Play nice, p.20
Play Nice, page 20
part #1 of 2025 Series
She didn’t come alone.
There was Ruth, a woman about my age with blue hair and a tattoo of a butterfly on her chest. She was a self-described clairvoyant specializing in nonhuman contact.
Then there was Jed, who looked like a California surfer but was a paranormal technician—an expert in EMF (electromagnetic fields) and EVP (electronic voice phenomena). He carried with him a backpack full of funny-looking equipment. He wore a Tommy Bahama shirt barely buttoned, had an August tan in June, and shaggy blond hair.
And finally, Roy. The demonologist. Mariella’s nephew. He was handsome, subdued. He seemed more focused than the rest of them. They were on an adventure; he was on a job.
I welcomed Mariella and her team with coffee and donuts.
They were all nice. Enthusiastic. Empathetic.
“Yep! Something’s here for sure,” Ruth said as soon as she walked in. “You’re not wrong about that!”
They all laughed. Except Roy.
We sat down for coffee, and I told them everything that had happened, including the incident two nights prior when I saw the being in my room.
“I might have been dreaming,” I said, dismissing myself out of habit.
“I don’t think so,” Roy said immediately. He seemed embarrassed, like he hadn’t realized he’d spoken the words out loud. He blushed and shook his head.
All I felt was relief. It was different from the validation from Father Bernard because these people seemed to be on my side. Allies. More than just believers, they wanted to help me. They didn’t appear to be in any rush to leave. There was no judgment. No fear.
When they looked at me, I could tell they didn’t see a middle-aged single mother in distress on the verge of losing her mind, of losing everything. They saw me as a person.
My problem didn’t intimidate them. And they took it seriously. Took me seriously. Took themselves seriously, but not too seriously.
“We’re going to do separate walk-throughs and then compare notes,” Ruth explained. “You don’t need to worry about anything right now.”
Jed laughed. “Nothing to worry about. Except for the fact you’ve got a bunch of weirdos roaming around your house.”
Ruth elbowed him. “You know what I meant.”
“We’re here to help,” he said, smiling. All his teeth were chipped.
Mariella escorted me to the back deck. The two of us smoked cigarettes—she used one of those old-fashioned Holly Golightly holders—and talked for hours. She told me about the spiritualist movement, about her upbringing, her beliefs.
“Does it bother you?” I asked. “That some people think…”
I stopped myself, not wanting to offend.
“Darling, what other people think of me is none of my business,” she said.
We spoke until it was her turn to make a pass through the house.
When she left me, Roy joined me.
He didn’t speak. He looked paler than he had when he arrived. I offered him a smoke, and he accepted.
After a while, I asked, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He reached out and put his hand on my hand. His way of both answering my question and comforting me.
By the time they were finished, the sun had set. They called me inside and we gathered around the dining table.
Jed spoke first. “The bad news is you have a demon living in your crawl space. The good news is we can help.”
“How?” I asked.
“We will need to call in Father Bernard and have him perform an exorcism,” Mariella said, pouring me a glass of bourbon from a bottle she must have brought—it wasn’t mine. “Ruth and Roy have experience with demons and can assist.”
“I’m glad you called us. With all our experience, I feel confident in our assessment,” said Ruth. “We can help. But we shouldn’t delay the exorcism. I believe the demon has taken an interest in your daughter, Cici.” CLIO
“What does that mean, ‘taken an interest’?”
“Please know that it won’t come to this. We won’t let it,” Roy said, standing. “But from what we can tell, the demon living in the house has attached itself to Cici. That attachment will be severed through this exorcism, but the sooner the better, before it progresses to codependency. Now, I don’t think it will. If the demon had any intention of possessing Cici, I believe it would have done so already. Some demons want to possess bodies. Humans. Minds. Others are content to possess places. Some demons thrive by causing chaos. Others pain, and grief. What most people fail to understand is that demons, above all, are beings of attachment. On their own, they have no power. We give them power. We give them purpose. Now, some use their power to exert control. Others for fun. They’re just bored.”
* * *
—
It’s maybe the most jarring thing I’ve come across in the entire book.
They’re just bored.
I’m not sure why I find this particular detail so unsettling, why it’s got me queasy.
I set the book down on the coffee table, stretch, check my phone. Austin sent me a novel-length text about having to cover a coworker’s shift because their babysitter fell through and they have no one to watch their kid, so now he has to stay on until one a.m.
I type out a response. Okay but who’s gonna watch me??
I delete it and say nothing instead.
I’m unjustifiably angry with him for not being around. I resort to scrolling to temporarily change my brain into placid mush.
Once I’ve had my fill of social media fluff and internet gossip, I get up to go to the bathroom.
It’s pretty dark out now. Getting late. Still raining, so I can’t open the windows even though it’s hot and sticky and gross. I flick on every light switch I pass. Living room. Kitchen. Hallway.
Bathroom.
I go, flush, wash my hands. Splash some water on my face. I look tired. Am tired. I lean closer to the mirror, my hips pressing into the vanity. There are bags under my eyes, a few blackheads on my nose. I haven’t been keeping up with my skincare routine, and it shows. While studying my pores, my breath fogs up the mirror. I take a step back.
As the fog dissipates, my surroundings arrive in my reflection. The bathroom. Tile. Shower. Shower curtain. Swaying. Moving. The squeal of rusty hooks traveling across the rod. There’s something in the shower, behind the curtain. It’s about to reveal itself. It’s—
I spin around, reach out and grab the curtain, yank it back. I’m too rough with it, and the rod dislodges, almost smacking me in the head as it comes down. The shower is empty.
There’s this heavy, animal panting. It fills the bathroom. It’s…me. It’s me. I’m the thing making these ugly sounds. Sounds I’ve never made before. Sounds of panic. Of fear.
I hold a palm flat to my chest and feel my heart thump against it. Again and again and again and again.
My phone rings in the living room.
I manage a long, deep inhale. Exhale. Another breath. I shake out my limbs, roll my shoulders back, and open the bathroom door.
It’s dark.
The lights are off.
“Really?” I ask through a clenched jaw. I sound like Leda. Is this what it’s like to be her? To walk around with all this tension and anxiety? Just a giant knot of dread.
Maybe Daphne’s right. Maybe I am too tough on her.
I feel around for the switch and flip it back on. The hall illuminates.
My phone stops ringing. Whoever was calling, I missed it.
I shuffle over to the couch, turning on lights as I go. I search for my phone in the abyss between the cushions. When I eventually find it, I have a missed call and text from Daphne on our sister thread.
We need to sit down and talk about everything. I made us reservations. Saturday in Manhattan. Mandatory.
Leda responds with Okay.
I give both messages a thumbs-up, the most passive-aggressive response I can think of.
But truth be told, this works out great for me. I want this sit-down. I need it.
Until then, it’s just me in this house. Waiting.
With the book.
More paper cuts.
27
The exorcism was scheduled for the following weekend. I asked my ex if he was available to take the girls, and he said he was. He didn’t ask any questions, and I was grateful I didn’t have to lie. He still didn’t know about the possession, and I thought I might be able to keep it that way.
Mariella returned to Connecticut, but Jed, Ruth, and Roy stuck around, renting a room in a local Super 8 hotel. I invited them over for dinner every night that week, as a thank-you and for the company. I told the girls they were friends.
Dee was fascinated with Ruth’s blue hair and tattoos. Elle had a crush on Jed. I was enamored with Roy, who was very sweet and attentive to Cici, even when she was peppering him with rude questions.
Their presence in the house made me feel safe.
* * *
—
Impatient, I skim ahead to the exorcism.
* * *
“I can’t take them,” he said. “I never said I would take them.”
“What do you mean, you ‘can’t take them’? We talked about this.”
“I didn’t know you meant this weekend. I thought you meant next weekend.”
“Why would it have been next weekend? That’s already your weekend!”
“Alex. Don’t raise your voice at me. It’s your weekend. This is the temporary custody agreement. If you can’t hold up your end of the agreement, we can discuss it in court,” he said.
He’d set me up to fail. It was intentional. I should have known it was too easy when I asked.
“Please,” I said, thinking about the exorcism, how it was too late to cancel and too dangerous to put off.
“Can’t. We’re going away this weekend,” he said. “We’ve had it planned for months, per our original schedule.”
“Oh, forget you!” I said, finally breaking.
“Nice language, Alexandra. Do you speak that way in front of our daughters? Is that the example you want to set?”
I was so angry, I knew my only option was to hang up before I said anything worse.
I called Ruth. “Can they be here? Would it be all right for them to wait outside on the deck?”
“Um…yeah,” she said, not sounding confident. “That should be fine.”
On Friday night, I took my daughters to mass and to McDonald’s, which I rarely did. I let them stay up late and watch TV. I let them sleep in on Saturday. I allowed them sugary cereal, with cut-up strawberries and bananas to alleviate some of my bad-mom guilt, and I told them we were having company. Ruth, Jed, Roy, and Father Bernard.
“That guy?” Cici asked. “Hmm. I don’t know about that.”
“Is this about the haunting?” Dee asked.
“Yes,” I said. “They’re going to help make it go away.”
Cici burst into a fit of those wild, shrill giggles.
“Cici!” Elle said, plugging her ears, horrified by the sound. “Stop that!”
Dee reached out and shook Cici’s arm.
“No one can make it go away,” Cici wheezed through her giggles. “It lives here.”
“We live here,” I said. “This is our house. You, me, and your sisters.”
That got Cici’s attention. She went quiet and swiveled her head toward me. “It was here first!”
She jumped up from the table and ran downstairs. I followed her.
She’d shut herself in her room.
“Cici,” I said, knocking. I realized I was still holding the knife I’d been using to cut fruit. “Cici, open up.”
“It’s never going to leave, and neither are we!” she shouted.
“Cici, stop this.”
I tried the knob. Locked.
“Cici, unlock this door right now!”
She started her giggling again.
“This isn’t funny! This isn’t a joke. This is serious,” I said, pounding on the door. “Please, Cici. Open up.”
Her giggles got louder and louder, and I recognized something inside them or maybe hiding underneath—a distinction I couldn’t make—that terrified me.
The demon was laughing with her. Harmonizing with her.
It set something off inside me. Fury. I’d been on edge all morning, with the coming exorcism, with my ex-husband’s cruelty. Roy’s words echoed in my head: The demon living in the house has attached itself to Cici.
I lost it.
I beat against the door.
“No! You will not take my daughter!” I screamed. “You will not take her! You will leave this house! This is my house! My house! It’s mine! Cici is mine! You will not take her!”
The knife in my hand found its way into the door. I lifted it high and I stabbed into the wood. Over and over.
“I will bleed you out!” I heard myself say. “I will bleed you out!”
I wasn’t sure when Cici stopped her giggling. When it went quiet in the house, save for my screaming.
Elle and Dee stood in the hall, wide-eyed. Trembling. Aghast.
When I turned to them, they screamed and ran upstairs.
I called after them, but that only made them scream louder, run faster. They were afraid of me. I took a step back, looked at the knife stuck in the door, and was afraid of myself. For myself. For all of us.
I pulled the knife from the door, fell to my knees, and prayed.
The door opened, and Cici stepped out. She was pale, her hair standing on end. She looked at me, reached out and touched my face. Her hands were cold.
“I would never hurt you,” I said softly, setting the knife down on the carpet. She looked from it to me, back to it. “Never, ever, ever. You know that. Don’t you?”
“I know,” she said sweetly. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” I asked. I wanted to hug her, hold her tightly, but I couldn’t move. She must have known, because at that moment she wrapped her arms around me. She leaned in close, petting my hair.
Then she whispered in my ear. “You’re going to die here.”
* * *
—
The book smacks against the wall. The sound surprises me, even though I’m the one who threw it.
I sit and stare for a minute.
“Yeah. No.”
My legs are restless, and I’m chewing on my nails because why not? My manicure is already ruined. I call Aunt Helen again, but this time she doesn’t pick up. I’m upset. I’m upset and I have no one to talk about it with, which only makes me more upset.
I will bleed you out. I will bleed you out. I know it happened because I remember it happening, but the specifics of Mom’s version reframe my recollection, leave this sticky residue of doubt.
You’re going to die here. Absolutely not. I did not, would not ever say that. She’s making it seem like I was possessed or like the demon was over my shoulder, constantly whispering in my ear. But I would remember that, wouldn’t I?
I can’t deny that there’s something in this house. And she did die here.
Was she proving a point? Was it vindication? Was it her obsession? Was it inevitable?
Years of excessive drinking. Years of returning to this place, the stress of it. A self-fulfilling prophecy.
I get up and fish my vape out of my bag. I wish I had cigarettes. I’ve never in my life wished I had cigarettes.
My favorite vices are unavailable to me. I have no liquor and Austin is still at work.
I’m in the suburbs. There are no distractions here, no trouble to get into except for this.
So I walk over and pick up the book—its already fragile binding barely holding together, pages coming loose. I settle back on the couch, pull on my vape, and find where I left off.
* * *
I waited on the front steps, smoking a pack of cigarettes, drinking vodka out of a mug. I wasn’t proud of myself, of the state I was in, but I could no longer pretend that I was okay when I wasn’t.
Father Bernard gave me a passing glance as he went into the house, carrying a Bible and a briefcase. Ruth and Jed were uncharacteristically solemn.
Roy sat beside me on the step. He put his arm around me.
“Rough morning?” he asked.
“What gave it away?”
He smiled at me. “It’s going to be all right. We know what we’re doing. We’ve done this before.”
“It’s powerful,” I said. “It doesn’t want to leave. And I don’t think…I don’t think it wants me to leave. You said it’s attached to Cici…but I feel…I feel like it’s attached to me, too. Like it wants something from me. My attention. My time. My energy. And I’m giving in. And the more I do, the more it wants.”
What I didn’t admit to Roy then was that part of me felt at home in this. That the pattern, the dynamic, was familiar to me. That I’d spent my whole life trying to prove myself. That I was used to being siphoned from. That destruction, invisible or unfathomable to outsiders, wasn’t anything new or extraordinary to me. That as long as the demon remained in the house, in my life, I could point to it and say—this.
I still wanted it gone, but I didn’t know who I’d be without it.
NEED ME
Roy put his hand on my knee. What he said next proved to me that I didn’t need to admit anything to him, because he already knew.
“It’s what I always say, and my aunt, Ruth, Jed…they all get sick of me, but it’s true. Demons are beings of attachment. Ghosts, they haunt with their own purpose. Sometimes they have messages they’re trying to deliver, but it’s more about conveying that purpose or posing questions. Depending on why they linger, there can be peaceful coexistence. But not with demons. They’re not content to coexist. They seek codependence. Demons will figure out a way in, the most effective way. You’re right to suspect it wants your attention, time, energy. They love attention. They’ll learn how to get it from you. They’ll engage with you to find your triggers. It turns into a dance.”
