Ancestral

A Hesitant Witness

I headed straight to my room and changed. I also had to think about what had just happened. The dream this morning hadn’t seemed like anything special. I assumed that I had sported some morning wood in my sleep and Ben had decided to have some fun with it. The fact that it triggered a sexual dream didn’t seem odd to me at all. But seeing the same man’s face in broad daylight during some sort of waking vision, well that was a different matter altogether. It seemed more urgent than ever to get some answers from Helmut. But first, I wanted to check in with Ben about this morning.

He wasn’t in his room, so I made my way downstairs to see if I could find him. Miss McFiercesen was in the midst of meal preparations in the kitchen when I asked her if she knew where he was. “Oh, sweety, He’s gone home to visit his parents for the weekend. Did something happen? He seemed awful anxious to get away.”

“Kinda,” I waffled. “Nothing bad. I’ll fill you in later. Is Helmut awake yet?”

Her entire demeanor changed, switching from a neutral happy to a controlled angry. “Yes. He’s in the study.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “I read him the riot act when he finally got up at noon. I told him he needed to apologize to you and the others about last night, and that while he was staying here there would be no more alcohol allowed in the house, and if he goes out drinking he is not allowed back in until he has sobered up. I’m not putting up with that bullshit anymore.” She softened a little as she added, “So that means we are a dry house for a while. No more wine with dinner, sorry.”

I placed my arm around her shoulder and gave her a little hug. “And I’m sorry you have to deal with all these painful memories. Thank you for all you do to maintain this place as a safe home for all of us.”

She softened even more as she muttered a quiet, “Thank you,” then turned her attention back to the meal. I went straight to the study and knocked.

“Who is it?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“It’s me, Joey, can I come in?”

“Oh…umm, sure.” I heard him shuffling toward the door to let me in. When he opened it, I was surprised to see his muscular form bent and moving as if each step caused great pain. He was obviously still suffering from the effects of his drinking binge last night.

Alarmed I asked, “Do you need some aspirin? How about coffee, or water?”

He just shuffled back to the daybed and tried to sit up to talk with me, but he clearly needed to lie down. “No, I’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this to myself.” He held his head in his hands as he spoke, “I’m so sorry about last night. I really don’t remember anything much after I got home. Did you take me out on the porch or something? And then there was something about cinnamon. I could still taste it when I woke up.” He was genuinely searching his shredded memory for anything to help him know how to apologize appropriately. “anyways, I’m sorry you had to deal with it. I don’t do it as often as I used to, but when I do…I…” He trailed off, unable to hold on to his train of thought.

This was not a forced apology, offered to fulfill the demands of Mr. P. This was a genuine expression of sorrow based in a real ownership of his own failures. I could see why Mr. P. still had feelings for him, even though there was an obvious need for boundaries and distance. I wasn’t sure how to respond without dismissing either his faults or the sincerity of his apology. I finally said, “It’s ok,” and moved right into the reason for my visit. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions for me?”

Without moving he muttered, “I’ll try. What do you want to know?”

I decided the best approach was to be blunt. “I want to know about the boys in the basement.”

His head snapped up quickly and his eyes were wide. He immediately regretted the sudden movement, collapsing back against the pile of pillows that lined the back of the daybed. “oooohhh…What boys, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do,” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. “You knew about them last night. You said they have been fucking in the basement for over a hundred years now. You said they liked three-ways and you loved it when they fucked you.” He looked at me like I had discovered his dirty little secret and he was wondering how to shut me up. “Plus, on the first night you were back, I heard you head down there and greet them. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I do not get fucked,” He hissed at me. “I do the fucking, just ask Phil.” He seemed more interested in maintaining his macho facade than denying he knew about the ghosts.

“I don’t really care who fucks who, I just want to know what you can tell me about the boys in the basement.”

“Nothing,” he didn’t want to talk about it, but he realized it was futile to deny knowledge of them. “I don’t know anything about them, just that they fuck.”

“You seemed to enjoy entering that activity with them. How do they interact with you?”

His mind still wasn’t clear, and he didn’t seem to understand the question. “I don’t really…Alright, fine, I’ll answer your questions, but not now. I still can’t think. How about later tonight, or better yet, tomorrow?”

I agreed and rose to leave him to rest. As I walked out, I turned and said, “Helmut, it really is alright.”

The house filled with the delicious aroma of Miss McFiercesen’s labors, and the boarders began to make their way down to the public spaces to help set up the meal or just wait together and chat in the living room. Sammy and JoJo had arrived sometime during the afternoon and had been busily unpacking in their rooms. They each wore a new tee-shirt advertising one or another of the shows they had seen. They were practically twins, approximately the same height, one had dark hair, the other lighter hair, but they both had the same haircut. They were the definition of a twink, thin, young, and pretty. They eagerly shared stories from their trip and even burst into song at one point when describing a musical they had seen. They presided over an energetic and happy pre-meal gathering.

During this, I noticed a somewhat lethargic Helmut quietly pulling Sylvia to one side for a moment, and then speaking with Andi in the foyer. Both women listened intently and seemed to offer forgiveness in their own ways. By the time the meal was served, the festivities seemed to be dying down.

After dinner I cornered heather and gave her the forms to fill out. She seemed quite pleased with the prospect of working at the Patterson with me as her supervisor. I explained that I was thinking of doing a research project looking at the local mansions, their origins, and histories, and maybe some of the elements that made them unique. I warned her that it would involve a lot of library work and going through records at city hall, but she thought it would be interesting, and hurried off to look over the paperwork.

While the others retired to their rooms or sat in the living room to visit, I went into the kitchen in search of Miss M. She was supervising clean-up as usual, but they had just turned on the dishwasher and were essentially finished. As the assigned cleaners left, I invited Miss M. to sit with me at the breakfast table. She brought over a couple of glasses of juice and sat down, anxious to hear what was going on with Ben.

“You didn’t have a fight or anything, did you?” Because of her conflict with her ex, that was the first thing on her mind.

“Nothing like that,” I assured her. “But first I need to know how much you know.”

“About what?”

“Well, let’s start with the arch below the cellar stairs.” I thought this would be a gentle way of moving toward the ghosts.

“What arch?” She was not trying to hide anything, rather she seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Under these stairs right here.” I pointed to the cellar door at the back of the kitchen. “Do you remember an arch on that wall before you renovated?”

“You mean where the shelves are now?” she asked. I nodded. “No, those shelves were there when I bought the place. I didn’t touch them. Why?”

“I…heard a rumor that there was an old bricked up arch there. I just wondered if…”

“There are plenty of old arches in the locked part of the basement, but none of them are bricked up. I think they were cold storage in the era before refrigeration.”

“Really?” I was intrigued. Could I take a look at them sometime? You know, working at a history museum, old buildings. It would be interesting for me.”

“Sure. I could take you back there tomorrow if you want. It’s a mess back there. I kept all the old junk that was left behind by previous owners. Some of it looks pretty old, but most of it is just junk.” She seemed pleased at my interest in the building’s history. She thought for a moment and added, “You know, it’s funny. There should be a root cellar down there, most old houses had something like that, but I’ve never been able to find one here. And now that you point it out, the wall under the cellar stairs is the perfect place for a root cellar. Maybe we’ll take a peek while we’re down there and see what’s behind the drywall.”

This was more than I could have hoped for. It was my turn to be excited. “That would be great.”

“But what does this have to do with Ben?” She brought me back to her base question.

“Ahhh…” I decided to be direct. “He heard the ghosts in the basement, and it freaked him out.”

“Oh.” She sat in silence for a moment and asked, “When?”

“Last night. We went down because I had heard them the night before and he wanted to prove to me that there was nothing there.”

“And he found out they were real.” She looked at me directly. “Is that all that happened? You just heard them?”

“No.” It was my turn to look away. “He says he felt them as well.”

She got up and stuck her head in the living room. “Sylvia, sweety, could you run and ask Andi if she would be willing to join Joey and I in the kitchen?”

I heard an immediate, “Sure.” And the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Miss M. sat back down to wait. “Andi has some real talent here, but Helmut has had the most experience with them. He refuses to talk about them anymore, though, but you can try.”

“I did. Twice.” She looked up in astonishment. “He says he’ll talk to me tomorrow.”

She smirked as if having too much experience bashing her head against that particular wall. “Good luck with that,” she said sarcastically as Andi walked in.