alright kiddos, we've still got five hours ahead of us. Let me know if you get hungry, or gotta pee."
The two younger ones cheer. Jonah just groans, making the sign of the cross over himself. It would be funny, if it didn't seem cruel, here and alive in two-thousand and five.
The Coke seems to perk Jonah up, regardless of the lack of illegal substances inside. They stop for a snack again, after two more hours, and Jonah actually accepts the offer this time, munching a Taco Bell burrito with a pleased expression on his face, in a moving car, no less. He spent the rest of the drive to the Campbell house almost entirely fine, though he did curse again and close his eyes the one time someone merged in front of them a little too close for comfort. Milo informs Jonah she's going to start a swear jar for him.
"I'll pay my dues when I acquire some dough, little bug," he informs her.
Jonah and the kids play I Spy for the last bit of the long drive. Such things like tractors, cows, corn, a red truck, a blue truck, a semi-truck—what the fuck is that behemoth? Jonah had asked, his fine now up to three dollars—and more cows. Lots of cows, and lots of corn.
"I spy Memaw house!" Milo finally shrieks, everyone in the car emitting sighs of relief. A nine hour drive is no joke for an adult, let alone a ten-year-old, an eight-year-old, and a ninety-nine-year-old reincarnated teen who's never been on the interstate.
Milo is first out of the car, meeting Sarah Campbell at a full sprint halfway across the lawn. Sarah scoops the child up entire her arms, overjoyed at having her grandbaby in her company. Her expression of elation only grows as Otto runs up to receive his hugs, and as Wendy emerges from the car, waving happily and calling out to the woman who pretty much raised her. Sarah's smile slips, however, as the black-haired medium awkwardly gets out of the car. He approaches the miniature family reunion, slowly shuffling up to them, his hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes to the ground.
Wordlessly, Sarah sets Milo down, brushing past a still-chattering Otto, passing Wendy and walking straight for Jonah. Wendy watches, apprehensive, as Sarah comes to a stop in front of the boy.
"Hello, ma'am," Jonah mumbles, his gaze to the ground.
The look on Sarah's face is damn near unfathomable, a mixture of horror, grief, curiosity, and incredulousness. She's silent still, as she reaches out, a hand under Jonah's chin, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. Her mouth parts, a sheer expression of shock. Wendy watches as Jonah's burning, electric eyes, a pale robin's egg blue, flit around everywhere, looking everywhere but the woman, looking scared. Sarah's grip is strong, though, tightening on his chin, forcing his gaze up to hers. Jonah's face goes soft, as they stare at each other, the fondness in his stare apparent, confronted with the trademark chocolate-brown eyes of the Campbell family.
They stand like this quite a few seconds too long, locked in an apparent staring contest, Sarah's hand still gripping his chin. Wendy watches their expressions morph and change, the moment tense. Even the kids have stopped whooping and hollering, watching the exchange with confusion.
Eventually, Sarah's head tilts, and she steps forward, shuffling closer. Jonah's expression of sheer panic melts to one of relief as Sarah eventually embraces him, gathering him up in a hug so strong, Jonah staggers. Wendy starts forward then, walking up.
"Aunt Sarah?"
She doesn't respond, and Jonah's arms come up to hug her back, pulling her close, holding her tight, rubbing comforting circles into her back with his palms. Coming closer, it's then that Wendy can hear the crying, Sarah's face buried in the reincarnation's shoulder.
"Mrs. Campbell, ma'am, are you alright?" Jonah asks in old-timey movie accent, all long vowels, proper grammar, and manners.
Sarah laughs and finally pulls away from him, tears still rolling down her face. She takes Jonah's face in her hands and brings him closer, so she can look at his face better.
"My God, my dear God…is it really you?"
"Um, yes ma'am, I…I think so?"
She laughs again, planting a kiss on his cheek, hugging him close again. Jonah flushes red, and he stares helplessly over Sarah's shoulder at Wendy, looking just as fucking confused as Wendy feels. They hold each other a while longer before Sarah finally relinquishes him, laughing and wiping her face with her hands.
"You're Jonah, right? That's your name?"
Jonah seems to flinch, his gaze widening and skirting away again. He shrinks in on himself, seemingly trying to disappear. He simply nods to her.
An expression of joy leaves Sarah Campbell, and she gathers the reincarnation's hands in her own.
"Thank you, so so much, for saving my son, for taking his cancer away, and giving him his life back," Sarah whispers, gripping Jonah's hands tightly. Their eyes are locked, Jonah's expression one of shock and disbelief.
"But, well, ma'am, I…I damn near traumatized your family, if you remember, and burnt your house down—"
"Yes, you did. But, you weren't't haunting us, not really. Just Matt, maybe. All of the awful things that happened in the house were the other ghosts, right, not you, and then—then, you saved my Matty. I can't thank you enough!"
Just then, the front door opens again, Peter Cambell emerging.
"Joseph! Hey, Joe, it's good to see you again," Peter hollers across the lawn, making his way to his wife and the teenager she's clutching in her arms, "I wanted to apologize to you for—well,"
He stops short, though, upon seeing Sarah in a lather of tears, Jonah looking shocked and wildly uncomfortable.
"What's this, what's going on?"
"Peter! This is Jonah, remember, Jonah Aickman?"
"Who?"
"The boy, Peter, the ghost who haunted that house? The one who kept us safe and cured Matt's cancer!"
Peter laughs at first, a mean, disbelieving laugh. But as he watches the kid look away, eyes to the ground, looking more than a little miserable, his laugh peters off, the potential truth of it something too awful and unexplainable to consider.
"Sarah, that's not possible. That kid died, what, a century ago?"
Jonah just nods.
"I burned up in a fire in the year nineteen twenty-five," her mumbles. He's backing away, almost all the way to the car.
"Well, that's simply not fucking possible," Peter states, laughing creully again, his voice raising. Jonah's flinch is apparent to Sarah and Wendy, who both step forward protectively, mindful of the living dead boy, and all that entails. It may be impossible, sure, but here he is, with thoughts and feelings.
"It is," Jonah replies, "and if you don't believe me, I suggest calling Matthew. He can explain the whole goofed-up situation."
Peter storms back inside to do just that, and Sarah goes to Jonah.
"How is it possible, Jonah? How did you come back to us, how'd you come back to Matt?"
He shifts uncomfortably.
"Well, uh…you know how Matthew's been studying the occult?"
Sarah's eyebrows raise to her hairline.
"Are you telling me Matty did this?"
"Yes ma'am," Jonah sighs, "he did."
He looks exhausted, then, as he goes on to explain it all to Sarah just as he'd explained it all to Wendy. As Sarah listens, her expression morphs to one of shock, to horror, to sadness. At one point, she takes Jonah's hand, wringing it with her own, wrapping a hand around his wrist to feel his illusion of a pulse.
"My God, he did this to you?"
"Yes, but I'm happy for it, I promise. He's given me another chance at a happy, healthy life, ma'am, just as I did for him ten years ago. He's repaid the favor, is how I see it. I was stuck in limbo, anyway, it's not as if he pulled me out of Heaven."
Sarah still looks upset though, disbelieving that her own son, her little Matty boy, was so deeply entrenched in witchcraft that he could resurrect and entire human being, soul and body and all. She expresses as much, and Jonah doesn't know what to tell her, how to comfort her as the woman begins to cry anew.
"It's not you fault, you didn't mean to get him into all this nastiness," Sarah waves him off, "I'll go explain this to Peter, you stay out here till I can get him calmed down."
Wendy stays outside with Jonah and the kids, who have lost interest in the confrontation and are instead playing on the trampoline on the side lawn. Jonah immediately lights a cigarette, and when he offers one to Wendy, she accepts. He lights it for her, some old-fashioned gesture of potential misogyny—or respect, these hairs are sometimes too fine to split. They smoke together in silence for a while, before Wendy breaks it.
"That could have gone worse."
"I didn't expect her to recognize me, right off the bat too, Jesus. How? Speaking of which, how did you recognize me on sight? None of you have seen or met me before."
"Well, uh, about that, Jonah…after the house burned down, Matt's cancer scans all came back clear, with him healthy and fine, like he was never even sick to begin with. He swore up and down it was all you. He wouldn't shut up about you, honestly, for like, ever. You're all he could talk about for months, and then he still kept talking about you for years. When he went into college for paranormal studies, much to Aunt Sarah's dismay, he said it was all for you, that he wanted to know more about you."
"Oh, Jesus," Jonah replies, his voice colored in shock, his face colored a bright red. Had Matt really talked about him that much?
"He'd even described you to us, what your ghost had looked like. That you were all burnt up, but that you still had these really intense blue eyes. And as for me, I had actually seen you once, in Hell House, in a mirror. Months later, when Matt mentioned the eyes, I realized it had to have been you I saw."
"I—I'm sorry, Wendy—"
"Don't be. That's the past, and we're in the now."
A few more beats of silence, before—
"I'm still shocked she's so happy to see me though…even if I saved her son, I still did a lot of fucked up shit to your family, and I set matt on this damned course to hoo-doo—"
"All that seems irrelevant to her, in the shadow of her cancer-free son," Wendy interrupts, "and besides, you were protecting us from all those other ghosts, the whole time. Right?"
"Well, yes. But, what I think both of you may be forgetting, and I mean no offense…what you're both forgetting is who put the ghosts into the house in the first place."
That shocks Wendy into stillness. Jonah stamps out his finished cigarette, seemingly unable to look at her. She studies his profile instead, memorizing it, committing it to memory to compare to the horrible, burnt up visage she saw in her bedroom mirror all those years ago. That hadn't slipped her mind, actually, that Jonah had been a necromancer. She remembers all the pictures, and she still has fucked up dreams—in the most common one, she'll be opening some kind of package, anything from a cereal box, to a Christmas present, to a jar of vaseline—and she'll find its full of eyelids, snipped off, weathered little eyelids, eyelashes and all.
"Can I ask you a weird question, Jonah? It might be kind of personal."
He shrugs, motioning for her to go ahead.
"Matt told me once, that you possessed him? He said it was why he was so hell-bent on seeing you again. He said it was the most intense and moving experience of his life. Did that really happen? What was it like?"
"Well," Jonah begins, his expression one of longing and loneliness, "I could say the same for me. In all of my time on this earth and beyond, it's still the most impressionable thing that's happened to me. I don't really know how to describe it, what it was like."
He sighs, his hands coming up to form a circle, gesturing. He speaks in hushed tones, reverent. Wendy finds she's unable to look away from the expression in his eyes, some kind of burning, almost manic energy.
"What I guess I would say it was like…I would say it was like meeting someone, truly. Truly meeting and seeing all of them, coming into direct contact with their entire being. You can hear each other's thoughts, share memories, feel the other's emotions, talk to each other inside one skull, inhabit the same body. We both decided to run, to swing an ax, to start a fire, with the same legs and arms, with the same brain. Two people, coming together, body and soul, to become one."
It takes a long time for Wendy to respond, turning that description over and over in her head, not entirely capable of even imagining it. It sounded insane, and fulfilling, and confusing. She imagined it would feel awful, entirely crushing, to be separated after something like that. Becoming one soul with someone, just to be unraveled, alone in your own skull.
"Fuck. No wonder Matt's so obsessed with you."
This makes Jonah laugh, a sudden guffaw that sends birds flying out of the tree near them.
"Yeah, well, can I tell you a secret?"
Wendy leans forward expectantly, eyes wide, nodding.
"I'm starting to think he and I may be soulmates," he whispers, flushing pink, looking down at his shoes.
"Well fuck, Jonah, I can't imagine anything else that qualifies so accurately—I mean, shit, your souls literally become one, only to be separated—"
"Yeah, and now, Wendy, I need you to imagine just how badly I must have hurt Matthew, for him to run from me."
And that, Wendy can't imagine either.