The Lurking Man (10 page)

She licked her lips and shivered. Something inside her stirred her emotions.

“I can feel the fear rising within me,” she said. “It's like the old man is out there with you, occupying the dark. Is he watching me? Did you bring him here?”

“What if I did?” Sariel said. “What would you say to him?”

“I want him to know that I hate him and that he ruined my life. That I've been unable to love anyone other than a bottle of alcohol because of the pain he's caused me. It has been so great and I became desperate to escape it. But I
learned that no matter how many times I emptied the bottle, the memory of what he did always remained.”
 

“Good,” Sariel said. “Your anger is tangible and that means it is still in you.”

“Did he hear what I said? Tell him he's a son of a bitch!”

“I cannot tell him because he's not here.”

She furrowed her brows and tried to comprehend his words. “What do you mean he's not here?”

“He's gone to the other side,” Sariel said. “He died a long time ago.”

Her shoulders went limp. “How can that be? What was I feeling?”

“Your hate and the way it controls you.”

She fell to her knees and tried to cope with the idea that she was no closer to knowing who she was. The hand she had used to try to penetrate the blackness and grab Sariel throbbed without remission. She knew it was a distraction.

“You constantly try and provoke me,” she said. “You stir my emotions and keep me inches away from the truth.”

“The truth is in front of you.”

“No, it isn't.” She shook her head. “I know you made me angry on purpose. You did it to bait me into touching the darkness so you could introduce that flashback to me. I don't understand your methods and why you continue to tease me.”

She grimaced.

“Why did you bring me back with such physical and mental pain?”

“Pain is a motivator. I've learned quickly it is what makes you pay attention.”

She flexed her hand and shook it.

“I know the barrier you have constructed around you is strong and difficult to penetrate. The best way for me to dismantle it is to do it piece by piece. Your physical pain is there to help you understand the dangers of your being outside of the light. I took you from your body prematurely to bring you here. It was the only way I could ensure that we would have enough time to review your past. In order to make this happen, I had to provide you with shelter from
the harshness of what is beyond the ability of your physical body. That is what the protection of the light you stand in provides for you.”
 

“The only thing you have shown me is that a sick man ruined my life and that I took it out on my family. Then you toy with my emotions to simply get a rise out of me and you somehow expect this to motivate me.”

“I don't regret the methods I have had to resort to in order to bring your emotions to the surface. You were a cold person that was hard to love.”

Those words were powerful enough to move her into silent contemplation.

“You were even harder to like,” he said.

“Will anyone mourn me at my funeral?” she asked.

“Would you?”

Everything she learned about herself filled her with certain doubt. The question of whether or not she would attend Mr. Hagen's funeral crossed her mind. The idea that she would use him as a comparison made her shudder. Although she despised him, the likeness between them wasn't far off. After all, they both abused children.

“No, I couldn't imagine they would,” she said. “I know I wouldn't. If I were them I would be relieved that I was gone. I have offered them nothing but grief.”

She didn't like admitting the truth. It was unnatural. She ran stiff fingers through her wet hair. A handful fell out and entangled her fingers.

She stared at it for a moment, unsure of what she held. Her concern made her repeat the process and another cluster came out. Panic consumed her and she began to pull clumps of hair out.

“You can stop,” Sariel said. “There is hardly anything left.”

She paused in her frenzy and felt that only a few random patches of hair remained. She tugged on another clump.

“What is this?” she said and held up the hair.

“I told you that you were dying and that your body would transform.”

She stood there, wordless, the hair falling from her fingers.

“We don't have time to waste,” he said. “The last we saw of your interaction with Wilson was when you told him that you were going to come and see Beau.”

Chapter 12

 

 

A FRESH START

 

 

The past.

 

The alarm next to Cailean's bed jarred her awake. She fumbled for the off button, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and stretched. A long yawn accompanied a moan that opened her mouth fully and she pushed the blankets off of her legs and stood.

Last night after she hung up the phone with Wilson, she realized she had been in service of her resentment all of these years. She had allowed it to take control over her and alter her behavior for reasons she could not understand. It had a firm hold over her and it had had it for so long that she couldn't remember being without it. The idea of wanting to rid herself of it worried her because whenever she challenged it in the past she would lose several days to binge drinking and, more recently, even attempt suicide.

But none of those things mattered anymore. Wilson had been right; this was about Beau and it always should have been. It was a brand new day and she was going to take a stand against it—even if it killed her.

Out of the bedroom and down the stairs she went with a purpose. She ignored the voice that told her not to do what she was about to do, that she was making a mistake. But that was like her worry of leaving her dysfunction behind and it no longer mattered. She made up her mind and there was no going back.

Ten minutes later she poured the last beer into the sink and watched it drain away. A belief that she could actually defeat the bad behavior by sheer will filled her with a newfound strength that brightened her path and emboldened her resolve. The drinking would stop and she knew the first and most difficult step in casting the addiction to the side would be to remain sober and deal
with her emotions, no matter how difficult, with a clear mind.
 

“I'll starve you to death,” she said. “Give you nothing to feed off of.”

The habit of speaking aloud had progressively increased as her addiction deepened. She would speak to it often as if it were there, standing in front of her. For the longest time she believed it had made things easier for her because it readily turned the blame for her inadequacies towards everyone else. And she felt she owed it because of that.

“I want you away from me,” she had said last night before she went to bed. “This time I mean it. I've given enough to you and now it is time I do for me.”

Her declaration didn't come without a substantial price. The demon inside had awoken her frequently throughout the night and had demanded satisfaction. It was unrelenting and it tried to use her fatigue as a weapon. And there were many times she wanted to give in to its persistent demands so she could get some rest. But with great resolve and determination she rolled over, pulled the blanket over her head, and resisted it.

“You can do this,” she said, and left the kitchen. She walked into the bathroom with her overnight victory fresh on her mind. Armed with some much-needed confidence, she readied herself to see Beau. She chose her favorite pair of blue jeans and a knit turtleneck sweater. When she neatened her clothing and checked herself in the mirror, she sighed at what she saw. The overnight battle had left its mark. Bags that hung beneath her eyes required multiple layers of foundation to cover.

“The first night,” she said into the mirror and smiled. Her teeth had yellowed and the lines on her face had deepened tremendously over the past few years. These were details she either missed or chose to ignore; she couldn't remember and identified the realization as a distraction she could do without.

She exited the bathroom, walked to the closet, and put on her coat. A wool cap with a pompom would serve her well against the bitter cold outside, and she grabbed her car keys.

Although her nerves brought some doubt to the surface, her focus remained on Beau and her need to change. This had to be done and she would stay the course no matter how difficult it proved to be.

 

 

Cailean stuffed her trembling hands into her coat pockets and tried to convince herself that the shiver was just a reaction to the bitter cold. But the knot in her stomach told her otherwise.

The cold air burned her lungs and forced her to take short breaths. Patches of ice on the walkway required her to carefully navigate her way towards the front door. As she drew closer to the house, the odd feeling of being back home gave her pause. After all, this was where she had tried to ignore whatever was wrong with her and to live a normal life. Getting married and starting a family seemed the best way to insert a sense of regularity into her life. But she couldn't control forever what she had managed to momentarily suppress. It nagged her constantly and often showed itself through bouts of extreme aggression, days of profound sadness, and a constant lack of energy.

“Beer and wine,” she said and continued on with a slow approach. “That's what kept it quiet.”

How about a drink then?

“No.”

Are you sure
?
 

“Go away.”

One wouldn't hurt. It might even relax you some.

“I said to leave me alone, I need to do this.”

You're going to regret this decision.

She hadn't been to the house since Wilson told her to leave and she'd had no intentions of ever returning again. And yet here she was, standing at the front door with a welcome mat beneath her feet.

She felt anything but welcome.

To defy the voice that begged to reason with her, she knocked on the door.

What have you done?

An overwhelming desire to run filled her completely. She didn't want to be in that awkward moment of silence
that assuredly would imbed itself between her and Wilson when he answered the door. It would transpire the instant he realized that she showed up against his wishes. The disappointment on his face would be easy to see and it would dig up harbored feelings she would rather remain undisturbed.
 

But before she could organize a plan, the door swung open and Wilson looked at her.

“Hello, Wilson,” she said, and offered a gentle smile.

His confusion distorted his face and drained the color from it. He looked over his shoulder and then back at her. “What are you doing here?” he said, and stepped out of the house and pulled the door closed.

“I've come to see Beau.”

He folded his arms across his chest. Dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and socks, he was exposed to the bitter chill.

“I told you not to come here,” he said. “I don't want you seeing him.”

“But I need to see him,” she said.

“He is really upset with you. You should go.”

“I know he's upset with me and I don't blame him. I've been something far worse than horrible to him and I don't know if I even deserve another chance, but I have to try. I didn't drink last night to prove to you that I can do this.”

“You didn't drink for one night and this proves you can change?”

“You don't know what obstacles I had to overcome. It's a start, and to me that is worth something.”

“It is, Cailean, but you need to be sober for a few months or maybe a year. An alcoholic doesn't get better in one night. This will be a lifelong struggle for you.”

“I know it will. It already has been. But I didn't come here for this. I know what I'm up against and I'm prepared to go all the way with it. The reason I came today is to see Beau.”

“And I told you on the phone last night that I didn't think that was a good idea. I told you not to come.”

“You were willing to let me see him yesterday, but now that I am here you think you're going to turn me away? What was it you said about not letting anything stop you?
You said something about a waterfall and all of the snow in the world. Does that sound familiar to you? That is how I am today, right now, and you're an obstacle I plan on getting around.”
 

He shivered and rubbed his arms. “That wasn't a talk to try and pump you up and get you over here. I meant it when I told you I didn't want you to come.”

“I have every right to be in that house. I only left because of Beau. I knew he deserved better and now I am ready to give him that.”

“You're delusional. If you don't leave I will call the police and have them remove you.”

“Go right ahead, let your son see you do that to his mother, to the person he's been waiting to see for so long. I'll be sure to tell him that you're trying to keep us apart.”

Wilson's expression contorted into complete disgust. “You're dirty, you know that? You've been gone all this time and I see nothing has changed with you.”

“I disagree,” she said. “I am here. I made myself a promise that I was going to see him today, and that is the first promise I've kept in a long time. I wasn't going to allow alcohol to get in the way of that anymore so I dumped it all down the drain. Now if I have to step past you to get to see him, I will. You couldn't fathom how hard I had to fight to gather the nerve to come here and do this sober. Especially knowing I was going to be in your crosshairs the moment you opened that door. Whether you agree or not, it doesn't matter to me. I want you to say what you have to say and then step aside so I can see Beau. I've been through a lot to get here and I'm not going to leave without seeing him.”