The Birth of Bane (7 page)

I shook my head
at my sister, unsure if I should be irritated with her, or feel
sorry for her.

The tears in her
eyes were no joking mater. Something was bothering her, and in a
big way.

Still, hurting
Eli’s feelings wasn’t the answer either.

I just left. I
stepped away, walking toward my room and the letter I’d been
writing to Myra.

I was halfway up
the stairs when I heard her scream at the top of her
lungs.

“
I hate this
house!”

*****

Weeks passed
uneventfully.

Eli traipsed
about, having forgotten the whole “shoe incident”, harboring no ill
will toward Valerie. In fact, as the days progressed, his
temperament mirrored my mother’s. He seemed most happy when he was
at home, cavorting about the house or in one of the various yards.
There were technically three – the front, the back and the side
yard, which was dominated by the deck, though there was still
enough room for a six-year-old to find adventure.

On one such
occasion, I’d come home from school and found him searching the
environs beneath the deck with the scrutiny of an archeologist on
the ebb of a monumental find. He was crab-walking, hunched even
more than that deformed man of Notre Dame, his eyes inspecting
every square of the ground before him.

“
What’cha
doin’?” I had asked. I’d been looking for him for nearly fifteen
minutes. It was time for him to bathe – or so my mom had instructed
– and I was chosen to be the bearer of bad tidings.

“
Hunting for
treasure,” he said distractedly. An exasperated shrug followed,
telling me I should’ve known what he was doing by mere
observation.

The little
scamp!

“
What makes you
think there’s treasure down here?” I had to ask. It was too
intriguing. I was curious to hear his answer. Eli oftimes had
doozies that sent me laughing aloud for hours.

“
Because, Jerry,
she
told me there was treasure down here,”
was his succinct reply.

I frowned. I had
not expected that. I tilted my head to one side. “What she? Who are
you talking about, Elijah?”

“
The lady… She
told me it was a game.” He continued to gaze around the
support-posts, poke his fingers through age-old cobwebs. “I like
games.”

I watched him
for a few moments longer, not entirely at ease with what he had
said. He was way too focused, like he was consumed by the idea
“she” had planted in his mind. Eli kept on, edging around the
concrete piles in the ground, shoving dirt and leaves and sand this
way and that.

I recalled what
our mother had said, shaking myself from my brother’s odd behavior.
“Mom said it’s time for you to take a bath.”

Eli huffed
through pinched lips, making them vibrate loudly. “Tell her I’ll
take one later. I’m busy.”

I chuffed. “Naw,
man,
you
tell her. You’re on your own now that I’ve told you
what she wants.” I made to leave.

Behind me,
Elijah clicked the roof of his mouth. “Alright, alright, I’m
coming.”

“
Thought you’d
see the light,” I muttered not turning back, though I heard his
small footfalls following.

None of us like
facing my mother’s wrath. Not one of us.

It was quite
some time before I truly understood what was transpiring with my
little brother that late afternoon. Whether or not he ever found
the “treasure” I never knew either. Though I’d seen him on the side
yard many times, he never mentioned it to me again.

Valerie stayed
in her room for the most part, watching MTV or some ridiculous
sitcom that was more annoying than funny. She was no doubt lying
low, trying to stay out from underfoot.

My mom had
already employed a landscaper by then and Julio, our gardener, a
had started the week before, so the square acre about the house was
beginning to look less like the foothills of Kilimanjaro and more
like a normal, suburban patch typical of Highland Park.

I had to admit,
there was a small part of me that really hated to see the jungle at
1052 Lincoln Drive disappear, because it was a place where
imagination could run amok. But, as the new, manicured version
began to take root, I couldn’t disagree with the notion that I
liked it as well. Seeing the rolling lawn beyond the
Birds-of-Paradise and the long-stemmed, Naked Ladies was amazing.
It was a perfect place for Eli to play. It was screened from the
street below by the hulking Lantana bush and, though it was canted
with a slight incline, it was entirely safe. I could see many a
good time for him out there in the front yard.

I was
happy.

I remember it
was a Sunday when those assessments of our new home were skipping
across my consciousness. I was at my desk, pondering what I’d do
next. I’d been half-thinking of my surroundings and half-recalling
I’d been rolling around on my bed with Myra less than an hour
prior. I was distracted, clearly.

She’d come over
after breakfast, full with smiles and kindness for my family. We
had dallied about for a time before my mom suggested I show her all
of the improvements we’d done to the place since we moved in. It
wasn’t like Myra hadn’t been here before. She’d come over more than
a few times once we’d began dating. I think my mother was being
polite.

So, I showed her
about the grounds.

She made it seem
like she was impressed, but kept alluding to seeing the
“improvements” in my bedroom. That’s always been the thing with
Myra. Even when she was trying to be subtle, she did so with the
delicacy of a nuclear bomb.

I got the hint
and took her upstairs.

It wasn’t long
before we found ourselves entangled upon the bed, making out
furiously like teenagers typically do. There were no lingering
touches or fluttering kisses, only lips smashed against smashed
lips, our mutual ardor near searing, our young loins burning with a
desire we both feared, but wanted to quench. I think we both knew
there would be a time when the need to brush against those flames
would outweigh any misgivings we might’ve had in our minds. We were
already flirting with it.

With thoughts of
her pert breasts filling my hand and my mouth, I heard the thump of
someone’s foot upon the top step of the stairs leading from the
attic. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but by the third, then
the fourth, then the fifth step, a thought struck me…

Who’d gone up
into the attic?

I hadn’t heard
anyone walked past the threshold of my room. Anyone wishing to
attain the third level of the house would have to pass by my room
to do so. And, why would someone go up there in the first place?
With the house being as large as it was, only those items we’d use
maybe once a year were stored up there – Halloween and Christmas
decorations, old papers and pictures, our baby clothes and such
items my mom was intent on keeping for all of time. There was
nothing of immediate importance up there. Who could it
be?

I heard the
ninth, the tenth, the eleventh…

There was really
no reason for someone to go up there… unless, Eli had…

He better not
have!
I thought. The attic
wasn’t a good place for someone his age to play. It wasn’t safe for
little kids.
Eli could get hurt
up there! He could fall down in the dark, scrape himself silly on a
rusted nail…
The list went on
and on in my head.

…
The twelfth,
the thirteenth, the fourteenth… sounded.

I was sure going
to let him have a piece of my mind when he walked past the door of
my room on his way toward his. The attic stairs ended just outside
the portal of my domain. I knew there were only nineteen stairs,
having made the trip up there, over and over, when we’d moved in,
so I got up from my desk and turned to face the door.

…
The
seventeenth, the eighteenth, the nineteenth…

I made ready to
speak. Elijah wouldn’t be playing up there any time soon, if I had
something to day about it.

I
waited.

…
The twentieth,
the twenty-first, the twenty-second…

What the
fuck?
was the thought. I rushed
toward the hallway, thinking my little brother was messing around
on the bottom stairs, knowing I was going to berate him for playing
where he shouldn’t be playing.

“
Elijah, you had
better not -.”

There was no
need to continue speaking.

There was no one
there.

I heard the
twenty-third step, my eyes noting the near-imperceptible bend of
the wooden plank. I knew how a step would give when weight was
applied to it and that was precisely what I was seeing. Someone was
standing upon the lowest stair.

Only, no one was
there.

The way to the
attic was clear.

I took an
investigative stride forward, my brow furled in
consternation.
What was going
on?

There came a
creak. The wood flexed again. The weight had
disappeared.

~~~~~~~<<<
ᴥ
>>>~~~~~~~

Chapter Four: A
Growing Sense

Within a month,
things around the house began to turn evermore strange. Two
incidents occurred within a week of Halloween 1986, days apart. A
third happened two weeks later, leaving us wondering about our
deci
sion to live atop the hill
on Lincoln Drive. Had it been a good idea after all?

The first two
weren’t really “single” events in the true sense of the word.
Rather, they were more like on-going acts. When I say they
happened, I mean they began to happen around that time, but I also
mean they never stopped until events came to a head more than a
year later. But alas, I am jumping ahead… far, far
ahead.

One night, a
Friday, after being out with my girl and some friends, I walked
through the front door, read the “good-night” note my mother had
left for me on the dining table, turned off the light and made my
way up to my room. I was worn out. The excitement and energy we’d
exuded in Old Town Pasadena had been epic. Dinner and a movie with
three other couples had been hellacious, a thousand laughs, lots of
food and snacks, and one heck of a good time.

I walked into my
room, shut the door quietly, not wanting to wake-up Elijah, who
could sometimes hear the vibrations of such things through the
walls. As light-footed as possible, I made for the
shower.

When I came out
with just a towel wrapped around me, I was scared shitless to see a
figure standing in the doorway. I yelped, almost dropping the only
item covering my privates.

Then, it
spoke.

I was
relieved.

“
Jerry, why did
you leave all the lights on downstairs?”

It was my
mother.

“
What?” I
inquired, cinching the towel more securely about my waist. “I
turned off the dining room light and made sure everything was
locked up tight.”

“
Then how come
every single light is blazing like the Fourth of July right
now?”

I shook my head.
“I don’t know. I was taking a shower.”

She sighed. “In
the future, can you make sure to turn them off for me,
ok?”

I scowled, but
she couldn’t see it in the semi-dark of the room. I felt much like
my little brother had a while back when Valerie had falsely accused
him of stealing her beloved boots.

“
Jerry?” There
was that tone again.

“
Ok, mom, no
problem.”

She left without
another word. She must’ve been tired.

The following
morning at breakfast Valerie asked, “Which one of you inconsiderate
family members kept turning on the lights last night? I had to turn
them off twice.”

“
When?” asked my
mother.

“
I don’t know,
once around three-thirty and the other around
four-twenty.”

My mother and I
shared a concerned look. Our mini-confrontation had occurred hours
before the times Valerie had indicated.

“
That’s so
weird,” she commented.

“
What’s
‘weird’?” asked my sister.

“
Well, I had to
turn off the lights about an hour and a half before that,” replied
my Mom.

“
And, that was
after I had turned off the overhead in the dining room when I got
home,” I interjected, not about to waste the opportunity to explain
that I’d done my part when I returned the night before.

Eli was watching
the older members of his family, his head jerking to and fro like a
parakeet as he tried to keep up with the conversation.

My mother
shrugged. “It’s sort of spooky, don’t you think?”

Valerie rudely
blew air between her lips. “You’re the one that wanted to live
here.” Her brusque tone wasn’t lost on my mom.