“Well, yeah,” I shrugged. “For someone you said wasn’t transparent, you seem to always be looking through me.”
He smiled.
“I appreciate your honesty, Perry Mason. If I continue to get all creepy on you, do let me know.”
I felt better now that it was out in the open. But despite having no trouble telling him that he freaked me out at times, there was no way in hell I would tell him I thought he was growing increasingly cuter by the second.
“OK, let’s do a quick shot here.” He pointed at me to stay put. “Can you get the hair out of your face and tuck it around to the right?”
I reached over and gathered what hair I could. I grimaced at the touch of my strands, matted and tangled from the wind and salt. He smiled at the image on the camera. He was probably laughing at me. I gave the camera a look.
He looked up. “When I said you weren’t transparent, I meant it. You’ve got a lot going on inside.” He tapped the side of his head.
“Don’t we all?” I jeered. I felt vaguely insulted. Just because I was twenty-two and not thirty-two didn’t mean I hadn’t been through a lot. Dex took his attention away from the camera and looked me straight in the eye, with sincerity this time.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, warm and serious. “I didn’t mean to belittle you. By any means. OK?”
I may not have been transparent, but he was awfully good at reading my thoughts or at least my face.
He nodded, apparently satisfied with my non-response, and turned back to the camera.
“OK, do you remember your lines?”
What the hell? Lines? When did the topic of lines come up?
“What lines?”
“Didn’t I give you lines?” He scratched his head.
“No, Dex. History homework, but no lines.”
He thought that over then shrugged, “Fuck it.” He waved at me. “Just make something up.”
“About what?”
“About the lighthouse. What we might experience. Introduce the show; tell us some history. Go!” He pointed at me.
Oh God, this was worse than being called on in class when you didn’t do the homework.
I cleared my throat, “Good evening. Welcome to—” I paused. I didn’t actually know the name of our show, “Ghost...Blogger. Tonight’s mystery show revolves around the mysteries of....this....lighthouse.”
I motioned at the lighthouse like one of those cheesy babes who showcase the prizes on The Price is Right. My mind was frantically spinning, trying to come up with ideas faster than I could talk.
“The Rocky Point lighthouse has an interesting and sordid history”—one that I was about to make up—“It was built at the turn of the century to warn incoming ships; however, after only ten years in service, it started to have mechanical problems. At least they figured it was mechanical because no matter what they tried, the light kept going out after dark. Rumors started that the lighthouse was cursed as it lay dark at night and became invisible to passing ships. The lighthouse was deserted and boarded up and a new lighthouse was resurrected out on a rocky outcrop further up the coast.”
I pointed up the coast, hoping Dex would follow my finger and take the pressure off of me for a moment. I had no idea what the hell I was talking about and had no idea how long I could keep it up. But the camera stayed on me. Dex met my eyes for a second and silently encouraged me to keep going. I took a deep breath...
“However, horror and tragedy met that lighthouse as well. The day before it was set to be lit, a merchant ship slammed into nearby rocks during the night. The ship sank, along with sixteen men and two women who drowned in its waves. At least, that’s what the official record was. Legend has it that one of the women managed to drift along on a piece of driftwood until she reached the shore. Right there.”
I looked behind me at the rocky coast beneath the lighthouse and cliff.
And just like that, I couldn’t breathe. The immense pressure of cold prickles seized my body and I froze on the spot.
I stared blankly at the area and suddenly my world was black.
I was now standing beneath the lighthouse, waves crashing into me from behind as my attention was fixed on the sight above. On the cliff stood the man in black, his fingers pointed straight out at the darkening sea and sky. Behind him stood another figure, obscured by the shadows.
The light from the lighthouse came on then, and in that instance of stark illumination, I could see that other figure. It was me.
It was me, standing there as plain as day, and slowly reaching for the shoulder of the man in black.
I felt fingers grasp my own shoulder.
I turned and screamed.
I was back on the beach in the daylight. Dex was standing beside me with his hand firmly on me. It took a good few seconds to stop screaming and realize what I was looking at.
He grabbed my other shoulder. “Perry. Perry, it’s me, Dex. Are you OK? What happened?”
My eyes flitted across his face, unable to focus. He squeezed my shoulders and brought me closer into him. It would have been nice, if only I wasn’t freaking the f**k out.
“Perry, look at me. Look at me.” He put his face in closer until I had no choice but to focus on those brown orbs of his. I could see he was just as frightened as me. “You’re here now. With me. OK? Everything’s OK.”
I nodded and took in a deep breath. He didn’t let go of my shoulders or get out of my face. He searched my face relentlessly. That frown line of his is really etched in there, I thought absently.
“What happened? You turned and you froze. Went completely white. I kept calling your name over and over again. Couldn’t you hear me?”
Shaking my head, I told him I couldn’t hear anything, “I wasn’t here anymore. I was...somewhere else.”
“Where?”
I looked away. “I don’t know. Nowhere. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Where did you go? What did you see?” He shook me slightly. It reminded me of something. I wondered if he had ever seen Hitchcock’s Vertigo because he was starting to go all Jimmy Stewart on me.
I pulled away from him and walked a few feet towards the ocean, conscious of the waves’ foamy fingers but needing the space to breathe.
“We should go back,” Dex said and turned to gather his equipment.
“No!” I yelled, surprising myself. It surprised him too.