Darkness My Old Friend

know how to put the color back in the sky, not for herself, not even for Amanda.

Eloise was in a coma for six weeks, while her husband and daughter both passed and were buried without her. Amanda, who suffered the least of the physical injuries, was cared for by her grandmother, Ruth. When Eloise thought about those six weeks, she hated herself. How could she just lie there, leaving Emily and Alfie to pass without her by their sides? Leaving Amanda all alone with that terrible fear and crushing grief? How could she? It was an unforgivable negligence of duty.

And then, a few months later, the visions came. Amanda was back in school, doing as well as could be expected. Eloise had taken on some cleaning and baby-sitting jobs offered by neighbors. At first they were pity jobs; Eloise knew that. But then her reputation grew-she was good with children, an excellent housekeeper. They would make ends meet fairly well, with Alfie’s life insurance, his pension, and the money they’d already managed to save. Eloise always made sure she was home when Amanda got home, that dinner was in the oven and all the lights in the house were on. It was the least she could do. She knew that it was not nearly enough.

It was one of those afternoons, while she waited for the bus to pull up, that she was first struck. That’s what it felt like, a blow to the head. A blow that changed the channel she was receiving, from what was around her to something that was elsewhere-another place, another time, another person.

Labored, panicked breathing. Dark. The sound of dripping water echoing off stone. And then a horrible keening scream, Help, help, help me! It was a loop, replaying over and over. She didn’t know how long.

She became conscious again to find herself on the floor with Amanda hovering over her, pale and terrified.

“Mom,” said Amanda. Her voice was just a whisper. “Mom.”

Eloise struggled up, struggled to shake off her disorientation. This was the last thing Amanda needed right now.

“Honey, I’m fine. I skipped lunch. I must have fainted.” Eloise tried for a self-deprecating smile, but she couldn’t shake the vision or the fear. What the hell had just happened to her?

Amanda stared at Eloise with wide eyes, her carbon copy as Alfie always said. But no, she wasn’t that. She was more beautiful, smarter, and kinder than Eloise could ever have dreamed of being. In her slender, pale face, in her stormy eyes, Eloise saw all their grief and sadness, all their terrible loss. And something else: a simmering anger, a growing rage. Amanda was too young to know how hard and unfair the world could be; she’d suffered too much pain for her fifteen years. And something inside, the child who’d been asked to grow up too fast, was furious.

“I’m okay. Sweetie. Look at me. I’m fine.”

Outside, the wind chimes were wild. She heard the cooing of the mourning doves that had come to live in the eaves. She pulled Amanda in close and clung to her, feeling her daughter’s arms wrap around her middle and hold on tight.

What had happened to her? Most anyone would question her sanity, would immediately imagine posttraumatic stress disorder or some kind of psychotic break. And, of course, she had considered these things. (The grim diagnoses, the candy-colored rainbow of pills, would all come later.) But even then she knew. She knew she hadn’t lost her mind. She was Alice, slipping down the rabbit hole into some other world, a place she’d never even imagined until she was there.

Now she had the Internet, the ubiquitous web of information that linked the whole universe together. Now, when she had the visions, she sat down at her computer and started typing in key words like missing women or missing girl. If she’d heard a particular bird chirping in her vision or saw a certain type of plant or leaf, heard an accent or a different language, she’d use that. But that took years, decades of instruction and practice to be so mindful in her episodes. At first she was just reeling, terrified, taking on the emotion, the terror. She couldn’t think straight; it took hours to get her equilibrium back. Back then she had to wait for the news at six and eleven, hope that whatever she’d seen had made it onto the national broadcast. Back then there wasn’t even cable, no twenty-four-hour world news channels at the click of a remote.

She couldn’t shake it that first night. And after Amanda went to bed, she turned on the news and watched. She couldn’t have said why she did this. But she knew she must. And there it was, a missing girl in Pennsylvania. There was a giant manhunt, a weeping mother begging anyone with information to come forward. She’s in a well. If you don’t call now, it will be too late. She’s dehydrated and cold. She won’t survive the night. It wasn’t a voice-and it was a voice. It was a knowledge that leaked into her consciousness from the air. It had a particular sound-and it didn’t.

She picked up the phone and called the hotline number.

A young woman answered. “Do you have information relating to Katie?”

“I think I do.”

“Would you like to give your name?”

“No.” She said it too quickly. She knew she sounded like a crackpot or someone with something to hide. Possibly she was both.

“Okay.”

“I’ve had a vision.” Eloise was shaking from her core. She couldn’t keep it out of her voice. It was more like a shiver, as if she were freezing from the inside out. Adrenaline was pulsing through her.

“A vision.” It was the first time she heard that particular tone-disbelief, mixing with annoyance, mingling with hope. She would hear it so many, many more times after that.

“Katie is in a well. She has fallen. She’s cold and dehydrated. She won’t make it through the night. She’s not far from her home. I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m just asking you to check.”

“Okay.”

“She’s wearing jeans and sneakers.” Eloise had had no awareness of this in her vision. Wasn’t even sure why she was saying it now. “And a long-sleeved T-shirt, green and white. It says ‘Daddy’s Girl’ on it.” She didn’t even know how she knew it. But as she spoke, she was certain it was true.

There was only silence on the line. She heard a muffled voice, someone speaking, a hand covering the phone.

“Hello?” There was a male voice on the line now. “This is Detective Jameson. Can you repeat to me what you just told the hotline operator?”

She repeated the information.

“You need to hurry. Please,” she said when she was done. She could still hear his voice as she hung up the phone. She didn’t have anything else to say, was unwilling to give her name. She was too naive to know they had already traced her call, that the hotline was set up for that.

When the phone was in its cradle, she felt a shuddering sense of relief. Only when she felt it did she realize the terrible low buzz of anxiety she’d been suffering. Then she looked up to see Amanda standing in the doorway to the living room.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Is that what happened today?”

Amanda came to sit beside her on the couch. She wore one of her sister’s nightgowns. Amanda had been sleeping in Emily’s pajamas since her sister died. It makes me feel close to her. Eloise didn’t mind it. She liked seeing Emily’s things animated, as if she were still with them. Eloise hadn’t touched even one of Alfie’s belongings-his razor, his toothbrush, his slippers under the nightstand. It was as if Emily and Alfie were still here as long as those things remained. Those mundane items tingled with their energy. Even though most days she was just wading through a hip-deep swamp of grief, the sight of something that Alfie or Emily had touched could make her smile.

“I think so. I needed to call. I know that.”

Amanda considered her mother in that grave way she had. “What if you’re wrong?”

“But what if I’m right?” The answer to that was scarier. This was acknowledged between them without words.

They sat in the quiet dark. The television was on with the sound down, casting its strobe about the room. If Alfie and Emily were there, they’d both be chattering and grilling her about all the details. There would be no quiet, knowing acceptance of the bizarre. Both of them would be skeptical, playing devil’s advocate. But they weren’t there. And somehow Eloise knew if they were, this wouldn’t have happened.

“It’s not fair. It’s so not fair. None of it,” Amanda said.