George
The battered hardwood floors creaked as Marlena paced the room where Click resided. She’d asked me to bring her to the Hell House so she could see Click for herself. When we’d arrived, and I showed her to Click’s bedroom, she did exactly as Charlotte had when she’d first found the soul of the young girl and she tried to speak to her. She shouted, stomped, yelled.
“That won’t work,” I finally told her. I’d watched my wife practically perform Olympic backflips to get Click’s attention until I pulled her away.
Marlena, undeterred, started tapping her fingers against the wall exactly the way Charlotte had when she’d tried to explain to me what Click was doing. I crossed my arms impatiently, regretting agreeing to leave Charlotte just to watch Marlena do the exact same things Charlotte had with the same results. I knew deep down helping Click was what Charlotte would’ve wanted, but I also wanted to get back to the hospital. The only reason I hadn’t already left was because Charlotte’s parents were with her, and I knew they wanted time with her without me around. Sniper had agreed to come with us, in case we encountered any unexpected inhabitants or squatters, and now he was providing me emotional support as he gave me a quick pat on the back, his way of telling me to be patient.
“Charlotte thought she’d figured out how to help her,” Marlena explained.
My head jerked up. “You’ve seen something?”
Marlena nodded. “Charlotte figured out she liked piano. Beethoven. She played it for Click.”
“It was on her phone,” I acknowledged, grateful to finally understand why the video had been on her phone. She must have played it for the girl just before she’d fallen unconscious.
Marlena stared off, slipping her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “She was close, but…the child doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know how to cross over. Charlotte was upset.” Marlena blinked a few times and slowly stepped across the floor, as if she were retracing Charlotte’s steps. She winced, placing a hand on her head.
“Are you okay?” Sniper asked.
“Her head hurt badly before she reached the steps. She was halfway down the stairs when she lost consciousness.”
My throat was tight as I fought the emotion whirling inside me. My wife had been crying in her last conscious moments. She’d been in pain, and she’d been alone. I rubbed my face with both hands.
“Do you think you can help her?” Sniper asked.
“I don’t know,” Marlena answered honestly.
“Maybe we could play the girl the music,” Sniper suggested.
“No,” Marlena said with authority. “It will only upset her when we stop playing it.”
Turning, I walked to the window, peering down at the dirty street and rundown houses. I imagined Charlotte’s face, staring back up at me, the way she had the day we met Agnus, just before we entered the Hell House. Of course, she’d seen the faces of two young girls in the window, not me. The selfish part of me continued to wish I’d taken Charlotte’s hand and run. Then we wouldn’t be here and she’d be awake. But deep down I knew that was horrible, and I hated myself for feeling it. The little girls had needed to be freed, to find peace. Why did doing the right thing always have to be so fucking hard?
“You know,” Marlena said from right beside me. Unbeknownst to me she’d moved and was staring out the window as well. “We all have our purpose. Charlotte has this beautiful gift, it’s unique and because of that it’s more obvious, but you have a gift, as well, George.”
I snorted, not bothering to look at her. I definitely did not have a gift.
“You do,” Marlena answered, as if she’d read my mind. “You give her strength, George. You seek nothing from her, only to be her sword and shield.”
I let my gaze drop. “I don’t know about that. I was never able to help her much. How could I when I can’t hear or see the very thing that gave her so much stress?”
Taking my hand, she laced our fingers together. Surprised by the move, I tried to pull away but she tightened her grip, stopping me.
“I know this tension she felt,” Marlena explained. “You feel it in every single muscle of your body. It’s heavy,” her voice was soft with empathy, “so bloody heavy. Some days you wonder how you can take another step carrying it. That’s where you come in, George.”
My head felt funny, and I closed my eyes in an effort to clear it. My body tightened, the muscles in my back and neck hardening as an unease settled in the pit of my stomach. I raised my free hand and gripped the frame of the window to balance myself.
“I don’t feel well,” I explained, embarrassed that I probably appeared like I was about to pass out.
“Do you feel it, George? Can you feel the weight?”
It took me a moment before I realized somehow Marlena was making me feel this way. “How…” I couldn’t finish my question. Was this what Charlotte felt? Did she carry this weight with her every day?
“You’ve sensed it…you knew when she was struggling, and you did whatever you had to do to refuel her.” Marlena went on. “You comforted her.”
Pressure wrapped around my head—like hands wrapped around my brain, squeezing. Through the pain, I saw Charlotte...I saw us. Memories of times we’d shared together, simple but beautiful. Me brushing her hair. Her laughing as we swayed to a song playing on the jukebox at the restaurant. Images of my beautiful wife, naked beneath me, danced through my mind. She cried out when she came and the unease sluiced out of me, my body relaxing again. When we’d finished, she laid her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine, and her body radiated.
I had been present in all of the moments I was seeing, but I was remembering them differently than the way I’d experienced them. I was seeing and feeling the memories through Charlotte’s eyes. I was feeling what she’d felt. How is that possible? “What…what is this?” I asked. “How…how are you doing this?”
“What’s wrong, George,” Sniper asked, concern in his tone.
“He’s fine,” Marlena told him. “Just breathe, George. I’m showing you your gift. Do you feel it?”
I could feel the emotions throughout each moment that played, but it was more than just feeling—I could see them as they swirled about, each one a different color I was somehow able to feel. None of it made sense, but at the same time I knew it was a visual manifestation of the emotions that surged through my mind and body. Whatever they were, they were good—soft and easy. In each moment there was safety and warmth, like nothing else in the world mattered.
Charlotte’s naked body was melted against my own, neither of us covered. Her eyes were closed and with my free hand I stroked her arm. I love you, I whispered to her. The image exploded with more color, blinding and enveloping each of my senses, to the point it felt as if they were vibrating inside of me.
“This is her?” I rasped. “This is how she felt?”
“You give her peace and warmth, George,” Marlena said as she squeezed my hand again. “Can you see that? That’s her safe place, and it radiates from within you. You’ll never know what that means to someone like us.”
Emotion choked me, and I swallowed hard, pushing it down. I opened my eyes and turned my head, breathless and overwhelmed. I’d always doubted my place in Charlotte’s life, if I had ever made anything better, and now I knew for certain that I did. Maybe it wasn’t in the way I’d thought it should be, but I gave her peace. I made her feel loved. I gave her something she needed.
Marlena peered up at me.
“You have an amazing gift,” I replied hoarsely, completely in awe.
She dropped her gaze—as flamboyant as she was appearance-wise, there was also a humbleness to her. “We all have our purpose. Charlotte’s is to help souls like Click...like your brother. Yours is to replenish her when her purpose bleeds her dry. To keep her warm when all the sad she sees leaves her cold. Your purpose isn’t recognized by those she helps, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less special, any less important.”
I moved my gaze back to the window, willing the tears I’d managed to keep at bay to dry up. After a few moments I cleared my throat and turned back to face Click’s room. “So how do we help Click?” I asked, desperate to shift the focus off me. While Marlena had been kind to share Charlotte’s feelings with me, I needed to push ahead. My wife wanted to help Click, and since she couldn’t do that at the moment, I needed to be strong and help her finish what she’d started. Though, I was starting to wonder if that was even possible.