Lying in bed, she stared up at the ceiling and thought about how much her life had changed in a little over a week. If she were back in Tinley Park, she would have had a very busy, stressful day at work. Then she would have come home to a beautiful condo, decorated with tasteful holiday ornaments. If Jake was home, they would have had a glass of red wine with dinner from one of those chef boxes, maybe. And then she would watch a little tv or look at her phone until she fell asleep.
And what would Jake do? She thought about it for a moment. A lot of times, he didn't even come to bed at the same time she did. A lot of times, he didn't even come to bed before she was asleep. And, if he did, he was on his phone. What was he doing? Was he texting Mika? Were they laughing at her?
She frowned. Why did she care? That was over. She had been stupid. But she wasn't stupid anymore. She was just... jobless. She needed to find work soon or she didn't know what she would do.
She sighed. She would have to call Mom and Dad and ask for help, probably. And their help would be "Just come out here to Colorado." And then she would have to move again. She would have to break her lease and move away from...
She smiled slightly at the realization of why that stressed her out. She would be moving away from Leo. And for some strange reason, after less than a week, she had grown so attached to him that she couldn't bear the thought of leaving him.
"Which is ridiculous, Em," she whispered. "You don't even know him."
But she should, shouldn't she? According to Madison, she should remember him from high school. But, for the life of her, she couldn't. She couldn't remember any of the things Madison had told her about him, about his grandfather, the principal, about him being big in the choir.
Although, that part made sense. Emily had been in Concert Choir, along with about fifty other kids, for about a month during her freshman year. In fact, she had actually liked the choir right up until their first concert.
Her stomach began to churn at the thought of it. It was still the most traumatic point of her youth. Looking back on it, however, it seemed pretty small compared to her current situation.
"Argh. Stop," she told her brain. "Sleep."
Madison remembered it. Emily was sure she did. She must. Everyone remembered it, right? Did Leo remember it? If he was a choir nerd, then he would have been there that night. He would have remembered.
She felt herself shrink under the weight of that horror. She could remember it so clearly. The nervousness, the abject terror. She did not want to perform solo. That was Ms. Cuzak's personal torture for them. They each sang a line, either separately, or in duet with another student. She called it "trial by fire," her way of inuring them to the rigors of public performance. She had begged to at least be allowed to sing with another girl, but Ms. Cuzak had insisted Emily, more than anyone else, needed to sing solo—to get it out of her system.
"Oh my God, stop!" She sat up in bed, punched the pillow, then lay back down. This was pointless. High school was so long ago. Why was she even thinking of it? Why did she care anymore?
She sighed. "Because Leo."
Because Leo might remember that night. And, for some strange reason, that would be a fate worse than death. She did not want him to think of her like that. She didn't not want to think of herself like that. She sat up again and tapped the phone beside the bed for the time. It was late. She had to sleep. She could not stay up all night torturing herself.
Why not? The evil part of her brain kicked back a little. What else did she have to do? It wasn't like she had to get up early to go to work. It wasn't like she had a million friends and social engagements to deal with. It wasn't like she had a boyfriend to go out with.
"Not fair, brain," she scolded herself and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had to sleep because she needed sleep to function. She couldn't get a job if she couldn't function. She couldn't pay her bills if she didn't get a job. She couldn't stay here if she couldn't pay for it. "That's why."
Besides, it wasn't like Leo remembered that concert anyway. He didn't remember her, the way she didn't remember him. They had discussed that already. And what did it matter anyway? It was so long ago. And it wasn't like she could have helped it. And it was completely Ms. Cuzak's fault, when you got right down to it.
"Stop, brain," she pleaded. She got up and walked to the bathroom, retrieving a bottle of Ambien from the drawer. She needed to sleep.
As soon as she had swallowed the white tablet, the whispering started. "Leo. Leo. Leo."
She froze, looked at herself in the mirror. No way the drug worked that quickly. "Hello?"
"He's a good man," the whisper grew stronger.
Emily looked down at the bottle. She had heard of strange drug trips while using Ambien—sleep eating, sleepwalking, sleep sex—but she'd never had any issues. Why was she hearing voices now?
"Don't be ridiculous. You know it's not the pills." The man's voice caused her to drop the bottle into the sink. She scanned the mirror for any sign of anyone in her room. Then she slowly turned and peered into the dark bedroom.
There was no one there. She was hallucinating. Just like she had hallucinated last night. Ambien caused crazy side effects. She knew that. Everybody knew that. She was hallucinating a man's voice talking to her in the dark, just like she had hallucinated a man and woman talking to her last night, just like she had hallucinated a man and woman appearing to her last night.
Only she hadn't taken anything last night. And the pill had barely passed her tongue tonight. This was no hallucination. "Hello?"
There was no answer. No movement in the dark. Should she turn on the lights? The switch was on the opposite side of the room, near the hall door. She would have to cross the dark room to do it—a dark room, which might contain ghosts.
"Except obviously it doesn't," she said it out loud, as if saying it out loud made it more true. "No such thing."
The lack of any ghostly retort gave her a little confidence. "It was a dream. A scary dream within a dream, right?"
She nodded, still scouring the dark bedroom for any sign of movement. Her terrible, rebellious brain was actually trying to help her, now. It was suggesting logical explanations for what it, itself, had already convinced her was ghosts. "I was thinking about high school. I was thinking about Leo. I was thinking about those nosy old neighbors next door. That's what happened."
She swallowed, working a little saliva into her arid mouth. "And somehow, my bad brain gave me a nightmare about old people in my room talking about Leo."
"Leo. Leo. Leo. He's a good man."
The sound of that whisper was like a kick in the heart. Her knees nearly buckled. She needed to run across the room and hit the light switch. Like, right now. She needed to move. Turn on the light and chase away all these bad dreams.
Move. She told her feet. Just do it. Just run.
But she was glued to the spot. Her spine was alternately freezing and melting. She needed to sit down. She needed to lay down. She needed to get to the bed before she passed out and hit her head on something. Because then what would happen? She would just lay on the floor and bleed until someone came and found her? And who would do that? Who would worry about not seeing her enough to come and check on her?
She smiled wryly. Leo, probably. If she went one night without calling him to come let her back in the house after she got locked out, he would probably come right over, along with Dadcop and Drivercop. And old Mr. and Mrs. Tavish would be hanging out of the front door watching the whole thing.
She felt her breath start to come back to her. She should just call Leo now. She should just call him and talk to him for a little bit until she got her anxiety under control and stopped hallucinating old people whispering in her bedroom.
She turned back to the bathroom, to the mirror, and pressed her palms on the counter so she could lean over the sink. She took three deep breaths and tried to talk sense into herself. What would she say?
"Hello, Leo? Yeah, I'm just freaking out a little bit because of stress and Ambien. How are you doing?" She whispered over the sink bowl. That was pathetic. She looked pathetic. Face pale. Eyes a little too wide and crazy.
"Hey, Leo. What's up? Me? Oh, not much. Just couldn't sleep and thought I'd give you a call." That was better. That might work. "I need to take my mind off the ghosts that keep talking to me in the dark."
She nearly laughed at that one. That's what Leo would do. He would laugh because she was crazy. Or he would be mad that she called and woke him up again in the middle of the night when he had to get up in the morning for school. She was being so needy—so needy and so creepy.
She tried again, "Hi Leo. It's me, Emily. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and perform an exorcism on this house?"
"You should just call him." This time the woman's voice was clear and strong and when she looked up, Emily saw her standing behind her in the mirror.
She whipped around, sending most of her makeup and her hair dryer clattering from the counter to the floor. The woman gave her a disapproving look.
"I'm not seeing this," Emily spoke slowly, trying to convince herself. "This is a dream."
"Life could be a dream, sha-boom," the old woman smiled mildly. "According to The Chords. You probably don't remember that. That was popular in my day."
Emily backed up as far as she could go against the sink, without actually crawling into it. She did, however, leave that open as an option. "What do you want?"
"What do you want? That's the question." The old lady shook her head. "Why all this fa-la-la and should I call him? Just call him."
"Who are—What—Are you a ghost?" She could barely croak the words out.
The old lady gave her a disapproving look. "I'm Rose."
"Rose," Emily repeated. "Okay. So I'm crazy and I'm imagining an old lady named Rose. Or my house is haunted by an old lady named Rose. Great."
"It's very rude to call someone old to their face," Rose admonished. "What difference does it make, anyway? Ghost or imagination?"
"It makes..." Emily trailed off. "I guess no difference. I'm just crazy either way."
"Your generation is so dramatic." Rose rolled her eyes. "Go get your phone and call Leo. Tell him you just wanted to talk to him. That's the truth, isn't it?"
Emily glanced out at the dark bedroom, in the general direction of her phone. "I don't want to wake him up."
Rose smiled knowingly.
"What? I don't," Emily insisted. "He's probably been asleep for hours now and—"
"You've never had any compunction about waking him up before," Rose rudely reminded her. "So, if you like him—"
She put aside the ridiculous fact that she was arguing with a ghost, so that the crushing embarrassment of having her secret thoughts known could take over for a minute. "Who says I like him?"
"Oh Leo," The old woman sighed in a not offensive, but not entirely serious imitation. "Hello, Leo. How are you doing? Hi, Leo. I couldn't sleep."
"That—" Emily sputtered but could find no way to refute it. "That was a private conversation."
"With whom?" Rose made a point of looking around the room.
"Me," Emily said. "That was me talking to myself. It was not for public consumption."
Rose rolled her eyes. "He's a good man. Call him."
Oh, she would like nothing more than to do that, especially now when she had so clearly lost her mind. "It's very late."
"He's a nice guy. You're a nice girl." Rose shrugged. "He's lonely. You're lonely."
"I'm crazy," she said to Rose, to herself. "He would have to be crazy to—"
Rose frowned. "Don't be rude."
"I'm sorry. I just—" Amazingly, her heartrate was going back to normal, even though she was standing in her bathroom talking to a ghost. "I mean, you're a—aren't you?"
"I don't see that it makes a difference." Rose shrugged. "The truth is still the truth."
"Okay." Emily nodded and looked around the bathroom. She just needed to get out. If she got dressed and got to the car, she could maybe drive to... someplace... "Okay. Yeah."
Rose seemed to recognize her actions. She spoke quickly as Emily picked up her jeans from the floor and started pulling them on. "Listen, Emily," she spoke softly. "I don't know what your story is, but I can see how sad and lonely you are. No one needs to be sad and lonely. Not when there are other people in the world who could help."
"Uh-huh." Emily nodded and sucked in her stomach a little so she could zip up. She grabbed her bra from the floor and slid an arm out of her shirt sleeve so she could put it on without fully undressing.
And that was crazy too. Like it mattered that this ghost was standing there as she dressed. She had been here this whole time. Every time she'd undressed. Every time she'd showered. Right? Rose and maybe the old man ghost, too. Why was she being so demure now?
"You're being very self-centered. It's not always about you, you know," Rose said. "There are people who want to be your friend, who want to be with you. And maybe they need your friendship as much as you need theirs."
"Tell her how he's still awake." The old man ghost popped in, now. Emily let out a little squeak of surprise and fright, which made him laugh.
"Get out of here, Ed." The old woman slapped him on the arm. "You shouldn't be in a lady's bathroom when she's dressing."
He cocked his head toward Emily, who brushed past the two of them and sprinted through the dark bedroom and into the hall. "She's dressed."
Emily slapped on the bedroom lights, the hall lights, and the living room lights without even slowing down. She grabbed her boots from the tiled area at the front door and began pulling them on, hopping to keep from falling over.
"Emily, wait." Rose followed her. "You've taken a sleeping pill. I hope you aren't thinking about driving somewhere?"
Suddenly she stopped and stared. The old man... "I know you."
Neither of them said anything. But things were starting to fall into place.
"Mr. Statton. You're Mr. Statton." She was starting to piece it together. "I was just talking to Madison about you today. You're Leo's grandfather."
"Yes!" Rose clapped happily, as if Emily had achieved some great understanding.
"And I'm in Leo's house, which belonged to his grandparents." She nodded as if she were expecting their approval. "That's why I'm imagining you."
"Emily, you know you're not imagining this." Rose crossed her arms over her chest. "Think this through."
"I'm not sure where you came from, Rose." She was trying to logic herself back to sanity. "I don't think I've ever seen you. Maybe you're a memory of one of my customers or an amalgam or something."
Mr. Statton smirked, but Rose's brow came down harshly. "Now you're just being offensive on purpose!"
"But you're right. I can't drive under the influence." Emily paused with one boot on, one boot off, while she thought it through. "But obviously I can't stay here. Who can I call?"
"Call Leo," Rose suggested for the millionth time.
"I can't call Madison." She was trying to fool herself into believing she was thinking it through. "She has kids. A husband. She can't come out in the middle of the night."
"Call Leo," Rose urged.
"I could call Leo." She knew what she would say to him when she did. "I could tell him I locked myself out again."
"Oh, for Pete's sake," Mr. Statton said.
Emily pulled on the other boot and headed back to the bedroom, returning with her phone. She keyed in Leo's number, which she had memorized by now.
He answered right away. Mr. Statton was right. There wasn't a trace of sleepiness in his voice. "Emily, hi. What's wrong?"
"I uh..." Her resolve was starting to falter. "You're not going to believe this..."
"You locked yourself out again?" He sighed and she couldn't tell if that was amusement or annoyance. "Give me ten. I'll be right there."
"Okay. Thanks." Now her heart was beating faster for other reasons. "Thank you."
Emily hung up and put the phone in her back pocket. She nodded, satisfied. Leo would come and she would talk to him, and the ghosts would disappear, and everything would be okay.
"Relationships built on dishonesty are doomed to fail," Rose warned.
"Who says I'm being dishonest?" Emily grabbed her coat. She opened the front door, then turned the button to the locked position. She stepped outside into the cold and shut the door behind her.