Page 48 of I'll Be Waiting

“I’m heading to bed to watch something on my laptop. Unless you want to watch something together.…”

“Not tonight.” I pick up my book. “But I’ll probably turn in early, too.”

I follow him out. Before I go, I give one last look around the room. Then I turn off the light and shut the door behind me.

I’m lying awake in bed when a rap comes at the door, and I could almost laugh. I might even give a half snort into my pillow.

“Nic?” Shania whispers. “Are you still up?”

I roll out of bed and get to the door before she can leave. I open it to find her dressed in a T-shirt and sleep shorts with an eye mask propped on her forehead.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t get to the door in time. I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“Earlier?”

“Downstairs?”

Her frown says she has no idea what I’m talking about, but she doesn’t pursue it. The distant look in her eyes says she barely hears me.

“You okay?” I say.

She shakes her head, eyes brimming with sudden tears. I reach out to tug her inside.

“I…” she begins. Then she wraps her arms around herself and shivers. “Something…”

“Something happened? Come in. Talk to me.”

I back up onto the bed and wave her toward the chair beside it.

She takes the chair but says nothing.

“What happened?” I prod.

“I…” She inhales deeply. “Can I not talk about it? Please? I know we’re supposed to, but I also know it was just…” She taps her temple. “I was dreaming about Dr. Cirillo saying he was being blocked, and in the dream, there was…” She swallows and shakes almost convulsively. “It was a dream.”

“It might help to talk about it.”

She hesitates and then blurts, “I thought I woke up, and there was someone in the room and he had his hands around my throat. But then I woke up for real, so I know it was a dream.” She touches her throat. “I’m still freaked out.”

I turn the light on to get a look at her throat.

“There’s a red mark,” she says. “But it’s from me rubbing it.”

“It’s the stuff about Brodie Kilmer, isn’t it? You thought he was in your room.”

“No, it was someone older, with dark hair and—” She glances away. “Yes, I think it was supposed to be Brodie.”

“Any time you want to go home, Shania, you only have to say the word. I’ll drive you back to Toronto right now if you like.”

She shakes her head vehemently. “It was just a nightmare, and I feel like a baby even coming in here.”

“No,” I say firmly. “This is a séance, and nightmares are going to happen.” I consider telling her about my hypnagogic hallucination, hearing footsteps in the attic after Cirillo’s story, but it might just give her more nightmare fodder.

I continue, “It’s also going to conjure up grief over your sister. I never forget that you’re mourning, too. If it seems I do, please say so.”

Another firm headshake. “I don’t want to make this about my sister. If anything, I’d rather not tell Dr. Cirillo that I lost someone.”

“Absolutely. If you aren’t comfortable with that—”

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