The Haunts

The second Levy opened his eyes; he saw his mother and Sheryl beside the bed in his bedroom. Feeling woozy from a persistent headache, his hands discovered the bandage that prevented him from messing with the stitches. Without a word, the two looked at him, and he first grimaced and then grunted that he was going to be okay. But the moment he went to get up, he felt their hands on his skinny chest and shoulders, pushing him back down to rest. He felt uncomfortable enough that less than three hours ago he just had the crap beaten out of him, and now these two didn’t know that he had to pee.

“You don’t have to get up,” His mother said adamantly. “Whatever you want, I can get it for you. Would you like some soup or something for the pain?”

“Get back,” he said, swatting them away. “I don’t need a damn thing; I just have to go pee, that’s all.” He scowled up at the two, and had he been born with feathers, he would’ve ruffled them.

“Don’t take that attitude with me,” his mother said, waving her index finger at him. “Just because you got your arse kicked doesn’t mean you have to be an arse to your only mom in the world.” She crossed her chubby arms and gave him a stern stare.

Sorry, ma,” he sighed. “But I do have to use the piss pot, or I’m just going to explode.”

“That’s all fine and well, but don’t you take that tone with me; I have plenty enough worrying, what with your nanny being all alone in that hospice. Which reminds me, I should be there right now instead of having to worry about my son suffering through a mild concussion after getting tossed by a bunch of local shit disturbers.”

Right, mom, I’m sorry, mom. I don't know where my head was. Oh, wait, some school fellas were stomping it.” Levy smirked and winked at his mother.

She laughed and scoffed at his manner. Ah, you’ll live.” His mother waved it off. “I got Sheryl’s Father to go on over to talk to them little bastards.”

“Is that right?” Levy looked to Sheryl.

Sheryl nodded. “Conrad can be charged as an adult, but the rest of them will probably get treated as juveniles, and they’ll be on probation. At least that’s what Daddy says.”

About the bloody time that happened to them,” Levy pushed past Sheryl and made it to the john. He pushed open the door and fumbled with his pants. Sheryl came up from behind and peered over his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What do you think you’re doing? I’m trying to pee.”

“So you are a real boy after all,” she giggled as his mother pulled on Sheryl’s arm to get out of the washroom with her son.

“That ain’t proper,” she said as she shooed Sheryl away and closed the bathroom door behind her.

Sheryl looked at Levy’s mother and shrugged, “I just had to make sure.”

“Well, then you could’ve asked me.” His mother nodded. “After all, I did give birth to a son.”

“A son that isn’t into women,” Sheryl smirked as the sound of the toilet flushed behind them.

“I never said that!” Levy yelled from the bathroom as he went to the sink to wash his hands with just water.

“Is that true, dear?” His mom pulled her arms close to her bosoms and said, "You aren’t into men, are you, like your uncle Nigel?”

Sheryl, a tad taller than Levy’s mother, looked at her and shrugged. “Nothing surprises me anymore.”

Levy quickly interjected as he opened the bathroom door. “I never said that either, mom.” He looked at the two as if they were conspiring against him.

Well, it’s no business of mine,” his mother said as she started to walk down the stairs. “It could be the very reason why your father is never home.” She paused in thought. “I guess he’s taking an interest in someone else.” At first, she looked a bit sad, but then it changed to one of her Oh well, no love lost shrugs.

Levy watched his mom get ready to go to her evening job at the grocery store, or she was heading for the hospice to see how grandmamma was coming along. Long ago, she had replaced Levy’s father as a nurturer and provider when the man had failed to come through for them. Now she was so busy that Levy couldn’t tell if she were coming or going, and many times (she had confirmed), neither did she under her breath.

“Mom?” Levy was at the top of the stairs. “I thought you said dad was just working too much to come home?”

She stopped at the bottom rung and looked up. She looked at him guiltily. “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you. You’re old enough to handle it considering that you are graduating this year.” She was getting her coat, slipping on her gumboots, and getting ready to head for the bus stop.

“I don’t know if you noticed it, but your father hasn’t been home for many weeks, sometimes for months on end. I suspected that maybe it was for business reasons, but this morning I got the divorce papers in the mail, so I guess it’s pretty official now.”

Levy started down the stairs and said, “Dad applied for a divorce?”

Well, I did sign the papers, so yes, I suppose we are.”

“Why didn’t you say that you two weren’t getting along?”

His mother waved it off, saying, “Oh pish-posh, it’s been apparent since the day we moved in here to take care of me, mom.” She made a thin smile and said, "Those two never got along with each other from the get-go. I just got caught in the crossfire.”

“But mom…” Levy got to the bottom of the stairs. He was taller than his mother, but he felt like he was a little child again. “What are we going to do?”

She went up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek with a kiss, saying, “Everything will be fine.” She then paused at the door and said, "We keep doing what it takes without your father. Besides, it’s not like he was much help in this family anyways.”

“Will we have to move?”

His mother paused at the door. “We might have to if your uncle inherits the place and decides not to rent it to us. We should be fine until you’re done with your schooling, but if your Nanna's medical costs get too high, then the bank might appear with the Sheriff and seize it from under us. So no matter what happens it’ll all work itself out. Right, I'm off to my night shift now. Bye, dear and be good while I’m gone.” At that, she hurried off.

For the first time in Levy’s life, he realized there was trouble on the horizon and he was just a little boat about to be adrift on a stormy sea.

That night was fitful for Levy. He tossed and turned until he awoke in the dark, then turned and sat by the side stunned by the news of his parents’ divorce and the changes that would follow. He never suspected that his parents would ever separate and naively saw it as something that happened to other people, but this time it had hit home—hard. He wasn’t as close to his father as he had liked to be. What with the old man always on the road, or stuck in the office at such an ungodly hour and then staying the night in some seedy hotel, even spending the holidays and weekends away on business. Come to think of it; Levy huffed, I haven’t heard from him for a month. Levy decided that since he was planning to skip classes as an excuse to recover from his head injury, he’d go visit his grandmamma and then, maybe he’d stop by where his father worked and harass the man for some answers, or at least get some money from him.

Levy slowly opened the window in his bedroom, trying to keep quiet as he lit up a smoke. Sheryl was generous enough to surprise him with a pack of slims, and that night he let the smoke linger out of his mouth and then exhaled the rest. It was the middle of the night, and he had missed two days of school to recover from his beating. There would be questions to answer in class to those noisy gossipers who could get enough of other people’s lives. It was going to be a long day. He might even get approached by Conrad’s buddies on the football team and threatened a bit, making it his fault because he pressed charges for the ass whooping.

“I guess I should be lucky to be alive,” Levy thought as he looked at the smoke rising from his cigarette. He knew how lucky he was to walk away with just a few stitches and a bruised ego. Others had been not so lucky. If he were a religious type, he’d be counting his blessings. But for some reason he didn’t feel that lucky, he felt sore and a tad depressed. Levy was tired of not fitting in but unsure of what he should do to change that. He knew that some people were just born different than others and that to get by he had to make that his shield. That meant standing up and fighting for his right to be himself.

He knew early enough about how teenagers in their little groups tended to be harmful to his health. All his life he had experienced his share of bullies, ass hats, Neanderthals and your typical jerk wards. People like him were easy pickings. He couldn’t afford to play in sports (and get injured), couldn’t afford to dress in the latest trends (unlike Sheryl), hated mingling with others in social events, and couldn’t stand the gossip and backstabbing kids his age could do with such disconnected cruelty. Levy, like Sheryl, was an outsider and went to great lengths to prove it, which didn’t always translate well for them since they both attended the same Catholic High School.

Levy turned to look at the clock next to his bed. He had a few hours left before the alarm would go off and he’d have to decide whether he was going to school or not. His school uniform was laid out on the white wicker chair in the corner of the room. He couldn’t wait to graduate and get on with his life. Maybe if his marks were good enough, he could enlist into a trade school, or perhaps even a mid-level college in town. He didn’t know what he would study, but he sure as hell didn’t want to be in high school anymore. Not even if he had to take summer school to raise his grade point average.

As he blew the last trails of smoke from his lungs, he butted out the thin cigarette on the window sill before flicking it away. A sound in the distance caught his attention, and he paused at closing shut the double pane window to listen.

It was a persistent squeaking and a clattering sound from down the block. Like something with small wheels wasn’t turning right over an uneven cement sidewalk.

Levy craned his head to see past the acorn tree that was in the way. He could barely make out who it was going down his quiet little neighborhood at such an ungodly hour. He could just as easily climb out his window, and then he’d be on the roof near the door entrance and see who was approaching. The overhead street lights were still on; in the distant, he could hear the birds calling out to the break of day. The sky overhead changed from dark blues to exuberant pinkish-orange clouds marked with golden yellow hues.

In the spaces between the tree branches appeared an old rusty-looking shopping cart that looked as if it was salvaged from a junkyard, overloaded with partially ripped plastic bags tied down, occasionally spilling their contents to the side of the cart like some old desert caravan making its way across the Mojave Desert. Only this wasn’t an arid savanna, it was Clover Street, and the old woman that pushed the rickety old cart down the street was dressed in layers of clothing and a stained red scarf that wrapped around her wrinkled scalp. Levy smiled because he heard her mumbling away to herself the way his beloved Nanna used to (before she had to go to the hospital for cancer treatment).

The old woman that was pushing the overloaded shopping cart stopped right in full view.

Levy quickly pushed the thought of his Nanna away, when the old bag lady suddenly whipped her head his way. Her mouth opened, and black drool drizzled out from between what was left of her teeth. Her eyes looked as hollow as a bottomless pit in the ground. They held a wet ink black look that made Levy duck behind the curtains. He had seen her hair pushed out from beneath the scarf and spread outwards as she had just stepped on a live ground wire.

Levy felt a gripping terror in the pit of his stomach, and he fought against the need to be sick. His knees buckled and he slid down to the floor and cowered under the open window. He closed his eyes tight, but he could still see the old woman’s face burned in his memory. He nervously eyed the open window, wishing to God that he had closed and locked it. The curtains started to act as if a gale wind was coming in. The posters tacked to the wall began to flap. The ashtray next to the window flipped as ashes and cigarette butts scattered across the floor. Levy squeezed his eyes so tight that tears streamed down his cheeks.

I-I should close the window.

As Levy brought his trembling hand up to pull the window closed a gnarled, filthy, long-nailed hand shot out from outside and grabbed his wrist. Her nails curled like bird claws on his young pale flesh.

“Who are you?” The crony demanded.

“W-what the Hell?” Levy tried to pull his hand back. But her grip was unusually strong for someone so frail to dominate him. “Let go of me!”

“What are you doing here?” The hag continued with the questions.

He could see her face peering down on his. Dark shadows spilled over her face like ink. They sunk deep into every wrinkle, crevice and pore until her features became a shroud of writhing shadows.

“I said get the Hell away from me!” he eyed the jackknife on the dresser beside him and wished he could grab for it. Instead, his hand went to grab for the lighter that was on the window sill. He brought the lighter up to the wretched hand and sparked its flint. A tiny flame from the lighter glowed hot over the cronies’ flesh. She howled and brought her arm back.

Screaming, the crony stepped away from the window long enough for Levy to make his move. He pulled away, stood up to grab at the window and then slammed it closed. By turning the sash lock, he made sure she could not open the window from the outside. He stood back and watched, closing the curtains that blocked out the view of the screeching old woman. Only her shadow had cast upon the curtains as she pulled away and vanished from view.

With the jackknife open in his hand, he used the blade to maneuver a peak between the curtains. To his surprise, there was no one there. All he heard was the distant sound of the rickety shopping cart squeaking its way back down the street.

What just happened? Levy turned to leave the room; he planned to head downstairs and get to the phone in the kitchen to call the police.

What would I tell them? he paused at his bedroom door. That some old homeless lady managed to climb her way up to the second floor and she spooked me?

He wiped the sweat over his face. The gnawing question he had was how in hell did she get up on the second floor so fast?

He started to turn back. The shackles on the back of his neck were up. It felt as if someone was behind him, looking at him. He swore he could smell someone’s putrid breath, as they whispered for his attention in his ear.

He slowly turned around, and there the crony was back, this time hovering right in full in the middle of his room. Her tattered clothes floated around her weightlessly like one would in the dark depths of the sea. Her rough hands touched his face, and she held his attention. The crony chuckled as she looked deep into Levy’s terrified eyes for the reaction she was expecting from him.

“There…” she hissed out like foul steam. “There it is… There is the answer I seek.”

Levy’s eyes grew heavy as he fell over onto the bed and lay fast asleep.