My Life Across the Table (11 page)

I couldn’t share her appreciation of the beauty, and was, for possibly the first time in my life, at a complete loss for words.

She stopped twirling, noticing the look on my face, following the line of my stare to the wall, trying desperately to see what I was so fixated on. Clearly hypnotized by the beauty of this house, she glared at me, no longer able to mask her frustration. Planting herself in the middle of the room, she placed her hands on her hips, “What are you staring at?

Pointing at the center of the wall, my words came out stilted and flat, “There’s blood on that wall.”
Her eyes became enormous as she whipped around looking at the wall. Her hysteria rising, “Where do you see blood? What are you talking about? Can’t you see it’s just been painted?”
I was still unable to move, or to take my eyes off the wall, “Yes, I see that, but there is blood all over that wall.”
Wild eyed, Anita rapidly moved toward the target of my stare, and began running her hands up and down the wall, with panic creeping into her voice, “There’s no blood on this wall, Karen! Can’t you see the wall has just been painted? Where do you see blood?”
Now I knew what had happened in this house, and though she didn’t want to hear it, I had to tell her. “I know you can’t see it, but someone was murdered here, and there is blood all over that wall. You need to find out who was murdered in this room” pointing, “against that wall. I’m sorry, Anita, but I can’t stay in this house. I need to get out of here now.”
Heading back up the hall to the staircase, half talking to myself “Now I know why I can’t breathe in here, and I promise you one thing, you are never moving into this house.”
I ran up the stairs, as though I was being chased. Gasping for air I scrambled out the front door, continuing up the walkway, finally arriving at the car. I couldn’t even bring myself to look back at the house, and for what seemed like a very long time, I just stood next to the car, trying to calm my racing heart.
She emerged from the walkway, looking at me like I had suddenly lost my mind. In the car, her fear finally surfaced, “What in the world happened to you back there? All I wanted you to do was look at the house we are buying, and you’ve been acting strange from the minute we drove up here. It’s kind of freaking me out, Karen. What happened to you?”
I calmly tried to explain it to her, “This isn’t your house Anita, and I know I keep saying this to you, but even before I got to the bedroom, I told you that I didn’t ever see you living there. I am telling you that someone was definitely murdered in that bedroom! I know you want me to tell you that this is the place, but I’m sorry, I can’t. I know what I see, and I have to tell you the truth. I’m sorry, I just can’t tell you what you want to hear.”
On the drive home, I told her how I felt. She had been completely convinced before we got there that this was the house, and through her eyes, it did appear to have every detail I that had described in her reading. So, in her mind it had to be this house. To her it was absolutely perfect. I was the problem, and because she needed to rationalize my strange reaction, so she simply decided that I must be crazy. Driving down the mountain, my mind was spinning. I was desperately trying to find a way to express my concerns about the house. I chose instead, to quietly listen, as she repeatedly tried to convince me, and I agreed that all of the things she said were true. However, the harder she pushed, the more certain I became. She was never buying, nor moving into that house.
The overwhelming energy carried within that house, and the powerful feelings of darkness and murder, were suffocating for me. I was simply amazed that she couldn’t feel it, too. I was also confused about the exactness of all the details from her reading, and my deepening certainty that this was absolutely not, the house I had described. The logical part of my mind knew that it certainly should be the house, if in fact, everything I had described was there, so none of it was making sense to me.
I started going over the details, one by one, asking if she was certain that everything I had said about the house, fit perfectly. “Okay, I know it has the doorknobs and fittings, even though they aren’t covered with paint like I saw them, and it also has the Mexican pavers and the fireplace. Do you remember what else I said it would have?”
She appeared more relaxed now thinking she had talked me into changing my mind, “Well, there are a couple of big things that don’t exactly fit what you said. One is the price. Remember you kept saying two hundred and seventy eight thousand dollars? Well you were way off on that one, by about forty thousand dollars, and that thing you kept saying about a fault under the kitchen.” Suddenly realizing the seriousness of what she said, “Does there still feel like there’s a fault under the kitchen?” She didn’t really want me to answer, so she kept talking, “No, of course there isn’t, so I’m sure you were off on that one, too, but everything else fits.”
The shift in her tone and attitude made me laugh. We had known each other a very long time, and she knew that when I saw something with such clarity, and with so much detail, I was never changing my mind. No matter how hard she pushed or disagreed with me. I would never have said this wasn’t her house, if I were not absolutely certain.
I addressed every point, “So, let’s see, all the little details, sort of fit, but none of the big ones? I must admit, in your reading, I never saw a murder, or blood on the wall in the bedroom, but Anita, all of it just feels wrong, and to answer your last question, yes, I still feel there is a fault running under the kitchen. Not under the kitchen in this house, but absolutely in the house you are buying, so I don’t know what else to tell you.” There was something else really bothering me, I couldn’t get the house on the curve, out of my mind.
Though she didn’t show it, I knew that she was still deeply upset, and simply didn’t know what to do. My insistence about nothing being what it appeared to be with this house was driving her crazy. First she is told she has to move, thinks she has found the house I described in her reading, takes me to the house, and I tell her there has been a murder committed in the master bedroom. Who wouldn’t be upset with all of that going on?
I gently tried again, “I know how stressful all of this is, but before you make a final decision, will you hear me out?” She looked like she was about to cry, “Please, I’m begging you to check out the history of this house first. I know you think I’m just being crazy, but have I ever steered you wrong? I know what I feel, Sweetheart, and I promise you there was a murder, against the wall, in that bedroom. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I know what I feel, and I know what I saw. If I’m wrong, I will apologize up one side and down the other, and will never ask you to do anything ever again. Please?” She fought the tears now filling her eyes, but I knew she needed to hear all of it, “and if I’m right about the blood, the second thing I want you to do, is find out about the house on the curve. Remember the big one I kept pointing at?”
She was really angry with me, “Please, don’t be angry, and just ask your broker to find out about that house. I know you don’t want to, but do it just to amuse me, okay? I know none of this makes any sense to you right now, but I know what I feel, and there is something so wrong about that house. Please, for yourself, check it out.”
With barely a goodbye, she dropped me off, refusing to promise me anything. I could only hope that she listened, and would at least investigate what I said about blood on the bedroom wall. I prayed she would protect herself, and her husband, from living in the energy where a murder had been committed, and not wind up shooting the messenger in the process.
She was so angry at me that I didn’t really expect to hear from her for a while, but a couple of weeks later, she called, “Okay, you win! I give up! I did it, and I’m sorry I was so upset with you over the house. I was so freaked out that I didn’t ever want to talk to you again, but the truth is, I couldn’t get the look on your face in the bedroom out of my mind. So in spite of myself, I heard what you told me in the car.”
I laughed, “I knew you were really mad at me, and I felt terrible, but you know me, Anita. I can’t pretend I feel something I don’t. What made you finally check it out?”
Her voice was sweet and playful, “I’m telling you it was the look on your face. That look forced me to do a little research on that beautiful house. You remember the one with blood all over the bedroom wall? Well, I almost fainted when I found out that a gangster had lived in that house, and just like you said, he was murdered in his bed against that very wall. It’s all pretty weird Karen, but the really weird part for me is that he was killed many years ago. Long before either of us were ever born. That wall must have been painted over at least a dozen times since the blood was there. How in the world did you see it?”
I was so relieved, “I don’t know, but it was as clear as a bell to me. Now you know why I was so weird in there. I’m just happy you found out, and have stopped trying to make it fit the reading, and I’m really happy you aren’t buying it. You aren’t, are you?”
Anita laughed, “Oh, not a chance, we’re kind of still looking, but the other thing you said that bugged me was about that other house, you know, the one on the curve? Well, I finally broke down and have my broker checking into it, but I don’t think it’s on the market.”
I was a happy girl, “It feels empty to me, like it’s been waiting for you. Will you let me know what happens?” I knew that the house on the curve was the house from her reading.
The next call was great news, “Okay Miss Karen, you’re batting a thousand this time. The house on the curve has been empty for years, but it isn’t on the market. It’s in some kind of a trust, and wait, before you say anything, I’m pushing my broker to see if they want to sell. I have my fingers crossed.”
I reassured her that they would be willing to sell, with one final reminder, “Just remember, two hundred and seventy eight thousand dollars that’s the number. You should be hearing from your broker in the next couple of days. Please, let me know what he says.”
The next phone call came three days later. Over the years, when something, even I find amazing happens, I will jokingly say, “As predicted,” but in this case, she giddily quoted me, “As predicted, Karen. I can’t believe it, the owners decided to sell. We are seeing the house, and hopefully writing an offer this afternoon! Say a prayer for me, please.”
A few hours later she called again, “Karen, It’s official, I am practically speechless. When we walked into the house, there were Mexican pavers in the entry and a spiral staircase to the right, exactly like the other one! The doorknobs and fittings are exactly the same, only painted over, and it has the same master bedroom! It’s just too weird!!! They are identical! Down to the last detail, only this one is much bigger, and hasn’t been redone! This is unbelievable, we love it!”
There was one last thing she needed to address, and I had to bring it up, “That is great news, honey! I am so happy for you, did you find out about the fault under the kitchen yet?”
Her joy didn’t waiver, “Not yet, but I told my broker to dig around for it, and after everything else, I’m sure it’ll show up. We did write a full price offer though, and should know sometime tomorrow afternoon, and trust me, you’ll hear from me.”
The next time I heard from Anita she was practically hysterical, “I can’t believe this is happening! The owners accepted our offer, but before we had a chance to sign the papers, some guy came along and offered three hundred and forty thousand dollars! I thought you said the house was ours! What happened? Now they want way over the full asking price and we can’t do that. I can’t believe we lost this house! How could this happen?”
Still certain this was their house, “Please don’t be upset. I know this is pretty unnerving, but I still see you buying that house. I promise.”
She was bordering on hysteria, “How, Karen? How is that going to happen? The guy has ten days to come up with a ninety thousand dollar down payment, and we can’t pay three hundred and forty thousand dollars for that house! Now I have to start looking all over again!”
I was positive this was just a bump in the road, to give them some much needed time, “He will never come up with that money, Anita, and please, don’t bother looking for another house, because you’re moving into this one. Just start packing, because it will be a very quick escrow, and don’t forget to have them look for the fault under the kitchen. I know you’re hysterical right now, but they need to keep doing title searches while you’re packing.”
She was completely disheartened. They had sold their townhouse in one day, and were now playing beat-theclock, to find a house and get out.
I couldn’t believe the owners had accepted their offer, and then changed their mind. I couldn’t help feeling terrible for my friends.
She was practically inconsolable over what I knew was but a temporary turn of events. All I could do was reassure her that the house was hers, and urge her again, to start packing.
There was nothing for anyone to do at this point, except wait for the clock to tick down, on the mystery buyer’s down payment. The roller coaster ride over their purchase of this house had become unbearable, even for me. I knew in my soul this was their house. Unfortunately, I couldn’t magically instill my certainty of their future, in them.
She chose to ignore my advice about packing, and continued looking at other houses. Now she was hysterical, and running herself crazy, and as I knew she would, found nothing.
On the morning of the tenth day the roller coaster ride finally slowed to a glide, “I know I keep saying the same thing to you, but I can’t believe how crazy this is, Karen! I just got off the phone with my broker, and the man can’t come up with the down payment, the house fell out of escrow! Do you still see us in this house? What about the price? I can’t meet that price.”
I was emotionally exhausted, but happy for them, all at the same time, “That’s great, and absolutely yes! I have always seen you in this house. I keep harping on this, but what happened with the title searches? When they find the cloud on the title, the price will come down to two hundred and seventy eight thousand dollars. Where are they on this?”
She was breathless now, “Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, they found it! My broker was beginning to think I was crazy, because I kept pushing him, even while I was looking at other houses. I have no idea how they found it, but it did take four searches for them to find the cloud on the title. You were right , the fault runs right underneath the kitchen. What should I do?”
Now that all the pieces fit neatly together in my mind, I became very calm, “Tell your broker to use the fault report, to negotiate the price. They knew it was there all along, and chose not to disclose it. Shame on them, now get off the phone with me and call him right now. I know you still think I’m crazy, but congratulations on your new home.”