Chapter 1 – Chap 1

Tonight seems as good a night as any. I’ve been toying around with the idea for some time now, tossing it back and forth in my head like Tam and Georgie used to do with the football in the yard before everything splintered. My therapist is going on about the importance of journaling, of putting my thoughts down into some sort of tangible format. I nod my head and agree. I’m a good patient. I’m a hopeful patient. I say the mantras. I practice them in the mirror every morning and night. I go to group. I go on dates with handsome salt and pepper men and try to “get back into the swing of things.” I do everything that a grieving mother is supposed to do. I should feel different. I should feel better. But I don’t. Not even in the slightest.

I walk through the front door after my session, toss my coat to the side, and exhale. I feel a sort of relaxation, a sensation I haven’t truly felt in ages. The Big Bad Monster, the one everyone is afraid of someone like me getting devoured by, will be arriving tonight. He will swallow me whole and I will not fight it. I’ll simply slide into his gut, into the whole of him, and that will be that. I order some takeaway- coconut curry and chips, cheap and greasy, the absolute perfect last meal. I make sure Pebbles has plenty of food and leave a note on my front door for the post man. I’d call Kerry next door for one last chat, but she always has a sense of things. She’d be able to see right through me and try to talk me out of it. I can’t take that chance. Instead I write her a letter, thanking her for being a good friend.

I run a bath. I smoke some weed. I play music. I do every cliched thing imaginable, but it’s so incredibly worth it, to experience these small pleasures one last time. I unscrew the bottle and empty every last pill into my palm. I down it with a glass of sauvignon blanc. I lay my head against the back of the porcelain tub and prepare to be swallowed…

The phone rings…

It rings some more…

And then some more.

Fuck, has the ring always been that loud? I try to ignore it and let it go to voicemail. This moment is about me and my Forever. No robo-caller or insurance salesman is going to try and take that away from me.

But then I hear his voice…

TAM: Harita… it’s Tam. I know… I know it’s been a minute. A long minute-

I jump out of the tub and run as fast as I can to the phone. I don’t answer though. I just stand there, sopping wet, and listen-

TAM: I’m in America. A small town in Maine. Aleister. Right on the coast… I need to see you Harita. I think… I think I may be in danger.

Before I can think, I reach for the phone.

HARITA: Tam?

Nothing but the dial tone. My mind races. It’s been two years since I’ve seen Tam. In all honesty I thought he was dead. Despite the time apart, I still love this man so. For ten years we had the perfect life and even though I cursed his name when he left, nothing will ever takeaway the pure magik of that time; of our family.

My heart now begins to race. I get dizzy. I remember the pills. Shit. I run to the sink and shove what feels like the entirety of my hand down my throat. I purge and race back to the phone. I try and call the number back. Disconnected.

What is going on Tam? Where the hell have you been all these years? Why now?

I want to depart from this world, so unbelievably bad, but I can’t. Not if the only man I ever loved is in need of help, if he is truly in danger. We made vows and I’ll honor mine, even on the brink of death. I take out my laptop and open my browser. I Google; “Where exactly is Aleister, Maine?”

—

I take a plane from Heathrow to LaGuardia; twelve hours. Then the Amtrak to Portland; three hours. Then I have a four hour wait at a fowl smelling marina until a ferry arrives. Although Tam was a smart man, details we’re never his strong suit. Aleister is not “right on the coast,” nor is it on any coast at all, instead it is an island, one that is only accessible by boat and so far out into the Atlantic that it’s closer to Nova Scotia than it is to the U.S. I’m essentially backtracking at this point, but it does not matter. I’d circle to the world twice and back again to help this man. The ferry finally arrives. We stop at two islands first, Cheabague followed by Cliff. Then after two hours of open ocean, at long last, I finally see it; Aleister.

It’s a quaint island, probably about ten or fifteen miles long covered in long strands of rocky beach and lush forestry farther up. I can even make out a few houses dotting the cliffs. It’s beautiful. So much so that it all shimmers in the glow of the sunset. It would have been nice to come here for a family vacation back when that was still a possibility. We dock and I commence my search.

I get to the police station, which is a small wooden shanty right by the wharf. I run up just as an officer is beginning to head home.

HARITA: Excuse me? Hi, I called earlier today about my husband, Tam Finnegan. I spoke with a Sheriff Redhill?

SHERIFF REDHILL: Yeah. That was me.

HARITA: Nice to meet you in person, I was curious if you happened to gain any more information since we last spoke?

SHERIFF REDHILL: Not since this morning darlin’, I’m sorry.

He continues closing up. I’m not sure if he’s actively trying to ignore me or just truly disinterested in my plight. I take out a photo of Tam.

HARITA: OK, well I brought a picture. For fliers maybe…

He continues ignoring me.

HARITA: Sheriff Redhill? Excuse me…? Sheriff!

He turns and lets out a sigh. He takes the photo and examines it.

SHERIFF REDHILL: I haven’t seen this fellow before.

HARITA: That doesn’t mean that he’s not here.

He lowers the photograph and looks me over, not in a perverse manner though, he’s searching for something. If only I knew what.

SHERIFF REDHILL: Do you really want to find him?

His question throws me off.

HARITA: I just flew all the way from London-

SHERIFF REDHILL: That’s not what I asked.

He stares me down. He really needs to hear me say it for some reason.

HARITA: Yes. He’s my husband.

He hands the photo back to me.

SHERIFF REDHILL: I’ll see what I can find. This island- the people, they don’t rush anything here. Everything takes its time. Give me a few days. If your fellow is here, I’m sure he’ll turn up.

It’s not really the answer I was looking for, but it’s a response. I’m so tired from all the traveling at this point that I gladly accept it.

SHERIFF REDHILL: Where ya’ staying tonight?

Fuck. I realize that I was in such a rush to get here that I didn’t bother to book a hotel. Or check to see if there even are hotels here.

HARITA: I-

He puts up his hand and points to a dirt path.

SHERIFF REDHILL: Half a mile down this road, take the first left. The Wilhelm. Big fancy sign out front. Can’t miss it.

HARITA: Thanks.

I grab my stuff and start walking. Redhill watches me every step of the way as I go. Still searching.

—

The Wilhelm is a rustic fishing lodge, wedged deep in a rocky cove on the edge of the island. I walk in and get a room. I throw my stuff down on the bed and try to gather my thoughts. I’m tired, but my mind continues to race. I leave my room and head to the pub downstairs.

A grab a pint and listen as some locals off to the side munch on freshly caught seafood. The sound of dinner time chatter and cutlery clinking against plates fills the room, but there’s something else here. Something in the air here that I can’t quite put my finger on. What is that sound? Since I first stepped foot onto the island, it’s been ringing in my ears. It sounds… like a humming? It’s not troublesome though. The opposite in fact. It’s quite soothing. I look out onto the moon dancing over the ocean and get lost in it. A handsome man approaches me.

HANDSOME MAN: You hear it don’t you?

HARITA: Yeah. What is that?

HANDSOME MAN: We call it the Lullaby. Supposed to have something to do with the shape of the island. Wind streams. The limestone on the cliffs. Never really understood the science of it all. But it’s pretty.

HARITA: It is.

He takes a seat at my table and extends a hand.

HANDSOME MAN: Eric Weldon.

HARITA: Harita Finnegan.

ERIC: What brings you all the way out to this vast stretch of nothingness?

HARITA: I’m, uh, looking for someone.

ERIC: Oh. Well have you found them?

HARITA: I just arrived. I spoke with the Sheriff. He told me I’d just have to wait. Let the island “take it’s time.”

He chuckles.

ERIC: That sounds like Redhill. Never came across a job that couldn’t wait until tomorrow… Who are you looking for?

HARITA: My husband. He’s…

The pure ridiculousness of what I’m about to say finally hits me. I feel ashamed to share it, but I do anyway.

HARITA: He’s in danger; Possibly.

Eric tries to contain his skepticism with a smirk.

ERIC: Here?

HARITA: I don’t really understand it entirely myself, but supposedly; yes. Here.

ERIC: There’s no danger in Aleister. Nothing but us and the ocean.

HARITA: It would seem so.

He takes a swig of beer and puts a finger to his lips. A lightbulb goes off-

ERIC: We should go see Nan.

HARITA: Who’s that?

ERIC: My Aunt. She knows everything that happens on this rock. You should come and meet her.

Despite the fact I have no idea who this stranger is, and both my body and mind are fatigued, Eric’s gaze is reinvigorating. It’s honest. It’s also downright handsome, so of course I say-

HARITA: Could be helpful. When?

ERIC: Why not right now?

—

We finish our drinks and I leave with Eric. We hop on his motorbike and head up into the cliffs. There’re no streetlights here but as we drive, I realize that they’re not needed at all. The moon and the stars are so bright, so vibrant here, it’s like we’re somehow closer to the celestial than the rest of the world.

We pull up to a large stone manor that looks like something straight from a murder mystery novel. I’d be scared except for the fact there’s a jolly party taking place on the front lawn. A few islanders chat and mingle and sip from mason jars. Eric gives a few waves to some friends and leads me through the crowd into the house. We enter the foyer and he departs to go in search of his aunt.

ERIC: Nan should be around here somewhere. Give me a few.

He leaves and I’m left to marvel at the sheer beauty of the home I’m standing in. I take look around. Small brass statues and elaborate tapestries adorn the walls. It’s like I’m in a medieval castle waiting to meet the queen. I meander into the living room and spot something that immediately catches my eye:

On the far side of the room is a door; however, it is not the ordinary size of one. It is instead maybe a third of that, like it’s made for a child. I approach and take a closer look.

I examine the ornate carvings on the wood. It depicts a scene; a beach and large circle above it. The sun maybe? Or the moon? I run my finger across the etchings and work my way down to the small metal handle. I try to turn it, but it’s locked. Not from this side though. There’s no keyhole. It’s locked from the other side? I give it one more jostle when suddenly from behind me I hear-

WOMAN’A VOICE: It’s quirky. No?

I turn to Eric and a lithe, silver haired woman in her twilight. This must be Nan.

HARITA: Where does it lead?

NAN: Haven’t the slightest clue. It’s been locked ever since I was a girl.

HARITA: Why not just take it off the hinges then?

NAN: Now why would I do that? All the fun is in the mystery. I’m Nan.

She approaches me with a smile and hands me a drink.

NAN: My Nephew tells me you’re looking for something.

HARITA: Someone. My husband. Tam.

NAN: The name doesn’t ring a bell I’m afraid… though we could, perhaps, try calling in some help?

HARITA: What does that mean?

Nan shoots Eric a look. He sheepishly diverts from her gaze and scratches his head.

NAN: My Nephew hasn’t mentioned what I do I’m assuming?

HARITA: We only just met.

She studies me. The same way Redhill did. What exactly are all these people looking for?

NAN: I’m a communicator.

HARITA: With?

She shrugs.

NAN: Whoever has something to say.

I let out a small, unintentional chuckle. I quickly catch myself and sip my drink. A small, awkward silence wedges it’s way between us. I try to think of something to say.

HARITA: I wasn’t really raised in any kind of faith…

She gently smiles at me.

NAN: Gather everyone dining room. Will you Eric?

He goes and does as he’s told. Nan offers me her hand.

NAN: Come on.

HARITA: What are we doing?

NAN: We’re going to summon some fun.

I place my palm in hers and we head to the dining room.

Partygoers fill the room and circle the table. They giggle and drunkenly chat. Nan takes a seat at the head of the table in front of a small wooden box. I sit next to her. Eric finishes corralling the remainder of the guests inside and shuts the dining room doors. Nan clears her throat and in almost militaristic unison, the partygoers process the message and silence themselves.

NAN: Thank you everyone for coming by tonight. I hope we’ve all been having a good time? Yes?

Cheers and claps fill the room.

NAN: Good. Very good. I’m glad… This town is old. The island is older. When so much happens in one specific place, a sort of… chasm can be formed. And if you put an ear to it- and listen carefully; you can hear quite a lot. Echoes. All around us.

Nan turns to me.

NAN: This is Harita. She’s looking for someone at the moment. Let’s all see if we can help her. Let’s see if we can listen.

The room calms itself and Eric lowers the lights. Nan opens the box in front of her and takes out a tuning fork and a perfect cube of a light pink crystal. She raises the fork and begins to tap the crystal slowly, releasing a surge of resonance with each tap.

At first, it’s utterly comical how seriously, not only Nan, but everyone else, including Eric, seems to be taking this makeshift ritual. I laugh to myself. But then I notice that everyone has their eyes closed. I’m the only one not participating. Can a wagon really move if one of the wheels is stuck? What do I have to lose? I stifle my cynicism and try to follow suit. I close my eyes and see if I can listen.

I hear the resonance of the fork. The soundwaves reverberating to the corners of the room then back into my ear and stimulating my cilia. I can feel my nerves vibrating, matching the forks frequency.

Next I hear the ocean outside. The surf steadily crashing against the side of the cliffs in the moonlight.

Then comes the breath. Thirty people all oxygenizing such a small space at once creates a sort of palpable high. The room, and my head, begins to feel lighter. I’m buzzed.

And lastly is the humming. The Lullaby. It’s intoxicating.

The mixture of sounds and sensations creates a euphoria inside my body that warms it like a fire. This is the exact feeling I was hoping for last night. Before my plans were cut short. Before I found out Tam was alive. Before I heard about this island in the middle of nowhere. It feels so nice. Better than nice. It just… is. I want to experience this feeling always. I feel levitated.

I slowly open my eyes to see what everyone else is feeling. I don’t catch their gaze though- not until I lower mine.

They stare at me from the floor. Their pupils are wide and awestruck. I realize that I feel levitated because I am exactly that. My chair hovers five feet above the ground.

My pulse begins to race. My breathing increases I shout-

HARITA: Stop it… Stop it!

Nan just looks at me from the floor and continues tapping the crystal. I feel like I am going to throw up. I sweat. I hyperventilate. I shake.

A Voice from nowhere cuts through my panic-

VOICE: Mother!

My chair falls to the floor and the room gasps. The lights begin to flicker.

I tremble and try to catch my breath. I look to Nan. Her gaze is still fixed on the space at the ceiling where my chair just was. Eric tries to get her attention-

ERIC: Nan?

She shoots her gaze to me and takes my hand. She smiles warmly.

NAN: You finally came.

HARITA: What is this? What are you doing?

NAN: I have been waiting for so long-

HARITA: Stop it. Let go.

I try to pull my hand away, but Nan grips tighter.

NAN: I don’t want to be alone. All these nights, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I have cried for so long. I feel like I have cried for an eternity. Please make it stop.

HARITA: What the hell is this? Nan!

NAN: I am not her. I am a Being of knowledge and of need. And I need you, Mother.

I panic. My wrist turns blue.

HARITA: You’re hurting me. Let go!

NAN: I need you… I need you! I need you! I need you!

She sinks her nails into my skin. I begin to see blood. I wait for someone to do something. To stop the madness unfolding before their eyes, but everyone just blankly stares blankly at the scene unfolding. I scream-

HARITA: I SAID LET GO!

I smack Nan across the face, and everything stops cold. The lights flicker back on and I yank my bloody arm away. I fling open the dining room doors and beeline for the exit. That’s when I hear her say it-

NAN: I’m glad you didn’t finish those pills last night, Mother.

—

I open the front door and sprint as fast as I can back to The Wilhelm. I come to a clearing on the road, fall to the ground, and catch my breath. I look up to the sky. I weep.

Georgie.

Why the hell did you bring me here Tam? Where the hell are you? What in the hell just happened? I get back on my feet and continue. I listen to the Lullaby the whole way back.