KDBookOnline
Share Us
“Anya drew these. Not me.”
“Anya is an imaginary friend. Teddy knows she’s made up. He understands she doesn’t really exist.”
“Teddy is scared and confused and he’s repeating everything you’re teaching him. I know you guys went to great schools and you think you have the whole world figured out. But you’re wrong about these pictures, you’re wrong about this house, and you’re wrong about Teddy. There is some seriously weird shit happening right under your nose and you’re living in denial!”
By this point I’m yelling, I can’t help myself, but Ted and Caroline are unshaken. I realize that they’ve stopped listening to me, that they’re ready to move on.
“I think we should just agree to disagree,” Caroline tells me. “Maybe she’s a ghost or maybe she’s just guilt. It doesn’t matter, Mallory. The key takeaway is that you left our son unattended for four hours, and I don’t trust you to watch him anymore.”
Ted agrees that “a change needs to happen” and Caroline says it’s good to think of this moment as a crossroads, an opportunity to improve things for everyone.
And they both sound so positive, so supportive and encouraging, it takes me a moment to realize I’m being fired.
20
I’m back in my cottage for ten minutes when my phone rings.
It’s Russell. Calling from a tiny motel on Route 66, somewhere in the desert between Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon. It’s a bad connection, and the line crackles and pops.
“Quinn! What happened?”
“I think I lost the job.”
“No, you definitely lost the job! Caroline texted me pictures of your crazy ape-shit art project. What the hell is going on over there?”
“There’s something in this house, Russell. Some kind of presence. First she went after Teddy and now she’s coming after me.”
“Presence?” Most days, Russell is a font of limitless energy and enthusiasm—but suddenly he sounds tired and just a tiny bit disappointed. “You mean like a ghost?”
“I’m not using. Caroline tested me.”
“I know.”
“This is something else. This is—”
We’re interrupted by a hiss of static, and for a moment I’m worried I’ve lost him. Then his voice comes back.
“You should get to a meeting. What time is it there? Six thirty? Friday night? Try Holy Redeemer. They start at seven, I think.”
“I don’t need a meeting.”
“Are there friends you can call? Someone you can stay with? I don’t want you alone tonight.” And I guess he can tell from my silence there’s no one here to help me. “All right, listen. I’m coming home.”
“No!”
“It’s fine. I hate it here anyway. The weather’s impossible. I have to do all my running indoors, on treadmills, because if you step outside for ten minutes the heat’ll stop your heart.”
He explains that he’ll need two or three days to come get me. He’s currently en route to the Grand Canyon, so he’ll have to drive back to Las Vegas and book a new flight. “So maybe Sunday but definitely Monday. You just need to make it to Monday, okay? Doreen and I will pick you up. You can stay with me a few weeks, we’ll have a doctor look you over. Figure out a Plan B.”
“Thank you, Russell.”
I let my phone drop to the floor and close my eyes. I know I should get out of bed, I should go to a meeting or at the very least make myself dinner. But outside the cottage, it’s started to rain, one of those abrupt summer thunderstorms that come out of nowhere. Wind shakes the roof and water cascades down my windows. I’m trapped inside the cottage and I wish there was someone I could call. I’m dreading the long weekend ahead of me, the long lonely wait until Russell comes to get me. My only other friends are back at Safe Harbor, but I’m too ashamed to tell them what I’ve done.
Of course, there are also my friends before Safe Harbor. I’ve erased all their names and numbers from my contacts, but it wouldn’t be hard to track them down. Philadelphia is a thirty-minute train ride from Spring Brook. If I could just get to Kensington Avenue, I know I’d recognize plenty of faces, old friends happy to see me, ready to welcome me home. I have twelve hundred dollars in my checking account. I can pick up and go, and no one here would ever miss me.
Except Teddy.
Teddy would miss me, I know he would.