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Time to brave the unknown.
BEN
The sound of the toilet flushing wakes me up. A quick glance at the clock reassures me that Holly’s probably just taking a nighttime bathroom break, and I haven’t overslept. Unfortunately, I’m now fully awake, thinking about Holly sleeping one room away.
After stargazing, we hustled back inside and decided to watch one of Grandpa’s old VHS tapes. Holly picked Rush Hour 2, and we chuckled our way through most of it, sitting side by side on the couch. At one point, her head rested on my shoulder, and I realized I was the only one watching the buddy-cop comedy. Carrying her to bed was easy; she’s not that heavy of a person. What was hard was not crawling in beside her, holding her close to my chest, and falling asleep, pressed against her warm, soft body.
Instead, I covered her up and went to my own bed, which seemed like a chilly block of cement in comparison. Finally, after an unhealthy amount of tossing and turning, my mind relaxed enough to allow for a light, dreamless sleep that ended the moment it registered Holly up and moving around.
The old floorboards let out shallow creaks with each slow step she makes. Above that noise, I hear her voice. The words aren’t clear, but she’s definitely speaking.
Worried she might be sleepwalking, I decide to check on her. The decision has nothing to do with my constant craving for her presence. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I slide from underneath my covers and grab my glasses off the nightstand.
Darkness coats the main room, and only from the dim glow of the oven’s clock can I make out the vague shape of Holly tiptoeing across the room. In the silence of the night, I can hear her whispered words. Not that they make any sense.
“I don’t want to bother you. I’m just minding my own business. You have a very nice house. Thank you so much for letting us stay in it.”
Who is she talking to?
“Holly?”
Her shriek rips through the silence. A pillow from the couch comes flying at my head, which I dodge on instinct.
Before something heavier gets hurled at me, I crouch on the floor and call out to her, “Holly! It’s me! It’s Ben!” I scramble forward on my knees until I reach the closest lamp.
Light floods the room, causing my eyes to water and squint.
When I can see straight, I realize she’s also blinking in the sudden brightness while holding a decorative wooden fish like a pitcher winding up.
That would’ve hurt a hell of a lot more than a pillow.
“Ben?”
She doesn’t lower the fish right away, so I slowly stand up, hands splayed in surrender.
“Yeah. It’s me. You okay?”
Her chest rises and falls on quick, short gasps. “You scared me!”
“Sorry. Heard you talking. Didn’t know if you were sleepwalking or something.” I step around the couch and cautiously approach her because she still resembles a deer in preflight mode. “Wanna put the fish down?”
Her head whips to the side, and she gapes at the knickknack like she’s just realized it’s in her hand. She quickly places it back on the table. “Oh gosh. Ben, I’m sorry. I almost bashed your head in!” She wipes her hands on her leggings and then wraps her arms around her middle.
“Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” That earns me a snort even though she won’t look at me. I place my hands on Holly’s upper arms and find she’s shivering. “Are you okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just …”
I wait her out.
“I freaked myself out a bit. I’m not used to sleeping somewhere so dark and quiet.” She shrugs.
“Who were you talking to?”
“What?” She avoids my eyes.
“Before screaming like a banshee, you were whispering. Like you were talking to someone.” My hands slide up and down her arms, as if to warm her.
She sighs and rubs her forehead. Briefly, she meets my eyes and then seems to give up and lets her gaze drop to the floor again. Her answer clocks in at just above a murmur. “Your grandfather.”
