Saying it was a rough patch would be the understatement of the century.
Trisha found me two days later in bed, where I'd crawled in after Brandon left, and where I still was when she came back home, doing nothing but crying. I would only get up to go to the bathroom, and on one of those quick trips, I spotted the corner of the fat quilt escaping the closet door. The quilt that had covered Brandon and me the first time we'd slept together, just before setting Kujo free. So I spread it open on the bed and curled up under it to keep crying.
Lizzie showed up to check on me a couple of times, until I turned my phone off.
Susan didn't come anywhere near my room, no matter if it was the day to vacuum the master bedroom or change sheets or whatever.
When I refused to get up, eat or even speak, Trisha decided it was time to call on the cavalry and texted Amy. She arrived the next day, Thursday. She didn't ask any questions. She sat on my bed, right by my head, and tried to rub my back. I shuffled away from her. Then I heard her speak to somebody, asking what had happened. When I heard no audible response, I got up, wrapped myself in the quilt and locked myself up in the bathroom, wishing Kujo was still in the basement to go cuddle by him.
Kujo. I wanted to see him. I missed him so bad. And I could give him a thousand extra pounds with all I was feeling. Maybe I should just take my car and— I'd left it in Boston. Fuck. I was stuck in the Manor, because there was no way I would go to Boston for the next twenty years.
Amy knocked on the door. "Come out, Fran," she said softly.
"Can you all just leave me the fuck alone?" I snarled, sitting on the floor between the sink and the tube, knees to my chest under the quilt.
She didn't insist, and I heard her walk out of my room a few minutes later. Great. I was free to go back to bed and keep crying to my heart's content.
I don't know what happened when she sat to talk with the Blotters downstairs. I didn't care either. I was devastated and I was furious. At that particular moment, I didn't give a fuck about anybody, living or not. What I really wanted was to turn back the clock and be with Brandon. I couldn't, so I just wanted to be left alone.
The next days are a blur. I think Amy and Trisha got me to have a bite now and then, but I still refused to get out of bed, let alone walk out of my room or talk with anybody. Amy had pending work and couldn't linger at the Manor any longer, just waiting for me to decide to come back to life. On Monday, a week to the day since I'd come home with Brandon, Amy left with Trisha in her red machine, and Trisha brought back my car.
Another blizzard hit Hardwick a week later, already mid-January, so my plans to go to Pennhurst were delayed again.
Trisha was almost kicked out to the storm when she tried the last stunt she could think of to make me react. One night, she walked into my room without even knocking. I saw she was facetiming with somebody, talking about me, so I just rolled over to turn my back on her and pulled the quilt over my head. Now I would surely have to bear Amy's pleas and scoldings and wise motherly words.
"Fran?"
Brandon? The pain seemed to rip me apart just by hearing his voice, and I curled up even tighter under the quilt.
"Fran, kid." He waited for a moment and I heard him click his tongue. "Fuck! C'mon, don't do this. Talk to me, love."
I pushed the quilt away and sat up to glare at Trisha, ignoring the phone.
"You," I growled, pointing at my door. "Outta my room. That fucker's dead to me and he knows it."
"There you—" Brandon tried to say.
"Out!" I yelled, bending over to feel the floor for my sneakers.
Trisha saw me grab one and hurried out.
I got up the next afternoon, bundled up in my best winter clothes and went out. The white wind almost pushed me face to the snow. I leaned forward and made my way across the garden, the snow up to my calves keeping me on my feet against the wind. It took me a good while to reach the Quabbin, but I finally made it. The moment I saw the water, I broke down again. I fell on my knees in the snow a couple of steps away from the shore and cried till I ran out of tears.
I made my way back to the Manor in the early sunset, hung my overpants and my jacket in front of the fireplace in the kitchen and felt a roaring hole in my belly. It was the first time I felt hungry since that New Year lunch at Amy's. So I rummaged the pantry and the fridge, and put myself to cook.
Trisha showed up when she heard me in the kitchen.
"Fran! So good to—"
"You need to find another place to live, Trisha," I said curtly, keeping my eyes on the veggies I was chopping. "You can't stay here anymore."
"Fine. Show me you can live alone and I'll be happy to leave."
That did the trick and made me look up at her. She raised her eyebrows, like daring me to keep playing tough. The knock on the backdoor forced a pause that kept us from a nasty argument. Susan?
"Mr. Jenkins is trying to reach you, Miss," she said from under her jacket hood, her woolen cap and her scarf.
"Thank you, Susan. I'll call him right away."
"Glad to see you up, Miss." Susan nodded, turned around and left.
I closed the backdoor and headed out of the kitchen without even glancing at Trisha. My phone was still off, and I wasn't surprised to see the many texts and missed calls from Amy and Brandon I'd gotten over the last few days. I deleted all of them without reading them. Shit, my room stank like somebody had been locked up in there for a couple of weeks.
Well, no wonder.
Lucky me, Jenkins didn't beat around the bush. Looked like the Foundation conducted an annual inspection of the Blotter estate every January, and the Manor was scheduled for the next week. Shit, I wouldn't be able to go to Pennhurst yet.
"We would also need to know your plans for the guesthouse, Miss Garner," he said.
What the fuck was he talking about?
"The Foundation can contact the best contractors in the area, but in order to do that, first they need to know what repairs are needed and how you want them done."
"I have no plans. I thought Mr. Price was taking care of that."
"Well, Mr. Price asked me to be the intermediary with you in this matter. You know he's having surgery next week, so he won't be available to meet with the Foundation representative until next month."
"Oh, okay," I muttered. Surgery? What had happened to him? "I'll discuss it with whoever the Foundation sends. Please, let me know at least one or two days before that person comes."
"Of course, Miss Garner. Have a good night."
Yeah, whatever. I disconnected and went back to my chopping for the regal stew I had in mind. Once I had it in a big pot on the burner, I texted Trisha, because I didn't feel like going upstairs to ask her. She replied right away: Brandon was having his first eye surgery next week. Okay. I left my phone on the kitchen table and turned the TV on.
After dinner, I dropped by my bedroom to get my quilt and went on up the stairs to the study, where I pushed a loveseat closer to one of the windows. I sat there, wrapped in the quilt, and lost track of time, staring blankly at the howling gusts of snow out there.
I'd felt so hurt, I was like numb. The only thing I seemed able to feel now was a cold hole inside. There was no pain, no rage, no sadness, no love left. Just a dull nothingness.
And I didn't want to think. That would've made me feel.
Well, if they tell you not to think about elephants...
I didn't want to remember those incredible days with Brandon. I didn't want to relive that awful last day with him. Especially what I'd heard him say in the north parlor.
Because deep down, some of it had rung true. I loved the Manor, but it wasn't my home and it would never be. I loved the Blotters, but they were their own family, not mine. I still felt I sort of belonged here with them. But the ugly truth was that I was sick and tired of being alone and doing nothing. I'd dreamed of going back to school, finding a nice job, rent a little place in the city where I could spend every spare minute writing. I couldn't do any of it here.
It's a fact: in order to write, first you gotta live. Unless you're a genius like Emily Brontë or something like that.
The solution was easy: find a job that allowed me to get that little dream started. But my heart shrunk just by thinking about leaving the Manor.
Well, there was something called the internet, right? I could find a job to work from home, and I could enroll in some online university.
Yeah, and keep living here all alone, without any contact with the rest of the human race.
Fuck.
I ran my fingers through the collection of knots my hair was. I would've killed for a coffee, but the four flights of stairs between me and the coffeemaker made my will stagger.
As usual.
Always finding an excuse to curl up in a corner and do nothing.
I swung the quilt away and headed downstairs.
I was reaching the second-floor landing when I had the most vivid flashback ever. Brandon halfway from the first floor, looking up at me, and myself glaring down at him, dropping his bag with the secret hope it would land on his head.
I breathed deep and forced myself to keep going.
As usual.
Like after Mom's funeral.
She'd been the only person I'd ever felt I belonged with. But she'd died.
And then along came the irresistible arrogant prick. And for the first time since Mom's passing, I'd felt I belonged with somebody again.
But I'd kicked him away.
Why had I sent him away? Yes, he'd said all those awful things to Edward and Joseph. But that wasn't what had hurt me the most. What had pushed me over the edge was hearing him use all I'd confided in him to win an argument, to prove he was right and better, that he cared more. Because Brandon Price would be second to no one.
So I'd kicked him out.
And only then he'd told me he loved me.
The bastard.
Hearing Trisha in the kitchen made me pause to rub my face. I knew I was an inch away from crying. The cat ball flashed in the east parlor. I turned with a quick smile at the empty room and walked into the kitchen.
Life went on, and I was sick and tired of watching it flash by outside my window.
THE SHADOW OF THE HAUNTER
THE END
If you want to read the whole 124-chapter story, you can find it as a single book called Haunter on Goodnovel