The Unhaunted

8. A Reunion

Isa stood on the decrepit porch and stared at a piece of splintered wood. It was still damp from a hard rain that had saturated the entire East Coast the previous night. Several streets nearby had lost power, but this street had been spared. She stared at the street light that flickered with half-hearted illumination at the end of the block.

“You called him?”

“Yes! Er, well…”

“Isa!”

“I texted him.”

“Did he respond?”

“He’ll be here.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Donny, he’ll be here. He’s been texting me almost daily for weeks. So, no, he didn’t reply but I know he got the text.”

“How do you know?”

Isa huffed with frustration and kicked at the splintered piece of wood on the porch. The entire structure creaked with her movement. She swallowed and hopped down onto the cold ground. Her breath billowed out in front of her face in funnels of grey steam, like storm clouds.

“He’ll come, Donny! Calm down.”

Donny was incredibly agitated and demonstrated this by continually flickering in and out of existence. The air around him was even colder than the frigid October morning. Isa tried to resist the urge to back away from him whenever he reappeared beside her. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“I know you’re scared and things are weird in the spirit world,” Isa said, hoping her voice sounded more soothing than worried, “And this place isn’t exactly comforting, but we’ll figure it out, okay?”

They stood looking at the old house in silence as a growing feeling of dread stretched between them. This house had been empty for a long time. Most of the windows were boarded up and the ones that weren’t were either smashed or missing. The front porch sagged in the middle. A big chunk of it had rotted and broken off from the side of the house, leaving a slab of chipped concrete exposed. Isa wondered if the house had a basement. She hoped not.

The front steps were miraculously intact, though crooked and covered with dead leaves and other junk from one of the many oak trees that grew from the neglected front yard.

Isa was about to suggest that they forget Brian and go inside already, when the sound of a car approaching made her jump. She watched the familiar white van turn into the street and pull up in front of the house. Brian got out, but didn’t immediately make eye contact.

“Hey,” Isa said, “Thanks for coming.”

Brian walked slowly up to the house, stopping a good five feet away from Isa. He kicked the ground with the toe of his worn Converse and said, “How come you didn’t answer any of my texts?”

Isa looked guiltily at Donny, but he wasn’t going to offer her any help with this one. He’d been telling her to talk to Brian for days.

She thought of a million lies, a catalog of excuses that cycled through her head like horses on a merry go round. She decided to tell the truth for once.

“I didn’t want to get you involved, okay? I don’t know what’s happening or if can help, so…I figured it was safer for everyone if you stayed away.”

“You mean you thought I’d screw things up?” Brian finally looked at her, his expression hurt.

Isa met his eyes, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. “I guess so, yeah. A little bit.”