“Did I ever tell you that I used to live in New York?” my father asked. “You did? Like, in New York City?” “No. I lived in a little town called Brockport. It was pretty close to Niagara Falls, though. That was always cool. We used to go on picnics up there sometimes. We lived in one of those old colonial houses until I was about eleven.” “Cool.” “Yea. It was nice. The neighborhood was put together weird, though.” He moved the small white knight in its distinctive “L” shape from the starting row. “Weird how?” I asked, moving my knight to imitate his move. “Well, the subdivision we live in now was all set up at once, right? So all the houses had that same 1970’s prefab look and the grid is one big unit.” “Sure.” “So, the neighborhood we lived in had a couple really, really old houses. We lived in one of them. They were from the people that founded the town and were originally built on farmland and stuff. But then as people began to move into the area, they just sort of built up new subdivisions around those old houses and divided up the farms into backyards.”
He moved his second knight from its home. I stared at the two horses, poised just in front of the pawns. It had been a long day so far, but a good one. It was my twelfth birthday. My dad had taken the day off of worked and signed me out of school. We drove down to the city to visit the Museum of Science and Industry. It was hosting an exhibit on genetics and had the DNA of Abraham Lincoln on display. We visited the aquarium afterwards, and then walked around for a bit by the lake, watching the icy waves break on the shore. Now we were sitting in a coffee shop on a busy city street. It was a frigid Chicago afternoon. The wind howled outside and beat against the windows. Pedestrians clutched their coats as the dry gale tore at them.
“So why did you move?” I asked as I moved my second knight, again imitating my father. “If you keep doing everything I do, it’s going to go very bad for you.” “Oh…” I said, “sorry.” “No, no,” he chuckled. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just saying, it’s a bad strategy. Pick your own moves. Take some action on the board. Why don’t you put that piece back and try a different one.” “Okay,” I said and moved the second knight back to its place. I examined each individual pawn for a few moments. I thought I should start small. Lightly grasping one, I moved it forward a square. “Those can move two places on their first turn, you know. You don’t have to do it, but you can.” I put out my hand and hovered it over the piece. Then I pulled my hand back. “No. I like it there.” “Okay.” My father took his turn. “So why did you move?” “Oh. Yea. Because the place was haunted.” “Wait. What?”
“Momma! Momma! Help! Momma!” Ruth was startled awake by a voice yelling from the bedroom downstairs. She turned on her lamp and put on her glasses. “Tom,” she pushed her husband. “Thomas, wake up. Ruby’s hollering again.” She pushed on him again. He grunted. “Oh!” she griped, “your ass is still drunk.” “Huh?” Tom sat halfway up, bleary-eyed. His mind registered Ruth putting on her robe and slippers and going out the bedroom door. He was asleep before he fell completely back. “Momma!” came the voice again. “I hear you! I hear you! I’m coming Ruby,” Ruth called back, hurrying down the stairs. She came to the bedroom door next to the kitchen and opened it. “Momma!” The young girl slammed her body into her mother’s, clutching frantically at the woman’s waist.
“Calm down! Calm down! Jesus girl. I’m right here. Calm down.” “Momma, I saw him again. I saw him.” Ruth sighed and rubbed her fingers over her eyebrows. She and Tom worked in a glass factory. The hours were long, hot, and loud. This was the third night this week that she had been woken by Ruby’s screaming. Her head ached, and she was tired. “I saw him again, momma. I really did. I saw the albino man!” She buried her face into Ruth’s robe. Ruth placed both hands on top of Ruby’s head and began to stroke her hair. “Where did you see him, Ruby?” she sighed. “Over there!” she pointed at the door in the kitchen which led to their back porch. The door stood directly across from Ruby’s bedroom door. “He was in the kitchen, hon’?” “No…he was on the porch in front of the doorway. Just outside the screen. He was just standing there. Looking in! His eyes were red, momma! They were red and he was growling and snapping his giant teeth at me!” She began to weep again.
“Calm down, Ruby!” Ruth was getting more exasperated. It wouldn’t take much more for her daughter’s howling to wake up the three other children. The oldest brother would have sense enough to just go back to bed. But the two younger boys would likely catch her hysteria. She walked over to the kitchen door, Ruby pulling on her hand in a vain attempt to detain her. “Ruby, stop. Stop it, hon’. Look. The door is still dead-bolted.” She pulled on the doorknob. “See. Secure as can be. This locks from the inside. No one is opening it from the porch.” Ruby let out a little whimper. Ruth exhaled heavily and stared over the rims of her glasses at her daughter’s bedroom door. “Ruby. Were you sleeping with your door open again?” she scolded. “No momma…” “Then how did you see someone across the kitchen?” Ruby bit her quivering lip. Ruth spun her around and swatted her backside. “Get back into bed and go to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.” She shuffled the sniffling child back to her bed, then closed the door and went back upstairs. Tom was sitting up in the bed, holding his head. A cigarette butt smoldered in the ashtray on his night stand, and the one that hung from his mouth was nearly spent.
“What’s that kid crying about this time?” “The albino man.” “Again? How long is this going to go on? She nearly split my skull open with that shrieking.” “You know there’s a way to fix those headaches.” She sat down on the bed. “It’s called DRINKING LESS!” she shouted in his ear. “Ah! Bitch!” He slapped at her, but wasn’t quick enough. The ash from his cigarette fell into his thick chest hair. Ruth took off her glasses and set them on the nightstand. “She said he’s got giant teeth this time.” “What? What’s that supposed to mean?” “I don’t know. Why don’t you check on her next time and ask her your own damn self? You work second shift. I have to be up in three hours.”
Tom didn’t answer. He just grunted and put out his cigarette. He snorted back some phlegm and spit it into the trash can. “Gross!” He turned off his lamp and pulled the covers over him, facing the wall. She did the same. He farted and chuckled in his own satisfaction. “You’re disgusting,” she sighed. “Shut up.”
Michael tiptoed down the hall to his older sister’s room. He stood at the door for a moment, and heard her softly sniffling on the other side. Turning the doorknob, he prayed the old door wouldn’t creak on its hinges as he entered the room. “Ruby,” he whispered, “Ruby, did you see him again?” “Yes. Didn’t you hear?” “Yea. I heard momma come down. She sounded real angry.” “She was. Momma doesn’t believe me. She never believes me.” “What did he do this time?” “He didn’t do anything. He just stood there, watching me.” “Well, that doesn’t sound so scary.” “It is!” she squeaked, and cowered down at her volume. Then, more softly, “It is. He stares at me, and he’s got big teeth. And he just grinds them. His eyes are so big and red and his skin is so white, Mikey. He looks like he’s covered in flour. ” “Are they sharp teeth?” “Shh!” There were footsteps in the hallway. “You two better go to bed.” The oldest, Tommy, stood in the doorway. “If you wake momma up again, she won’t be coming down. She’ll send dad and he’ll beat your asses raw. None of those little swats momma gives. And you know it.” “But she’s scared, Tommy.” “You gotta go to back to bed. You’ll wake up Andrew.” He walked into the bedroom and picked up a stuffed rabbit from the floor. “Here,” he said, handing it to Ruby, “what’s Bon-Bon doing on the ground?” She grabbed at the toy and pulled it in close to her chest. Her eyes peaked over the rabbit’s ears at her brother. “Don’t look at me like that Ruby. Come on,” he said. “We can’t leave her alone, Tommy. What if the albino man comes back?” Tommy grabbed Michael by the elbow and started pulling him out the door. “He’s not gonna come back because there is no albino man. Stop being a little baby, Mikey.” “There is too!” Ruby chirped. There was a thud upstairs and the three children froze. “Fine. You stay here,” Tommy said, “but I’m going back to bed. No way I’m gonna get caught by dad in the middle of the night. He’ll blow a gasket if he sees all three of us awake.” He left the two behind and went back to his bed. Above them, Michael heard the barefoot steps of his father crossing the ceiling. He darted out the door and turned back around to look at Ruby. She laid down, clutching her rabbit, and pulled the covers all the way over her head. “Good night,” he said. “Go to sleep, okay? It’ll be okay.” Carefully, he pulled on the doorknob until he heard the slight click, and then snuck back to the room he and his younger brother, Andrew, shared.
The three children listened from their rooms as the feet trod slowly down the creaky wooden stairs. Tom walked into the kitchen and turned on the light. He stood there in the middle of the room, squinting under the incandescent bulbs. He ran a hand the size of a dinner plate through his black hair and scratched at his stubble like a dog. His legs were thin in his plaid boxers, but a belly hung out slightly from under his white V-neck t-shirt. He carried a packet of cigarettes in his hand and he put one to his lips. He pawed about his body sluggishly in search of a lighter, then turned on the front burner of the stove and leaned in toward the flame. He took in three long drags before walking over to the refrigerator. He poured himself a glass of milk and leaned against the sink while he drank it, looking around the kitchen and scratching his belly. The milk beaded in his thick mustache and dripped down onto the black matting that stuck out of his collar. Tom wiped away the milk with his forearm. He put his cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table as he walked over to the kitchen door to examine the lock. He pulled on the knob and pushed back on the door to test its security. Inhaling sharply, he rubbed his nose and mustache. He coughed into his hand and spit into the sink, then lit another cigarette on the stove and went back up the creaking stairs, a hazy cloud trailing behind him.
The next morning the three children sat at the table in the kitchen. Ruth had already taken the littlest, Andrew, to the sitter’s before her shift. Tommy had gotten the cereal out of the cupboard, and they all sat there eating quietly. He would be in seventh grade next year and would have to take a different bus to the high school. The children heard the metallic squeak of the doorknob upstairs and the slow, thumping feet down the steps. Their father stumbled groggily into the kitchen. He took a glass down from the cupboard and walked into the dining room. They heard the plunk as the cap came off the bottle of Old Crow. Tom came back into the kitchen and cracked three eggs into his glass, then topped it off with milk. He sat at the head of the table with the children. “Shouldn’t you be at school?” “We’re waiting for the bus.” Tommy said.
Tom’s hair was parted and slicked, his stubble freshly shaven. He hung his head over the table and pushed his thumbs in on his bloodshot eyes. His age was catching up with him, and his eyelids had permanently darkened over his already dark skin. The boys looked just like their father, with their coarse, black mop tops and their perennial tans. Ruby sat among them, creamy skin and red haired. She was the only one who really looked like her mother. “If you don’t quit your screaming at night you’re gonna put me in the grave.” The children said nothing. “Ahh…” he smiled and tousled Ruby’s hair, “we just gotta get you toughened up a bit, kiddo.” She stared silently at him.
Tom leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs. With the base of the glass firmly on the table, he swirled it in a tight circle to integrate his remedy. “Hair of the dog, kids. Hair of the dog.” Ruby grimaced at the slop of eggs whirling in bourbon-curdled milk as her father tilted back the glass and drank it down in three large gulps. He wiped his mustache with his hands and then rubbed them on his jeans. Tom started coughing, so he stood up and walked over to the counter. He hacked two or three times to clear deep down in his throat, then spit into the sink. The pack of cigarettes he had left there last night still sat on the counter. He picked it up and counted the contents. “Your mother’s been stealing my smokes again.” The children didn’t respond. He put a cigarette in his mouth and felt his pockets. “Dammit. God dammit. Where is my lighter?” He leaned over the stove again and lit his cigarette. “Don’t miss the bus,” he said as he walked out the kitchen door.
Tom’s snoring jolted Ruth out of the deep sleep that held her down. She sat up and jabbed him in the side. She had all but grown accustomed to the nocturnal sputtering that came from her partner. “Momma!” Ruth hung her head. “Christ’s sake, kid.” “Momma! Momma!” Ruby wasn’t crying alone. Michael was also calling for her, and as Ruth put her feet into her slippers she looked up at the ceiling for any form of help. Andrew was crying too. Tom snored too deeply and shook himself awake from the suffocating blip. “Wha—what? Oh hell! Is she crying again?” “Just shut the hell up and go back to sleep you prick.” He threw her pillow at her and rolled toward the wall, immediately falling back to sleep. She tossed the pillow back up on the bed and headed downstairs. “I swear, you two—” her grunt ended her sentence as the two children came crashing into her, clinging at her robe and trying to scramble up her.
“Get off! Get off! Get off!” She pushed them down and unhooked herself from their tiny clutches. “Momma, he was here again! I saw him momma! He was inside! I saw him!” Ruby looked pleadingly up at her mother. “Inside?” she said. “Where?” “He was looking into Michael’s room! I heard the door and I got up to come and see and he was just standing there in the doorway looking into their bedroom!” “It’s true momma! I saw him too!” cried Michael. “The albino man was watching me!” “No, he wasn’t Michael. It was just a nightmare. There is no such thing as the albino man.” “Yes there is! And he’s been watching us. And he keeps getting closer!” “Ruby, I’m done with this. You shouldn’t have got out of bed and you know it. Now you’ve got your brother terrified and Andrew’s screaming and I’m tired and I have to be at work in five hours.” Ruby looked up at her mother, tears streaming down her face. “Momma, can’t we sleep with you?” “No Ruby. You need to be big for momma and dad. No more crying in the middle of the night. You shouldn’t have even got out of bed. You wouldn’t have seen anyone if you didn’t climb out of bed. Now go.” She pointed toward Ruby’s room. Ruby sprinted off toward her bed bawling. Ruth took Michael by the arm and drug him to his room.
“Get back in bed,” she said, and walked over to Andrew’s crib to calm him. An hour later she put her son back in his crib and walked into the kitchen. On the table sat Ruby’s stuffed rabbit. Puzzled, she took it into Ruby’s room and tucked it in next to her. Instinctively, the sleeping girl hugged her friend and let out a relaxed coo.
“Sleep well baby girl,” Ruth said, and kissed her forehead. A lighter lay on the nightstand. She picked it up and put it into the pocket of her robe. She snuck up the steps, hoping the squeaks would cause no further upsets, and went back into her bedroom. The cigarettes in the ashtray were cold, but the smoke still in the air meant that he had been up since she left the room. She dropped the lighter on his nightstand next to an opened pack of matches. “Thanks for the help,” she said, and laid down to go to sleep.
The next day, after dinner, Tom and Ruth sat in the kitchen. The children did their homework in the living room with the TV on. Tom had gone through four cigarettes since dinner and was on his third glass of bourbon. Ruth had only smoked two and was still on her first glass. They mindlessly listened to the TV in silence, staring at adjacent walls and enjoying the quiet after a day full of noise in the factory.
“That roast was dry.” “Damn straight.” Tom pulled another cigarette out of the pack and lit it. “Where did you find my lighter?” “It was on the nightstand next to Ruby’s bed.” He turned to her, an inquisitive look on his face. “Well, I didn’t put it there,” she said. Tom thought for a moment. “Well I didn’t either. I was in there last night. You think I would’ve seen it.” “Why were you in Ruby’s bedroom?” “I was getting her damned stuffed rabbit after she fell asleep.” “Why would you take her rabbit, Tom?” she asked, agitated. He took too long of a drag and started coughing. He walked over to the sink and braced himself with both hands as he choked on the phlegmy breath. “Because she needs to grow up!” he snapped. “She’s having nightmares and screaming for her momma in the middle of the night like she’s a little baby. But she’s not. Besides, you said that the monster had big teeth. How do we know she’s not making this all up based on that rabbit of hers?” “How in the world is Bon-Bon causing this?” “Her rabbit’s got big teeth. She said it had big teeth. Her rabbit is white. She said it was white. Maybe the monster is her subconscious’ way of telling her it’s time to grow up…or…whatever.” “He’s a man.” “What?” “It’s not a monster that Ruby sees, Tom. Or a rabbit. It’s a man. An albino man, Tom.” “Well there’s no man. We’ve searched the whole house. Twice now! The locks are tight and windows latched. What more could you want. She just needs to toughen up.” “She’s a little girl.” “Sure,” he said, and walked into the living room to watch TV. The rest of the evening was uneventful. The children finished their homework and all three took baths. Ruth cleaned up the dishes and bathed Andrew while Tom read the paper and watched Johnny Carson. After she tucked the children in bed, Ruth headed upstairs. “You coming?” she asked Tom from the staircase. She could see him sitting with just the light from the TV, snoozing from the alcohol. He snored and choked like a dirty carburetor. She went into her bedroom and fell asleep.
“Momma! Momma! Help!” Ruby yelled. Ruth groaned and rolled over to look at the clock. “One in the goddamn morning…if she doesn’t stop, so help me…” “ “Please momma! Momma!” “Momma! Momma!” She sat up. “Apparently Michael’s up tonight, too. Great. He better not be trying to compete with his sister” she said to herself. She laid back down. “No. No. They’re just going to have to get over their nightmares. If they don’t stop running around down there and go back to their rooms, they’ll get their father’s belt for sure,” she huffed. She rolled back to her other side and pulled her blankets up to her ears. “No! NO! DON’T! Momma!” This voice was Tommy’s. “Why isn’t that boy in bed? He knows better than to encourage this.”
The children continued to yell. It wasn’t until the top two steps that she heard the creak of the stairs. The yelling stopped and she heard heavy feet walk across the floor. The doorknob clicked as the door creaked open. She rolled over toward the doorway and screamed. The albino man stood there, just as Ruby had described him so many times before. He was pure white from head to toe. His mouth gaped and revealed his maw of gnashing, grinding teeth. He opened his red eyes wide and growled deep in his throat with a low, whooping growl. “No…NO!” she yelled as he sprung at her. She tried to get out of his way, but it was no use. He swung his arms back and forth at her, the backs of his massive hands catching her with almost every stroke. She fell onto the bed and started to climb over it. The albino man leapt on top of her, flipped her onto her back, and held her throat. He leaned close so their noses almost touched. Beneath her own gasps for breath, Ruth heard his the clack of his teeth and the hacking rumble in his throat. She pushed on his chest and scratched at him. He didn’t try to stop her. One of her rasping swipes caught his eye, and a small amount of dark red blood trickled onto his white cheek. He starting laughing.
The albino man pushed himself up off of her and, grabbing her by the hair, pulled her up to her knees. He kicked her with his heel off of the bed and onto the hardwood floor. He jumped off the bed, landing hard on the floor next to her head. She screamed. He continued to kick her, alternating his instep to her groin and his heel to her ribcage, as she crawled towards the door and out of the room. When she made it to the top of the stairs he smacked her butt with his hand, hard, and laughed as she fell down the stairs. The children, already weeping, rushed to their mother as the albino man relished in the eerie creak of each stair. His oversized mouth was snapping and his throat was rumbling as he got to the bottom step. Ruby and Michael clung to their battered mother, who had managed to prop herself upright against a wall. Andrew wailed from his crib in the next room. The albino man smiled and let out a deep, gurgling laugh that heaved his head back and forth. He stepped forward and stretched out his giant hands toward the cowering family.
“No!” Tommy came jumping from the kitchen, smashing a frying pan down the side of the albino man’s face. He wailed as he recoiled, tottering from the impact. He clutched his face and leaned against Ruby’s bedroom door. His screams were deep and shook the floorboards like a train was passing through the hallway. The albino, panting, looked up at Tommy. Blood was pouring out from under his hand where he clutched his eye. He straightened himself up and lunged at Tommy.
“I said no!” Tommy swung the frying pan again, just clipping the lower jaw. The albino man got closer and swung at Tommy. Tommy ducked, but the alabaster haymaker collided with his ear anyway. The side of Tommy’s face clenched as blood spurted out of his ear drum. He drop the pan to hold his ear as he backed away. The albino man threw his head back and howled beneath the incandescent bulb. Blood ran down Tommy’s neck as he felt the side of his head. His earlobe had become detached. He almost blacked out from the pain as he touched the tear.
The gnashing and grinding got closer. Tommy jumped forward, grabbed the pan from the ground and, without looking, swung straight up. A sharp crack came as teeth slammed into bone and gum. The albino man reeled backward. He clutched his jaw and fell to the ground. His bleeding tongue hung out from between his teeth like a breathless dog. He grabbed the cabinet door and pulled himself halfway up. Hacking over and over in his low, hoarse growl, his dark blood splattered across the cabinets. Tommy gripped the pan tighter and raised it above his head. He moved in to smash the chalky head against the counter. The albino man shrieked and cowered, falling backwards. Tommy stopped. The albino man scrambled to his feet and fled out through the kitchen door into the night.
“Holy crap,” I looked at my father with blinking eyes. “The house really was haunted.” “Yea. It was pretty weird.” He moved his queen, securing my king behind her and the rook’s horizontals. “Checkmate.” “That’s the third time today, dad!” I said, staring at the board. “Well, happy birthday to you!” the dad laughed. “Yea, happy birthday to me…” I began putting the pieces back into the box. “So you really did move away from that house because it was haunted?” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. My folks got a divorce. It wasn’t long after this whole thing that my mom had to hold my dad off with a shotgun. That was basically the last straw for her. So, we packed up a moved away. We came to Chicago and my dad went…somewhere else, I suppose.”
“You don’t know?” “No. I know where he is now. But after the divorce we didn’t see him for years. It was really sad, actually. The week after we moved was my twelfth birthday.” He stood up and they cleared off the table. “Why were you sad?” “I guess…I don’t know. It’s hard to say. You know, when you’re a kid you just want birthdays and stuff to be such good times. You want everyone to be happy and you forget most of the time they’re not. My first memory of my dad is him just grinding his teeth at me. Sometimes he would be so angry he couldn’t even talk. But a part of me still wishes he was around to finish watching me grow up.”
I pondered that quietly while he put the chess set onto the rack by the window. We stood there and looked at the people passing in the flurries. He put out his hand and rested it on my shoulder. I spun around to look at him. “But he was real, right? The albino man?” “Oh yea,” he laughed. “He was real. He gave me this,” he said, tugging at his ear to show me. The skin of the earlobe was completely white, and the lack of color had creeped just over the scar from where the skin had been reattached. “That white spot gets just a tiny bit bigger every year. I should probably go and get it checked out one of these days, but ahh…” he waved his hand in casual apathy. We set our cups in the bins at the end of the counter and bundled up. My father opened the door, and we walked out into the cold Chicago winter together.
Submitted July 20, 2017 at 06:24AM by scribblature http://ift.tt/2ucM7VG nosleep
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