The Door

I love my wife and would never do anything to hurt her. Since she disappeared, I don’t think anyone believes me. It all started with the house. It was a fixer upper. I work full-time in construction. Fixing up is the last thing I want to do when I get home, but Kitty’s bipolar and had just started to get better after her most recent bout of depression. Her taking an interest in something was so brilliant that I went along with it.

   We moved in. When I got home the next evening, she was waiting for me, brandishing a flashlight.

“Come here, you’ll never believe this.”

I followed her down the narrow hall with textured plaster walls which connects the front and back of the house.

“See? There’s a blocked it off door there.”

I could see the outline under the plaster.

“It’s an old house. Lots of things have probably been changed. What are we having for dinner?”

“I’ll make something in a moment. Now come here.”

We went into the spare bedroom on the other side of the hallway wall. A walk-in closet had been constructed over the blocked door.

“It’s weird how that door was blocked. Having the door where it is now makes the whole layout of the room really awkward.”

“True, but I hope you’re not expecting me to start switching doorways around now.”

“No, silly. I opened the closet door, and there’s a staircase going down. I couldn’t find a light switch. I didn’t want to go down by myself in the dark even with the flashlight.”

I stared at her. There was no staircase, but it was worth keeping the peace.

“Let’s have a look then, but quick. I’m starving.”

She opened the closet door. We stared at the dusty interior. Planks had been roughly fixed across the plastered-over doorway.

 “You got me there. Good one, honey. Now can we eat?”

I turned to give her a hug, laughing, but she was bewildered.

“It was there. I know it was. I swear it was. You think I’m going crazy again, don’t you?”

I did wonder if she’d taken her meds. The whole obsession with buying the house and now this.

“I thought you were playing a joke on me. But you can see there’s nothing there.”

She calmed down eventually, and the evening passed as usual.

    That weekend we started painting the spare bedroom. Kitty was right about the layout. It made no sense to have blocked the door and whoever had done it had done a lousy job.

“I’m going to the hardware store to get some plywood. Then I can replace those planks and save us getting splinters if we want to store stuff in there.”

She blew me a kiss as I left, happily wielding her paint roller, and singing along to the radio.

    The music was still playing but there was no singing when I returned.

I called her name as I hurried to the bedroom. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the closed closet door, smiling happily.

“Kit, what’s happened?”

I knelt beside her. She was staring into the distance.

“Kit, speak to me!”

“I felt cold air coming from the closet. When I opened the door, the dark staircase was there again, and a voice was calling my name. It was so sweet and comforting that I wanted to go to it. But I thought you wouldn’t like it if I left, so I slammed the door shut and I’ve been here waiting for you since.”

She smiled at me tranquilly.

This was worse than her usual episodes. I got her to lie down on our bed, then went back to the closet door. Jerking the door open, I shivered in a cold draught. Damn. I couldn’t let my imagination run away with me.

    Kitty slept all afternoon. That evening at dinner, we ate silently. Finally, she spoke.

“I know you think I’m losing it. I’m scared that I’m losing it. But I swear on everything most dear to me that I am not making this up.”

“Kit, remember, when you had bad spells before, you sometimes heard voices?”

“Never like this. When I was sick before, the voices were hateful, telling me I was ugly and stupid. This was a kind voice. It made me feel safe. And before you ask, I have been taking my meds.”

“It could be just all the stress from the move,” I said. “Call the clinic to see if Dr. Martin has any appointments available on Monday.”

She hates medical appointments, but just nodded, an absent-minded smile on her face.

That worried me more than if she’d argued about it.

Next day was Sunday. Kit was still asleep as I went back to work in the bedroom, furiously wrenching off the ragged planks at the back of the closet. Someone had hammered multiple nails into each plank, as if trying to withstand a hurricane. I was soon cursing and sweating as I tried to lever them out. I finally got the first plank off and dropped it onto the floor with a clatter. Kit came into the room, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry to wake you, hon,” I said.

“You didn’t. I heard the voice again, but louder. Can’t you hear it?”

“Lord, Kit, not that again. Look, it’s an old empty closet that someone jerry-rigged together, nothing more, nothing less.”

She pushed past me, peering at the gap where I’d wrenched the plank off.

“That’s where it’s coming from. You really can’t hear it?”

Cold air wafted over us, and I shivered. I stuck my hand inside the gap and felt more rough wood and plaster. I could see the wooden frame of the blocked doorway.

“Look,” I said. “Look, look, look. Nothing there!”

I was practically yelling. She peered into the gap as if looking down a well.

“But I can hear the voice and there’s a light in the distance.”

She looked up at me, eyes gleaming with excitement.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, turned her around and marched her back to our bedroom, ignoring her yelps of pain.

“I am going to call Dr. Martin and tell him this is an emergency. You are losing it. Stay here.”

Pushing her onto the bed, I went looking for my phone.

     I was so flustered that it took several attempts to scroll to the doctor’s number. I’d forgotten it was Sunday; I got the answering service. I was told the message would be relayed to the doctor. I ended the call and took a couple of deep breaths.

“I’m sorry. I was angry and upset, but I shouldn’t have done that.”

She darted from our bedroom into the spare room, slamming the door behind her.

“Kit, wait, wait.”

I rattled the door handle, but the door would not budge. She was giggling softly. I stepped back and rammed the door with my shoulder, almost falling into the room as it flew open. The room was empty.

“Stop playing games, Kit. It isn’t funny.”

I opened the closet door and gasped at the cold. I could just discern stairs fading into the darkness. Her voice, faint, but clear and happy resonated somewhere far below. Before I could call to her, a ferocious blast of wind knocked me across the room onto my back. I lay there winded. After a few minutes, I crawled across the room and slowly opened the closet door. Only dust and splintered planks greeted me.