IT IS FULL OF CONDOLENCES

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us? My mother would certainly be quite happy to have to you over despite these circumstances,” Cye tried to persuade me with his weak argument. “It’s not pleasant to have to sleep in such a large house by yourself, I’m sure.”

I stared out the windshield, not knowing how to answer to his persuasions. I wanted to avoid this talk, but from past experiences with Cye I’ve learned that any time spent with him in his precious car will lead to a guilt session to make me join in on one of his crazy plans. This time he started up the moment we entered the main roads and wouldn’t stop no matter how many times I tried to change the topic.

“I see how it is.”

I didn’t answer, instead turning up the volume on the radio. It wasn’t that I was mad at him, but with past experiences, I’ve also learned that if I didn’t make any move to answer his pleas, then I would be free of any fanatical plan he concocted. The notorious Brixton stubborn streak was very strong in Cye, but I might have inherited an equally tenacious streak from my mother. We two cousins made a wonderful pair sitting in that car, driving home, obstinately not speaking to each other while guitar-heavy rock songs blared through the speakers.

At a stoplight just a few blocks away from my home Cye pulled to the side of the road, leaving his blinkers on. He turned to me with a worried expression on his face but didn’t say anything and instead pulled out his mobile phone from his coat pocket. I watched as he dialled a number and put the phone to his ear before I turned to look out the passenger side window onto the sidewalk.

When we left the cinema and walked to the parking garage I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder for a sign of someone following us. Since that incident in the empty cinema halls I just knew someone was watching my every movement. I just didn’t know who it was that was stalking me and I’m now hoping that it isn’t Mr. Snarky from the bookshop since he appeared to be such a strange person to start with. Whoever it is, this feeling isn’t just regular paranoia now when a part of me is screaming out, it’s him! The bloke from the bookshop is watching what I’m doing!, but I stuffed that feeling away into the back of my mind. If he was that lone figure who hung behind in the theatre when we left, then he’d probably still be inside the cinema, stuck in the crowd of Halloween movie-goers.

It’d be next to impossible for him to follow us if he didn’t have a car. He wouldn’t know which way we’re going and even if he did, Cye’s notorious speeding will have put a large distance between us already. He’d have no way to follow us on foot. Oh, I hope he doesn’t have a car.

Sitting in the dark car and looking out the windows, I’m hoping that what I’m telling myself is true, since that’s all I can do. It’s about eleven now and the last quarter moon is quite high up in the sky, illuminating the world with her ghostly luminescence. The road is quite devoid of any human travel although the night before Halloween usually dictates heavy traffic from party goers.

“Oh, I can’t be arsed.”

Cye’s voice brought me back to the car and I couldn’t help but giggle at his usage of British slang and funny accent.

“Stop that British nonsense! You’re doing it again.”

Cye snapped his mobile shut and turned to me, his hassled expression softening. “Right. So you think it’s just funny that I can’t get rid of this half Yank half Brit accent? It’s ingrained into me, I swear! Try going to college in the UK for a year and answer me then, you.”

“Sorry. I don’t think I need any help getting used to the slang, thanks to you. So what’s gotten you so stressed?” I glanced out the windshield.

He leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers through his dark hair, sighing. Then he reached over to the stereo and turned the volume up, grinning now and nodding his head to the song.

“It’s Alice in Chains! Their stuff never gets old, just ace. Right, well you know how my mum is oh so grand and wonderful and independent. She told me to stay over at your place instead of coming home.”

The song playing on the radio seemed ok and I could get used to it, just like Cye’s news of his mum. She was so carefree and always, always,alwayscunning. She could talk a person into doing all of her work for her if they weren’t careful.

“You know your mum. She could order you to do anything and I’m pretty sure you’d do it. So! It’s decided and you’re staying over then. This group playing now—Alice in Chains, was it? Quite nice.”

Cye chuckled and ruffled my hair. I hate when he does that.

“You know who else likes them? That sod from the bookshop.” Said with a wink. “It’s too bad that you didn’t catch him after.”

It was my turn to lean back in my seat and mumble. In that brief instant when my head was turned towards the car window, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in the side mirror. He was a ways behind the car, walking slowly on the pavement, but from the street light, I could tell that he was the bloke from earlier. I may have been delusional this afternoon, but now I’m truly sure that it’s him, walking towards us on the pavement. It definitely wasn’t a tramp, with the smart dark suit and head full of chaotic dark hair held low. Most tramps I’ve encountered in my life don’t wear smart suits, although they may have messy hair.

My only reaction to all of this was to shout at Cye. “LET’S GO!”

With a slight pause, where I felt I was going to die, Cye put the car in drive and immediately sped away from that spot. I continued to stare out the windows, craning over my shoulder to see how he’d react to a car peeling out in front of him for no apparent reason. It wasn’t quite the reaction I expected.

He continued to walk down the road as though cars speeding away from him were a typical occurrence when he approached them, head held down. As I gawked at him from my passenger window, he slowly looked up and stared directly at my window. I felt my heart skip a beat as we made direct eye contact for the duration of three seconds that seemed to last much longer. Despite the darkness, I saw the slipshod glower of a murderer in his eyes and shivered but I couldn’t break the connection. We kept our gazes locked until Cye sped us out of eye range, tires squealing.

The last detail I can remember is the softening of his eyes and the epiphany I had about his soul as he stood stock still on the pavement, getting smaller and smaller in my eyes. It was such a strange image for me to remember since I’m sure that that sod can’t have a soul if he stalked people in the dead of night. Maybe it was the streetlight that was playing tricks on my eyes, since I’m also quite sure the eyes of a murderer can’t soften to an endearing expression. I can’t recall his facial expression, but the chilling eyes that I saw gave me a glimpse of his soul, one that I felt was quite old and had experienced chaos many times before. Or maybe I just imagined the whole thing—his eyes, that solid stance on the pavement, the sense of chaos that exuded from him—and Cye had just driven me home while I dozed in my seat without incident.

“Running away again, huh?” Cye turned to me now that the car was parked in front of my house.

“What are you on about?” My voice sounded trippy to me, as though I had just come out of a coma and was unused to using my voice. “I’m not running away.”

Cye nodded, looking unconvinced. “I call bullshit on that. I saw the guy on the pavement that you were ogling with your mouth open. If you think that he’s the chap from the cinema, then darling, I must say that you’re paranoid. There’s not a chance that he’ll stalk you when you two didn’t even exchange greets. But whatever, I’m hungry.”

I remained in my seat as he climbed out of the car. The last glance I gave him, he was letting himself into the house with my spare key that I had hid in some metal box behind the shrubbery. I didn’t pay him any more attention after he entered the house. I probably should have gotten out of the car and followed him in, but I didn’t feel like moving.

Instead, I sat alone in the car and let the image of that guy standing on the pavement play over and over in my mind. Every moment that I had experienced just minutes ago rolled out in front of my eyes with excruciating exactness, more so than when I had experienced it. Every little movement gained a clarity that I had not noticed before. His steady gait that had brought him closer to our car seemed graceful. His hair that rustled with the slightest breeze became a dark brown with highlights created by the moonlight. The unhurried way in which he looked up, just to throw his wicked stare in my direction, became the moment of my death.

Those eyes…

His steely eyes that just bore into my soul murdered my breath and stole a beat of my heart. It wasn’t a positive ambience that I got from him at all. His eyes, which seemed to reflect the light of the distant moon and infuse it with a dark feeling, scared me. His terrifying eyes, those damned windows of the soul that glinted in the moonlight, told me that he had murdered many people and I could just as easily be another one of his victims. I’m sure that we only stared at each other for a few seconds in reality, but those few seconds gave me a message worth an eternity’s study of the human soul. He didn’t have a compassionate soul. He didn’t have a human soul.

Tap. Tap.

I nearly jumped out of my seat as my heart skipped again. “CYE!!!”

“Care to come in or do you plan on dreaming morbid thoughts this Hollow’s Eve? C’mon, I want some food.”

Cye’s usual humour brought me back to reality and I tried to suppress the vision of the stranger’s eyes as I got out of the car. Cye immediately put his arm over my shoulders and guided me towards the entryway.

“So, do you happen to have any leftover seaweed casserole?”

The kitchen’s bright stucco red paint cast a placid glow on its occupants. The industrial-quality steel appliances hummed complacently in the background as mellow soft rock tunes floated around the space. The beautifully cold granite countertops gleamed with pride as I pressed my cheek against them. They hurt my eyes.

Cye entered this scene with his nose in the air, sniffing the wonderful smells of the pasta and therefore ruining the scene I was trying to paint in my mind. Cye has a special love for seaweed pesto.

“You made pasta? For me? You shouldn’t have!” He grabbed a fork and then stuffed his mouth full with the green pasta. “I don’t think I can eat all of this.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Just eat.”

He nodded slightly, the paste dangling from his mouth. “Can do.”

As he worked his way through the dishes of pasta, I began to yawn.

“So… How do you feel?”

I looked up to find Cye had put aside his fork and was studying me. “I feel tired. Thank you.”

Honestly, I felt numb and shocked and scared. Cye saw through that.

“I’ll take care of you.”

I yawned again, this time a little annoyed. “So will everyone else. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“What sort of noise did you hear?” Cye’s protective voice blared into my drowsy stupor as I sat on my bed.

“Something trying to climb up the trellis—I think the trellis snapped,” I mumbled, shivering. “There was a crash.”

It was sometime in the early morning—three—and I was woken by a crash. My immediate reaction was to run into the guest room and wake Cye, thinking of the frightening bookshop guy.

I got up and walked over to the window, next to Cye. We both looked out the open window into the night sky, where the nearly full moon was setting. Cye stuck his head out and looked down into the blue silhouettes.

“Look.” He straightened up and pointed out the window.

I did. The biting October air pricked at my face at the same time I realized nothing was wrong with the trellis.

“I did hear a crash though,” I mumbled.

“Yeah. In your dreams maybe, little girl. Good night Maddi- it’s late and we have a lot of things to attend to tomorrow.”

An annoyed Cye exited the room, leaving me alone to stare out the window.

Something was wrong about this night. I couldn’t figure it out. Something was wrong with the crash I heard. I swear I heard it. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination – I clearly heard a loud commotion even in my sleep. But why was the trellis beneath my window not broken as it should be?

Suddenly I saw something move. It was a dark silhouette, its smooth curves highlighted by the moon’s light. And it stood out against the silvery blue of my lawn and shrubbery. I pulled back from my window to watch it.

“I thought I-”

I jumped.

“-told you to go back to bed.”

“CYE!” My heart was hammering in its cavity and I couldn’t think. “What the hell!”

“What?!” He sounded very annoyed.

I shut the window with a resounding thud and drew the blinds so that they were only slightly illuminated by the moon outside. “Nothing. You scared me. I’m sleeping. Now get out.”

He remained where he was, leaning against the doorway. “You’re scared. Don’t worry, it was probably just a nightmare.”

After Cye left, grumbling, I laid in bed thinking about something that didn’t feel right. I shivered beneath my cold sheets. Maybe all I saw was a cat. I hoped it’s a cat. But something else wasn’t right.

I let it go as I yawned, sleepy again, and turned on my side to look at my window.

The moon was unusually bright for this time of year.

That’s when it hit me.

Earlier this evening there was almost no moonlight. It shouldn’t be bright. It should be that time of month where the moon recedes into a new moon—it should be dark outside by this time of the month. Happy Halloween…

The next thing I knew was the cold.

I felt cold.

I grudgingly opened my eyes, cringing from the light. Shivering, I rolled out of bed to shut the open window. Slowly I shuffled into the bathroom and ran the bath water, brushing my teeth as I waited for the water to steam.

Lathering my hair, I enjoyed the hot water. It was so cold in my room; I couldn’t understand why I even opened the window last night. Rinsing my hair, I remembered last night’s events and how I had closed that window tight. Shaking, I finished showering and wrapped a towel around me.

“CYE!!!” I needed to know that I wasn’t alone in this house.

I waited a few moments on the landing, water dripping from my hair onto the hardwood floor, shivering.

“What’s up?” Cye’s groggy voice appeared before he did. “Did the hot water run out?”

I decided not to tell him about what happened. He’d think I was crazy. Or crazier. “The funeral is today.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, stressed. “I know.”

I returned to my rooms to get dressed for the day.

“We miss them too.”

“Poor girl. How do you feel?”

“Who are you going to live with now?”

“Her mother, of course Meg!”

“Is her mother capable?”

That last question made me bristle just a tad. After dressing up in a terribly uncomfortable black dress with black stockings and tying my hair up with a black bow… After sitting silently in the car with a mournful Cye who was dressed in as much black… After listening to the eulogy delivered by the Catholic priest… After watching the pallbearers lower the two coffins… After seeing the graves covered with flowers… After hearing about how I was going to live with my Mother… What I couldn’t stand about the entire thing was the way I have to be petted by everyone like a fragile girl.

I felt a familiar hand over my shoulder. “My condolences Maddi.”

I wanted to laugh when Cye said that phrase. But I didn’t. Grief made the circumstances difficult. “Thanks Cye. Mine to you, too.”

I threw a withering glance at the bunch of gossiping women to my left, then stepped aside with Cye.

“I can’t stand this!”

Cye gave a short, abrupt laugh. “Me neither. But we all have to suck it up.”

I glared at him. “No. We don’t. I’m going to look for my mother.”

Cye looked at me for a moment, startled, then backed off. “I’ll look for my mom. I think she made cookies for you.”

With Cye gone the gossips moved in on me again, ready to console me with their fake condolences. I bet they just wanted to hear the results of my dad’s will and assure themselves that I was going to be off with a small fortune to spoil me. Jacqueline’s friends weren’t my favourite sort of people.

I took a breath. “Thank you Meg, Mrs. Chandler, Mrs. Comeau…”