Talking to the Dead Page 9

  Blair opened one eye and peered over at me. “I’m glad you pulled me away from work to enjoy the sunshine with you. But, on the phone, you gave me the impression that you needed me for … something.”

  A shard of guilt stabbed at me. What did I need from Blair? Other than to ease my loneliness? I hadn’t seen another human being since Heather had left me sleeping on the sofa. I didn’t know what I needed. Maybe just some company. Human company. The kind that had a body to go with the voice. Unlike Kevin. What strange comfort it was to hear Kevin’s voice. When he spoke, he was all that mattered, all that existed. He filled my mind, my life. But his voice was a cold shock each time he spoke. I never knew, could never predict, when he might speak. And when he fell silent, I was left wrung out, alone, pulsing with fresh loss.

  “I’m not sure what I need, Blair. I’m sorry …”

  “Hey, don’t cry.” Blair’s voice was soft and deep.

  Blair pulled his leg over the swing and stood in the center of the tire. He reached down and touched my cheek, pushing the tears away. More fell to take their place. “I shouldn’t have called you. There’s no emergency—nothing. I guess I’m feeling … lonely.” I reached for his hand. He squeezed mine.

  I stood and, without thinking, pulled him close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face there. I just needed to be close. To somebody. He smelled like soap. I felt his hands on the small of my back, then his arms wrapping around me.

  I looked up into his gray eyes. “I’ve developed a tendency to soak your shirt with tears whenever I see you.”

  His laugh was a soft rumble deep in his chest. His finger touched my damp cheek. “I don’t know how to help you. It kills me to see you like this.” He gathered me to his chest and spoke into my hair. “I want to reach into the center of you and pull out all the pain.” He leaned back a little and cupped my face with his hands. “How do I do that? How do I fix you?”

  My lower lip quivered as I gave a weak smile. “I don’t know.”

  Blair gazed into my eyes. He leaned in and kissed my lips so softly I wasn’t sure it was happening. He made a sound, a tiny groan, and pressed his mouth down harder.

  I kissed him back. Eyes closed, wrapped in the sensations of intimacy, I reveled in his touch. We stood in the middle of the tire, in the middle of the school yard, our mouths sliding gently together. Kevin. I felt his hands running up and down my back. His touch brought my pent-up longing to the surface. Oh, how I’d missed this. How I’d missed him. My heart knocked in irregular thumps. Blood rushed through my body, filling my ears with an urgent roar, like rushing water. The water became a shout. The shout became a voice. Kevin.

  I gasped and pushed Blair hard with both hands. He stepped back, his arms flailing, as he flipped over the swing, landing on his back with a dull thud.

  “What the—?” he said.

  “Did you hear?” My voice was high and thin.

  “Hear what?” Blair pushed himself up and stood looking at me, his face pinched with confusion, and probably lower-back pain.

  “Kevin. Did you hear him?”

  Blair shook his head, quick jerks, “What are you talking about?”

  I looked around the playground, uncertain of what I was looking for. Maybe Kevin? No, that’s crazy.

  My chest tightened with fear. I lifted my hands to my mouth in a speak-no-evil gesture. I stared at Blair, shaking my head back and forth like a mantra.

  Blair’s eyes flashed with fear. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m going crazy. Help me.” My voice climbed higher and louder with each word.

  Blair tried to take my hands in his. I jerked away from his touch. “Kevin—he was yelling. Telling me to stop kissing you.”

  Blair blew out a long breath. He seemed relieved, like the mysteries of the universe had opened to him and he saw they were no big deal after all. “Kate, I’m so sorry.” I opened my mouth but he held up his hand. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  “I heard—”

  “Kate, I understand. There was a voice in my head telling me to stop too. I ignored it, and I shouldn’t have.”

  I shook my head at him. “You don’t understand—”

  He nodded at me. “It’s my fault. I know what you’ve been going through, how hard it’s been for you. I feel like a cretin for taking advantage of you. Please, tell me you forgive me.”

  I stared at the dirt on my shoes, trying to find the words to tell Blair about the other times I’d heard Kevin speak. He’ll think I’m crazy.

  Blair must have misunderstood my silence because, after a moment, he said, “Kate, please say you don’t hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said, surprised he thought I might.

  He gave me a feeble smile and said, “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

  We walked back to my house in silence. I clung to the edge of the sidewalk, careful not to touch him.

  17

  After Blair dropped me off at home, I stepped into the kitchen and shivered in spite of the summer sun. I poured a glass of water and downed it all at once.

  “Well, look who’s here,” Kevin said, hissing. “Sad Kate. Poor Kate. So alone she had to turn to her husband’s best friend for comfort.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “You liked it, didn’t you, Kate? Tell me. Tell me how much you liked it.”

  “Stop—”

  “It’s you who needs to stop. Stop acting like a prostitute. Stop throwing yourself at men.” His words exploded in my head. The room expanded, then retracted. I pitched to one side, catching myself against the wall.

  I sank to my knees. My head throbbed. “Please, I didn’t. I don’t know why you’re saying these things.”

  “Whore.” The single word pounded like a bass drum inside my head. It was followed by a stream of other words, vile, obscene words I’d never heard Kevin say before. Shocking words that, when strung together, were like snarling dogs. I pressed my hands to my temples.

  “No. I love you, Kevin. Stop. You’re killing me.”

  Kevin’s voice pierced me behind my eyes. “Listen to you beg. Is that what you did? Did you beg him, Kate?”

  “No, please … I didn’t do anything. I love you. Please, Kevin—”

  “Yeah, beg me, Kate. Beg me like you begged him.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Spots of color burst before my eyes—scorched green, molten white, festering red, until there were no colors at all.

  I’m dreaming, or awake. Kevin holds my hand. I can’t see him, but I know it’s him. I sense nothing but white—a sheet of white nothingness all around me, and the pressure of Kevin’s hand holding mine. I try to turn my head, but nothing works—not neck, not arms, not legs.

  Am I lying down? Yes, I must be, even though I feel nothing beneath me. I don’t know where I am, but I’m not afraid. Kevin’s hand squeezes mine and I wonder if this is what it feels like to die, to be dead. I’d like to open my eyes, but they don’t open. Or they do, but there is nothing to see.

  Kevin squeezes harder and I want to tell him to stop but I can’t speak. The whiteness around me begins to throb; it moves in, retreats, then pushes toward me again. My hand hurts now, Kevin squeezes so hard I fear he might crack a bone. Why won’t he stop? Doesn’t he know he’s hurting me? The whiteness pulses and grows brighter, in and out, back and forth until it is a pinpoint of light. I try to cry out as Kevin’s grip increases, snapping bones. I want to scream.

  I awoke on the kitchen floor. Even before I tried to move, I knew I was in pain. I was on my side, my arm pinned beneath me, my hand tingling from resting at an odd angle. My head throbbed. My neck was held in place with pins of agony. I straightened my left leg and felt my joints push back. My hand looked red and swollen. I rotated my wrist, relieved nothing was
broken.

  In slow, clumsy movements, like a turtle trying to stand erect, I pushed myself up onto my knees, then I grabbed the edge of the countertop and hauled my body up. For a moment the spots returned behind my eyes. Popping, obscene colors of anger and lies. Panic rushed into my lungs as I clutched the counter. Fresh tears bubbled from my eyes and spilled, headlong, onto the floor. I felt as if I’d been beaten with fists rather than words. I touched my lips, half expecting to see blood on my fingertips.

  I shuffled to the living room and lay down, sinking deep into the sofa cushions. I picked up a pillow and held it.

  What if it started again? What if Kevin’s voice came back, angry and punishing? The thought terrified me, but I listened anyway. Maybe I could talk to him and make him understand.

  Why? Why did he say those things? I opened my mouth to call his name, but stopped. What if he answered? What if he didn’t? I wasn’t sure which would be worse.

  There was no trying to tell myself it was all my imagination, a dream, a hoax created by my unconscious or painkillers. Kevin’s voice was powerfully real. A force inextricably joined to me. Unbreakable. Isn’t that what Eliza had told me? We’re all connected, she had said. To each other, and to the spiritual realm. Kevin was proving there was no uncoupling, not even in death. We were bound by unseen ropes as real as iron.

  When Eliza Campbell had first told me of this idea of being eternally connected to Kevin, it had helped ease some of the grief. Now I was terrified. I didn’t want to be tied to this Kevin who screamed at me, pummeled me with vile words of hate.

  What had Maggie said to me on her first visit? Things can get much worse. I hadn’t understood what she meant then, but I did now. She was right. I was smack in the center of worse.

  I sat up, feet on the floor. My body cried out in protest. I needed to take something for the pain.

  In the kitchen I reached for the bottle of codeine and selected a pill.

  “Whore.” Kevin’s bark echoed through the room, bounced off the walls and knocked me off balance.

  The bottle dropped from my hand and the pills scattered everywhere. My mind chanted a mantra, “No, no, please God, no.”

  I had to get to the phone. I took a step and heard a sharp popping sound. I jerked my foot up, as quickly as if I’d been shot. On the floor, a crushed codeine pill. My heart pounded. I picked my way through the maze of painkillers as if it was a minefield. “Liar,” Kevin bellowed, his voice reverberating through my skull.

  I screamed.

  18

  I stood in my kitchen and pushed number two on my speed dial. I leaned my shoulder against the cool wall and sobbed, praying Heather was home.

  Heather picked up and I whispered into the phone, my voice jagged, “Heather. This is going to kill me. I can’t—”

  “I’m coming over,” she said.

  She must have broken a few speed laws to get to me as fast as she did. When she walked in, she stared with a wide-eyed look of shock on her face. “What’s happened?” She took a step toward me. I heard a pop as her heel crushed one of the pills still strewn on the floor. “What is going on?” She picked her way around the pills toward me. I stood in silence, staring back at her, lips trembling. She lifted her hand up to my cheek. I flinched.

  Heather dropped her hand. “You’re scaring me. What happened?”

  “It’s Kevin,” I whispered.

  Her head jerked back. “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s angry, Heather. He’s yelling at me.”

  “Yelling?” she placed her hand on my forehead, as if checking for fever.

  I nodded like an obedient child. “He’s saying horrible things. Calling me names.”

  “Kevin is? Kevin is yelling and calling you names?”

  Was I stuttering?

  Maybe it was out of relief that Heather was there and that I wasn’t alone anymore, or maybe it was insanity’s full embrace, but I felt a sudden urge to giggle.

  A laugh, a floating burp of hilarity, burst from my lips. “You think I’m crazy, huh?”

  Heather gave her head a fast shake and opened her mouth.

  I cut her off with a loud hoot of laughter. “I do. I think I’m crazy, Heather.” Tears flowed down my cheeks as I shook with laughter. “I feel exactly like I’m crazy.”

  Heather took my hand. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “Have you been talking to God?”

  “No, I’ve been talking to Kevin.”

  The on-call doctor in the hospital psych ward glanced up from the chart he was reading. I thought I saw a look of weariness in his eyes, but he just adjusted the glasses on his nose and looked back at the file. I sat across from him, hands on the small table in front of me, and studied his bald spot.

  The doctor poised his pen over the file and looked at me. “Does this ‘Kevin’ have supernatural powers? Can he perform great things?”

  It was an odd question, but this was an odd place. I figured there was a good reason he asked. I thought of a story Kevin had told me before we were married. When he was ten, he had ordered X-ray glasses from the back of a comic book. They didn’t work, but instead of wasting money by throwing the glasses away, he used them as part of a mad scientist Halloween costume. I had been impressed that a ten-year-old boy would be so responsible with his money.

  I looked at the doctor. “Well, I don’t know about great. But he’s very thrifty.”

  Without missing a beat, the doctor said, “Kate, do you know where you are?”

  “Yes. I’m in the hospital.” I glanced around. “In an exam room.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Trick question,” I said, louder than I intended. “It’s night.”

  He took off his glasses and looked at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “It’s Thursday.”

  “What year?”

  I told him.

  He made a brief note in the file. “You seem coherent.”

  “Thank you.” The giddiness from earlier threatened to return. I squelched it by looking around the room. Signs of previous violence were everywhere. The walls were pockmarked with shoe prints and holes, as if someone tried to kick and claw their way out of the room. The bed to my left was a small exam table like you’d find in a doctor’s office, rather than a regular hospital bed. Black straps resembling seatbelts hung down—restraints.

  “Who brought you here?” The doctor said.

  “My dead husband.”

  His head jerked up as if I had drawn a pistol. His eyes darted over my face, hands, and clothes. Maybe searching for clues of a recent murder. It must be difficult to work here, I thought.

  “He’s been dead for over a month. I mean, he died over a month ago. I didn’t kill him. He did that himself. No, I don’t mean he killed himself. He died. By himself. I mean, I didn’t help him.” My voice became a tiny squeak. “He died.”

  The doctor rubbed his eye with a finger. “I meant did someone come with you to the hospital tonight? Did you get a ride, drive yourself, take a bus, walk?”

  Stupid. “My sister, Heather, brought me.”

  He made a few marks in the file. “Okay, now. I hear you say your husband died. What has happened since then that has brought you here tonight?”

  “Well, he talks to me.”

  “Your husband?”

  Who else? Didn’t I just say that? Okay, calm down. Answer the question. “Yes, my husband,” I said and smiled brightly to show how cooperative I was.

  He didn’t smile back. “What does he say?”

  “Nothing. Nothing important, anyway. Just daily stuff. The kettle is boiling. Go wash the cereal bowls. He’s cold. That sort of thing.”

  The doctor made a muffled “uh-huh” sound, but offered nothing more.

  I took a d
eep breath. “Except the last time.” I began to shiver in the stale room.

  “When was the last time he spoke to you?” he asked.

  I couldn’t stop shivering. I ran my hands up and down my arms, trying to infuse them with warmth. “Today. I—I kissed someone.” I felt embarrassed to say it out loud, like a teenager caught in the backseat of her father’s car. “I don’t even know why I did it. We were just talking and then he kissed me and …” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Kevin saw.”

  The doctor opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

  “You know that old saying, ‘Sticks and stones can break my bones’?” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Kevin’s words hurt me.”

  “I’m going to recommend we admit you for tonight. “

  “A danger?” Heather hollered as she thumped down the hospital corridor. She was taking me home after my overnight there. “You, Kate, are not a danger to anyone.”

  In my mind’s eye I saw the hood of Kevin’s Mazda rive the side of Maggie’s Mustang. Was I?

  But I said, “No, I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Heather flung her arms above her head. “That’s my point. How dare they say you would?” I’d never seen her so agitated. Every step was a declaration, every gesture so sweeping, I felt the desire to duck out of the way.

  “They didn’t really say that.” We moved through the automatic doors together and walked toward Heather’s car. “They said they wanted to assess if I was a danger to myself or other people.”

  Heather shot me an annoyed look. “Same difference. They’re the crazy ones.” She yanked at her purse until she produced a set of keys. I stood beside the passenger door, waiting for her to unlock the car. Over the roof of the car, I watched her fumble with the keys. I heard them hit the pavement, and then heard Heather swear under her breath.

  It was only eight in the morning, but the sun blazed with ardor, promising a hot day. I felt like a warmed-over piece of toast. I hadn’t slept at all. “You okay over there?”