Never Look Back. Robert Ross

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      She crossed the street, came up the walk, and stood on the porch, shivering and dripping.

      “Are you crazy?” Chris shook his head. “Get inside! How long you been standing out there?”

      He shut the door behind her. She was dripping water on the carpet. “Come on, get into the kitchen.” There were dry towels in the dryer, he remembered, and hurried to get her one.

      She accepted the big green towel from him. “Thanks.” Her teeth were chattering as she began rubbing her hair.

      “You’d better get out of those clothes—I’ll get you something.” He went back up the stairs.

      She’s crazy. She’s like so totally and completely crazy! Why the fuck did I let her in the house? What kind of weirdo stands around in the pouring rain like that!

      He pulled a sweatshirt from his drawer and found another pair of sweatpants in his closet. He headed back down to the kitchen.

      She was sitting at the table with a steaming coffee mug clutched in her hands. He noticed her nails were bitten down to the quick, and the skin around them looked chewed. “I helped myself,” she said. Her teeth were still chattering.

      He handed her the sweats. “Here. Go change. The bathroom’s through that door.”

      She gave him a ghost of a smile and disappeared into the bathroom. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. When she came back out, he looked at her. Her face was a blank.

      “Don’t you have enough sense to get out of the rain?” he asked, fretting just a little that he was sounding like Lois.

      She sat down and brushed a lock of wet hair out of her face. “I needed to talk to you.”

      “How did you know where I lived?”

      “Truro’s a small place. All I had to do was get off the shuttle at the post office and ask where the two profs from Boston College lived.”

      “Why?” Chris looked at her. “Why did you come all the way out here to find me?”

      “Chris—” she said, biting her lip.

      “What?”

      “Like it or not, you’re a part of this now.”

      The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “A part of what?”

      “All of this.” She looked at him. “Chris, I know you’ve been watching me all summer.” She scratched her arm absently. “I didn’t know why—I just figured you had really weird taste in girls or something. I didn’t think you were a perv or anything like that.” She gave him another ghostly smile. “I’ve been thinking about it since the other day, and I realized that you’re here to help me, somehow.”

      “Help you?” He scratched his head. “With what? You aren’t making any sense, Jessie.”

      “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Her voice sounded defeated, and she seemed to literally shrink in front of him. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy. Even my shrink did.” She looked out the window and sipped her coffee. “But I’m not, Chris, you have to believe me—I’m not crazy! Strange things are happening, weird things, and I don’t know what to do. You’ve got to help me!”

      “You think you’re possessed, I know.” He looked at her. She was pretty, he thought. If she wore makeup and did something about that wild tangle of hair, she’d be beautiful. He reached across the table and took her hand. “But there’s no such thing as possession, Jessie.”

      “I thought I was crazy, too.” She got up, removing her hand from his and walking across the kitchen. She refilled her coffee. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

      “There’s no such thing as ghosts either.” He crossed his arms.

      “And how do you know that? For sure?”

      “I—” He stopped. “I guess I don’t know. Everyone says that.” She’s crazy. I need to get her out of here. I should maybe call the police or something….

      “Two years ago, my mother committed suicide.” Jessie sat back down, sipping her coffee while keeping her dark eyes trained on Chris. “It was on a day like this. I was in my room, reading. I heard something—a noise that didn’t make any sense, you know? I got up and went to see what it was—and she was hanging from the ceiling. Her eyes—” Jessie shivered. “Her eyes were open and her tongue was sticking out.”

      “Jessie, look—”

      “I just started screaming and screaming—I guess one of the neighbors heard me and called the police.” She shrugged. “Dad was gone—he’s always gone, you know—and he had to fly right back home.” She laughed bitterly. “He acted like it was this huge inconvenience to him, you know? He had to cancel some appearances. Like his wife dying might lose him some book sales.”

      “You don’t really think that.”

      “He’s an asshole,” Jessie said vehemently. “He doesn’t care about me, he never cared about Mom…he won’t admit it now, but I think he was going to divorce her. I think that’s why she did it.” She shuddered and wiped at her eyes. “It was so fucking weird, Chris, I mean, she made me lunch that day like nothing was wrong. Two hours later she was dead. Everything was fine…and then—” She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. “And then of course dear Daddy decided I needed therapy.”

      Chris couldn’t think of anything to say. He just kept staring at her.

      “And that’s, you know, when the dreams started.”

      “The dreams?”

      “I thought they were dreams, anyway.” The girl took a deep breath. “I kept seeing my mom. She was trying to tell me something, to warn me…” She finished her coffee. “And I made the mistake of telling my shrink about it. She thought I was crazy. And she told my dad…I was this close to being committed.” She held her index finger and thumb about a centimeter apart. “And that’s when I knew I couldn’t tell them anything. So I started lying to them both. Dad pulled me out of school and hired Alice to homeschool me. Which is fine.” She laughed. “School sucked, anyway. You know how well I get along with other kids.”

      He was softening toward her. Maybe she wasn’t crazy. Just lonely. Weird, but harmless…

      “Look, I don’t get along with other kids my age any better. They call me Ichabod Crane.” And Beanpole, he thought. And Jolly Green Giant. And…

      “I don’t care about them,” Jessie said. “They’re all idiots anyway.”

      “Jessie, why are you here?”

      “You don’t believe me, do you?” She stood up. “I don’t know why I thought you would. You’re just like everyone else.”

      There was so much despair in her voice, such sadness and defeat that he couldn’t help himself. “Okay.” He stood, looking up at her. “I believe you.” He wasn’t sure that he did, but it was the right thing to say.

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