The Medium of Memory | ONC2020

11. The Truth

As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was overwhelmed by a need to escape, to leave this place. The mother's mind or influence, or whatever it was, had left me, and I felt a spinning lack of control.

I yanked open the front door and was greeted by a shower of rain on a strong gust of wind. The door slipped from my grasp and slammed shut. I didn't care if I got drenched. I didn't care that it was the middle of the night. I just wanted to get out.

I pulled the door open again and this time there could be no mistake. The door rushed closed a second time, seemingly of its own accord. One more try. The door wrenched itself from my grasp and closed with a bang.

I sank to the ground in tears.

Charlotte came barrelling down the stairs, having heard the door slam and probably afraid I was taking the horse and leaving her stranded.

"What happened?" she hollered from the stairs, but did not approach me, probably not sure if I was fully myself.

"The house won't let us leave," I whimpered.

"What are you talking about?" She rushed down and pulled open the door. She was given the same treatment as I had been. The door slammed shut. "It's just the wind," she said, trying again with the same result.

She gasped in disbelief. Then she quickly recovered herself. She ran off to the back of the house and returned moments later, shaking her head. "The back door won't even budge."

She crouched beside me. "Come on," she said, grasping my arm and pulling me to my feet. "We have some serious matters to discuss."

------

Once we were seated on the settee in the sitting room and the fire was stoked, Charlotte laid out all of her cards, so to speak. She was back to her usual self, calm and determined, as far as I could tell.

And, for the time being, I felt like myself again too, but it frightened me to know that I could be a vehicle for the surrounding memories, for the ghosts, at any time. And that I'd fooled myself into thinking that I was in control.

"You were right," Charlotte said. "I'm wilful and selfish and I lied to you."

She stood up and began to pace. Thunder rumbled far in the distance, just barely audible. "I can't apologize for the first two because I intend to remain wilful, and one has to be selfish up to a certain point." She stopped and stared at the floor. "But I am sorry that I didn't tell you the truth. At first I just didn't know if I could trust you. And then later I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how ... or how you'd take it."

"Do you even work for a psychical research firm?"

"Yes! Everything else I told you is true," she said, briefly glancing up at me, then back at the floor. "I simply didn't tell you everything." She sighed. "I didn't tell you this was a personal side job. A deeply personal one."

I was a private person, and in all honesty I knew I likely would have acted the same. "I wouldn't have told you the whole truth either," I offered. "At first anyway."

She scuffed at the floor with the toe of her boot. "Well, I'm relieved the house told you, since I wasn't brave enough to tell you myself."

I felt a dropping sensation in my stomach. I looked at her with her head still down, in the weak light. She was independent and intelligent and she was brave. She was someone I wanted in my life. I didn't want to risk that, but...

"That's not how I found out." It was now or never. I owed her the truth. I swallowed and paused before my words rushed out. "I read it in your memories."

It took a moment for my words to sink in. When they did, I saw understanding, and anguish, cross her face. "When?"

"You fell asleep by the fire..." It was my turn to stare down at the floor. I knew that my transgression was much worse that hers.

She sank down to the blanket on the floor and gazed into the fire for several moments. I listened to the rain, trying to let the sound soothe me, and to drown out the buzz of memories still lingering in the background.

For what seemed like a long time, Charlotte didn't speak. Then, still gazing at the flames, she sighed. "Why did you do it? You could have asked me anything."

"I don't know!" I said. "I just felt ... powerful. I didn't stop to think." I wanted to cry, but I didn't have tears left.

"This house is not a good influence on you," she said decisively. "Upstairs, it was like you..." she paused, searching for the right word, "... channeled my mother. Like she was talking through you."

I put my head in my hands. "I know. I thought I was in control, but... the past took over. It's just that the memories are so... urgent. Like they want to be re-lived." The realization was unsettling. I wondered for the first time if there actually were real mediums, and if they felt the way I had.

"It's as though they really are ghosts," I said.

Charlotte came to sit next to me, as a flash of lightning lit up the sky in the window behind us. Morning was approaching and a haze of murky light was pushing through the dark. "Well, then," she said, "I hope what my mother said was wrong."

"What?"

"She said it's too late. But I think it's never too late to make amends. At least I hope."

I wondered if she was talking about me and her, or the house's troubled past. "How?"

With firm resolve, she said, "Whether a ghost or not, we need to put that baby to rest, once and for all."