Afterlife. Part 12

Matt kept surprising Livy with the camera: "I see you!"

"Shut up."

"Livy, do not talk to your brother like that."

"Yeah, squirt."

"Don't call me squirt."

"Okay, squishy."

"Matthew, let's not do this. Don't tease her."

"He's teasing me."

And then, Matt had finished this brief video with a shot of his father pa.s.sing him a can of c.o.ke and saying, "Come on, kiddo, enough with the Spielberg act for now."

9.

Julie clicked on other videos. There was a series of strange ones, and she wondered if Matt might be getting artsy with the camera. A static shot of a beautiful house on a lake-maybe the lake in Rellingford, or one of the ones nearby. The house was gla.s.sed in on one side, reflecting the woods and the water. It was just a minute of a house.

Another was a shot of a chair. Nothing special about the chair. Just a wooden chair. When Julie looked closer, she saw there was a bit of rope on the floor, beneath the chair.

Another video was of a wasp's nest. Must've been in the eaves of their house. It was like a small gray curled hand, with holes in it. The camera kept going in and out of focus as Matt got closer to the nest. Then, the tip of his finger touched the edge of the papery nest, and quickly withdrew.

A small yellow wasp came out, its feelers vibrating. Then, a video that disturbed her, although she chalked it up to childhood fascination with the forbidden. It was just a dead dog, in the road, hit by a car, apparently. Matt had kept the camera on the dog's body.

As she flipped the videos on and off, she began to dread some of them-he had filmed her sleeping once. From the light through the bedroom window, it must've been early morning.

Matt touched the edge of her cheek with his hand, and then quickly withdrew it.

The face of the sleeping Julie flushed a slight red, as if the warmth of his hand had caused a reaction.

In another one, Matt had simply filmed himself, in the hall mirror. He looked as if he'd worked himself into some kind of frenzy-his face was pale and s.h.i.+ny with sweat, his eyes were encircled with dark smudges, and he began touching his face all over as if checking to see if there were something wrong.

One of the videos had Matt talking to a girl at school, roughly his age. Where were they? It might've been the bathroom. The walls were green, with some light from a nearby window. She was pressed against the wall, and he kept closing in on her face with the camera. She had tears in her eyes. "Don't make me," she said. "Please don't make me."

10.

Julie turned it off. Sat there, stunned. Didn't know what to think. She glanced at the clock on the wall-it was nearly eleven.

After several more of these brief video clips, she found the video that had the woman in it.

The woman in the city.

She was young, and she was beautiful, and she looked like the kind of woman in her twenties who would make Hut happy.

Julie felt an insane kind of jealousy. She hated the woman. She wanted to know who she was. She felt she must be losing it if she thought a woman who happened to be at the edge of a video that her stepson had shot might be a woman who had been seeing her husband.

But still, her blood boiled a bit when she saw the redhaired woman, and her mind began imagining things.

11.

She used the close-up feature to try and get a better look at the red-haired woman. Had she seen her before? She didn't think so. Surely this was just a stranger who happened to cross the street at the moment Hut had asked Matt to put down the camcorder.

Then, she replayed other videos of the city trips on Boys' Day Out. She saw the street again. Rosetta Street. She wasn't sure where that was. Why would Hut and Matt be walking down that street more than once or even twice? Four times, over four or five months? Winter to spring?

Then, on the edge of one of the digital videos, she thought she saw a flash of red. She hit the close-up b.u.t.ton, and zoomed in. The woman? Was that her face? It looked like it. It might've been just some other person with red hair. But it looked like the woman.

She went back to the first video that Matt had watched when she'd arrived. The Chelsea Market. Matt and Hut coming out, the camcorder capturing a moment when Hut took a sip from the white cup of coffee.

Just over Hut's shoulder, a handful of people. She had thought they were waiting for a bus or just talking at the corner with each other.

The woman with the red hair was there, too. This time, without sungla.s.ses. She was a bit indistinct, even in close-up. But she had glanced over to Hut and Matt and the camcorder's unerring lens just before Matt turned the camcorder off.

12.

"Why don't you just ask him?" Mel asked. They went out for a brisk walk in the late afternoon suns.h.i.+ne, while Laura looked after the kids for an hour. They were walking along the road in front of the house, then headed down the hill toward the lake.

"I can't. You know how he is. I just don't want to nudge him."

"Nudge him?"

"Push him. I saw some of his videos. Some are all sunny and bright and happy. But a few are just...strange. And he filmed me sleeping. And the one of his cla.s.smate. I don't know. It seemed...intrusive. Like he was making her do something."

"You're reading too much into it, Jules. For all you know, that was a drama a.s.signment. Or it was something completely innocent. You won't know unless you ask him."

"All right. All right," Julie said, clenching her fists as she walked. "But those other tapes. In the city. Seeing that woman."

"Maybe you're looking for things to make yourself feel better about it," Mel said, her voice having a curious edge to it as if she were hiding something.

Julie stood still. Mel walked a few paces behind her, then turned around. "What?"

"What did you mean by that?" Julie asked.

"n.o.body would blame you. It's overwhelming to me that Hut's gone, too. That some psycho kills him in the woods not five miles from his home. But you have got to set your mind in balance, fast, Julie. You have two kids who are depending on you. Who need you badly. I'm sorry to put it this way. I am. But you have to pull it together, slap yourself awake and forget anything you're afraid of from the past and move forward. You want to see a therapist? See a therapist. You want to take a month off work? I bet the insurance will kick in and give you summer off if you want it. But you have got to get yourself together and not dwell. That's the best I can put it."

"What exactly do you mean by 'feeling better about it.' About what?"

"Hut. Being gone. Maybe if you think he was cheating on you, somehow you can deal with it."

"This is not Little Julie weaseling out of anything," Julie said. "This is not me at ten years old not wanting to deal with mom and dad's divorce, Mel. I loved him. I loved him. I loved him. I will never love any man like that again. I miss him. I ache at night knowing that I won't ever wake up beside him again. I am torn down the middle when I have a dream about him. I have to fight to keep from crying when Livy comes to me in the middle of the night because she wants me to help get G.o.d to send him back to us. I have to look her in the eye. She has nightmares three nights a week that a ghost is coming for her. She is seeing a psychiatrist, for G.o.d's sake. My six-year-old daughter. And Matt. Oh my G.o.d, Mel, Matt. I have to keep him from hurting himself and maybe anyone else. I have to keep him safe when his own mother would not. And I have to tell them that life is still good. That it's still worth something. Even if I don't feel it inside. Even if I'm not sure it's true. I'm not sure there's good in the world. I'm not sure that this life is worth living. I'm not sure that if the man I love can be torn from me by some-some obscene insane f.u.c.ked-up human being who the police can't seem to catch-that I can look at my children and say, 'G.o.d loves you. The world is G.o.d's creation. We have a wonderful life.' I'm not sure I can ever, ever believe that. And I won't lie to them. But I want to know who Hut was. I want someone else to tell me what I didn't know. I want to feel that life is worth living. Do you understand me? Do you? Can you?" I will never love any man like that again. I miss him. I ache at night knowing that I won't ever wake up beside him again. I am torn down the middle when I have a dream about him. I have to fight to keep from crying when Livy comes to me in the middle of the night because she wants me to help get G.o.d to send him back to us. I have to look her in the eye. She has nightmares three nights a week that a ghost is coming for her. She is seeing a psychiatrist, for G.o.d's sake. My six-year-old daughter. And Matt. Oh my G.o.d, Mel, Matt. I have to keep him from hurting himself and maybe anyone else. I have to keep him safe when his own mother would not. And I have to tell them that life is still good. That it's still worth something. Even if I don't feel it inside. Even if I'm not sure it's true. I'm not sure there's good in the world. I'm not sure that this life is worth living. I'm not sure that if the man I love can be torn from me by some-some obscene insane f.u.c.ked-up human being who the police can't seem to catch-that I can look at my children and say, 'G.o.d loves you. The world is G.o.d's creation. We have a wonderful life.' I'm not sure I can ever, ever believe that. And I won't lie to them. But I want to know who Hut was. I want someone else to tell me what I didn't know. I want to feel that life is worth living. Do you understand me? Do you? Can you?"

Mel had a blank look on her face. Nothing had registered. "Julie. It's been months. It's not like you have this luxury life. Your kids need you. I'll help out. But don't dwell on every little unsolved mystery of his life. He was a man. No one is perfect. You loved him. You have a beautiful daughter. She needs you like she's never needed anyone before. You're never going to find out if he cheated on you. He's dead. Think of Livy. Put her first, and things will fall into place. I'm not sure that therapist is doing you any good. If you want to talk to a minister or priest..."

Julie felt an overwhelming desire to explode at her sister, but instead turned around and walked back up the hill toward her house.

13.

She went up to her bedroom, shut and locked the door. She called the phone number she'd found in Hut's jacket so many months before she couldn't remember which month it had been. It felt disloyal to his memory to call it, but she reasoned that if he had been having an affair-which, with the distance of his death and the perspective she'd gained from becoming a widow, suddenly, in a violent circ.u.mstance-maybe it was partly her fault, too, maybe she was too involved with the kids and the ER and the idea of them as a couple instead of what he needed with all the stress he had at the clinic. Maybe it was just the nature of men. "All men cheat," her mother had warned her before she'd married. Perhaps it was true.

Mel's wrong. It won't make it easier. I don't want Hut gone. I don't want to believe he's gone. I just want to know something. Something true about him. Even if it was that he wasn't in love with me anymore. Even if it's bad news.

She whispered it aloud, as she thought it, "I don't want to lose him yet."

She gasped. She hadn't realized how overpowering the unspoken feeling had been.

Maybe no one will pick up.

She would tell the red-headed woman-whether real or imaginary-that Hut had died. That they'd both loved him. Blah blah blah, she'd say, being a wonderful and generous and forgiving widow.

Hang up, Julie. Just hang up the phone. You don't need to know who she is. You don't need to find out.

Someone picked up the phone on the other end.

Julie felt herself choke up. She couldn't even say, "h.e.l.lo."

On the phone, the person who had picked up said nothing, but Julie heard breathing.

Julie waited a few seconds, glancing out to the golden afternoon beyond her window.

The breathing quieted, and then she heard a woman's voice whisper, "It's her." "It's her."

Then, the dial tone.

Julie tried calling back again, but the line was busy.

Then, she tried again. This time, again she heard the breathing.

"Who are you? Did you know my husband? Did you?" she asked. She heard a faint echo, as sometimes happened, and it pained her to listen to her own stressedout voice coming back at her, "Who are you? Did you know my husband? Did you?" "Who are you? Did you know my husband? Did you?"

She closed the phone, and set it down and began weeping.

Chapter Ten.

1.

The next day, she tried the number again, but it was disconnected.

2.

Julie got an email from her mother: Dear Juliet, Melanie told me about the cops and the psychic stuff, and I don't know if you knew this, but there were programs, sponsored by our own government, for special schools and testing projects for children who showed psychic ability. Maybe Hut was one of those? There was a fire at one, in Chelsea, in 1977. Seven children died. Four instructors. It was an off-shoot of the Manhattan Psychical Research Inst.i.tute, but was funded by tax dollars. I found all kinds of stuff online about it. What are the odds? Also, if Livy keeps having nightmares, you might want to get her another nightlight. That might help. Tell her that Gramma loves her.

Love, momma.

Julie sent an email to Mel: Mel- Please don't encourage Mom with anything you hear from me about Hut and the murder. She now is Googling search engines to find out every psychic program in existence to prove her point that Hut was psychic. The Horror Show that is our mother is set loose upon me and I want it to stop. SOS.

Then, from Mel, she got this: Julie- I didn't know any of this was off-limits. I'll call mom off you. But do you think she's right? She told me once that Hut told her that she needed to get her brakes fixed, and how would he have known that? Maybe he was psychic.

Love, Mel Julie shot off another email to Mel: Mel- Stop it. It's upsetting me. Yes, he had those little intuitions, but he was an intelligent, welleducated man, and many people could guess that a woman who drove a twenty-year-old car and never took it into the shop might want to get her brakes checked.

Between you and McGuane and mom, you'd have Hut involved in some conspiracy theory with UFOs. You don't believe in psychics, do you?