Read Cold Summer Nights Online
Authors: Sean Thomas Fisher,Esmeralda Morin
“Are you ready to order yet?” the waitress asked, her pen at the ready.
Nick looked up from his BlackBerry. “Let’s give him a couple more minutes.”
The chubby waitress feigned a weak smile and lowered her pad. “Okay,” she said politely, stuffing her order pad back into her Buffalo Wild Wings apron and walking away.
Nick could feel her rolling her eyes as he watched her go. He didn’t blame her. She wasn’t here to serve Coke to people all day. He checked his watch again. 1:34. He looked back up to the swelling crowd and sighed. The place was packed and in a Friday afternoon kind of mood. The smell of spicy garlic chicken wings blended with explosive rounds of laughter and fevered conversations as The Golf Channel floated down from the recessed speakers above, making it difficult to think. He took in their smiling faces and pints of Killian’s, Newcastle, and Bud Light and shook his head. That should’ve been him. Like most Fridays, Nick’s boss had already left the office early for the day and would have no idea if Nick came back in or not.
His eyes fell back to his phone. He looked up just in time to see his waitress disappear into the kitchen and decided to take the opportunity to slip a five on the table and ghost the place.
Rusty didn’t hear the knocking at his front door even though he was sitting in the living room watching TV. After the second round of louder knocks, he casually slipped the gun underneath the couch and got up.
Nick’s brow slumped when he saw the dark rings circling Rusty’s eyes. Heavy bags floated beneath them, reminding Nick of a boxer who had just lost a fight. “Wow,” he murmured, his gaze dropping from Rusty’s bristly cheeks to his frayed red robe and black slippers. Rusty turned, his face void of expression, and went and sat back down on the ratty couch. Nick stepped into the apartment and haltingly shut the door.
“Man!” he said, wrinkling his nose, the smell of beer farts making his eyes water. “You should think about opening a window in here someday. And by the way, you look like shit.”
“Well that would make sense because that’s how I feel,” Rusty said dully, coughing into his fist.
Nick stepped around the couch and stared at the wadded up balls of tissue littering the coffee table and floor. “A phone call would’ve been nice. I waited for you forever.”
Rusty stared glumly at the dusty standard-definition television without responding.
“Why didn’t you...” Nick trailed off, noticing the cell phone lying in pieces on the stained carpet.
Rusty turned to him and grinned.
“Solved the crank call problem.”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “Wow, really?”
“Really, Nick!” he responded curtly, coughing even harder.
“
Man, that
is some cough.”
“Thank you, Doctor Foley.”
Nick thought about sitting down but didn’t, afraid of germs latching onto his clothing. He already wanted to take a shower. He followed Rusty’s swollen eyes to the TV where an ancient episode of
The Fresh Prince of
Bel
-Air
was airing. “You must really be sick if you’re watching this crap.”
Rusty didn’t take his eyes from the TV, where Carlton was busy complaining about someone getting his new tennis shoes dirty. Rusty began hacking again and Nick took a step back, bumping into a Megan Fox door poster on a skinny closet door.
“Did you go see a doctor?”
Rusty shook his head and took a drink of orange juice.
“Your girlfriend coming over tonight?”
Nick’s brow crumpled. “Tomorrow night. Why?”
Rusty stared ahead without responding.
Nick looked to the front door, gravitating towards it like he
was caught
in a subliminal tractor beam. He could feel the sickness in the room already invading his mouth, eyes and nasal passages with every breath he took. “Well call me if you...” he stopped, seeing the phone again. “You should really get a new phone tomorrow. That’s not safe being without one.”
Rusty’s bloodshot eyes turned to him. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s not safe being with one.”
Nick’s Adams apple bobbed up and down as he decided it was time to get back to work.
Nick awoke in the middle of the night from a dream he couldn’t remember. All he knew was he had been desperately trying to accomplish some task before it was too late. He inhaled sharply when he saw the dark silhouette of someone standing at the foot of his bed. Fear gripped his innards with jagged claws and it took everything he had to scramble backwards against the headboard. The figure stepped into the light from the window and stopped. Nick’s eyes bulged when he saw his grandma. Her nursing home gown
was frayed and stained with yellow blotches
. He recognized her stringy white hair shooting out in all directions like malevolent snakes. Slowly, she raised a bony arm and pointed at him with a crooked finger, riddled with arthritis.
Her large eyes pierced him with a truly haunted look. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Wake up!” he said, slapping himself in the face.
When he opened his eyes, she was even closer.
“Stay away from her,” she warned, her gravelly voice floating to him like a chilly morning fog. Without her dentures she looked in pain. His heart thumped so hard in his chest, he could barely breathe.
Her eyes opened even wider. “Stay away,” she moaned louder, lowering her arm.
He glanced around the room and turned back to her. “S-stay away from who?” he sputtered.
Her wrinkled face twisted and her hands balled up into fists of anger. She threw her head back and screamed so loudly he covered his ears. And before he even knew what was happening, she launched into the air and jumped on him. He closed his eyes and tensed his entire body, waiting for her weight to come crashing down on him and her hands to start digging out his eyeballs. But nothing happened.
He cracked an eyelid and scanned the room, his chest rising and falling. She was gone. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, gasping for air. The silence was overwhelming and all he wanted to do was turn on a light, but he still couldn’t move. Paralysis swept across his body as his mind played tricks on him in the darkened room. He saw her in the corner but it was just a tall plant. He took in deep gulps of air, trying to control his racing pulse.
Finally, he mustered up enough motor function to ease the sheets back and place one bare foot on the floor, expecting her calloused hand to reach out from beneath the bed and latch on to his ankle. He hit the light next to him and squinted, canvassing the room with thin eyes. He got out of bed, expecting to find a pair of muddy footprints where she had been standing, but the carpet was clean. He checked the closet and the master bath before going to check the rest of the house.
He came back into the bedroom and bent over, resting his hands on his knees like a gassed basketball player in the fourth quarter. His eyes scoured the room again and came up empty. He let out another long breath and dropped his head.
The early morning sun slowly began slicing across the living room’s wooden floor as Nick forced himself to finish a bowl of Captain Crunch. He stared at the dark TV with unfocused eyes, images of his grandmother floating through his thick head. The only thing he was sure of was that it hadn’t been a dream. Her angry face flashed in his mind. He had never seen her make a face like that in all his years, not even when he had spilt an entire glass of cherry Kool-Aid on her favorite rug in the dining room. Her face, dripping with rage and saggy skin, had left an imprint in his mind he couldn’t shake – and probably never would. His phone started ringing, making him spill wet cereal in his lap. He snatched it, wiping his chin on his shirt sleeve. “Hello?” he said with his mouth full.
“Nick?”
“Yeah.”
“This is Marcia Cross at Fountain View Care Center.”
Nick swallowed and turned to the bay window.
“Yeah?”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news,”
she said, her soothing and professional tone saying everything he needed to know.
“I’m afraid your grandmother, Helen Wilson, passed away early this morning.”
Silence strangled his throat, his grandma’s ghostly warning reverberating off the walls inside his skull.
“Nick?”
“What happened?”
“It was just her time. I’m sorry, Nick.”
That night,
Summer
sipped hot coffee, listening to Nick’s bad news. “That is horrible. I’m so sorry, Nick,” she said softly, placing an icy hand on his.
He picked at the label on his beer bottle with his thumb. “I know its cliché, but I’m sure she’s in a much better place now. That nursing home was so bad and she just wanted to be with my grandpa who died years ago.”
Summer nodded and took her hand back. “Well, I’m sure she’s with him now.”
His grandma’s enraged face popped into his head and he tried blinking it away. He considered telling
Summer
about seeing his grandma that morning but didn’t want to scare her off with too much drama. They hadn’t been dating that long.
They decided to skip trying out a Mexican restaurant that had just opened around the corner and ordered a pizza instead. He didn’t feel like going out tonight, so they talked and watched TV with the remote working just fine while they waited for the delivery driver to show up.
“My grandma died when I was twelve and I remember my mom taking it pretty hard,”
Summer
said, setting her empty mug down.
“You want another cup?”
“Sure.”
Nick swept the mug into the kitchen.
“But she thought the same thing you did,”
Summer
continued in a louder voice. “My grandma and grandpa had been happily married for fifty-two years before he died.” She paused, watching him pour her another cup of coffee. “She used to get her hair done every Saturday so she would look nice for him just in case that week was her time to go.”
“Wow,” Nick said, coming back into the living room with goose bumps burrowing into his flesh.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the cup from him with two hands.
He sat back down next to her on the couch. “I guess when you’re with someone for that long, you feel incomplete when they’re gone and just want to feel whole again.”
Summer looked up from the steaming mug and smiled at him. “I hope I find that someday.”
Nick smiled back, his eyes softening. “I’m sure you will.”
She smiled bashfully and blew on her coffee.
“Because I work with a guy I think you would just love.”
She frowned and slapped him on the shoulder.
“In fact, I’ll text him right now,” he said, pulling out his phone.
“You are so bad!” she laughed, shaking her head.
Nick’s eyes cracked open at three in the morning. He tried to fall back asleep but he had to pee like a racehorse. Gently, he slipped out of bed and tippy-toed into the hallway bathroom. They both had to work in the morning and he didn’t want to wake her. This was the first time she had stayed over on a work night and he wanted it to go well. The bathroom door gently clicked shut behind him. He reached for the light switch and stepped on something. He flipped on the light and his pulse quickened. The remote lying on the bathroom rug didn’t seem possible, didn’t seem real. But he thought the same thing about seeing his grandma Helen yesterday morning.
With sleepy eyes, he reached down and picked the remote up with two fingers like it was a dead mouse. He set it on the sink and turned to the toilet. His eyes drifted over to the gray remote while his stream wandered over the toilet’s edge. “Damn,” he whispered, yanking his eyes and the stream back to the porcelain bowl.
He wiped up the floor with a wad of toilet paper and flushed it. After washing his hands, he turned off the light and let his eyes adjust to the darkness before opening the door. The deep sea diving knife glistened inside his mind. Someone was in the house.
Someone like his grandma.
He swallowed dryly and felt bad for fearing her, for letting that be her legacy.
Cautiously, he stepped into the hallway and froze, listening intently. It was quiet. He glanced over to the bedroom, noticing that
Summer’s
usual heavy breathing was gone but at least she wasn’t. He crept into the living room and set the remote back on the coffee table, his wide eyes nervously sweeping the place.
“Get off me!” Summer suddenly yelled.
His head snapped to the hallway. He hesitated before dashing down it. From the doorway, he could see she was sound asleep with her eyes closed. He
cased
the room, his blood pounding thickly in his temples, driving out the quiet. Her words echoed in his head but there was no one else in there.
After checking the spare room, he stumbled into the dark kitchen and opened the fridge to provide some light. It was clear as well so he reached into the fridge to get a drink of cold water. His breath snagged when he saw the toaster sitting next to the milk on the top shelf. He backpedaled, his eyes doing full rotations around the room. His body twirled, trying to keep up with his frantic peepers, as the fridge door slowly shut on its own. He stared at the empty spot on the counter where the toaster was supposed to be sitting, knowing that someone was inside the house. He hit the lights, trying to catch his breath.
The knife under his bed flashed through his mind again. He pulled a butcher’s knife from the block on the counter and shuffled his bare feet over to the basement door, taking a deep breath before turning the knob. The door swung back into the kitchen with a long creak and darkness greeted him on the other side. He hit the light switch inside the door, bringing the staircase into view. Cautiously, went down the wooden steps, trying to ready
himself
for a surprise attack at the bottom. But when he reached the end of the stairs, no one jumped out at him.
His eyes patrolled the small, unfinished area as cooler air wrapped its clammy arms around him. The washer and dryer, furnace, water heater, oddball boxes, tools, and an old bumper pool table occupied their usual positions. Nothing seemed out of whack, so he turned to leave and screamed.
Summer screamed with him and threw her hands over her mouth.
“
Sonofabitch
!” he cried, lowering the large knife.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I heard a noise and came down to see if you were okay.”
He set the knife down on a box and rested his hands on his hips, his chest heaving. “We really got to get you a bell.”
Her face scrunched up. “What are you doing with that knife?”
Back in the bedroom, he told
Summer
about finding the remote on the bathroom floor and the toaster in the fridge. If texting too much had scared girls off before, this would probably make her run for the hills. But it obviously wasn’t him and there was only one other person in the house who could have done it. If anything, maybe he was the one who should be running for the hills.
“So what?
You think it was me?” she laughed, her over her chest. “I’ve never walked in my sleep before, let alone transported objects in the process.”
“Well, here’s the thing. Somebody put the toaster in the
refrigerator
,” he said carefully, plopping onto the bed and laying back down.
“Well it wasn’t me!”
The conversation stalled out and Nick’s eyes kept jerking to shadows in the room where he thought he had just seen something move.
Summer pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’m really freaked out right now,” she whispered.
Nick didn’t reply. She was preaching to the choir.
She rolled over onto her side and studied his profile. “You think I did it, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what to think, but something crazy is going on.” His grandma, standing at the foot of his bed, flickered in front of him. Then she was gone.
“I’m scared,”
Summer
said faintly, as if she had seen the same ghostly image.
Nick turned to her. “Maybe we need to lay off the coffee before bed.”
Her jaw dropped. “You do think it was me!”
“Well it's either paranormal activity or somebody is sleepwalking.”
She grunted and turned her back to him and just like that, he guessed the week night visits were finished.
“We need to set up a camera with night vision.”
She snorted.
“Camera?”
“To catch whatever is going on here. Plus, we could make our own movies.”
She tried not to laugh but it slipped out anyway. “Are you ever serious?” she asked, looking over her shoulder.
“And we will both be starring in a movie I like to call
The Lucky Burglar
,” he said, pushing a hand across the air in front of them like he could see the theater marquee now.
“What?” she said, cracking
up.
“I’m
gonna
need a black ski mask. And some rope.”
She took a deep breath and turned to him with doe eyes. “If that’s the case, we should probably start rehearsing.” Her lips sinuously found his as her cold hand disappeared beneath the sheets.