The night-crawl had come undone after one too many and it left Mr. Ed with a hangover that stuck around for most of the weekend. The next morning when Mr. Ed was at his worst, his wife, Lela, had called him out of bed. They had been married for over twenty years and they had reached that point where their dynamics had shifted to that of a second enterprise.
It was no secret that Lela had something going on with the pool-boy, just like it was no secret that Mr. Ed had this habit of chasing secretaries. The thing was just that neither of them could see it before them that their entanglement would ever end.
1
“Who the hell calls me at this unruly hour,” Mr. Ed grunted into the phone.
“Who do you think?” Lela asked in an icyvoice.
“You,” Mr. Ed grumbled.
“Yes, me.”
“What can I do?” Mr. Ed sighs.
“Is that an apology?”
“I don’t know,” Mr. Ed says, getting up and now sitting on the side of the bed, “I did have one or two or three too many.”
“You’re only hurting yourself with all that junk,” Lela says, “But at least now there’s no one to suffer because of it.”
“Why did you call?”
“….”
“Something tells me you didn’t call just to hear my voice,” Mr. Ed says, “We have somehow passed that station.”
“Manyyears ago,” Lela says, “If only there was a way to get back.”
Mr. Ed thinks: if only you stopped fucking the pool-boy.
“Who knows,” Mr. Ed says.
“I need money,” Lela says.
“There’s money in the bank.”
“That I can’t touch,” Lela says, “And I maxed out my credit-cards.”
Mr. Ed thinks: the audacity.
“I need 5000.”
“I wire 3000 to your account every month. Food, bills, everything is already paid for,” Mr. Ed says, “3000 to fuck around withisn’t enough?”
“It’s none of your business what I do with my money,”Lela says briskly.
“You’re entitled to half of everything,” Mr. Ed says, “Too bad that our assets are tied up in stocks and bonds that neither of us can touch.”
“Well, fuck you too,” Lela grunts, and she hangs up.
There was a time when Mr. Edwould have thought: bitch.That time has gone. Over the years that kind of aggravation had transgressed into something worse. Indifference.
Mr. Ed feels numbed about these kinds of affairs to the point that he simply can’t be movedone way or the other. The indifference that he had started to feeltowards the doings (or maybe the undoings) of his wife wasn’t just something that he felt towards this situation with his wife, but it felt to be part of something larger. To Mr. Ed it seemsthat indifference is at the root of some of the very fundamental problems of our times, which seemed self-fulfilling: indifference towards indifference.
Mr. Ed did know one thing for sure though: it wasn’t time yet to return to Moac. It felt to Mr. Ed that his time in Martossa hadn’t fully started yet. They say that it takes at least one and half years to physically acclimatize; how long would it take to acclimatize mentally to the point that things that had happened years ago feel like a distant past that has become kind of a story that might just as likely have happened to someone else? To Mr. Ed it seems that it’s closer to ten years than five.
Mr. Ed calls for room-service.
He orders a full American Breakfast and a jug of coffee.
Lela always had this way of nagging him out of bed early in the morning. At least that hadn’t changed.
2
The three weeks that they had spend back home and in West End Mansion had done them a great deal of good, despite of the bad stuff that had happened at the end. Looking back felt like a scary movie: a group of friend reunites in a mansion, partying and having good times, until finally something unavoidable happened.
When they all departed to go back to their lives they had all signed a stone tablet, commemorating their reunion, but also a pledge to return thirteen years from now. It was partly an extension of a pledge they had made when they were 12: something bad had happened back then and they had all stacked their hands and pledged to return 25 years from then. The thing was just that none of them could remember what exactly had happened: it was as if their memories had transformed to nothing more than an eerie feeling over the years.
“Why 25?” Jim had asked back then in ‘95.
“My dad told me that’sthe difference between a friendship for life, and one that isn’t,” Toni had said.
“So we have to wait 25 years?” Jim asked, “How do you like them bananas?”
“No, silly,” Phyllis said, “If we’re still friends 25 years from now then we have a friendship that’s thicker than blood.”
Jim had a dumb look and Toni said: “It means that we’re like family, dip-shit.”
“Are you calling me a pin-head?”
“I don’t know,” Toni saidin his smart-ass-way, “What is a pin-head?”
“Knock if off,” Phyllis said, already growing tired of their feud.
“Just promise never to speak about what has happened here,” Jep said, “Something can only terrify you as long as you keep believing itsstories.”
“Alright, Mr. Professor,” Toni said, “We just wave our magic wand andforget about it.”
There they were 12 years later, no longer speaking in high voices, but still wet behind the ears, when it came to many of life’s challenges. Come to think of it, they were almost half-way there: their reunion was 12.5 years after they had made that pledge. During the vacation no one had spoken about the horrors that had happened when they were 12. It was indeed like Jep had told them: they hadn’t forgotten what had happened, but it had turned into the kind of story that might just as well have happened to someone else.
When they were at the airport they had stacked their hands, just like they had done when they were 12.
“Repeat after me,” Toni said, “I pledge – to return – when we’re – 37.”
“37….” Jim mumbled, “That’s like an eternity from now.”
“We might be dead by then,” Toni said, dryly, “Choking in our own vomit after a night on the bender like my uncle Hankie.”
“You maybe,” Frankie said, with a distasteful look on his face, “I intend to stick around for a longtime.”
*
That’s as far as their reminiscence went.
“That’s what we thought back then about being 24,” Jep said, “And look now.”
“24 is still young,” Phyllis said, and she stroked Jep’s arm, “A man is at his prime at 25.”
“Ooeehh,” Toni, Frankie and Jim went.
“37,” Toni said, “Now that’s adult. No more fucking around.”
“Don’t worry,” Jep said, “I’m sure you will always fuck around….”
“Well thank you, majesty,” Toni said, and he made a deep bow.
Jim was the first whose flight was about to leave.
“See you later, alligators,” Jim said.
“In a while, crocodile,” they all said.
They all watched Jim disappear into the crowd.
“You said that he was depressed,” Jep said, when Jim was out of sight, “I saw no sign of it.”
“Maybe I was wrong,” Phyllis said, “ButI still have this nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.”
“Well, the way he serviced that friend of yours,” Frankie said, “It’s all spick and span.”
They all laughed like they had when they were kids: full out and holding nothing back. Frankie made an impression of Jim, and Toni of Shane being intimate and doing all kinds of things.
An hour later they had all gone their separate ways.
3
Phyllis had placed the plaque on her dresser table. From time to time, she dusts it off and runs her fingers over the writings. The plaque is a reminder of both their three weeks in West End Mansion and their youth that they had spend on Rokset Island.
That Thursday Phyllis had an appointment with Harry Brunt, the caretaker of West End Mansion. It had been almost eight weeks since their vacation had ended. He had explicitly told her that he would reach out to her when it was time for her to return the keys to West End Mansion. Phyllis had told Shane and she insisted to come with her.
They drove up the mountain in Phyllis’ small car.
“How do you feel about going back up there?” Shane asked, “Do you think back at the vacation or the murder?”
“I asked myself that question,” Phyllis said, “I think maybe somewhere in the middle…. Although it leans more towards vacation…. Does that make me a bad person?”
Shane thought it over.
“I don’t know,” she said, “I guess, I kind of feel the same way.”
“Maybe we’re both bad,” Phyllis said, jokingly.
“Do you think it somehow happened because of all the bad things that had supposedly happened down there?” Shane asked, “I know it makes no sense, but still….”
“I still can’t shake that crazy cowboy,” Phyllis said, “I’m sure that it was him…. Him, or the other guy that I told you about: the shrink I talked to the other day.”
“Maybe he followed you all along,” Shane said, “Maybe…. He’s still following you….”
“Funny,” Phyllis said, and she turned up the drive way of West End Mansion.
“I hope he’s on time,” Shane said, “The place still gives me the creeps.”
“Aha.”
*
Harry Brunt was waiting in his car. When Phyllis pulled up, he got out.
“Ms. Phyllis, good to see you,” he said, “And you too miss.”
“I guess you heard what went down at New Years,” Phyllis said.
“I did,” Harry Brunt said, “Spooky.”
Spooky wasn’t the response either of them had expected.
“We found bear traps the next day,” Phyllis said, “The police found some more and removed themall the following days.”
“They weren’t there when I left,” Harry Brunt said, thinking about the police, “Which can only mean that they were planted after I left.”
“What are you suggesting?” Shane asked briskly.
“The perpetrator must have seen an opportunity.”
“Which can also mean that he was watching the property well before that,” Phyllis said, “And he may havewaited until you left.”
“….”
“You never left for an extended timebefore?”
“Besides running errands, no,” Harry Brunt said, “Bear traps I would surely have discovered while maintaining the yard.”
“….”
“Having grown up here, you must have heard the stories,” Harry Brunt said, “That this mansion was build on an ancient burial ground, how the first governor was lynched here, supposedly by his own men, and that’s just the beginning.”
“You believe that it has something to do with that?” Shane asked.
“The history certainly didn’t help….” Harry Brunt said, “But it fits with the story of people appearing out of thin air.”
“You’re saying that it was a ghost that did all this?” Phyllis asked.
“Not a ghost,” Harry Brunt said, “Just something that I can’t quite explain.”
“Here are the keys,” Phyllis said, “I’m sure you had an extra set. What do you plan to do with the place now?”
Harry Brunt looks kind of stymied.
“I’m just the caretaker, miss,” Harry Brunt said, “I will do just that.”
“Then that was that,” Shane said.
“That seems to be the case,” Harry Brunt said.
“You have a good one, Mr. Brunt,” Phyllis said.
“You too, miss.”
*
“Not a ghost, but something he can’t explain?” Shane repeats, when they’re back on the open road.
“That place must have rubbed off on him over the years,” Phyllis said.
“That, or he knows about the guy who did this,” Shane said, “The Crazy Cowboy.”
4
Against her better judgement, Phyllis booked another session with Mr. Ed. The guy was creepy, but the things he said had made sense. Mostly because of that she wanted to give him a second chance.
“Ms. Phyllis,” Mr. Ed says when Phyllis enters the room. He went over to her and gave her a hug.
“Mr. Ed,” she says, a little reluctant, “Being in VR: that feels real….”
“Quite something, huh?” Mr. Ed says, “How have you been?”
“Good actually,” she says, “You said some things that made sense and helped me through the week.”
“I did?” Mr. Ed asks, “I’m glad to hear that.”
“You really did,” Phyllis says, “I told you how I was lamenting on what could have been, and then you told this whole story that we can never be fully certain about anything. Later on I realized that the only thing that makes sense is to somehow find comfort in my life as it is.”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Ed says, “So, how did you do that?”
“I went back in time,” she says, “I talked a lot to my friend Shane and I went through a lot of mementos that helped to bring back a lot of memories.”
“Growing up on the island?”
“Yes…. And the friends that I had since I was young,” she says, “Most of all was that actually, because my home situation was kind ofcomplicatedback then.”
Mr. Ed sits back and thinks that one over for a minute.
“We’ll discuss that another time,” Mr. Ed says, “Let’s zoom in on your friends.”
“They were the best friends ever,” she says, “We did many fun things together, but most of all we had this deep friendship. We even made a pact when we were 12 to return in 25 years.”
“25 years, wow….” Mr. Ed says, “That’s a big number for a 12 year old.”
“It was and it is,” Phyllis says, “It’s a long story.”
Mr. Ed tries to imagine Phyllis at 12.
“Also for another time,” Mr. Ed says, thinking ofwhat to say, “Those memories of nostalgia can be very healing: they remind us of better times and because of that they make us feel good. The mechanism is very simple: the brain releases certain endorphins and it wants more of that feeling good and that’s why you will try your best to recapture that same feeling with new experiences.”
“In a nutshell.”
“Yes,” Mr. Ed says, “For the same reason people tend to like wine to take off the edge, or they eat chocolate, or they cuddle up with their loved one: chemicals are involved that change how we feel.”
Phyllis processes that one and for a minute she asks herself why Jep had never told her about that one. It seems to be the kind of mechanism that would be right down Jep’s alley.
“In a way it’s like we’re junkies, craving for the substance when it has been too long.”
“Absolutely,” Mr. Ed says, “Even upon death there’s the same thing: the brain releases a chemical that has a very close resemblance to LSD.”
Phyllis starts laughing at that one.
“That’s rich….” she says, still laughing, “You didn’t make that one up?”
Mr. looks like he isjoking, which only fuels Phyllis’ laughter.
“Let me get this straight,” Phyllis finally says, “So there you have these stuck up folks who have abstained from alcohol and drugs for their whole lives and then: bam! They get a shot of home-brew LSD….”
“Which already implies that it makes no sense to be stuck up to begin with,” Mr. Ed says, “You can abstain all you want, but still you will be controlled by mind-altering substances. Some you ingest, but other are synthesized by the body itself….”
*
Phyllis’ opinion of Mr. Ed has shifted for the good.
Phyllis reminds Mr. Ed of his daughter.
“Can I ask you something odd?” Phyllis asks.
“Shoot.”
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
“….?”
“We discussed what happened at West End Mansion at New Years the other day, and this one has been on my mind for the whole week.”
“For the sake of the argument, let’s say that I do,” Mr. Ed says.
Phyllis pauses for a few seconds.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but the caretaker of West End Mansion hinted that it might have been a ghost that attacked us that New Year’s.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Ed says, and he doesn’t know quite how to respond to this one, “Interesting, indeed.”
---
THIS WEEK THERE WERE MANY REFERENCES TO WEST END MANSION (MAKE SURE TO READ UP).
NEXT WEEK MR. ED WILL MEET WITH MICHELLE... AND FROM HER WE WILL LEARN ABOUT A SCARY LEGEND CALLED COTTON CHARLIE... AVAILABLE FRIDAY MARCH 8...
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