So there I was, laying in bed and trying to fall asleep. My fiance had just died earlier in the day after a long illness but I wasn't really thinking about him, probably because I was a bit numb after the events of the last month, when he had gone to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms, at the age of 23, and one thing after another went wrong and his body finally gave up the ghost. I hope that's not a bad choice of word. But it fits in this situation.
So, I'm dozing off when I hear G's voice, clear as a bell, coming from the foot of the bed. "Kelly!" I hear. And I, of course, answer with "What?" None of that "Is it you, my darling?" stuff. Someone calls my name, even if it's from "beyond" I answer. Simple as that. So, I hear G's voice, still from the direction of the foot of the bed, say, "It's not bad." And I'm pretty sure I replied with something deep and profound, something along the lines of "Ok." Then I rolled over and went to sleep, glad to know he was, well, Ok.
After that, however, things started to happen in the apartment. Lights would turn on and off in the living room, I'd put something down, leave the room for a minute and when I came back, it would be gone only to turn up a day or two later, exactly where I had left it. I'd hear people mumbling but I just chalked that up to thin walls.
Sometime later, an odd thing took place. It was in October and I know this because my sister had gone to Oktoberfest that night and told me she would be staying the night elsewhere. My dad had gone to spend the night down at my mom's house (the were divorced but "dating.") So I was home alone. I watched TV, read and then went to bed after locking the doors but leaving a dim light on in the living room in case Sis came home. FYI, my sister and I shared an apartment with my dad. One of the neighbors thought it was a menage a trois-type of arrangement and was bummed when he found out my dad didn't have 2 20-something girlfriends sharing his bed.
Around 2:00am, I was rudely woken up by someone opening the bedroom door. The light from the hall area was so blinding I turned over and covered my head. I hear a voice ask, "Where's dad?" I answered, "He's at Mom's. Shut the goddamn door!" The bedroom door shut and I could hear the sounds of someone moving around before I fell back asleep.
Next morning, I remembered what had happened and went to wake my sister up to complain about her waking ME up in the middle of the night. She wasn't there. Nobody was there. The front door was still locked but the light was off in the living room. I figured she had come home then left again. And then the phone rang. It was Sis, calling to tell me she had spent the night at a friend's. I asked her if she had come home at any time during the night. Nope. She had gone straight from Oktoberfest to pass out at her friend's place.
At this point, I'm starting to get a little confused. I call my mom's house to see if maybe my dad had come home in the middle of the night although I didn't know why he'd ask if "dad" was home but I was grasping at straws here. Nope. Dad had stayed there all night, only leaving a few minutes before I called.
A couple of things stood out about what had happened in the middle of the night. The light coming from the open doorway was bright. Very, very bright. Way too bright. The type of light Norma Desmond was waiting for when she was ready for her closeup, Mr. DeMille.
And I didn't actually SEE anyone. I know the bedroom door was flung open and I heard a voice asking, "Where's Dad?" I couldn't tell if it was a male or female voice; it was just a voice. But here was the kicker, the voice asked, "where's Dad?" Neither my sisters nor I ever referred to our father as "Dad." He was always, ALWAYS, called by a nickname. So who was looking for their dad that night?
A few months later, I moved in with my mom who was living in a 1920's house in Laguna Beach. Where another such episode took place.
To be continued...