The Waking Moon

Chapter Twenty-Five

That night, Rhodes and I watched a movie from his ridiculously huge collection. Of course, it was really old. In fact, it was so old that you could see scratches on the film and some of the frames were blasted out with light. It was about a rich French woman with an uptight husband who falls in love with this really dashing Italian man. But of course, society doesn’t want them to be happy, and so they suffer for their love and end up sacrificing everything. It was romantic in a corny kind of way. 

After the movie, Rhodes put on a DVD of Buster Keaton shorts. It was late, and within ten minutes, I fell asleep. When I woke up, the TV was off and the room was dark. Rhodes was curled up on the sofa, a fleece blanket wrapped around him. I lay there for a while, listening to the big, old house settle, thinking that I should change into the tee shirt and boxer shorts I used for pajamas. But I had the strangest feeling. It was like when you sense someone staring at you in a room, even before you see them. I gazed uneasily into the darkness, but there was no one there. 

I decided to go downstairs and root through the cupboards for Chamomile tea to help me sleep. The interior of the house was very old-fashioned, with dark wooden beams along the ceilings and crystal chandeliers, like the setting of a horror film. I wondered how many ghosts I would see wandering the halls if I had been cursed with Sampson’s open eye. The thought sent a chill down my spine. 

Trying not to step on creaky boards, I tiptoed down the stairs. At the bottom I stopped, struck with a strange feeling again. I walked to the front door and peeked through the curtains. My stomach did a backflip. Jack was sitting at the bottom of the porch steps. I took a minute to catch my breath, then pulled a coat from the closet and quietly opened the door. The night was very still. Without leaving the doorway, I leaned outside. 

“What are you doing here?” I whispered. 

Jack turned with surprise. His dark eyes lit up and he got to his feet, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m not going to move from this spot, okay? Scout’s Honor. Everything past this step is a no-fly zone.”

“Do you know how late it is?”

“It is late. And I really don’t want to freak you out.”

“This isn’t even my house!” I said. “What if someone had called the police?”

Jack looked unfazed. “Well, at first I was going for a John-Cusack-with-the-boom-box kind of thing. But as I was sitting here, I realized that instead of thinking I was the most romantic guy in the world, you might think I was a crazy stalker guy. And I swear I’m not a crazy stalker. In fact, unless you say the word, this is the last time you’ll see me. I promise.” 

I smiled. It was impossible not to be charmed. “John Cusack turns up at the girl’s house after they break up,” I said, taking a hesitant step onto the porch. “He wasn’t a guy she’d just met.”  

“Or worse, a freakishly strong dead guy who’d just scared the shit out of her,” he said. “Anyway, I only know the scene. I’m not even sure what movie it’s from.” He gave me a disarmingly sheepish smile. “Paulie, I’m really sorry I lost it like that. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But when I found out that, on top of every other horrible thing happening right now, you’d been hurt because of me…I…” He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Haven’t you ever just snapped?” 

I felt the blood hot in my face, thinking of my meltdown in front of Rhodes. “Say Anything,” I said. 

He furrowed his brow, a little thrown. “Anything…? You mean…what do you mean?” 

“The John Cusack movie. It’s called Say Anything.” 

Jack gazed up at me, steady and unblinking. A shock of dark hair fell over his right eye, but he made no move to brush it away. Then he abruptly sat down on the bottom step and began to pull everything out of his pockets—his wallet, a ticket stub, a lint-riddled handful of coins. He cupped it all in his hands, and then dropped it in a small heap on one of the higher steps.