“This will help. Take it and drink it down quickly.”
He pushed a glass of what looked to be red wine in her hand again.
“I don’t really need any more to drink as I–“
Her protest of how she really didn’t need any more to drink was cut short when he interrupted her. “You must and you do. There is a special potion in this drink, it’s not wine, but a juice of sorts, prepared and given to me by Ali that shall make you forget everything that has happened thus far over the past roughly year and half. When you wake up it will be as if you were transported back to a mere four months after I died.”
“But why honey. I mean the memories I have over the past, well almost two years, yeah, some of them have been scary but some of them have been really good too. You know what I mean?”
“His reasoning is simple. Eighteen months ago you were at your apex of grieving for me which means me coming back to you at that precise moment would bring you the most joy and, of course, make you very needy in wanting attention from me, and very willing to give me attention and that is the way Ali and me want it.”
“In other words, I will be at my most vulnerable and as I recall four months after you . . . died I still was not really believing you were coming back to me. At that point, as I remember you were not in contact with me much.”
“Exactly, so not only will you be feeling vulnerable but you will, most likely, feel a bit scared when contact is made. Scared and surprised all at once which is exactly the how Ali wants you to feel. It will increase the intensity of the moment he says for both of us.”
“But honey I have had a lot to drink tonight and just feel, you know, sluggish so I’m afraid I won’t be as maybe as giving as you hope.”
“Don’t worry about that. He also added something to your juice to wipe out all the effects of the previously alcohol you have consumed tonight. You will be as sober as a judge when you wake up. Trust me.”
“And I will believe, I mean, truly believe it’s been only four months since you passed away after I wake up. What if I stumble into the kitchen and see the calendar or look at my phone and the date pops up?”
“Yes, you shall believe that truly and you won’t be going into the kitchen because as soon as you wake up from your little nap you will be heading upstairs to your bedroom and will be there for the remainder of the night. Now as for your phone, for now it’s missing. The effect of your memory loss will fade by morning so no need to worry about getting confused.”
“Well I guess you have thought of everything.”
“We have. Now drink your juice or no surprise.”
Gail gulped the juice down with its fantastic potion. She wanted her surprise.
Almost immediately, she felt extremely drowsy. He helped her settle down on the sofa, adding a blanket he retrieved from the hallway closet to the quilt still wrapped around her body.
Leaning over her, he whispered some final words in her ear before she slipped off to sleep. “When you wake up later tonight, the house will be cold and dark, don’t bother with the lights, they won’t work. Your surprise will be waiting for you . . . just follow the path. It will be there at the end. These whispered words will be embedded in your memory but you won’t remember them being spoken by me.”
She wanted to inquire further, what did he mean path, but was simply too tired. In less than a minute she had slipped into the dark abyss of sleep.
Gail woke up sometime later and as promised, the house was cold and dark.
Sluggishly, she sat up. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. She couldn’t focus. Since her William passed away just four months ago she found it difficult to sleep and was always nodding off on the sofa.
Gail sighed. As always first thing after waking up, the sadness washed over her. She missed her William terribly. She tried to rub the sleep out of her eyes just before spotting the flickering candle.
It was sitting a good fifteen feet away on the floor near the entrance of the den. Standing up, Gail spied another candle just past the first one just outside of the entrance to the den.
She wrapped the quilt tighter around her naked body wondering why there was lit candles sitting on the middle of the floor. She tried to click on the lamp on the table next to the sofa. Nothing.
Looking past the den and upstairs, she noticed it was dark also. The power in the whole house must have been out as she always left, at the very least, a few lights on upstairs.
Sighing, she headed off in the direction of the two flickering candles. After exiting the den, she noticed a line of lit candles spaced out along the floor heading across the living room and toward the stairs.
“What the heck is this,” she mumbled to herself. Is someone playing tricks on me?
She followed the flickering candles, up the stairs, there was three total, one on the bottom step, one sitting on one of the middle steps, and a final one at the top step. Upon reaching the upstairs hallway, she realized how the path of lighted candles led straight into her bedroom.
Intrigued, and maybe a little afraid, Gail followed the path of candles down to her bedroom.
The house was deathly silent and bitterly cold. The furnace must be out also on this cold early December evening. Pulling the blanket tighter around her body, she followed the burning path down the hallway and into her bedroom.
The tea light candles, spaced out about five feet apart, now led across her bedroom and into the bathroom. The door was half open allowing her to peek inside when she got to the doorway.
The entire bathroom, was cast entirety in candle light with dozens of tea light candles covering the counter top and another half dozen spaced around the tile edges of her large sunken circular tub.
Along the top of the water, a thick layer of white fluffy bubbles rose along with a fair amount of steam.
“I guess I am taking a late bubble bath,” she mumbled to herself as she moved across the bathroom toward the tub.
She stood next to the tub, almost transfixed by the hot steam rising from the tub, her hand on the blanket, ready to strip it off when she hesitated. Should she actually do this? For some time now, weeks anyways she had the feeling of being watched, especially when she got undressed in the evening which led her to the very hopeful, and somewhat scary conclusion, maybe she was being visited by her deceased son.
And now this? What if this was his doing somehow. It seemed incredible, yet someone, not her, obviously went through a lot of trouble leading her up to this very spot. Maybe it was a trap and she was about to step in it.
Gail stood there, contemplating what to do, when, abruptly, the bathroom went dark. All the candles, as one collective unit, went out at the exact same time.
Left alone in the dark, Gail felt a cold chill crawling up her spine when she heard a noise behind her. It was the soft pitter patter of bare feet on the tile bathroom floor coming up behind her. Suddenly, violently even, the blanket was ripped away from her, followed by more footsteps running away from her. The bathroom door, she had left it open, slammed shut.