The surreal quality to the next four days almost like a drug haze – because everything in that house was like a drug to Steve, the high from which he could not stop chasing.
It was easy enough to sneak up those dedicated back stairs when the house was empty, but he wasn’t willing to do it in the daylight. So after dark but before Kayla and Stephanie had returned he made his move. He’d gotten very lucky with the foliage providing decent cover, but that was the last thing that was easy about this cloak and dagger squatting. His surroundings were immediately jaw dropping. If his early adulthood, his recent past, and the Island of Forgotten Toys had a threesome and somehow made a baby, this loft is what it would look like. The place wasn’t really a loft, either, it was more of a very small, finished attic. It wasn’t tiny, but there was a fair amount of stuff shoved into it. The things from their marriage were fresh in his head, like their blue and white striped love seat from the living room in their house. Some of it was new to Steve, like the long-forgotten toddler gear that caught his heart in a viscious tug. His life before her that Kayla inherited surrounded them, too. His merchant marines duffel stood upright in a corner, books and music sat on a small shelf, and Emily and Gideon’s chest with all of their ancient belongings created a unique and quite beautiful coffee table in front of the couch. Kayla had arranged this place meant for storage as living space, which even had a tiny bathroom, so it wasn’t a shrine. But it, certainly, had Steve’s name all over it.
Steve touched everything. He was just complelled to run his hands over all of these familiar things and acknowledge them with a kind of familiar respect. It was the things he didn’t know at all, however, that were an even bigger rabbit hole, because he wanted to positively commune with them. Stephanie’s high chair. A clear plastic box holding Kayla’s winter clothes that he did not recognize. Small furniture pieces, photo albums, blankets. These were all parts of either Kayla or Stephanie that he didn’t know, and he wanted to discover each of them.
It wasn’t until hours later that he’d begun to do so, however, because his girls arrived right on schedule, and Steve went into hiding behind the couch. He listened very carefully to everything he could hear, but since hardly any time was spent in the kitchen, what he could hear wasn’t very much. He looked at his watch in what had become the moonlight-free room and barely made out that it was after 10pm, and the house was finally quiet.
Steve came out from his cramped space between the couch and the wall and stretched. Immediately all those things Steve was desperate to see beckoned to him. Soon he had gone through the entire room, and before he knew it, he’d followed that white rabbit from the confines of the loft down the stairs and into the kitchen where he unexpectedly froze. In all the jumps he’d taken, he’d never felt so out of place. Not just like a visitor, but like he was literally out of sync with reality. This was Kayla’s house, and he was not supposed to be there. This time didn’t belong to them – hell, it didn’t even belong to him. Right now in his rightful timeline he was a soldier of the Phoenix. In this one the hum of the refrigerator sounded in his ear while the wife and daughter that didn’t know he’d never died slept. He felt a synthetic sense of unreality; like his surroundings were going to evaporate at any moment and he’d find himself back in the torture chamber his parallel existence belonged in. He didn’t realize that what he was feeling was the the amplification effect, because this time it wasn’t his emotions that were unnaturally intensified but the paradox of his consciousness being where it didn’t belong.
Steve didn’t know how long he’d stood there frozen, but when something brushed up against his leg he snapped out of it. The cat formerly (unbeknownst to her) known as Emily had found this man whom she remembered instantly and took a soft, purring pleasure in re-marking him with her scent. Steve didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing and gasped upon coming back to more rational thought. He smiled as he whispered a greeting to his now fully-grown, middle-aged cat, which she took as an open invitation to jump up onto the counter for more insistent attention.
On the one hand, when Steve picked her up he found her presence a little calming. On the other hand, nuzzling her also made him pine to take some risks. As if she could read his mind, the furry bundle jumped out of Steve’s loose embrace and walked out into the livingroom, looking back at him as she disappeared around the corner. She knew what he wanted and was leading him to it. Steve put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath before glaring out in the direction the cat had just gone. A very dangerous game lay through the arched doorway in front of him. His wife and his daughter were asleep in two of the three bedrooms that lay over that threshold, and they were not ready for this. He wanted so badly to see them. And, God, he’d felt so close to Kayla at the lighthouse. Finally, he’d thrown his fears and grief out there so he could start to heal and be the man she’d needed for weeks – he couldn’t just shut that emotion off and put his need for her on hold. But what if one of them woke up to him standing over them like some creepy spectre? Kayla fainted in broad daylight in that cemetery, seeing him in the dead of night might give her a heart attack. And Stephanie was only ten, she’d be terrified. No, he had to wait it out just a little while longer. Until his Kayla jumped in Steve was just going to have to go up to the loft and stay there.
Moments later he was watching Kayla sleep in a bed that wasn’t his beneath sheets he’d never slept in and a comforter he’d never seen. She lay on her right side, tucked up a bit, her right hand under the pillow. Her hair messily covered the side of her face, and the shadows cast her mostly in darkness, the combination obscuring most of her features; but she was unmistakably Kayla, and his heart bled for her.
Something very odd came over Steve as he watched his wife. It wasn’t like when he’d watched her in 1979. This was more of a twisted sort of déjà vu. Same woman lying here as the woman lying in a bed in Cleveland. Same voyeuristic obsession as he watched this version of her as the last one. He’d never seen that Kayla before he snuck into her house to hide in her closet, and he’d never seen this Kayla before sneaking into her house to hide in the attic – and neither of them knew he existed. Now the more things changed the more they stayed the same, because here he was again, watching Kayla sleep right under her nose. The parallels hit him with significance that sent such a chill up his spine. Watching her like that was wrong in 1986. He knew it was wrong now, too. But before he could start feeling too badly about it all, he remembered how he felt in that one-room apartment. He’d denied it for months, but the moment he’d laid eyes on Kayla he’d begun to care about her. She started out a job he gladly took if it meant hurting Bo, but before he left that apartment, she’d bloomed something inside of him that never stopped growing. Now staring at her sleeping form, those parallels made him pine for her, and he wanted nothing more than to climb into that bed and alleviate that chill with her warm body.
Steve was on automatic when he kneeled beside the left side of the bed so he could see her face. Even in the dark, the definition of her jawline called to him. He wanted to run his finger over it, tip her chin up, and kiss her full lips. Then he wanted her to open her eyes and hear him say he was alive and that he loved her.
It wasn’t until Kayla took a deep, slumbering breath that Steve found his head. He didn’t know how long he’d been there watching her before he reached for her, but he stopped abruptly before his fingertips could make contact. It was hard, but he finally forced himself to leave the room. Because this was a bad idea if ever there was one.
The door right across the hall was Stephanie’s, and he knew this because of the two posters on her door, one of Billie Holliday and the other of what had to be the star of a teenage pop TV show. Front and center, however, was a picture she’d drawn herself that Steve had never seen that clearly was of the three of them in front of the Bluesmobile. It was meticulously drawn in the hand of the child she was, but the likenesses and their importance to her were clear. The completely unexpected and poignant combination made the enormous lump that formed in Steve’s throat very difficult to control, and he finally had to wipe at his eyes that couldn’t stop from watering despite his insistence that they not. The door was ajar, but he did not go in. He’d been through coming back from the dead with Kayla before, but he had no idea how Stephanie would react if she found him. So he was successful at keeping himself in check there, despite how desperately he wanted to see her up close. But he did peer in through the open door to see her peacefully sleeping bundle, at least eight stuffed animals eyeing him from the foot of her twin bed.
Steve pulled himself together and stepped away from the door. The lure of this white rabbit was very strong even without the aritificial effect increasing its hold on him. Staring down Kayla’s door like it might follow him if he didn’t keep an eye on it, Steve carefully backed out of the hallway, then padded back the way he’d come.
Safely back in the loft he wasn’t scott free, however, because he knew Kayla was an unpredictable visitor to this space. So, he hunkered down out of sight behind the couch again, used his black bag as a pillow, and fell asleep beneath a red blanket he knew very well, because it used to be his.
When Steve woke up he didn’t know where he was. He was about to call for Kayla, but before he could, Stephanie’s voice in the kitchen below gave him instant clarity.
“She started it,” Stephanie said. Steve’s lips parted in wonder when he heard this incredibly youthful version of his daughter’s voice. It was familiar, but in the little girl version that she currently was.
“Do not give Amber a hard time, Stephanie, I am serious.” Kayla’s voice was very different. Strong – and rushed.
“Mama!” Stephanie retorted with utter frustration that sounded exactly like Steve did when he was frustrated with Jo, “it’s Amber that’s giving me a hard time, not the other way around!”
Kayla reached across the tall counter where her daughter sat on a backless stool to tuck a stray strand of dark hair behind Stephanie’s ear and nodded. “Yep, I know.”
“Then why am I the one getting the lecture?”
“Because you’re the smarter one. Don’t let her get to you and drag you down to her level. Kill her with kindness, and she won’t know what to do with that.”
“She thinks I’m a freak,” she pouted.
“I think she’s jealous.”
Now Stephanie scrunched up her face. “Because I like cars?”
“In a way, yes, I think so.” The doppler effect to Kayla’s voice sounded to Steve like she was in constant motion down there.
Instead of returning to the pout, Stephanie fixed her mother wth a sideways glance and looked so much like her father that Kayla could practically hear the naw, baby … that would have come next. “She’s not jealous, Mama, she makes fun of me all the time.”
Kayla poured the milk into her daughter’s cereal bowl and shrugged. “That’s what jealous people do sometimes.” Stephanie was clearly not convinced.
“If she says it again I’m gonna pop her one.”
Kayla stopped her rushed bustling through the small kitchen to get their two lunches ready and wished not for the first time that she could get her act together enough to do this the night before and avoid the perpetual hurry-up mode she always seemed to find herself in. “Stephanie Kay, you will do no such thing.”
“But why?!” she whined.
“Sticks and stones, Baby Girl!”
“What if she hits me?” Then Papa’s gonna pop her one for you, Little Sweetness, that’s what. Steve had crept to the landing and was fully enthralled, wishing but not daring to descend further.
“Then, by all means, hit her back.” Steve smiled. “But the Bluesmobile does not care what Amber Clarke has to say about it and neither should you. You’re great with that car, and it knows you’re your papa’s little girl. That’s all that matters is that you do what’s in your heart. Because, trust me, that car doesn’t give the time of day to what Amber Clarke thinks of it.
Now Stephanie sat up very straight and smiled with pride as she gobbled big spoonfuls of Cheerios even as her mother sliced half a banana into it. “Then why is she jealous?”
Kayla sighed as she poured a final cup of coffee for herself. “Baby girl, it’s very complicated sometimes, the way people can lash out when they’re feeling bad about themselves. She’s jealous because … your papa loved you as much as you love him.”
Stephanie got very quiet as the grown-up analysis of these complicated emotions began to sink in. “But her dad is still alive,” she said almost to herself.
Kayla took Stephanie’s hand. “That’s why. Because you feel more love from a father that died when you were a baby than she does from one that’s still alive. It makes her feel bad, so, she tries to tear you down so she can feel better about herself.”
Stephanie shifted her gaze out the window in contemplation. When she turned back to her mother, the tiny, butterfly hair clips holding each of the three twists at the top of her head caught the light coming in the window above the sink. “I’m really lucky, aren’t I?” she said quietly. It seemed like a ridiculous statement for a ten-year-old girl who’d never known her father to say. But it was the truth, because she felt very differently than Amber did. Kayla nodded and said she was. “Ok, I’ll be nice to her.”
“That’s my girl.”
“But I still wanna pop her one.”
Kayla tutted her tongue. “I have oncology rotation, Stephanie, today is not the day for me to get a call from school, ok?”
Moments later, the front door closed with a rattle of the window panes. He couldn’t see them from his one window overlooking the backyard, so he boldly flew down the stairs and peered out at them from behind the livingroom drapes. His daughter climbed into the back seat of the Bluesmobile then pulled the door shut with the perfect force between a whisper and a slam that very obviously showed she knew how to treat the magnificent machine that used to belong to him. Seeing her so clearly like this for the first time made him fight not to cry, but the amplification effect was wreaking havoc on him. She was as beautiful as her photos from this time, and not just in her features but in her her carriage. Her confidence. Kayla was right, she had so much of him in her. “God, Little Sweetness, look at ya,” Steve beamed with pride in his daughter as they drove off. And he was awed. What an amazing big sister she would have – should have – made at this age.
Then there was his wife. Steve had reasoned that the captivity, torture, and hard living had aged him, but the same could not be said for Kayla. He’d seen plenty of photos of her from this time, but not one of them did her justice. Her hair was cut into a shoulder-length bob, and her figure was slender and more toned than he’d ever seen her. He could see even from just this glimpse that her curves were peppered with muscular definition. Her face had matured into something slightly different from her 20’s but different also from her 40’s. This was her 30’s, and her softly angular face was postiviely beautiful.
Steve spent the rest of the day getting a very good lay of the land, taking in the geography of the house, and finding hiding places and escape routes in case Dimera’s men showed up. He’d hoped to God that Primary Kayla showed up as soon as possible, but in case she didn’t he tested out the loft. He found the creaky floorboards to avoid (most of them) and determined what was and was not visible from the kitchen. Four steps down was the safe maximum distance. The door to the outside stairwell was quiet but not silent, and neither was the plumbing. A flush of the toilet in the small, showerless bathroom confimed what Kayla had said when the pipes softly (but not softly enough) positively whined. Running the water from the pedestal sink was an equally sure giveaway, so that was going to be a challenge if he needed them while they were home, so he just hoped his bodily functions would work with him on this.
Steve had already anticipated that leaving the house was too big a risk, so he’d brought a stash of protein bars, which were, unfortunately for him, in their early, cardboard-tasting iterations. Luckily, the refrigerator and pantry were pretty well-stocked, so he ate something that didn’t leave a trail, then took a quick shower, drying off with the towel Kayla had already used that morning. He then went on the hunt for a flashlight that wouldn’t be missed since he wouldn’t be able to turn on any lights without attracting attention. That’s when a stray thought became something of a compulsion. Countless conversations about Kayla’s life without him compelled him into her bedroom where he sat on her unmade bed and reached under the pillow. What he found there was so bittersweet he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. His patch – the one he’d last worn before he died and in countless jumps – now lay in his hand like a long lost friend. Kayla had told him that she slept with it under her pillow and sometimes held on to it in her sleep. Last night was one of those nights. “God, Sweetness, I’m so sorry, baby.” He wanted to put this Kayla out of her loneliness. Out himself to her. Tell her he never wanted to leave her. He sat there for a good long time before he made himself leave her room.
Steve checked the doors and windows and made sure no one was watching the house several times that day. Nothing out of the ordinary struck him, and he had to admit that after these four days no one had seemed to track him here, so that boded well.
The last thing Steve did before he disappeared upstairs for the night was turn on Kayla’s desktop computer. The feel of the keyboard beneath his fingertips made him pine to surf around the Internet. He’d gotten a small chance to do that at the Internet café, and now it was too hard not to do more of it, so he let himself for what was probably longer than he should have, laughing heartily at the really early generation websites. He got enough news and information on current events to give him what he needed to function, however, plus the amusement was exactly what he needed. The last thing he did before clearing out the browsing history and shutting down was send Kayla another email.
Hey Baby –
You don’t have to worry, I’ve got everything under control. I get to see you up close and personal but now I’m not sure that was such a good idea because I actally miss you more. You’re right here but I can’t touch you. And you’re so beautiful. Do you know how pretty you are? And our Little Sweetness? I missed so much. I missed it all. Please get here soon baby. I need you.
Love, Steve
That night Steve had to force himself not to laugh when Kayla couldn’t figure out where the last two Fuji apples went. If she’d checked the garbage she’d see both cores there. Instead when Stephanie insisted it wasn’t her, Kayla just shrugged and moved on. He just hoped she didn’t check for the box of crackers in the back of the pantry.
Steve’s bladder could not have been nore relieved when they left Friday morning. “That’s some good peein’,” he muttered as the relief replaced the strain. It wasn’t ideal having to schedule himself like this, but so it went the next day until that evening when things actually got tricky. Steph was long asleep when Steve heard the shuffling in the kitchen. He was lucky he heard her begin her ascent, because he’d gotten a bit lazy and had laid his head back and closed his eyes while still on the couch instead of behind it. In an instant he realized his error and dove out of sight just as Kayla made her way up the stairs. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest when she sat down that he couldn’t believe she couldn’t hear it. Blood rushed to his head as his mind raced. He’d been sitting on the right, and if she’d sat on that side she would have felt how warm the spot was. As it happened, she sat on the other side and somehow didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Shit, shit, shit! Steve screamed in his head, but what exactly was he supposed to do, not sit on the couch? Before he could obsess over it further a book appeared just above his head as it balanced on the back of the couch. Steve realized she was studying. He wasn’t sure what, because he was 100% sure she was a resident now, but the 1979 image it evoked in him was pleasant enough to calm him down. Of course, now he was stuck here until she left. But worried as he was about being found, he didn’t want her to go too quickly, either. She was there about an hour reading and talking to herself enough for Steve to guess that it was a medical journal of some kind. If this were a romantic comedy Steve would have had the obligatory struggle not to sneeze or the some other threat of discovery, but none of that happened. She simply read her journal while Setve lay hidden. Just before she went to bed, however, her cellphone rang with the Motorola theme. Steve glanced at his watch and wondered who would be calling her at such a late hour. Kayla gave a smiling little “hmmp,” before flipping open the phone.
“Hi Sam,” she answered in a clear voice that hinted at a smile. Steve felt a little … strange. It was a negative strange – like he was eavesdropping. Which he was. “Yes, I just finished it up, actually. Very promising … Mm-hmm … Yeah, according to the pathology, anyway … Well, I think it’s pretty clear from the journals that there’s a real application we can make of tamoxifen on node-negative patients, I just wish the trials weren’t so far off.”
It went on that way for a few minutes, and the shop talk made Steve’s eyes glaze over until suddenly Kayla’s voice changed. “Yeeeees,” she smiled, “one did make its way to my desk. Why do you ask?” Some things changed, but more of them stayed the same, and Steve knew that tone in her voice. She was flirting.
Steve’s jealous nature tugged one way while his reasonableness tugged the other. He did the math and remembered that there was a New Year’s Eve party that a seriously important doctor named Sam felt his wife up at, that he was a good kisser, and that he was a very nice guy. A combo that made Steve very territorial on the surface. He knew that it was all going to go nowhere fast, but listening to her get wooed right in front of him like this made the territoriality hard for his rationality to control.
“I-I-I …” Kayla sighed uncomfortable. “Thank you – Sam – for asking. I … Well, yes, I’ve noticed. I’m not that clueless, I just – I dunno. You’re my boss.” This was a very well-made Motorola phone, because Steve couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation at all and had to assume this Dr. Head of Oncology was not giving up so easily. “Don’t you think that’s splitting hairs a little bit?” Kayla said. “Your boss’s boss is still your boss … A dotted line? I’m in your rotation, that’s a pretty solid line, Sam,” she chuckled. After a pause, Kayla got very direct. “Ok, so look. I tried this once before, and it didn’t turn out so well. I’m not really dating material, and I’m not sure I want to be. I’m flattered, but –” Now Kayla was very silent for some time as Sam took over what Steve knew was a very convincing tack. Finally, Kayla answered. “Ok,” she said, “you wore me down. I – ok. On one condition, though, I have to talk to my sister and make sure she can watch my daughter. If she doesn’t have her own plans, then – yes, I’ll go to the party with you.”
It was only a few more mintues before the call ended, during which time Steve processed it all. What was most interesting to him was that the predominant feeling was not jealousy right now, it was the strange sensation of watching history happen in real time. It was a month before the New Year’s Eve party where Kayla would begin dating Sam just long enough to realize that she’d rather not would take place. He knew how this went, and being present for it like this was so bizarre that he felt more of that time paradox hit him in the gut. Was this how it was for Kayla in Chicago? He didn’t want to know.
Kayla got up and ran her finger lovingly over her husband’s handsome face in the framed photo on the shelf. He didn’t see what she was doing, but he did hear her sigh from across the room before she turned out the light and descended the stairs for bed. He waited to come out until he heard her in the downstairs bathroom. Then the house went dark, and Steve was left alone with the thoughts that wouldn’t let him shut his brain down the rest of the night.
The challenges continued on Sunday. The November fall had become December winter, bringing a heavy rainfall that kept his girls inside the entire day. He knew there would be days like this, but the anticipation of what he would do in this situation and the actual application of it were two entirely different things. For one thing, how to use the bathroom when they were awake was becoming a much greater concern. It was unavoidable that at some point he was going to have to go. He finally gave in to that and was surprised to realize that flushing wouldn’t be the problem, getting to the bathroom would. The downstairs toilet whined just the same as his did, so he just piggybacked his flushes onto theirs or waited till they were asleep; the floorboards, however, creaked under his weight, so he had to be very careful in getting from point A to point B within the small space of the attic. For another thing, eating. Steve was a hungry man in general, so subsisting on protein bars wasn’t his first choice, and even if it was he was now out of them, as well as the crackers. There was also, plain and simply, boredom. He’d gone outside to the landing beyond the door several times since he’d taken up residence there, but he dared not do it when they were home, so today while the rain poured down, Steve was feeling cooped up. Finally, and this was the hardest part, Steve was frustrated that Kayla was right in front of him but out of his reach. Her laugh was infectious as it floated up to him. More than once he found himself starting to think that maybe it would be ok to just tell her. Just shout for her. Tell her you’re alive! But something told him not to. He wasn’t sure what, but there was a very strong voice in his head insisting that although Dimera probably hadn’t thought to look here and that his girls were safe, he should lie low and wait for primary Kayla to get there. “Why? Dammit,” he muttered softly. He actually took a few steps across the creaky floor that no one seemed to notice, but that voice in his head was screaming at him. There aren’t enough hours in the day to explain it to her, that’s why. Just wait. So, he did. But every day that had gone by was a day the gulf they’d started to close between them stayed open. Steve really needed Kayla to arrive, because this woman was not his wife; he knew that now. But it had been five days, and it was clear that he could not hide out in this attic forever.
Steve was starving. If he didn’t get some food he was going to eat his shoe. So when Kayla’s light finally went out at just after 10pm he took a trip to forage. It was the first time since that first night that he’d left the loft while they were in the house. Very, very quietly, Steve opened the refrigerator. Lots of choices, but not a whole lot left that wouldn’t be missed. He quietly made himself a sandwich then brought it upstairs with a magazine from the recycle bin.
Stephanie Johnson was standing in the center of her room with her arms crossed in front of her as she stared at her ceiling. For the third night in a row it had been making noise. The first night it had been so windy that it blended in with all the other noises the house was making. The second night she followed her mom to the stairs and listened to her conversation with a man that wanted to take her to a work party. She was so busy thinking up how to get her to go that she didn’t quite register that the ceiling was continuing to make noise after her mom had already gone back to her room. Now here on the third night, she heard the squeaks above her head and thought back on those previous two nights. She knew it wasn’t the long-haired poof purring on Stephanie’s bed right now, and she wasn’t heavy enough to make the floor of the “loft,” as her mom called it, creak anyhow.
Stephanie was a practical girl. She was warm and sensitive and very idealistic, but she had a keen sense of curiosity, too. She liked to understand exactly how things worked and always had a potential answer for everything. That curiosity for which answer was the real one was like moth to a flame, and there wasn’t a conundrum she couldn’t tackle. So, when the next squeak that perked up her ears was followed by the soft but telltale whirr of the water pipes, Stephanie was sure something was up in that attic.
Maybe Mrs. Lopez was right.
Mama would laugh and shake her head at this, because that’s what she did every time their landlady, Mrs. Lopez, was here. She was terrified of this place and only came once a month to collect the rent. Even then, sometimes she just stayed in the driveway. At first Stephanie had no idea why the landlady acted so weird around them and thought she must not like her very much. But when Mama explained to her that this neighborhood is a little too expensive for them and that they got a deal on the hosue because Mrs. Lopez thought it was haunted Stephanie couldn’t have been more relieved. That was last year when she was nine. Mama had gone through this whole thing where she lit this stuff on fire and put smoke in the corners, something about sage.
“I just want to make sure you understand that there are no monsters here, baby girl. This is like monster-spray, only it’s ghost repellant.”
“Monster spray? Mama, I’m nine.”
“Your cousin is eight, and she’s still scared of monsters. Auntie Kim sprays for them every night.”
“Well, I’m not afraid of them.” Kayla raised her eyebrows. “Very much.”
“Mm-hmm. So, that’s why I’m saging the house, like the monster spray.”
“Do you think there are ghosts here?”
“Of coruse, not. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Well then I don’t either.”
Kayla crossed her arms in front of her and stuck out her chin. “Ya know, I believe you,” she chuckled. Then she snuffed the sage embers in the kitchen sink and slapped her hands of the residue. “I still think you’re a little young to have heard about something scary like ghosts being in your house. I didn’t know Mrs. Lopez was going to freak out and blab it in front of you. She’s got grandchildren, she should have been able to control herself, I mean I was right there, it’s not like she was alone in the house when your imagination can run wild.” She gathered her daughter into a hug. She was definitely getting older, but she didn’t tire of hugs from her mama. “You sure you’re not scared then?”
“Well … did Papa believe in ghosts?”
An image of the strange angel version of her husband that came to her after her ear surgery popped into her head, and she smiled sadly. “Your papa believed that a lot of things were possible, even if you couldn’t explain them. But he wasn’t afraid there might be ghosts in our house.”
Well, then that sealed it. “Well, if you’re sure, and Papa wouldn’t have been scared, then I’m fine, too.”
Kayla smoothed her daughter’s hair back. “Of course, you are, baby girl.”
And she was, too. Besides, Stephanie had lived here as long as she could remember. She knew all the walls and what every corner looked like. She and Jeannie would have contests, walking around with their eyes closed and timing themselves to see who could get from one end of the small house to the other the fastest. Stephanie always won, Jeannie always threw a tantrum. But neither of them had ever seen a ghost.
But now there was definitely something going on in the attic. She could hear it moving from one end to the other. And if it was a ghost, she wanted to know how it got there. Did it fly here? Could it go through the walls? Did it still have a brain? Could it talk to her? She knew there was no such thing as ghosts, but at the same time, the reckless, fearless part of her had to know what was up there, even if there was such a thing, after all.
Just to make sure it wasn’t her mom again, Stephanie popped her head into Kayla’s bedroom. Sure enough she was sound asleep, and Stephanie felt a tiny rush of excitement at the prospect of figuring out what made those noises tick. She grabbed the tiny lantern she used as a nightlight, made a small stop in the kitchen, and very eagerly began ascending the stairs.
Steve felt the strange sensation of something being sprinkled onto his face while he was still just this side of sleep. It wasn’t until he sneezed that he opened his eye. He squinted against the light shining directly at him from above but came awake immediately as his heart started to race. He desperately adjusted his patch and floundered in shock as he continued to lay prone behind the couch. What he heard next, however, was the very last thing he’d expected.
“Papa?”
The sound of Stephanie’s incredulous voice was the end of the drug haze he’d been existing in since he’d begun hiding out four days ago. He was discovered, and now this just got real. This was no longer him protecting them while he waited out Kayla’s primary awareness, this was now everything Steve had known he shouldn’t be doing – coming back from the dead like some some science fiction story – outing himself to his family – doing it all without the benefit of his partner there to do it with him.
Steve laid very still as Stephanie moved the light out of his eye. He saw her head leaning out over the back of the couch staring right at him a foot away, but he remained stock still, willing himself into invisibility. Unfortunately, Stephanie still saw him. Right there. Her father. In the … flesh? What was he?
“Is it you? Papa is it really you?”
Steve could’t believe the sound of his daughter calling him Papa. And Stephanie couldn’t believe the sight of the only person this could be lying on the floor behind the couch. He looked shocked, his eye open so wide she thought it might pop out of his head. Exhiliration swept through her at the prospect of her father looking at her. He was really looking at her!
“S-S-Stephanie …” he eked out. Her reaction was finally commensurate with the innate fear of the unknown that we sometimes call ghosts and sometimes call other things but are ultimately otherworldly, and flinched back. “Shh-it’s ok, shh—” Before Steve could quiet her he started coughing again on the powdery green substance Stephanie was vigorously shaking at him. It smelled suspiciously like a kitchen spice. He hacked as softly as he could into his arm to muffle the sound and then started laughing. “That sage?” Stephanie’s eyes went wide. “What are you doin’, tryin’ to season me for Thanksgiving dinner?” he chuckled.
“I … Thanksgiving was last week.” Her boldness didn’t wane, but now she wasn’t so sure what was going on here. “It’s … uh … for ghosts.”
“Ah,” Steve said in a very neutral, low tone, not wanting to spook her any more than he clearly saw she was in denial of. “Ok, shh, baby, lower your voice, can you do that for me? I’m not a ghost.”
Stephanie had not thought this all the way through and had no idea what to say, so she said the first thing that popped into her very confused head. “It’s like monster-spray. Mama used it once. Mrs. Lopez says we have ghosts.”
“I’m not a ghost, Stephanie.” His daugther’s face softened into something bittersweet, and it threatened to cursh his heart. It was her reaction to hearing her father say her name for the first time. She’d seen him hold her and play with her in the home videos they had, but never had she heard him say her name live and in person to her very face. “Baby, I know you’re in shock right now, but I need you to be very quiet,” he whispered, “and I need you to trust me. I’m not gonna hurt you, and I’m not a ghost.” Stephanie continued to stare wide-eyed. “Do you understand me?” She nodded. “Ok, I’m gonna stand up and come out from back here, now, ok? We can sit on the couch instead of behind it. Stand back now.” Stephanie did what he said, and before she knew it her very unghostly father was standing tall right in front of her.
“Your hair is short now.”
Steve smiled. “Yeah, I did a bit of a hack job on it.”
“It was still long when you died?”
Steve took a deep breath. He was really gonna have to do this. Dammit. “I’m … not dead. I know this is hard to understand, but it’s really me, and I’m not dead.”
“You’re really here? You’re my Papa? You’re not—you’re not a ghost?” She reached her hand out to try to touch him. He wanted nothing more than to feel the hand of his daughter in his. So, he took a chance and let her touch him. When their hands made contact, warmth filled him. His baby girl was here calling him Papa and holding his hand.
Steve nodded and tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “It’s really me. I’m really your Papa.”
Stephanie threw herself into her father’s arms and squeezed so tight around his middle that it almost felt like the jump had come for him. He immediately held her back, and he couldn’t help it when a tear slid down his face. The feeling of her father holding her made the tears well up in her eyes, and before she could stop it she was balling in silent cries against him. “Oh, Little Seetness … shh … it’s ok. It’s all ok, shh …” Stephanie nodded and smiled through her tears at the sound of him calling her Little Sweetess. After a few moments of Steve enjoying the feel of his first born in his arms, he dropped a kiss onto the top of her raven-haired head and pulled her off of him so he could look at her. Even through the redness of her eyes, he could see the daughter he would meet as an adult and couldn’t believe he was seeing her at age ten. What a gift. What a beautiful gift. Stephanie wiped her eyes, and Steve motioned for her to sit down. “Come here, sit down with me. Can you do that?” Stephanie nodded and sat.
“Now we have to whisper, ok?”
“Ok. Why?”
“Because we can’t tell your mama yet.”
“But … don’t you want her to know? She misses you.”
That torn feeling pulled at him. He wanted to ease the burden of his death on this Kayla. He wanted to give her the joy of their marriage and their love. But he had to wait. It wouldn’t be right.
“Yes, I do want her to know. And we’re gonna tell her, I promise you we will. We just have to wait a little bit longer.”
“Ok, how long?”
“I’m not sure, baby girl—”
“I thought you call me Little Sweetness? Right? Mama calls me Baby Girl, you call me Little Sweetness.”
Steve laughed softly at her very matter-of-fact knowledge in exactly whose pet name for her was whose. “Yeah, that’s right, your mama calls you Baby Girl, but I call you that, too, sometimes.”
“Really? ‘Cause she never calls me Little Sweetness. She says that’s your special name for me. I asked her to call me that once, but she wouldn’t. I think it was too hard for her.”
“I think you’re right,” he nodded his head sadly. Then he took her hand and kissed her knuckle.
Stephanie suddenly shot up and got very excited. “Let’s go wake her up! You can kiss her just like in Snow White! She’ll wake up and it’ll be happily ever after!”
“Shh!” God, she’s just like her Mama, can’t keep her voice down. “Please, baby, shh, sit back down here, let’s talk about it.”
She did so, and Steve did his best to make up the best story he could. It wasn’t easy, because Stephanie, ever practical, questioned everything. Finally, he told her a very watered down version of the truth.
“Ok, I’m going to tell you something very grown up, because you’re a very grown up girl, here. But you have to promise me that you’re not going to tell anyone. Not your mama, not your Aunt Kim, not your cousins, no one. Promise me.” Stephanie held out her pinky, and Steve went ahead and sealed the deal with his own, and the pinky swear was in effect. “There are some people out there who want me to come back to work for them. They made everyone think I was dead when you were a baby. I missed you so much, Little Sweetness. You and your mama. I would have done anything to come home, and now finally I’m here. But they can’t know or they’ll make me go back. So, we have to wait until I get that settled, and then we can tell your mama. Ok?”
“I dunno … Why can’t you just tell them you quit?”
“No more questions. We have a pinky swear. So, ok?” he looked at her significantly.
Invoking the pinky swear got her re-centered. “Ok.”
Stephanie talked his ear off for quite some time, telling him all about school and her family and his car – she really wanted to go into great detail about the Bluesmobile, and Steve was eating up every second of this like the starving man he was, but it was very late now, and she had school in the morning.
“No, please, a little longer!”
Steve didn’t want to let her go back downstairs any more than she wanted to leave the loft, but tomorrow was still Monday, he was still her father, and parent-mode spoke up. “Nope, it’s way past your bedtime, Little Sweetness. We can talk more tomorrow night.” And every other night he was here in this jump.
Finally she relented and crept back downstairs where she promptly passed right out. Steve, meanwhile, was numb. What just happened? “Hurry up, baby. You need to hurry up and get here, ‘cause I dunno if I can keep this up.”
Steve was awake and alert before the sun came up. The morning’s events were like a blur they happened so fast, and there was nothing he could do about them but let them unfold. Unless he just came on downstairs and said hello, but that was still his last choice. So, he stayed quiet while it all happened a floor below him.
“Hi, Sam, it’s Kayla,” Steve heard her just beyond the doorway in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry, I’m going to be just a little late this morning. But don’t worry, I will be there … No, it’s just my daughter isn’t feeling well, I have to find someone to watch her.”
Steve’s eyebrow lifted in suspicion. “Like mother like daughter,” he whispered exasperatedly through the knowing smile on his face.
“Yes, don’t worry, I won’t miss rounds … Ok, thank you for understanding … I—what?” Whatever Sam had said made Kayla lower her voice significantly when she next spoke. “Can we talk about that later?” Steve pumped his jaw. “No, I still haven’t talked to my sister, and I have to talk to Stephanie about it, too … I’m not—real—sure. Tonight, maybe? I’m sorry I don’t mean to leave you hanging, I’ll— … well, thank you for being so patient.” Now she took a big sigh, the stress level clearly ratcheting up every moment she couldn’t get off this call so she could line up someone to stay with her sick daughter. “Sam, let’s talk about this later, I really need to find someone so I won’t miss rounds … Ok. Yep. Thanks!”
Steve’s jealousy was completely at bay, because right now he had bigger fish to fry. Great big, mini-me, fast-one-pulling fish.
Unfortuantely for Kayla, no one she called panned out. He lost track after the fourth desperate call, which is when Stephanie walked in. “You need to get back in bed, I was just about to bring you this tea and toast.”
“I … just wanted to know when you were leaving?”
“Looks like not at all, I can’t find a sitter.”
“I’m ten! I don’t need a sitter!”
“Oh, no. I’ m not leaving you in the house alone, someone will call DCFS on me.”
“Mama, really, I’ll be ok. I … wont’ really be alone.”
Steve paced up and down the one floorboard that he knew was silent and growled in frustration. He knew what she was doing and couldn’t stop himself from letting go a groan of annoyance.
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean – I’ll have the TV.”
“I don’t think—”
“And books! I’ll read all of my books!”
Kayla chuckled. “Listen, it’s ok, I”ll just miss rounds, ok, that’s what moms do.”
“No!”
Kayla crossed her arms and stuck out her chin. “Stephanie, what is wrong with you?”
“I just mean I will feel so bad if you stay home. I know the oncology rotation is really important.”
“Not as important as the surgical, so how about you let me worry about that?”
Steve dropped his head into his hands. If he had to go another day in a row of everyone in the house all day, effectively stranding him up there, he was going to go bonkers.
Just then there was a rap at the kitchen door. Things then went from bad to worse.
“Mrs. Lopez!” Kayla squealed after she pulled open the door with relief. “Oh, Mrs. Lopez, I have a huge favor to ask you!”
“No-no, Meesees Johnsone, I no come een, you just can give me the check.”
“Actually, I can pay you more this month if you can just do me a quick favor! I only really need it till lunch, then I can come home, but can you stay here and watch Stephanie today?”
The middle-aged Mexican woman was still standing on the back doorstep. Steve went to his window and could see her end of the conversation.
“Heere? Inside the house?”
“Yes. I know you’re not comfortable here.” The older woman averted her eyes and started looking behind her for an escape. “But you’d be doing me such a big favor! It’s the end of my oncology rotation, I’m done in a month, really, and I can’t afford to miss any days if I can avoid it.”
“Mama, did you forget I’m almost eleven?” Kayla glared at her. “I don’t need Mrs. Lopez, I can stay by myself!”
“No, you cannot, now shush! Mrs. Lopez, please, I’ll pay you whatever you need, it’s just till after lunch. Can you do it? Please? Here, come in.” She took the woman by the arm and didn’t really give her a choice. “Here’s the rent, and I’ll give you some cash when I get back. Now, feel free to eat whatever you like. Ok?” The woman stared around the kitchen and eyed the staircase to the attic. “Don’t worry about the loft, just don’t go up there. I don’t think Steph is contagious, she can read and watch TV, and I’ll be back in time to give her lunch.” There was a big, pregnant pause, and finally the woman agreed.
“Ges, fine. But hurry, Meesees Johnsone. I no like to be inside very long.”
“Thank you!” She kissed the woman on the cheek, and Stephanie audibly tutted her tongue.
“Stephanie, take this tea and toast and get in bed. And you should be thanking Mrs. Lopez, please, where are your manners?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Lopez, I just … wanted to stay by myself.”
“Eets ok, carino.”
Steve only spent half an hour stewing over this, because a slow, steady whine in the pipes that he had positively nothing to do with built up to a low screech, and that was it for Mrs. Lopez. She spewed a long string of terrified,
garbled Spanish, and ran screaming from the house.
Stephanie bounded out of bed at the same time Steve flew down the stairs, the threat of discovery by the landlady clearly no longer an issue. They met in the hallway in front of the front door, an enormous smile plastered across Stephanie’s face.
“Ok, Papa, it’s just you and me, now!”
“Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “Stephanie, are you really sick?”
“No, of course not! It’s not every day you find your dad isn’t really dead, Papa! I’m playing hooky!’
Steve let out a pfft. “Of course, you are, stupid question.”
“Are you mad?” Steve saw that her face had fallen into mask of insecurity. Yes, he was pretty mad at her. But he was also completely amused in ways he couldn’t begin to explain to her. He also could plainly see that if he told her he was disappointed in her, here, just hours after she’d found him he was going to devastate her. Steve squared his stance and plowed his hand through his oddly-cut short hair.
“Nah. Not mad, Little Sweetness.” He shook his head and chuckled before pulling her against him for a hug she melted into. “It’s just that I know a little bit about Brady women playing hooky.”
“I’m a Johnson, Papa.”
“Yep, that’s for sure. But you got a good amount of Brady in you, too. And trust me, this apple has not fallen very far from her mama’s tree.”
They enjoyed the hug a little bit longer, then finally Stephanie said, “Do you want some of my toast?”
Steve smiled and pulled her back to look at her. “Ya know what?”
“What?”
“I’d love some.”