Chapter 11 - Up To Eleven

Flexing his little fingers, he added, "Shame John didn't pick up a pumpkin after all, since I feel up to the task."

Chiming in, grandma admonished her, "No matter how you feel, our daughter always had troubles with carving pumpkins. Remember Mark actually helped her that one year, until she sliced up his hand."

Squeezing those little palms together, grandpa looked away from her reflection and responded, "I recall. Though, we're not them. We look like them. But why?"

It didn't take long before Riona pressed her hands together and concluded, "So far as dream logic goes, we had to use the facilities after those old bananas."

Grandma offered, "Perhaps we got a bad stomach bug and...passed out?"

Gently shaking her head so as not to disturb the curls we'd seated upon her noggin, grandpa asserted, "We can't be sure. A dream always makes sense and lacks sense. And I've never known one that bent to my will, despite my resolve to steer it a certain way. But there's one thing I trust: My wife."

Mark set a hand near his neck and smiled kindly, in a way his real self never did, as grandma answered, "Oh, sweet Orson."

I felt desperately uncomfortable to see the disposition of my grandparents placed in the shells of those two. Reaching for something else, I asked them if they wanted to go downstairs and watch a little more TV while "John" took care of the outfits.

Fanning her hand, grandpa noted, "I've seen it all before, one way or another. I'd rather be here and marvel at all this. Rudely, my physical feeling and aches often invade my slumber. But not this time."

Grandma also made it clear she felt comfortable, although she pointed out, "Being Mark as a child is...well, I'm embarrassed to say much about it."

Clearing her girlish throat, grandpa vaguely detailed the same notion, "Whether long ago or just a week away, I can most definitely say details of my better half and her share of life remain a mystery I never anticipated nor wished to probe beyond sympathy and care. And...my dear Lacy, your trials weighed on me most of all. I'm an old man who only wishes to see you smile. And...I'll leave it at that."

Only it wasn't the fatherly twinkle in Riona's eyes that bothered me the most, it was my father's tinted with such kindness. Inspecting both of them, I tightened Lacy's jaw and put the words in it, "You are my grandparents. You aren't Mark or Riona. This is all, all of it, super weird. I'm just scared to be alone. Mark made sweet John feel like a prisoner in his house and...my mother did even worse. I'm just scared to lose either of you and John because it'll just be me by myself."

It was a fragment of Lacy's fear, confided in private, that grandma and grandpa might pass and leave her with the responsibilities of this old house and the circling vulture of Riona eager to pick at her until nothing of her spirit was left. I could feel a reflection of it in whether I could support my cousin alone along with the anxiety of all the idealistic praise she heaped upon me.

Grandma hugged me, as expected, but maneuvering the hug around my father's nascent presence infused with Grandma Lucy's love left me feeling uncomfortable.

It didn't take grandpa long to approach for an embrace as well. He seemed more reticent wielding Riona's body towards me. We both knew the way Riona could turn any hug into pain instead of love with her claws in Lacy's side. Either she just thrived on her daughter's pain or it was a whim that she chose not to restrain. I wasn't the one who needed to overcome a mother's senseless malice, but the memory brought plenty of bitterness.

In place of touch, grandpa spoke, reiterating, "I don't intend to go anywhere soon, God willing. Except out for a fun evening. So, don't worry about me. Now if silly dreams could be brought to life, I'd be in quite a pickle, along with my sweet Lucy. You and John do enough for us, but to be our guardians? Or have the state handle it? Perish the thought."

But to further dispel what he seemed to consider an impossibility, he fanned his girlish fingers like shaking off the dust of the notion in place of a curls-disturbing head-shake. "To be granted almost eighty years and then double-dip with the face of my daughter. Sometimes, there is too much for one person. Too much to relearn for an old soul."

With a soft noise, grandma expressed, "That's silly. I've seen you make yourself anew countless times. You are always a luminous child at heart. And my love will stay with you, young or old, sick or well, here or anywhere. Even if we trade roles or remain as much as we were. My vow never dims."

In Mark's body, she embraced little Riona, almost enveloping her tiny form in Mark's. If only they were anything but those two, brother and sister. But if planted in side-by-side trees that only touched each other once a year, they would still be the same. I knew that as clearly as I knew the sky was everywhere and the ground was a small comfort against its vastness.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

We still had so many moments to burn as night rushed towards us from every window. Lacy's books would be trifles or light amusement, I doubted the early evening sitcoms could compare to the reflection of existence, and I knew none of Lacy's passwords. Fortunately, grandpa came up with something in the lull of existential devotion.

"The old Sega is put away under the television, with these hands devoid of pain, it would be fun to see how they handle those controllers." Grandma was just as eager, flexing Mark's much longer fingers.

We ventured downstairs but Lacy wasn't around. I noticed this first while grandma fretted about the missing candy and banana bowl near the cooling remains of chicken and sides. Grandpa's first inkling was to ascribe it to one of those "dream persistence things" but I assured them it was put away safe, adding, "I'd rather keep those bananas elsewhere." Not too far away, lest I needed a second one to be restored to myself.

Still fretting, grandma inspected where I'd left them, just out of reach of Mark too, before helping grandpa dig out and dust off the old gaming system. I pushed back the bowl on the top of the fridge till it was almost too far for me to get at before I went hunting for Lacy.

My first thought was to check the basement. It didn't have much to it beyond slivers of windows just above ground level near the ceiling, the boxes and supplies of decades, and the vast innards of the house and their access points. Sticky heat issued from around the dryer vent as the washer rattled through its most violent cycle. Plastic curtains contained exposed beams and insulation.

Glancing to where grandma stored her jars, cans, and a few bottles of wine, I thought I saw a sliver of shadow bend around the corner. Pressing the buttons for both dangling lights dashed it away as a clustered bramble bush of old Christmas lights peeking out of a high box.

Lacy's heart rose in nervous anticipation before calmly leveling out. Checking all around, I saw that the costumes didn't have too long left. We could finally hang the Halloween lights, if Lacy hadn't done that yet, and be ready soon after. Lacy had my karate gi while I just had this ever-more-familiar top and skirt. She could go first in whatever direction she wished.

I hadn't seen her cross our path through the open door to what should, by all rights, be her bedroom, nor had I seen her lingering around the first floor or basement. The plate of food that grandma had prepared for her stretched body also hadn't been touched. Peeking in the living room, my grandparents were just two kids playing a video game.

Checking outside, the muffled blanket of evening had spread shadows over everything. Towards the garage, a figure similar to myself stood in darkness by the side door. The screen rattled before settling as I called out, "JOHN!" before considering if saying 'Lacy' would be more effective.

The figure reacted to my call, turning slightly. But it didn't have Lacy's or my disposition. It was quiet, like a burglar caught in the act, wondering if he could steal back into the darkness. Grandpa's gun was locked and sealed in a safe in the big bedroom. Before I could growl, like Lacy did at those assholes in skeleton suits, my own, usual voice reflected from behind me around the corner of the porch, "Over here! I have them out of the garage."

Automatically, my eyes flicked in that direction. When I looked back to check on the area by the garage, of course, I could sift no trace of the manly, shadowy mass out of the blackened noise that enveloped that end of the property.

With insistence, I called Lacy over to my side and explained, with several pauses, that I thought I might've seen a prowler or at least a prankster over by the garage. Despite her noting that the tweet seemed to have spooked me, she still took the bloom light out and shined it around the area.

She was no braver than me, despite her distorted mass, but she still made a show of barking rough and tough orders at the void. He reiterated, "John scares shitheads like you away. You better get running NOW, before I send you several new assholes!"

A warm rush I could best compare to when my mother got bold and arranged a whole day away from dad when I was younger, maybe swimming, shopping, or helping my aunt (who passed away a few years later). I could feel a glimmer of the heroic admiration she shined on me. She made sure I was alright as I caught her up on what our grandparents were doing.

With a smirk, she recounted the last time grandpa brought out the system and trounced her in a match. Idly, she wondered if it might be fairer with his little girl hands or her thin but meaty ones.

Though my mind settled comfortably with my cousin, the hairs on the back of her borrowed head bristled despite the absence whenever the light cast towards the garage.

Despite the evidence, I had a feeling something was out there, and it was smiling at me with dark menace.