Chapter 2
2
M y eyes narrow as I expand the photo of the bedroom and see the hideous floral wallpaper. I cringe as the sight brings back a visceral memory of staying in my grandmothers’ guest room when I visited them, and Granny knocking on my door to wake me up at 6am. She thought I was being "lazy" even though it was my summer vacation and I was in middle school.
I click to the next image in the online listing, hoping maybe the rest of the house isn’t as bad. “This place is…”
It's a struggle to think of anything positive to say about it, but I don't want to be an asshole when my sister has been doing all the legwork to help me find somewhere to move.
“It’s adorable, right?” Emma exclaims, scooting over on the couch to get close enough to look over my shoulder. Her enthusiasm falters when her eyes flit from the laptop screen to my face, and I’m unable to hide my tepid reaction. “Sure, some of the decor is more cottagecore than your typical monochrome, important business dude nonsense, but you can always change that. Look at the bones of the place. Wouldn't it be so nice to sit and drink your morning coffee here?” She points to the bay window with a large seat set into it, but it’s almost impossible for me to ignore the jarring yellow paint on the walls surrounding it.
Emma always finds the bright spot in things. She's the optimistic sunshine to my dark cloud of pessimism. It used to be a lot easier to let her rays of enthusiasm pierce through my gloom, but the storm of my mind is almost impenetrable after the last few years.
As I continue to look through the gallery, I actively have to force myself to see past the old lady aesthetic and focus instead on the base details. The kitchen is a garish yellow, but it gets morning sun and has marble countertops. The aforementioned wallpaper in the main bedroom is tragic, but the room itself is spacious, with a brick fireplace and a huge shower in the attached bathroom. Under the listing info, it says that all the appliances were updated within the past year, and whoever lived here didn’t cheap out on any of them.
That last part is odd. Based on the decor, it’s clear the house was owned by an elderly woman. Not to be morbid, but why would she put top of the line new appliances into her home? She must not have known she didn’t have much time left.
“Emma…” I turn away from my laptop and level my gaze on my sister. “Did the woman who owned this house die in it?”
She bites her lower lip as her eyes dart down to the floor and back up to mine—her tell for guilt that she’s had since we were kids.
“She did!” I say, poking an accusatory finger toward her. “You want me to move into a place where an old lady died? There have got to be better options out there.”
“It’s not a big deal. I asked the realtor about it, and she said that the previous owner didn’t die in the home. Yeah, she haunts it, but?—”
“You’re telling me that the house you found for me to move into is haunted?” I ask, deadpan. As if the weird decor wasn’t bad enough.
“Well… yes!” Emma huffs, acting like I'm the one being ridiculous.
I glare at her. “ Emma. ”
When I asked my sister to help me look for a house in Moonvale, I knew she’d pick some quirky options that fit her sensibilities, but a haunted house is a bit much, even for her.
“ Noah ,” she says back, crossing her arms over her chest and returning my stern stare with a mock serious one of her own.
I scrub my face with my hand, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t believe you’re fucking around while I only have a few weeks left to find a place before my new job starts.”
“I’m not fucking around! It’s the best option. The housing market in Moonvale is competitive, so the fact that it’s haunted is the only reason it hasn’t been snatched up yet. But it’s fine! It’s just a sweet, harmless old lady.”
“How do you know that? Not that I believe in ghosts, but not all old ladies are sweet. Nana was an angel, sure. But Granny was a total bitch.” I shake my head, wondering how the hell Nana put up with her wife for almost sixty-five years. “May she rest in peace,” I add, hoping to avoid Granny’s wrath from beyond the grave.
My sister cackles at my assessment. “She’s fine. It’s the devil tasked with torturing her in hell that I’m worried about.” Her expression sobers. “Noah, I’m serious. I felt a presence both times I toured the place. It wasn’t hostile. If anything, it felt almost like she was trying to tell me that the place was meant for you.”
Of course Emma believes that there’s a happy spirit guiding her. She thought Santa was real until she was sixteen. I don’t want to argue with her, though, so I press for more details than "feeling a presence". “Is this assessment based only on vibes?”
Emma scowls at my disbelief. “No! On the first walkthrough, I mentioned the kitchen looked like a great space to bake in, and there were warm chocolate chip cookies waiting for me when I went back to check it out a second time.”
I can’t help but scoff, which makes my sister's frown deepen. “That sounds like a ploy from the realtor to lure in gullible buyers, not a ghost.”
“It wasn’t the realtor! She took me to see three other places beforehand—all of them total shit compared to this house, by the way. There was no way she could’ve put fresh-baked cookies out for me.” Emma waves her hands emphatically. “I’m telling you, this is your house. The spirit wants you there.”
The realtor having an accomplice to help with the cookies sounds far more likely than a ghost baking to welcome her. I’m about to argue with Emma more about her terrible choice of a home for me, but I stop myself.
Ghosts aren’t real. Why the hell do I give a shit about the place being “haunted”? I’m a thirty-two-year-old man, not some scared kid hiding under the covers because I heard something in the dark. I haven’t believed in ghosts since I was six and thought the air conditioning rustling my curtains at night was a spirit trying to scare me.
I look back at the gallery on my computer screen, and flip through to find a beautiful, though overgrown herb garden in the backyard. I’ve always loved plants, but didn’t have time or space for them when I moved into my shoebox apartment in downtown Fairview. It would be nice to have a garden...
“Alright,” I sigh. “If you really think this is my best option, I trust you.”
My sister smiles and claps her hands together excitedly. “It is! Now, are you going to thank me for finding you a place to live or what?”
I pat her shoulder. “Thanks, Em. You’re a lifesaver.”
She shoves my hand away. “Ugh, really? I was expecting cash. Or an IOU from my rich, powerful brother.”
I laugh. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else. I’m leaving the high-paying job and I’m moving out of the city.”
Thank fuck for that. The past few years of politicking and ass kissing to climb the corporate ladder were more than enough for me. I’m ready to leave all that shit behind.
“If anything, I should be bugging you for money. Don’t think I don’t know how much you make with your…uh, livestreams.”
“Who, me?” Emma bats her eyes innocently at me, but she’s not fooling anyone. I’d never say a word to her, but I’m still a little peeved that I worked my ass off to cover the tuition costs for her nursing degree, and yet two months after she graduated she decided she wanted to be a cam girl instead of a nurse.
It had something to do with wanting to capitalize on her tits while she could. I blocked a lot of that conversation out because I don’t need to know the details. All that matters is that she’s happy. Hell, she makes more money in a few hours of work than I ever did at my old job. Makes me wish she’d discovered her passion for exhibitionism a little sooner.
I shove that thought aside. I chose to give up the past few years for my family, and I’d do it all again. Please don’t take that as an invitation though, universe. Once was enough.
“Seriously though. Thanks.” I tug my sister into a hug, and she squeezes me back tight. She, of all people, knows how important this move is for me.
It’s time to leave the past behind and start a new chapter of my life. The first step was finding a house. Now that we’ve found a decent place for me to move—even if it desperately needs decor changes—I’m eager to get the ball rolling.
Once I’m away from the city, my old job, and the baggage of the past few years, maybe I’ll finally be able to breathe again.
My chest rattles concerningly when I try to suck in a breath as the afternoon sun beats down on me.
Damn, I need to work out more. Years of being chained to my desk working overtime to impress my boss and secure my next promotion really took a toll on my body. I’ve always been a big guy, but I was strong underneath all the padding. Now I’m having a tough time not getting out of breath carrying boxes from the rental van into my house.
I pause to wipe my brow with my shirt and catch my breath, hoping Emma doesn’t catch me slacking off. She wanted me to hire a mover, but I insisted I could handle it on my own. Even knowing how much I have in my bank account now that things with Dad have finally settled down, I’m still scared to spend any money. Too many years of cutting costs and fighting to stay on top of a mountain of bills. Letting myself buy a house instead of renting a crappy apartment was a mental battle that I only won because Emma wouldn’t stop pestering me about how “I needed to do something nice for myself for once.”
My respite only lasts a few more seconds before my sister comes darting out of the house, eyes wide. She sprints over to where I’m loading more boxes into my arms, and I marvel that she still has enough energy to run.
“Dude! She’s here!”
My brow furrows as I try to make sense of Emma’s words. “Who is here? The realtor?” I thought we were done with all the paperwork, but maybe there’s some last thing that needed to be signed.
Emma shakes her head, bouncing on her heels like she can’t contain her excitement. “No! The ghost . Come say hi!”
I roll my eyes. I love my sister, but she’s gullible. She’s always fantasized about things like fairies and magic and paranormal shit, so her mind is primed to believe that my new place has a ghost living in it.
I, on the other hand, have always been a skeptic. Though, even if I hadn’t been, any part of me willing to believe in magic died the day Dad got his cancer prognosis shortly after Mom’s funeral.
“Can we save the ghost nonsense for after we’ve gotten everything inside?” I grunt, moving past her with my load of boxes. “I want to get done with this so we can return the moving van before the place closes tonight.”
Emma catches up to me, walking by my side with a spring in her step despite the dining chair she’s carrying. “You shouldn’t be rude to her. She’s a sweet old lady who wants to make you feel welcome.”
When we get inside, I set my burden down in the kitchen. She’s not going to let this go, so it’s easier if I play along and get it over with. “Fine. Do I shout out my greeting, hoping that she hears me? Or do I need to go into each room and wait for the lights to flicker and the smell of potpourri to fill the air, letting me know she’s nearby?”
My sister snorts and shrugs. “I don’t know ghost protocol, but maybe try saying ‘hi’ in a regular way, like she’s in the room with us right now.”
While this is asinine, at least it’s giving me a break from the heat. I let out a long-suffering sigh, then look around the empty kitchen. “Hi ghost. I’m Noah. It’s, uh, nice to meet you.”
“See, that wasn’t so bad!” Emma nudges me and I suppress a laugh at her antics. “Oh! Thank her for the brownies, too.”
“What brown—” I cut my question off as my eyes catch on a tray of brownies sitting on top of the stove.
You’ve got to be shitting me.
I narrow my eyes at Emma. “Look, I know you think you’re being cute with this whole ‘ghost grandma who haunts via baked goods’ thing, but this is silly, even for you.”
Emma’s dark brows pinch together in frustration. “It’s not silly. She baked them for you.”
I scoff and turn away from her, dismissing her nonsense. This is either an elaborate prank, which I wouldn’t put past her, or the heat is messing with her head.
“We don’t have time to screw around, Em. You can stay in here and talk to your fake ghost friend if you want, but I’m going to bring in the rest of the stuff so I can take the van back, wash off the buckets of sweat I’m drenched in, and maybe order some shitty takeout before I pass out from exhaustion.”
“I didn’t put the brownies here!” she protests. “Besides, even if there isn’t a ghost, and the realtor put them there, can’t you just relax and have fun for five seconds?”
Anger bubbles up inside me at the seemingly innocuous question. “No, I can’t!” I snap, startling us both with the vitriol in my voice.
It’s so fucking easy for her to smile and joke—she didn’t spend years chipping away pieces of herself for the sake of others. The part of me that knows how to have fun is long gone, and I don’t know if it will ever come back.
Emma’s teasing smile falls. “Okay. Sorry. Forget it. I’ll go grab some more boxes.”
I feel a sharp stab of regret seeing her happiness wiped away because her brother is a bitter asshole. I follow her toward the door, ready to apologize for being a jerk, but my foot catches on something and I stumble, knocking my arm into the door frame hard enough that it’ll leave a bruise.
I glare at the floor, looking for the offending box I tripped on, but there’s nothing there. A cold sensation prickles down my spine, and I have the absurd feeling that something is watching me. I reach out into the space where I stumbled, a part of me expecting to connect with an invisible form.
There’s nothing there. Of course there isn’t. The heat and exertion are messing with my head. Rubbing my arm where I bumped it, I give the spot where I tripped one last glance and head back out to the van.