Shadows of Yesterday

Chapter 22: A Knife With No Edge

When my head poked up into the attic, I found Ben standing in the middle of the floor, facing away from me and surrounded by boxes. Unlike Declan, he had actually bothered to pull the cord to turn on the attic light, illuminating every speck of dust floating through the air and every dead fly on the floor. He wasn't touching anything or even moving in the slightest. It didn't even look like he was breathing. He just stood there, still as a statue, his fists clenched by his sides and his head tilted towards the floor.

"What are you doing up here?" I asked.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even seem to be surprised. It shouldn't have shocked me, really. I couldn't imagine that clambering up that ladder was exactly quiet. 

"Declan reminded me all this stuff was here. I hadn't been up here in a while. Figured it was about time I... I don't know. Visited her, I guess."

Ben's voice was quiet but casual, almost a whisper, like he was afraid that too much noise would literally wake the dead. I found myself unconsciously mirroring his tone when I replied, "I forgot that when Mom and Dad put her stuff in the attic, they put all of it up here."

There was silence for several seconds, and then he finally moved, bending over to pluck an old sweatshirt out of the box to his left. His fingers clenched on the fabric tighter than he probably meant them to. When he finally responded, his voice was almost dry, as casually humorous as if he were talking about an anecdote from his day. "Funny how that works, huh? How we could just tuck her away like some chapter in a storybook we're all done reading?" He snorted. "I guess they must have figured that if they didn't shelve it away high enough, her illness might somehow spread past the grave. Wouldn't want us getting ghost diseases, right?"

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. I wasn't sure whether or not I was supposed to laugh. Despite his joking tone, his words didn't make me feel much like laughing.

I ascended the rest of the way into the attic and sat on the floor at the edge of the entrance, resting my legs on the top rung of the ladder. "I guess so."

Ben sank into a cross-legged position on the floor, still staring at the item of clothing in his hands. Even with my obstructed view, I realized I recognized the sweatshirt: it was the same worn-out sweater Amy had been wearing that night we spent together watching Aladdin in the basement, a week before everything fell apart. Its sleeves had always been slightly too long on her, the hem too far down her body. Regardless, she wore it everywhere, no matter the weather. I never understood it.

I could pick out the ragged edges of the left sleeve that I remembered her fiddling with throughout the movie, the emerald fabric coming apart slightly at the ends. That was the part Ben was fiddling with now. I swallowed again.

"I remember she always used to wear this with her matching beanie when it got hot outside. She said the heat made everything more cozy."

"She was crazy," I joked in a murmur.

He chuckled quietly. "True. Don't let her catch you saying that, though, or else we really will get some weird ghost sickness."

I smiled and scooted closer, grabbing a picture frame from the box next to him. It was the last Peterson family photo ever taken; an amateur shot captured by one of our neighbors. Ben had his signature lopsided grin, and Amy was smiling brightly. My parents had the perfect camera smiles on their faces. Declan stood on the very edge of the shot and was staring into the camera with a bored expression, and I was making a face that looked like it was trying to be a smile. I'd never been any good at smiling on command.

Ben set Amy's sweater in his lap and leaned back on his hands to look at what I was holding. He gently plucked it from my hands, that same smile making a brief appearance as he took the photo in. "I remember this day," he said. "Mom and Dad tried so hard to get Declan to smile, even though his Prom date had just bailed on him two days before the dance. He was pissed."