Story 4: Steven

 

I sat on the counter beside my wife as she hummed the tune from her favourite television show, Friends. She washed the dishes while watching their daughter, Olivia, play in the backyard. Ollie was currently pushing a pink convertible full of barbies around with her cherub red mouth pursed making vroom noises which floated in from the open window along with a warm breeze. Libby smiled at her daughter, but soon her smile fell.

"You can smile, my love. It's okay," I said to Libby, looking at my beautiful wife. She was as beautiful as the day I met her in that café ten years ago. I reached out to touch her but faltered and put my hand down.

I followed Libby through the hallway from the kitchen and into the living room. Libby stood, looking at the living room, half torn down and packed away. Her shoulders slumped and she sighed, sadly. She grabbed another box and began to pack away the DVDs. I stood in the doorway, just watching her as she packed away our belongings. I wandered back through the house, passing by our cat Moon, who was sitting on the kitchen counter again.

"Moon, get down, you know better!" I said to her, shooing her off the counter. Moon raised her hackles at me and hissed before running off into the living room with Libby.

"Oh, Moon, what is wrong?" asked Libby faintly. I shook my head, that cat had never liked me and I could never figure out why. I loved animals, especially cats.

I stood in the open doorway of the backyard door and watched as Ollie played make-believe with her dolls. She was currently mashing her Barbie and Ken's faces together and making kiss noises. I chuckled at her efforts and turned to a light footfall on the floor behind me as Libby walked into the kitchen again. She gasped just slightly, jumping back and grasping her chest. Clearly something had spooked her and I looked over at the basement door as it was slightly ajar. She ran over and closed the door. She hated the basement, since the day we moved in. Not only that, but she refused to enter it, thus I became the resident launderer as the basement never bothered me until recently.

"Just a trick of the light, Libby!" my wife muttered to herself as she shook her head and then walked to the back door and opened it.

"Ollie, it's time to get ready for bed, honey. Make sure to put your toys in the tote beside the sandbox," she called out, standing on the concrete step. Ollie's shoulders dropped in sadness.

"Momma, five more minutes pleeeease? The sun hasn't even gone down yet!" argued our 8-year-old. I smiled at her tenacity. She smiled a little in my direction.

"Five more minutes, but you better have those toys in the tote by the time I come back, miss!"

Ollie jumped up and pumped her fist in the air and yelled "yes!" before she went back to playing with her dolls. I laughed at her antics. She was such a ham.

"Is she gone, Daddy?" asked Ollie. I looked behind me as Libby trailed out of the kitchen and back towards the living room. I looked back at and nodded before I stepped out into the backyard and went over to sit with my daughter; I picked up Ken and played as the doll to her Barbie. Meanwhile, I kept an eye on the door, just in case Libby came back. I saw her blond head pass by the kitchen window and dropped the doll.

"You need to put your toys away, babygirl. Momma is coming," I whispered as I stood up and walked back towards the house. Ollie pouted for a second but agreed and began to gather her dolls and other parts to put into the tote. Libby stopped at the door and watched as Ollie put everything away before opening the door to our daughter racing in, covered in sand and dirt. I slipped inside before Libby closed the door and passed by her.

She shivered just slightly before telling Olivia to go get ready for her bath that she had drawn for her. I trailed after my wife, watching as she walked through the house that was slowly being packed away and upstairs towards our bedroom. Libby opened my closet and stood outside of it, looking at all of my things that still needed to be packed. She sighed and opened a box before she grabbed a shirt and held it close to her body, sniffing it. She held onto the shirt a moment longer before taking it off of the hanger and packing it. I stood in the doorway and watched her pack my things.

"Momma, I'm all wrinkly now!" called Olivia from the bathroom. Libby turned quickly to go assist their daughter and jumped while shrieking.

"Momma!? Are you okay?" asked Olivia, concern lacing her voice as Libby bent down with her hand over her racing heart.

"I'm okay, I just thought that I had seen your father standing in my bedroom doorway, but it was just a shadow," called Libby.

"You see him too, Momma?" asked Ollie as she popped out from the bathroom in her Elsa towel. Libby stood in the hallway as the colour drained from her face.

"What did you say? We talked about this, Ollie. Your Daddy is dead. He's not here, and he's not playing with you. He's dead!" Libby said, her voice becoming more and more panicked.

"Yeah, I know he's dead, Momma. But he's here, he's standing right behind you," Ollie said, smiling at me. The lights flickered as I drained enough power to appear to Libby, who had begun to slowly turn around and face me.

"Steven..." she whispered as I finally became corporeal, standing there with the knife she had stabbed into my chest after she thought I was an intruder breaking into the house. How could I ever be angry with her? Even though she hid her crime and buried me in the basement she loathed to be in.

"Daddy, you're real!" gasped Ollie as Libby fainted.

©L Young, 2024