There was a comforting sense of normality outside. Ada and Whiz were making out around the corner. OK, that wasn’t the first thing I wanted to see but the minute she saw me, she stopped sucking face and came running over. She threw her arms around me. Not a normal move from her.
“Thank goodness!” she exclaimed, slurring. “I thought you were dead. Or that maybe you jumped off the cliff.”
“That’s nice,” I said blankly.
We started walking back towards Uncle Al’s place.
“Did ya see anything f**ked up?” Whiz called from alongside Ada.
“I thought I did,” was all I said. If Matt and Tony were roaming the lighthouse while I was inside, and they didn’t see any sign of Dex, maybe Dex never existed. Maybe he was just another one of those imaginary friends of mine, long lost since childhood. I looked down at my camera. It wasn’t working, which meant any proof of what happened would have to wait until I got it fixed. I hoped it wouldn’t cost me a lot of money.
I sighed with some effort, suddenly overcome with acute mental and physical exhaustion.
I was so tired that when we finally made our way back to the house and put out the bonfire, I nearly passed out on the pull-out couch with my clothes on. Ironically, drunken Ada was the more coherent one.
“What is mom gonna say when she sees you passed out in your clothes?” she admonished.
I nodded at that and slipped into my nightshirt and pajama pants. I threw my clothes on the floor. Papers and change flew out of the jacket. Ada picked up a piece of debris and peered at it.
“What’s this?”
I looked closer. She was holding a business card in her hands.
“Who is Dex Foray?” she asked, looking up at me.
I snatched it out of her hands and turned it over in mine. He did exist.
“A ghost,” I said dreamily, before falling fast asleep.
CHAPTER FIVE
The ride back to Portland the next day was strangely silent. I was busy mulling over the events from last night, twisting them over and over again in my brain, which was drained from my restless sleep. My sister was hungover as hell and already made my dad pull the car over so she could vomit. I hadn’t talked with her about what happened in the lighthouse. In fact, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to anyone about anything. I felt profoundly different, and as scary as it was to dwell on the unexplained, it gave me a sense of importance. I couldn’t go back to small talk and polite nods.
My parents were silent too. My dad was furious with Ada for drinking, and I am sure he was also mad at me for letting her drink. My mother wasn’t mad, as far as I could tell, but she was constantly eyeing both of us in the rear view mirror.
I turned away from her prying eyes and looked out the window. Fall had arrived overnight. The sunshine was gone. The wind hurled itself at our car and tore green leaves off of the trees, scattering them in the air. The air conditioner in the car was off, adding to the silence.
I hadn’t really come up with any solid conclusions about the night before. Radiohead’s OK Computer was playing on my iPod and lulling me into a sort of dreamland, blurring reality. I started second guessing everything that I thought I was certain of.
And that left me at my dream. It was the thought I always ended up with whenever I replayed the scenario through my head (which was most of that morning). Had I really dreamed that? It didn’t seem possible. In fact, how could it be? How could I dream something and then live it?
Then again, though it was similar, it was still not the same. Which either meant I was psychic in some really useless way or it was a huge coincidence.
What really scared me was if I had to experience the other dream I had. I wasn’t looking forward to a dark figure standing ominously at the foot of my bed.
And Dex. Dex had also been dancing around my head. I was so close to writing off that whole encounter as a figment of my imagination but the business card that Ada found was proof that he was in fact real.
I just wish I knew where he went, what he was doing there…and who he really was. There was something so maddeningly intriguing about him. His voice, his eyes, his mannerisms, his intensity—I wanted to learn more. And I wanted to know if he really was a so-called ghost hunter. I mean, I had been going to my uncle’s for a long time and though I’ve heard weird stuff about the lighthouse, this was the first time anyone mentioned it being haunted, let alone attracting attention from the paranormal community.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Mom, Dad…”
“Yes, pumpkin,” said my mother.
I hesitated, trying to figure out the best way to pose my question.
“Um, I heard from the twins that they keep being contacted by like the Discovery Channel and stuff like that. Something about the lighthouse being haunted.”
My parents exchanged strange glances. My dad shrugged as casually as he could muster and eyed me in the mirror.
“That’s all nonsense, Perry. There are no such things as ghosts.”
“I’m not saying there are ghosts, Dad, I’m just saying it seems a lot of people think there are. In Uncle Al’s lighthouse. Kinda weird, right? Did you know about that?”
I watched my parents carefully. Ada did too, now that she was awake. They exchanged another glance and I could detect a barely perceptible nod from my mother.
“No, sweetie, sorry I don’t know what the twins have been telling you,” he finally said. “Probably pulling your leg. You know how they are. Always trying to scare you.”
“Ah,” I said and sank deeper into my seat. I looked over at Ada. She looked like hell, but I could see she didn’t believe my parents either. The twins weren’t lying. My parents were. But why lie about something as random as that?
I must have dozed off somewhere during my thoughts because the lurch of the car woke me up. We were home, our large, quiet house looming above us, the trees waving wildly in the wind.
I got out of the car, the cold gusts catching in my throat and messing up my hair. We’d only been gone a little over a day and yet the sunshine and optimism felt so long ago.
***
I was back at the lighthouse, standing outside of it just underneath the tower. Its insides were lit up like a spaceship with piercing light coming through the porthole windows. A movement at the very top of the lighthouse caught my eye. A man came to the edge and looked over me and the ocean before him. He was fuzzy and devoid of shape or feature. It was as if my eyes couldn’t, or wouldn’t, focus on him.