Lost Souls by J. Bishop (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📗

don’t want to talk about this right now. Can we just eat?”

“Too bad if you don’t want to talk. Remalla said to get in your face, so I’m getting in your face. You’re carrying way too much baggage over this.”

She eyed herself. “I don’t see any suitcases…”

“Mikey, don’t─”

She slammed the drawer and threw out her hands. “What do you want me to say, Mason? That I’m sick to my stomach and have been all week? That I close my eyes and see that animal, Bradley, hovering over me? That I still feel his hands on my throat?” Crossing her arms, she leaned against the countertop. “Or that I still remember the terror I felt when he said you were dead, and how he was going to take me into the woods and kill me? Or how stupid I was when I spoke to Shay and Serita, and couldn’t tell I that was talking to the same woman?” She dug her fingers into her arms. “My stupid gut couldn’t even detect that Bradley was violent and I was dumb enough to ignore you and go meet Shay by myself.” She kicked out an open cabinet and it banged shut. “The list of my mistakes is long and embarrassing. I should have known better. And now I have to live with the fact that it almost got us both killed.” She turned away from him.

“None of that is your fault,” said Mason.

“Then whose fault is it?”

“Who exactly do you think you are? Superwoman?” He stepped closer. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, Mikey, and you can use that to blame yourself all day, but it’s a lousy barometer for success. We did our best. Hell, I was with the woman and I didn’t know something was up. And I’m supposed to be the one who sees things and knows things. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I almost got you killed, and I will never forgive myself for that.”

Mikey dropped her head. “That’s not what I want, and certainly not what I meant.”

“Then what do we do? Sit in sadness and regret? God knows I’ve blamed myself for Mom enough, and I don’t want you to do the same. Not for me, or anyone. It’s not worth it.”

She hesitated and stared off. “I think…” Her lip quivered. “…I think it’s going to take some time.”

Mason walked over and took her arm. “Just so long as you talk to me. I can’t do this job without you. But I need to know that you’re okay. You went through hell with Victor and now this. It’s a lot to handle, and I know how you are. You’ll act as if you’re strong enough to handle it. But if you need help, I want you to ask for it.”

Going quiet, she nibbled her lip and her eyes welled with tears. “Rem told you to get in my face?”

“He did.”

Mikey sniffed. “Asshole.”

“Sucks when your own tactics get used against you.”

She swiped at a tear. “It does, and I’m going to let him know about it.”

“I’m sure you will.” He walked closer. “Do you hear me, though? Will you let me help?”

After a few seconds, she nodded at him.

“Good,” he said, and took her hand. “Now, can I get a hug? I could really use it.”

Mikey smiled, walked into his arms, and squeezed him. “I love you, big brother,” she whispered in his ear.

“Love you right back,” he said, trying not to groan when his sore arm pulled.

The back door opened, and Mason heard Rem’s voice. “Uhm, sorry to interrupt, but the natives are getting restless for some enchiladas.”

“You mean you are,” said Mikey, pulling back and wiping away a tear.

Mason turned to respond when a loud slam reverberated through the house. Mikey jumped, Rem squealed and Mason winced when Mikey jostled his shoulder.

“What was that?” asked Mikey.

Rem pointed toward the hall, his eyes wide. “That…that bathroom door. It slammed shut.”

Mason walked into the living room. “It’s been doing that.”

“What?” asked Rem. “That’s not the first time? Is it a draft?”

Mikey came around and tried the door. It opened and she looked inside. “Nothing.”

“No. It’s not a draft,” said Mason. “It’s a spirit, trying to communicate.”

Rem paled. “Then I’ll be using the outside facilities, because I’m not going in there.”

“What outside facilities?” Mikey swung the door back and forth.

“Take a wild guess,” said Rem.

“Sorry I asked.” She left the bathroom door open. “They slammed it hard, like they’re trying to get our attention,” said Mikey to Mason. “You have any idea who it could be?”

“Whoever it is, they’re not talking,” said Mason. “Just slamming.”

Rem raised a hand. “I’ll just wait outside. You two have fun with that. Just bring the enchiladas when you get a chance.” He backed out and closed the door.

Mikey stood for a second and pointed. “You realize Mom used to do that? Slam the door?”

Mason stilled, and a memory flashed of him and his siblings, fighting over something miniscule, their loud shouting bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the house. Mom had had enough, and she’d walked to a door and slammed it hard, the loud noise stopping everyone in their tracks. “I’ll be damned. Do you think…?” He approached the door.

“Maybe she’s talking to you,” said Mikey. “And maybe you should listen before she starts aiming for your fingers.”

Mason stood slack-jawed, wondering if it was true, when Trick came into the house.

“I hear your ghost is back,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if it’s stopping us from eating. I’m getting the food.” He headed into the kitchen.

“I’ll help you,” said Mikey.

“You better figure it out Mason,” said Trick from the kitchen, “cause if that keeps up, you’re going to have to put in some outdoor plumbing.”

Mason shook off his surprise and headed for the kitchen. “Has Remalla peed in the bushes?” He grabbed some plates.

“Not yet,” said Trick.

“It’s just a matter of time, though,” said Mikey. “So be prepared to either share your bathroom, or get complaints from the neighbors.” She