Bringing Back Samuel

Lydia has been my next door neighbor for the past three and a half years. Despite this, I’ve never so much as set foot in her bedroom, let alone her house. It’s almost Victorian. The furniture is posh, coated in dust. The fireplace is ablaze. I think the mantle is made of actual marble. Countless faded family portraits line the walls. Unsmiling children, proper gentlemen with top hats, everywhere I look. 

Lydia’s mother looks like she came straight from one of those photographs. The sneer she gives me makes me feel even more out of place as I hesitantly enter the living room. “Good evening, Mrs. Gergich. Is Lydia around?” “Upstairs, with her mates,” Mrs. Gergich is the only British person I have ever met. She makes a point about it, too. Every word she says is enunciated, proper-sounding. “I suggest you run along before you break something of mine,” She gestures to the expensive-looking vases and decor placed around the room. “Yes, ma’am. You have a lovely home,” I hastily add as I scamper away, clomping up the huge wooden staircase.

Lydia’s room is just how I’d imagined it. Candlelit, overflowing with porcelain dolls, bookshelves everywhere. The only thing that doesn’t scream Victorian is a The Cure poster tacked to the wall and a huge bucket of candy corn on the floor. “Morgan, so happy you could attend.” Lydia, unlike her mother, tries to hide her accent. Over the past few years, something I’ve learned about Lydia is that she’s a little odd. She spends all day in her backyard. Singing to herself, flipping through phone books, sleeping. Despite her oddness, she is the most beautiful human being I have ever laid my eyes upon. She has plump, heart-shaped lips, dark curls that fall perfectly over her shoulders, and wide, silvery eyes. The kind that make a person look intelligent. It’s almost unfair how pretty she is. “Morgan, meet Kris, Joanie and Annabel. They are all sisters. Except for Kris. She is my friend from boarding school.” Joanie and Annabel are both platinum blondes, and look a few years younger than me. Kris is visibly taller than the two of them. She has a bob cut that I can’t help but admire. I’ve always wanted to cut my hair like that. “Hi, Morgan,” Joanie says, passing me a handful of candy corn, melting in her sweaty palm. “Um, hi,” I say, giving her a grin that I hope doesn’t look too forced. “So!” Lydia claps her hands twice. I can’t help it, I think it’s kind of cute. “Now that everybody’s here, the festivities can begin.” We all applaud. Lydia takes a bow, her soft, bouncy curls falling in front of her face as she does so. Okay, weird or not, she’s kind of adorable. “Tonight…” she pauses for effect, “We will be performing a seance!” More applause. “As some of you may already know, my dear hamster Samuel, my love, my life, my everything, has…” Lydia pauses, turning away, seeming to get getting choked up, “…passed away.” The four of them bow their heads, paying their respects to this dead rodent I hadn’t even heard about until now. “I’ve been told to move on. ‘Forget him, Lydia! More hamsters will come along.’ To that I say, over my dead body. Tonight, we bring Samuel back to life!” Lydia begins to rummage through her closet. The four of us exchange confused looks. Finally, Lydia finds a shoebox. A foul stench fills the room the second she opens it. “Behold, the dearly departed Samuel.” Inside the box is a rodent wrapped in newspaper. It’s completely still. Definitely dead. “Ugh!” Kris plugs her nose, “You mean you actually dug up your hamster?” “Yes?” Lydia says, blinking, looking confused. “Ew! That’s nasty, Lyd!” Comes Kris’s nasally retort. “I don’t think so,” Lydia shrugs, gazing lovingly at the deceased Samuel, cradling the box like a baby. “After all, what does it matter, if he’s going to be alive in a few hours?” “Um, okay, no, that’s not how it works! Seances aren’t real, Lydia!” Kris spits. “You can’t just…just bring back a dead animal by sitting in a circle and praying to Kuthulu or whatever!” Lydia bites her lip, looking hurt. “Okay, fine, I’ll put him back.” “Are you serious? You can’t just keep that thing in your closet! Bury it! Now!” “Yeah, it’s icky!” Annabel says, sticking out her tongue. “None of you have any right to tell me what to do.” Lydia crosses her arms in defiance. Kris gets up off the floor, and I swear she’s about to burst a blood vessel as she says, “FINE! I’ll just bury it myself!” She attempts to pry the box out of Lydia’s hands. I somehow manage to get between the two of them. “Okay, okay! Everybody just calm down!” Kris backs away a little as I hold my arms out between her and Lydia. “We’ll take care of it tomorrow. For now, let’s just…chill out, okay?” Kris’s mouth hangs open in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re siding with her, whatever-your-name-is! Do you know how many diseases that thing could have?” “Like Morgan said,” Lydia says, “We’ll take care of it tomorrow.” “No way! No way in hell I’m sleeping in the same room as a dead animal!” Kris begins to roll up her sleeping bag, “This sleepover is so over!” “Yeah,” says Joanie, “No offense, Lydia, but you’re kind of weird. I was planning on leaving anyway.” They all pack up their things. “Let’s go, girls,” Kris says. She turns to Lydia. “Lyd, so help me, until you bury that stupid thing, don’t plan on me ever coming back here!” She storms out of the room, followed closely by Joanie and Annabel, slamming the door behind her. It’s dead silent for a minute. Lydia turns to me, a look of shock on her face, her eyes watery. “Well, she was kind of a jerk.” Lydia gapes at me for a moment, stunned. Then she breaks down sobbing, wrapping her arms around me.

***

“You…you mean it? You really want to?” About an hour has passed since the Kris incident. Lydia has calmed down, thank God. We’re sitting cross-legged on her bed, watching Hocus Pocus. “Sure. I mean, I’ve never done a seance before. Could be fun.” Lydia pulls me into a hug. “Oh, it is! It is fun!” She cries, “You’re going to love it!” I feel like I can’t breathe, not because she’s squeezing me to death, but because it feels nice, having her arms wrapped around my waist, her cheek pressing into mine, her soft hair tickling my nose. Seriously, this girl is a goddess. I kind of don’t want her to stop hugging me, but eventually she pulls away. “It will work this time, Morgan. It…hasn’t in the past. But I have a good feeling about tonight.” “Um, me too.” Lydia smiles. Her eyes look like they’ve been dashed with glitter. “Well, then, what are we waiting for?”

Lydia decides the seance should take place in the bathroom. It’s a pretty unexciting setup. Just a few candles, an incense burner, and a handful of what looks to be grass. Lydia says it’s all that we’ll need. We sit down on the cold tile floor. Lydia unwraps Samuel. He looks frozen, his eyes glazed over. Yup. Definitely dead. She sets him down on the grass pile. “Okay, now, place your hands on mine,” She whispers, her voice velvety. “Uh, are..are you sure?” I stutter. “Yes,” she says, extending her hands out to me, “Or else it will not work.” “Um. Okay.” Just the feeling of our fingertips touching is enough to make my stomach flip. Lydia’s hands are warm and soft. They make me self-conscious about my sweaty, callused ones. Lydia closes her eyes, motioning for me to do the same. I shut my eyes tight, my heart lashing around in my ribcage. Lydia begins to hum, her fingertips tracing the ridges of my palms. I try not to shiver at her touch. Her humming grows louder. I finally recognize the song to be “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure. It could just be my pounding heart, but the room seems to shake the louder she hums. Finally, the song concludes. Kind of beautifully, too. I should start listening to The Cure. “Open your eyes, Morgan,” Lydia hisses. I half expect to see a zombie hamster in front of me, writhing in agony as it returns to the land of the living, but all that lies on the grass pile in front of us is, unfortunately, a dead rodent, just as dead as it was before. Lydia’s head hangs low. “It did not work,” She mumbles. “Hey, it’s okay,” I reassure her, entwining my fingers with hers. I wonder if she feels the same way I do when stuff like this happens, if her stomach flip-flops, if her heart pounds like crazy, if her face feels like it’s on fire. I can only wonder. “This was…fun.” Lydia looks up at me, a sad smile on her face. “Yes, you’re right. It…was fun.” “You have a lovely singing voice.” She giggles. “My mother would disagree.” She glances down at her motionless pet. “I think if…I think if Samuel were alive, he would like you very, very much.” I chuckle. “How do you know that?” She looks up at me, her eyes glistening in the candlelight. Then she quickly pecks my cheek, her heart-shaped lips leaving a glossy, glittery smear. “Because I do.”