A Farewell to Candice

A Farewell to Candice
A ghost story

Candice didn’t hear the knocking at first.  The double dose of sleeping pills she was taking since Stephen left her six weeks ago kept her unconscious for most of the night.  When the tapping did pull her out of her intoxicated sleep she opened her eyes to her bedroom that was bruised dark blue by the light of the winter moon.  She gazed around for the source of the subtle tapping, thinking it was her six-year old daughter, Sonny, trying to wake her for a glass of water or for admittance into Candice’s bed. But instead she only saw the shadows projected from the rocking oak tree that seemed to wave on the walls with bony hands.  Across the room, phantom red numbers that read 3:45 floated in the darkness.
“I have cut those damned braches,” she mumbled as she watched the projected shadows of the hands rock back and forth. Candice listened to the knocking and the wind wheezing through the cracked bedroom window before throwing the sheets over her head to hide from the night sounds.  She lay there for what felt like hours underneath the heavy winter comforter and listened to the buzzing of her ears and her heavy breathing.  Somewhere in a distant world beyond her comforting cocoon she heard the muffled ringing of her phone. The sounds melded with memories of a night shortly after her and Stephen’s marriage.  It was three in the morning when they had both been pulled out of their shallow sleep by a soft knocking coming from the living room.  Stephen rose from her arms in a sleepy daze to investigate.
“Boogey-man finally come to get you,” he had joked.  “Thank God, sex was starting to get bad.”
“You know, Monsters can get pretty dangerous this time of night,” Candice muttered, still emerging from sleep.
Stephen snorted in response.  He grabbed the baseball bat by the dresser with the words ‘Pat the Baseball Bat’ printed with black marker on its side and triumphantly recited, “Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.” He then gallantly charged into the hallway holding the bat as a sword.  Candice giggled  at his show of masculinity. 
Stephen found his brother Tom standing at the front door in the shadows of the porch. He was drunk on Jack Daniels, high on marijuana, and drove twenty miles from his house looking for a place to sleep. Stephen let Tom in and told Candice to get some sheets for the futon.
“It’s over, man.  I’m leaving Beth,” Candice overheard Tom say from the bedroom.  “Found out about me and Sherrie and she kicked me out.  Can you believe that?  My house.  I pay for that house and she kicks me out.”
“I hear ya, bub.  No worries. Just deal with it tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
“She don’t understand. My house.”
Candice remembered wanting to cry as she stood in the dark bedroom holding the musty sheets that had not been used in months.
Tom and his wife filed for divorce two weeks later.  Stephen told Candice it was because of their irreconcilable differences.
“I hope we don’t ever have to go through that,” Candice told Stephen.
Stephen wrapped his arms around her like loose fetters.  “Don’t worry.  We’re too strong for that.”  Candice wondered if he would ever regret saying that.
*
“Mommy,” the little voice whispered as it drifted over the planes and barriers of sleep and memories like phantoms through her bedroom door. “Mommy, wake up.”
Candice threw the sheets back and the cold air instantly assailed her.  In the dark shadows, Candice saw the silhouette of Sonny standing in the bedroom doorway.  The phantom clock now read 5:10.
“Yes honey, you need to go back to sleep.”  Candice rolled over in her sheets and closed her eyes. “Isn’t time for school yet.”
“Mommy, someone’s at the door and they won’t stop knocking.”
Candice’s eyes snapped back open.  She heard the soft and steady knocking coming in sets of three from the living room.  Candice sat up and stared at her daughter who held her dirty cloth doll so tight that it looked as though the doll would split in half.
“Mommy”, Sonny whispered.  “Is it the Boogie-man?”
Candice jumped out of bed, grabbing ‘Pat the Bat’ that was leaning against her nightstand and pulled her daughter to the corner of the room next to the phone.
“Sonny, Mommy is going to check to see who is at the door.  Stay here and be quite.  If you hear something bad you call 911 and tell the police to come.”
“Ok,” Sonny whispered back.
Dressed in her pajama bottoms and sports bra, Candice moved to the bedroom door where shadows of the bony hands still waved.  She stepped into the hallway and closed the bedroom door behind.  She gripped ‘Pat’ with white knuckles and cold sweat between her fingers.  “Cry havoc,” she whispered to herself and lurked into the living room.  But the knocking fell silent.  Standing alone in the living room, she stared at the silent front door as the waving shadows caressed her.  Beyond living room window, the night glowed yellow from a single street lamp across the street.  The moon was gone, replaced by white clouds and snow.  It was the first snow of the year.
The thumping started again and Candice’s attention snapped back to the door.  She stepped closer to the thudding wood, feeling the winter seeping through its cracks, and peered through the peephole.  She saw a profile of a man standing on the dark porch waiting for her reply.  She flipped the outside light switch on.
It was Stephen. 
He stood in a tee shirt and holding himself as the wind slightly pushed and pulled him back and forth.  His hair was clumped and disordered. Dried blood stained his cheek where a beard was pushing its way out of his chin.  His eyes were wide and black.
“Damn,” she whispered.  She flipped the deadbolt and inched the door open.
She now saw the whole picture.  The faint stench of urine and alcohol mixed with the frigid air smothered her nose.  Blood stained his ripped blue jeans and he stood bare foot in a thin layer of snow.
“You’re drunk Stephen.  Go home.”  His eyes blinked and he raised them to meet hers.
Stephen stuttered as if he had to force the words out of his mouth.  “Don’t want to stay long. Wanted to see you.”
“Stephen, go home and sleep it off.  It’s five in the morning for Christ’s sake.  I have to work soon.”
“Is Sonny here?  I wanted to see her too before I leave.”
“Leave?  Running away with your little girlfriend, Stephen?”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“It’s cold.”
“Your drunk.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m glad.”
Candice and Stephen stood in the doorway staring at each other no more than two feet apart.  He raised his hand and she flinched back. 
“I wanted to say….”
“You left Stephen.  You.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
“I’m not here to fight.”
“Then what the hell you here for, huh?”
“Candice, just listen.”
“I did for ten years Stephen and it was all a lie.”
“Mommy?” Sonny said from the dark mouth of the hallway.
“Hello Sonny,” Stephen told his daughter.
“Sonny, go to bed.”
“Candice, I just wanted to see her.”
“Not your weekend Stephen.”
“Just for a moment.”
“No.  You’re not getting back in.  I wasn’t good enough then and you’re not good enough now.”
The phone began to ring in the kitchen.  “I will call the police,”  she snapped, not taking her eyes off of her husband.
“Mommy.”
“Sonny, go to bed.”
The phone rang again. Stephen remained silent. His mouth hung open. 
“Earth to Stevie, hello.”
The phone rang for the third time and the answering machine picked up.  “You have reached Candice’s mail box.  Leave a message.”
“Mommy.”
“Sonny.  Bed.  Now.”
“Candice, I….”
“Candice, it’s Miriam.  I’ve been calling all night.  Pick up the phone….”
“No. I’m sorry Stephen.”
“Candice, pick it up now.  Girl wake up….”
“I’ll miss you two the most, Candice.”
“Candice, it’s about Stevie….”
“Good, I’m glad,” Candice snorted.  “Have a happy trip and I’ll see you in hell.”  Candice slammed the door.  Sonny began to cry.
“Candice.  There was a car accident, Candice.  It’s Stephen.  Pick up the god damned phone….”
Candice turned back to the doorway and flung the front door open but it was too late.  Stephen was gone and left nothing behind.  Not even footprints in the small white dunes of snow.