2018 - 2 nights after the funeral
... ...
Michael didn't get to go to the playground often so when he did he really made it worth it. He did every activity at least three times but his favorite was the slide. The big, twisty slope went through a tunnel and dumped the rider out blindly into the sandbox below. Mama Constance always waited at the bottom to catch him.
Only she wasn't there when he slid out this time. He landed on cold, hard sand without assistance. He got a friction burn on one knee.
"Mama Constance?" he called. He came out from under the climbing gym and looked around.
The park was dark. The light posts every few feet were lit but the yellowish illumination only made the dark parts look darker. He was all by himself.
"Father Jeremiah?" he called, louder. "Mama Constance?"
Then he saw movement over by the swings. He moved closer and saw it was a person. A shiny black rubber person. The outfit meant nothing to the little boy. It looked weird to him, like something out of the Cirque du Soleil shows Mama Constance liked so much.
"Are you a circus person?" he asked.
The Rubber Man came closer to him but didn't say anything.
"Do some tricks," Michael said. "Do a back flip."
The rubber-clad individual paused, then executed a flawless silent back flip. The shiny man even did a little half-bow. Michael smiled. Rubber Man produced several black balls that he juggled deftly. This made the boy even happier. He clapped when Rubber Man made them all disappear one after the other just by catching them.
Then the performer offered his hand to Michael. He gestured with his other arm in an exaggerated fashion that invited the boy along with him. Michael assumed he meant they were going on an adventure. He put his hand in the slick black one and he let Rubber Man lead him away from the park.
They walked for a while in darkness, avoiding the spots of light. The pace was swift but effortless: It almost felt like flying to Michael. Then everything got brighter and when the boy could see, he discovered he was in the basement of the house next door to his. It wasn't an adventure at all. He'd already seen the mess when he'd hid from Ethan's daddy. He could hear a baby crying hard somewhere.
"I wanted to go to Wonderland," he complained. "Not this old place."
Rubber Man put a finger over where his mouth would be. Though the hood covered that area of his face, the message was clear. Michael frowned but he got quiet and looked around, just in case there was a reason he was being shushed. His black shiny companion took his hand again and led him over to an operating table where a newborn baby boy was laying naked. He was wailing so fiercely his skin had turned red.
Abruptly Michael found himself laying on the table where the baby had been. A strange doctor with weird eyes had the crying baby in his hands and was holding him above Michael. He was going to shove the squalling infant into the wide, bloody gash in Michael's middle.
... ...
Michael woke up the whole house with his screams. He didn't want to go back to sleep that night, even though Mama Constance plied him with hot cocoa and let him stay in her bed with her. He wouldn't sleep again until dawn.
...
3 days after the funeral
"I think we should see if Violet can cross the property line," Billie Dean said the next morning. She had her cigarette poised near her lips but didn't put the filter to her mouth just yet. "It would be nice if I could speak with her someplace a little less..." She trailed off and had her delayed puff of smoke.
She, Constance and Father Jeremiah were at the kitchen table. Michael was in the sitting room taking a Latin quiz on the laptop. There was a plate of cookies on the table for when he finished. The adults had already sampled them.
"I've given it a lot of thought," Constance said. "I don't think anyone in that house should be told about the barrier. If one knows, they'll all know. If they all know, some are bound to come over here without invites."
Father Jeremiah looked quizzically at her. "Don't you want your son to try?"
She laced her fingers and propped her elbows on the tabletop. "Of course I want my boy close to me. But I think it's best if he's left unaware of the barrier. He... doesn't get along with Billie Dean. I think it's better for everyone if he just... doesn't know for a while."
"Like with your being dead," Jeremiah said.
She gave him a steely look. "He never needs to know that." She wilted then, pressing one hand to her forehead while the other collected her vodka-laced cup of tea. "You don't understand how it would... affect him. He doesn't handle unpleasant surprises very well. It's just... best if he doesn't know his mama's died."
Billie Dean sighed and pulled a last puff from her cigarette before putting it out. "I think we can trust Violet."
"I don't believe she can keep a secret like that from her parents," said Constance after a bracing sip from her cup.
...
Tate crouched on the attic floor with the blackened key clutched in both hands. He had found the box right where his mother had said it would be. It was dark, like the key, almost big enough to fit a football inside. Its design reminded him of a pirate's treasure chest. Years of dust made it look even more mythical. He liked it the way it was. He was reluctant to open it. He didn't want the contents to spoil it.
He crouched there for a long time before finally inserting the key in the lock. It gave with a faint click. After a few more moments of stalling he pushed the lid open. The first thing he saw was a small teddy bear dressed in a cap and gown in WHS colors with the school's mascot on the middle. White letters below spelled out the word 'Congratulations'. The bear took up most of the room in the box so he pulled it out and set it aside. It had a gift card tagged to one paw that he noticed but didn't bother removing.
Beneath the toy was a package wrapped in black wrapping paper with shiny silver diplomas all over it. There was a piece of paper beneath it, folded in half. He took the package out and set it aside as well then he picked up the paper. Unfolding it he saw his mother's slanted handwriting.
Tate, my dearest son:
Today you are a man. You will never know how proud you've made your mama. I know that whatever you choose to do with your life, you'll amaze the world.
How time has rushed by! I barely just had you and already you're grown. I miss the little boy you were so much but I know that I will love the adult that you are becoming just as deeply. And I want you to know, my beautiful boy, that I will always be here for you.
The present is something that belonged to your father. I know he would want you to have it. I think he told me once that it belonged to his grandfather.
I love you with all my heart.
Mama
The letter was supposed to be a pep-talk for the future but instead it was a bitter reminder of what was never going to be. He crushed the letter impulsively as tears started to fall. Why was his mother giving it to him now?
He sniffled and glared at the wrapped package. He wouldn't even bother opening it except that mama had said it was something that belonged to his father. Still he was reluctant to open it. He sat there just looking at it for a while, like he had the box, tears dripping off his chin. He finally picked up the present. He ripped the paper off without ceremony or joy.
Within was an old wooden box, short and square. He opened that and nestled within the velvet-lined wood was a very old pocket watch. He lifted it by the chain and watched as it slowly spun at the end. The timepiece was tarnished with age and had an ornately etched brass outer cover. He caught the watch mid-spin and opened the hinged lid. The glass-covered watch face beneath was still.
Time had run out.
He tried winding it but the watch wouldn't start. He put it back into the box and shut it. Then he took it over to where he kept his treasures. He sat down cross-legged and rearranged his stash in the wall so the watch box could fit. Then he covered up his hiding place. He put his back to it, pulled his knees up and hugged them.
He tried to remember what his father looked like but he didn't even have a picture in his head of the man. Mama didn't have any pictures of him; she'd said they'd had a photo album but it got destroyed in a flood. He didn't remember it.
He rested his damp cheek on his knees, keeping one arm around his legs while he chewed the cuticles of the other hand. He could see the graduation bear from where he sat. He stared at it for a long time before getting to his feet. Then he went over to it and picked it up. He held it around the middle, over the WHS mascot, and put his other hand on top of the bear's head.
Then he twisted.
And twisted.
And twisted.
Around and around the bear's head went. How many times could the head go around before something had to give?
Snap, snap, snap. The seams began to split. Stuffing showed. Old cloth ripped. The head came off.
He sat down and stared at the stuffing that fluffed out of each torn end. He thought about last night with Patrick and he thought about his mother and he wondered if there really was any additional sin on his soul or if it just didn't matter anymore.
...
Gladys sat on the leather couch, her hands folded in her lap. The plump girl looked at Ben who looked back at her. He slung an arm over the back of his chair and scratched his head with the tip of his pencil.
"I'm not really sure what to tell you," he said. "I'm a therapist, not Missing Persons. Did Maria... Was she acting in an unusual manner the last time you saw her?"
Gladys thought about it. "She was looking at the back yard a lot... Standing at the window. More than usual."
"Have you tried looking in the yard?"
The girl nodded. "There's nothing there but the hole."
"Well, if I see her I'll let her know you're looking for her," Ben said. "But beyond that..." He shrugged and smiled apologetically.
The nursing student nodded and got up. She let herself out of his office. He saw movement in the hall beyond and got up to go investigate. There were workmen out there, repairing the fallen beam in the foyer. Nora Montgomery was out there as well, watching and fretting and complaining to herself about the lack of care the men were showing to the rest of the house while they worked.
Ben left her to it and went out to the back yard. There weren't any workers out there. Like Gladys had said, there was just the hole. He moved closer to it and leaned to look down in it. It went down deep; it was too dark to see the bottom.
Suddenly he felt a sharp shove from behind and he nearly fell forward into the hole. He caught hold of one of the barricades and steadied himself. He could hear laughter from behind and, shooting a glare back, he saw the twins Troy and Bryan standing there laughing their asses off.
"Enjoy your trip, jerkoff?" one crowed.
"See you next fall!" laughed the other, clutching his middle in mirth.
Ben straightened. He was not amused. "Cute." He headed back toward the house, leaving the redheaded delinquents to their laughter at his expense. Not for the first time he found himself glad his boy would never grow older.
...
Author's Note:
Feeling the angst yet? I know I am.
Next episode's slightly less depressing, I think. Violet reacts to Tate being a kid, Chad tells her a story of his youth, and we'll travel back to Murder House circa 1999.
I listened to Gary Jules 'Mad World' (Deadcom remix), the UNKLEsounds Edit of Nancy Sinatra's 'Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down)', and Nine Inch Nails' 'In This Twilight' (Nuclear remix) a lot while writing this episode. You can find other songs in my playlist on my Profile.