Chapter 12 #2
“What is this place, anyway?” Charlie asked from the backseat.
Charlie , Ellie’s first boyfriend. He looked the same as she remembered, like a golden retriever of a quarterback.
Hearing his voice brought back the sweat smell of him under her sheets.
Despite having almost nothing in common, their attraction had been undeniable.
“It’s a house,” Ben said. “Of the haunted variety,” he added, with the appropriate amount of theatrics.
Charlie’s buy-in was instant. “ Whoa .”
“I have this old friend who is a paranormal expert. He says this place gets more activity than anywhere in town.” Ellie nodded along in solidarity.
She loved Ben’s stories, even if they strayed from the truth.
Hours earlier, the two of them had heard about an abandoned “eyesore” from their dad’s friend on the board of the historical society.
Now, they were driving out to the—probably not haunted—eyesore to explore it. “You want to hear the whole story?”
Ben’s girlfriend tensed in the backseat.
Her French manicured fingers clung to the edges of her cardigan.
Ellie could remember so much about this girl.
She wore small daisy clips in her hair and intentionally pronounced certain words with an English accent because her family had summered in London.
What Ellie couldn’t remember was her name.
“You’re going to love this one, Marnie,” Ben said. He drummed his hands on the steering wheel.
Marnie. His girlfriend’s name had been Marnie, and she wasn’t his type.
Ben had a thing for theater girls, weird girls, and girls deeply invested in fringe causes outside of their control, like nearly extinct bugs or rare types of household mold.
Ben had broken up with Marnie a few weeks after this.
Ellie had dumped Charlie around the same time, before his homecoming game.
She really didn’t want to attend a homecoming game.
“Sorry, Charlie,” she said. Ellie wondered, in the aftermath, how many women would say that to him throughout his life.
Wind rattled against the sides of the car.
As the road veered to the right, the startled black eyes of a deer gleamed out from a thicket of trees.
Ben took a deep breath to signal he was about to start his made-up story.
“A long time ago, this woman moved into a mansion,” he said, rolling the window down.
Chilly air settled on Ellie’s shoulders.
“You know, a widow with buckets of money, that kind of woman. This widow was known for two things.” He extended two fingers above his head for emphasis.
“She wore black for a year straight, and she spoke about her dead husband like he was still kicking.”
A small green dinosaur on the rearview mirror bobbed along as an opera singer joined the frantic instruments.
Ben had bought the dinosaur in a gas station after getting his license.
Will-asaurus, he’d named him for an attendant who helped him fill his first tank.
While their parents excelled at teaching manners and menu pronunciations, relaying real life skills was left to chance—or in this case, a stranger.
“Our widow, well … she starts inviting suitors up to the mansion.” Ben glanced up at the mirror to make sure he still had a captive audience.
“So, these dapper gents go up to the house to have a nightcap, and they start to disappear. Feathers were ruffled, but nobody found anything. Fifty years later, a nice couple moves in. They plant a garden.”
An outline of a house etched itself at the top of the hill.
“The husband goes to dig out an old well that’s getting in the way of his tomato plants and that’s where he finds the bodies. Six bodies. The suitors were thrown right down there with the dead husband.”
Charlie was suspended forward, his jaw dangling midair. Ellie could sense this was her chance to back up Ben’s campfire story. “I think I’ve heard this one,” she chimed in.
“You have?” Marnie shivered.
Ellie nodded. “The dead husband went into a rage over the other suitors.” She forced a tremor in her voice. “Now he haunts this place. When you see his ghost, he pulls his heart right out of his chest.” Marnie gasped as the car flew over a bump.
As they neared the house, it grew features. The Gothic hideout was built from forlorn brick, and a wide stone entryway formed a mouth caught in a scream. Ben’s foot pressed on the brake, and the car halted to a stop after another bend in the road. “There!” he whispered. “Do you see it?”
“See what?” Charlie asked, his gullible face searching. Marnie’s shoulders scrunched up to her ears.
“In the woods.” Ben tapped his window. “Something moved out there.” He threw the car in park and stepped into the night.
In his studded leather jacket, smudged black eyeliner, and moody skinny jeans, this new look marked the entrance to his rocker phase.
Ben didn’t play instruments, but that didn’t stop him from dressing like the bassist in a pop-punk band.
Wham! Something slapped the back of the car.
Charlie gripped the headrest in front of him like a life jacket, and Marnie’s crimped hair nearly hit the ceiling.
Then, laughter sounded from outside. Ben ducked back into the front seat, and they started up the hill again.
He held his palm in the air, awaiting Ellie’s high five. “Easy crowd,” he said.
The car glided into an elegant motor court where a valet or butler would’ve greeted guests.
Two angels sprouted from the center of a stone fountain that had been turned off for years, and weeds blanketed a porch draped in cobwebs.
Despite all that, the structure was impressive, more of a castle than a house.
“Here we are, intrepid travelers,” Ben announced, killing the engine.
The inside of the house called for flashlights. Luckily, Ben had planned ahead. One by one, they flicked their lights on and beamed them over the abandoned living room and up a stairwell that rose toward a second story.
“Why are we here?” Marnie pouted.
“Can’t you picture it?” Ben tucked his flashlight under his chin.
“An inferno in the fireplace right there.” He galloped to the center of the living room.
“Here, a table where they’d put a silver tea set.
Up there”—he pointed to an empty wall—“a personal art gallery belonging to the dead husband.” By the time Ben finished his tour, Marnie and Charlie had wandered off on their own.
Ben kicked at some fallen wood on the ground. “Fine people we’ve picked, sis.”
“I can see it,” Ellie said, in awe. “I can see the potential here.”
They passed their dates in the kitchen and moved toward a blue-tiled room where an indoor pool had been.
The details of what once was took shape as Ben bounced the flashlight against the walls.
There was a maid bringing drinks out, Ellie felt, an echo of happy squeals that traveled into the vaulted ceilings, the lapping of water from a little girl’s arms.
“I think there’s something else over here.” Ben waved Ellie outside. “Come on.” They stepped onto a sprawling outdoor veranda turned to shambles. “Sit,” he insisted, hopping down onto some dilapidated stone and settling into a cross-legged stance. It was almost certainly a dangerous place to sit.
“You couldn’t just let them think it was a regular old house,” Ellie said.
“It’s not a regular old house,” he told her. “It’s special. I just expanded the story to get their attention. Creative license.”
“Well, everything’s better with a few ghosts,” Ellie replied.
“Not exactly.” Ben tilted his head toward the sky. “You know, I’m probably more afraid of ghosts than our friend Marnie.”
Ellie assumed he was kidding. Ben was fearless.
He was also drawn to the macabre. Halloween was about watching every scary movie together.
This ritual was a relief to their mom, since their costume choices would’ve alarmed the neighborhood.
One year, they’d dressed as Drew Barrymore and Ghostface.
The next, they reimagined the films of Tim Burton.
Sandra startled when she entered the kitchen and found Ellie ripping open a bag of chips with scissors for hands and Ben’s Lydia Deetz egging her on from the other side of the marble island.
“Seriously?” Ellie asked. “I’m supposed to believe you , Ben Marshall, are scared of ghosts?”
“I am,” Ben admitted. He got quiet. “They’re a reminder.
No matter how big or small a life you live, eventually we’re all just …
” He swirled his hand through the wind. “Forgotten. Unless,” he said, holding up his flashlight under his chin, “some weird kids come to visit and save you from that fate.”
Before Ellie could respond, Charlie and Marnie found their way outside. It wasn’t long after this night that the two of them started dating. Maybe the outing was the moment it began, their courtship blossoming thanks to the excitement of being in a forbidden place late at night.
Ben pulled a tape player from his pocket.
He clicked the Play button and David Bowie joined them for a dance to “Oh! You Pretty Things.” Halfway through the song, Ben handed his Polaroid camera to Marnie and pulled Ellie aside for a photo.
The stars in the night were crisp and bright; they asked, much like the house, to be remembered, too.
“You’re quiet,” Drake pointed out on the car ride home.
“I’m fine,” Ellie said. She wasn’t fine. She wished she could call Ben, for it to be that simple. Ben was the person who would immediately believe her about the cinema; he wouldn’t need convincing that magical places could exist just for them.
Ellie feared Drake was going to pry, but in a saving grace, her phone dinged first. Ellie opened the email. The sender wasn’t Ben, of course, but they were completely unexpected. “Umm.”
“What?”
“It’s an email from my dad.” Ellie debated if she should share the contents with Drake as she scanned the short paragraph.
“What does it say?”
She sighed and surrendered. On any other night, she’d delete it, but seeing Ben opened up a longing for some taste of family. Even if the taste was bad, like the homemade almond milk her dad brought her on his last visit.
“He wants us to come out for Thanksgiving,” Ellie told him. “With five days’ notice.”
“So? That could work.”
“What about Nancy?”
“Ask if she can come with,” Drake suggested. “I think your dad would like her. They’re both free spirits.”
“No,” Ellie said. “No, no, no.” Drake gave a look that implied they should say yes.
“No!”